Chapter Text
Erik
Erik gets home from his latest mission well after midnight. The long driveway to the mansion looks picturesque in the daylight, but when it's pitch black and illuminated only by the headlights of his car it's more spooky and foreboding than anything. The mansion looms dark and silent above him, only a few windows showing light inside. He leaves the car by the front door instead of bothering with driving around to the garage and unlocks the door with a wave of his hand. It squeaks loudly as it swings open; he should probably fix that.
He's already stripped out of his coat by the time he gets to the bedroom he shares with Charles, tired enough that he's contemplating just crawling into bed fully clothed and dealing with everything in the morning. The mission had been a failure—he and Raven had gotten there too late and found an abandoned lab and two dead bodies left behind, the other mutant prisoners already whisked away to the next hidden facility—and Erik feels weary down to his bones.
He drops his coat and bag just inside the door, kicks his shoes off, and nearly collapses onto his side of the bed before he realizes that it's already occupied. Erik catches himself before he falls on top of David, noticing as he does that David is already awake and watching him. He's probably been awake since before Erik opened the door; David's always quiet like that.
"What are you doing in here?" Erik asks, voice barely a whisper. A glance at Charles confirms that he's still dead to the world, sprawled on his back with an ice pack wrapped around his head.
"Daddy had a migraine," David whispers back.
Charles must have been using Cerebro again. Too long spent with his mind stretched out across the entire world always leaves him a bit high off the pure energy of touching that many minds, which then turns into a debilitating migraine after he comes back down.
"That doesn't explain why you're in here," Erik says. David has a long habit of crawling into bed with them in the middle of the night that they've been trying to break him of.
"I had a nightmare," David says. "There was a man in my room."
"There’s no one in your room," Erik tells him. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."
He starts pulling David out from under the covers. Charles stirs a bit, but doesn't wake, and Erik hefts David up onto his hip to carry him back to his own room. David clings like a limpet, his weight warm and heavy and his chin digging into Erik's shoulder. Erik opens the door to David's room with his powers and carefully navigates the minefield of discarded toys to make his way to the bed. He should probably tell David to clean his room tomorrow; there's no way Charles could even get his chair in here right now with the mess.
Erik drops David onto his bed with a bounce, reaching for the covers. David squirms as Erik secures the blankets around his shoulders, fighting his way free of them as soon as Erik's tucked them in. "The man was hiding in the closet," David says, pointing.
"There's no one in your closet," Erik says.
"You didn't even look."
Erik opens the closet door with a wave of his hand. In the dim light from the window, it looks like a dark, gaping void in the wall. "Look, no one there."
David still looks skeptical, so Erik gets up and flicks on the closet light, making a show of checking every corner. "Nope, no one here. It was just a dream."
"You're sure?" David asks.
"Positive," Erik says. "No one gets past me."
David's still frowning, but seems to accept that. Erik leans down to smooth his hair back and says, "Go to sleep, schatz."
David burrows down into his blanket, rolling over onto his side and still watching the closet carefully. Erik leaves the light on but closes the door until there's just a crack of light showing through. He waits until David's closed his eyes and his breathing has turned slow and steady before standing up and heading back to his own room.
He stops to crack open Lorna's door and finds her sprawled out on her stomach, snoring lightly.
Charles is still exactly where Erik left him. Erik strips off his shirt and pants before crawling in behind him, wrapping an arm around Charles’ waist and being careful not to dislodge his ice pack. It's mostly melted, but still cold.
"Did David go to sleep?" Charles asks, voice barely audible and rough with sleep.
"Out like a light," Erik says. "Go back to sleep."
"Mmm," Charles murmurs, twisting onto his side before settling back down. Erik tucks his knees up behind Charles' and presses his forehead against the back of Charles' head, curling around him.
He's asleep within moments.
---
Erik's only been gone for a week on this mission, but in that time he appears to have missed Lorna becoming a teenager. She slides into her chair at breakfast, shoves a spoonful of cereal in her mouth, and then asks, "Can I dye my hair?"
Before Erik can say no, of course not, she's already off explaining that she found the perfect color. "I want to add black underneath," she says, pulling some of her hair around to the front to show him what she means. "And then get a perm. Like Madonna. It'll look totally awesome."
"No," Erik says.
"You didn't even think about it," Lorna protests. "Dad?" She turns to Charles appealingly.
Charles, who's staring into a mug of coffee like it contains all the secrets of the universe, doesn't even look up as he says, "I don't know why you think my answer is going to be any different."
"You should dye half of it red," David tells her. "Then it would look like Christmas!"
Lorna glares at him. "That would look stupid ."
" I think it would look pretty," David argues.
"That's because you're stupid," Lorna tells him.
"Don't call your brother stupid," Charles says. It's a halfhearted protest at best. Erik frowns at him and wonders if he still has a headache. They usually don't last more than a night, but Charles has been even less of a morning person than usual today.
"No hair dye," Erik tells Lorna.
She practically growls in frustration as she slams her spoon down. "That is not fair . Jean got to bleach her hair."
"Jean's not my daughter," Erik says. "I don't care what she does to her hair. You're not dyeing yours black."
Lorna spots the loophole before Erik does. "So I can dye it a different color?" she asks. "Blue?"
"No. No hair dye."
"You are so mean!" Lorna cries. She shoves her chair back and storms out of the room, leaving her cereal mostly untouched.
"Hey! Come back and finish eating," Erik calls after her.
"I'm not hungry!" Lorna screams back at him. She uses her powers to slam the door behind her hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cabinet.
Erik stares after her, wondering where the sweet girl she'd been a week ago went. He wasn't gone that long. He turns to Charles to ask about it, but then realizes what else was bothering him throughout that conversation.
"Was she wearing makeup?" Erik asks.
Charles finally looks up from his coffee and shrugs. "Probably."
"Where did she get makeup? She's not old enough to wear makeup."
"I'm choosing my battles wisely," Charles says, "and that is not one I want to have." He takes a long drink of his coffee before adding, "You're welcome to go for it, but you're going to lose."
Erik frowns. "When did she start..." He waves his hand to indicate the general change in Lorna's attitude. "She was fine when I left."
"She’s twelve," Charles says.
"I know how old she is."
"I don't think she needs any other reason to act like a brat," Charles says.
David giggles, and Charles turns to him to say, "Don't tell your sister I called her a brat."
"Okay," David says agreeably around a mouthful of Cheerios.
"And don't talk with food in your mouth," Erik tells him.
David chews, swallows, and then says, "Okay."
At least one of his children still listens to him, Erik thinks.
---
At lunch, Charles still looks like death warmed over. "Are you sure you're alright?" Erik asks, running a hand over Charles' hair and trying to subtly feel if he has a temperature or not. It's heading towards winter rapidly and this is usually the time of year that Charles comes down with the flu. Ever since the bout of pneumonia he'd had a couple years ago, Erik's prone to worry.
Charles pushes him away gently. "I'm fine, it's just a headache. I was looking for new students yesterday and probably stayed in too long."
"Find anyone?" Erik asks.
Charles perks up a bit and says, "Yes, actually. There's a girl who can control the weather. It's fascinating. She's completely attuned to any changes in the atmosphere and manipulates them. I think she does it almost without realizing what's happening."
Erik doesn't try to hide his surprise. "The weather, really?" His first thought is that it's a rather useless power—making it rain isn't exactly going to take down an enemy—but then he thinks about it a moment longer and asks, "Can she generate lightning then?" He's experimented with that himself before, manipulating the electrical currents to create a spark, but he needs for the energy to already be present in the atmosphere before he can affect the charge and direct it where he wants. If this girl can create the charge herself, then she'd be a valuable ally.
"How old is she?" Erik asks.
"Late teens," Charles says. "Sixteen, I think?" He frowns. "Maybe eighteen. I'd like to talk to her, even if she's too old for the school."
Erik doesn't point out that no one ever seems to be too old for the school. Scott's over twenty now and doesn't show any signs of leaving the nest, no matter how much prompting Erik tries to give him. Charles insists that this is the only home some of these children have ever had, and it's cruel to kick them out as soon as they turn eighteen. Erik has tried arguing that they'll never figure out how to be on their own if they don't try, but Charles is adamant about the safe haven he's created being open for all.
“Where does she live?” Erik asks. "It's probably easier if I go find her, with the end of the semester coming up."
"Have you been to Egypt before?"
---
Charles is feeling better that night, and Erik's been gone for a week, so Erik abandons any pretext and drags Charles out of his study and up to bed early enough that even Hank, who'd been trying to talk to Charles about lesson plans, raises an eyebrow at them.
"That was a bit obvious," Charles says. He doesn't comment on Erik making the elevator go faster, so Erik knows it's a token protest.
"It's just Hank," he says. "He knows we have sex."
"Yes, but it's not nice to rub his face in it."
Because it's too good an opportunity to miss, Erik says, "I have something else I'd like to rub my face in."
Charles stops moving, and Erik turns back to look at him. "Erik, that was awful ," Charles says. He's fighting a smile.
Erik smirks. "Does that mean you're not interested?"
Charles looks torn. "Only if you stop making horrible jokes," he says. "You're really not funny. I don't know who told you that you were."
Erik nudges Charles' chair with his powers to get him moving again. "David thinks I'm hilarious."
"Yes, well, he's six. What does he know?"
Erik abandons the conversation in favor of leaning down and kissing Charles once they get to their bedroom. Charles gets a grip on Erik's collar with both hands and pulls him further down, parting his lips and licking into Erik's mouth enthusiastically. He tugs Erik's lower lip between his teeth, sucking with just enough pressure. Erik holds back a groan. He shifts until he's got his hands under Charles' ass, gripping his thighs and lifting, and Charles wraps his arms around Erik's neck, holding on. One hand tangles in Erik's hair, forcing his head to the angle Charles wants it at, and Erik tries to concentrate on not breaking the kiss and also not falling over as he carries Charles to the bed.
He makes it, letting Charles fall backwards to land with a bounce and then following him down. Charles' grip tightens in Erik's hair as Erik starts trailing kisses down his jaw, working his way towards the spot low on Charles' throat that always causes him to make the most delicious breathy moans. This time is no different, and Erik takes his time, first lathing the area with his tongue, then blowing out a breath over it and making Charles shiver before he latches on with a sucking kiss.
Kissing Charles is really one of Erik's favorite things.
“I do hope you didn’t mean my throat when you said you wanted to bury your face somewhere,” Charles says, already a bit breathless.
Erik props himself up on his elbows, smirking down at Charles. “You need to be naked for what I had in mind.”
Charles' eyes already look a bit wild and stunned as he stares back up at Erik. “Let’s do that then.”
Getting them both undressed doesn’t take much time at all, but finding the wedge pillow does. It’s usually just barely pushed under the bed so Erik shimmies to the edge of the mattress on his stomach and hangs off the side, the blood rushing to his head as he feels around under the bed.
Above him, he can hear Charles asking, bemused, “What on earth are you doing?”
“Trying to find the damn pillow,” Erik says. His grasping fingers finally brush the edge of it and start tugging at the same time that Charles decides to smack his ass.
Erik pulls himself back up to shoot Charles a glare. “What was that for?”
Charles is laughing. “It was really just too tempting, darling."
Erik reaches back down to retrieve the pillow and tosses it at Charles triumphantly. Once Erik has Charles where he wants him, sprawled on his stomach with the pillow lifting his ass in the air, Erik leans over to place a kiss against his shoulder blade. He works his way across Charles’ back to his other shoulder, then down his spine, leaving a wet trail of open-mouthed kisses. Charles shivers as Erik runs his nails along Charles’ ribs, light enough to tickle.
He pulls back after placing a kiss to the small of Charles’ back, cupping one ass cheek in each hand and squeezing lightly. Then he raises a hand and smacks his palm down against Charles’ right cheek, hard enough to turn the skin pink briefly.
“Ah!” Charles’ whole body jerks and he twists around to look over his shoulder at Erik.
“Payback is a bitch,” Erik says solemnly.
Charles swats at him with one hand. “Oh, honestly. Would you get on with it?”
"You're always so impatient," Erik says. But get on with it he does, and he's just gotten Charles to start alternating between cursing at him and begging for more when there's a quiet knock on the door and the knob rattles, the door cracking open.
Erik throws up a hand to shove the door shut again and lock it with hardly a thought, and there's a muffled noise from the other side before the knocking resumes and he hears David say, "Daddy?"
"Fuck," Erik says, resting his chin on Charles' ass.
Charles starts rolling over onto his back. Erik rests more of his weight on top of Charles to stop him and says, "Don't. Maybe he'll go back to bed."
David calls out again, voice trembling a bit. Erik shoves himself up to his knees and crawls off the bed. He finds his boxers on the floor and stumbles into them on his way to the door, opening it just enough to look down at David. "What's wrong, buddy?"
David rubs at his eyes, smudging tears over his cheeks, and asks, "Where's Daddy?"
"He's asleep." Erik kneels down to wipe at David's tears. "Did you have another nightmare?"
David nods.
"Want me to go check for monsters?"
David shakes his head and tries to push past Erik into the room.
"It's alright," Charles says. Erik glances over his shoulder to find that Charles is sitting up, blanket pulled up to his chest. Erik lets David dart past him to clamber up onto the bed, burrowing in against Charles' side. Over his head, Charles frowns ruefully at Erik and shrugs.
Erik sighs and crawls back onto the other side of the bed, willing his erection to go away and resigning himself to another night of getting kicked in the shins.
---
The next morning, after Erik's shooed David back to his own room and is sitting on the bed, watching Charles get dressed, Erik says, "You have to stop letting him do that."
"What?" Charles asks.
"David can't keep sleeping in here."
Charles stops buttoning his shirt to turn and look at Erik. "He has nightmares."
"Yes. He's also far too old for climbing into our bed every night," Erik says.
"Well," Charles says, going back to his buttons, "I don't know what you expect me to do about it. I can't stop him having nightmares."
"Couldn't you?" Erik knows what the answer to that is going to be before he even says it.
"I won't," Charles says flatly. "They're his mind's way of processing."
"What's he have to process that's so bad?" Erik asks. "He's got a great life." Erik's worked hard to make sure of that.
Charles just shrugs, so Erik adds, "Lorna never had nightmares like this."
"Yes, she did," Charles says. "You just weren't—" He cuts himself off.
"Here?" Erik finishes for him. Under his breath he says, "That's not my fault."
Charles turns back around to face him, fully dressed now, and says—acting although he didn't just bring up a different old argument—"Lorna and David are very different. You can't expect him to react to everything the same way she does.”
Which still doesn't answer the question of what's causing David's nightmares. Erik sits up a bit straighter before saying, "Either way, he can't keep sleeping in here." Charles turns to look at him, but doesn't say anything, so Erik adds, "You have to start sending him back to his own room."
"Is this about the sex?" Charles asks, arms crossed.
Yes , Erik thinks. At least partially. Last night was hardly the first time David's interrupted them, and Charles hasn't once tried to send him back to his own room when it happens. But because Erik's learned a thing or two after living together for seven years, he says, "Of course not."
Charles looks unconvinced.
"He's old enough to stay in his own room," Erik says again. "We have to start making him now or else he'll still be in here when he's fifteen."
"Now you're exaggerating."
"No, I'm not," Erik protests.
The argument dissolves from there, until Charles simply decides to stop speaking to him and heads downstairs for breakfast.
When Lorna tries to make her case for hair dye again, this time with illustrations cut from a magazine and colored with marker, Erik snaps at her and she goes quiet, staring down her breakfast and refusing to speak to him. He feels bad for taking out his mood on her, but can't bring himself to apologize.
---
Erik ventures into town the next day and returns with something called Colorific in Midnight Black that promises to wash out after three shampoos. He also picks up some of the loose leaf tea that Charles always spends more time inhaling the steam from than actually drinking.
He doesn't mention the tea to Charles, but leaves it next to the kettle so he won't miss it. It's not a great apology, but then Erik doesn't actually want to apologize. He wasn't wrong about Charles treating David like he's three instead of six, and at some point it has to stop. But that doesn't mean that he wants to keep being angry about it.
He finds Lorna in her room, sprawled on the floor next to Jean as they flip through magazines. He turns down her stereo with a flick of his wrist and holds up the box when she turns look at him in protest.
Lorna's eyes go wide. "No way," she says slowly.
Erik shakes the box. "It's only temporary," he says.
Lorna jumps up and nearly knocks him over as she hugs him. "Oh my god, thank you, Papa, thank you! You're the best!"
Erik gives her a tight squeeze before she pulls away, snatching the box from his hands. "Is that the right color?" he asks.
"It's perfect," Lorna says. She waves it at Jean, who's sitting cross legged on the rug. "Come on, let's try it now!"
Erik leaves them to it.
---
That night, Erik finds Charles in his study, reading a textbook and sipping at a glass of scotch.
“Is that for history?” he asks. “I thought you already picked one.”
Charles frowns, not looking up from the book. “Not yet.”
Erik walks behind the desk and leans over Charles’ shoulder. The book is open to a section on the civil rights movement, grainy black and white photos of protesters. Erik has to squint at the caption to find out what exactly it’s from, having spent most of the ‘60s in prison. “You’re not going to find one with a mutant slant if you keep looking at books written by humans,” he tells Charles.
“We’re all human,” Charles says, leaning back a bit and resting the back of his head against Erik’s shoulder.
Erik rolls his eyes, since he knows Charles can't see it. “Find a mutant author if you want to teach mutant history.” He rests his hands on Charles’ shoulders and massages gently.
“You want to write a textbook?” Charles asks, leaning into Erik’s touch.
Erik leans down and nuzzles against Charles’ neck; Charles tips his head to the side obligingly. “You don’t like it when I teach the kids history,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Charles’ earlobe.
Charles shivers, eyes fluttering shut. Erik smirks, pressing a dry kiss just under his ear, against his pulse. “That's because,” Charles says, “your version of history is a bit biased.”
“I think you mean honest,” Erik tells him, voice muffled against Charles’ skin. “Someone has to tell them the truth.”
“You’re not—” Charles starts to say, before breaking off with a soft whimper as Erik sucks a bit of Charles’ skin between his teeth and bites softly.
Erik lets go, soothing the spot with a brush of his tongue. “I’m not what?” he prompts.
“Ung,” Charles says, swallowing hard. “Not allowed to stop doing that.”
Erik sucks another kiss onto Charles’ throat, a bit lower. Charles moans appreciatively. Erik moves further down, tugging Charles’ shirt collar aside to find a spot where Charles won’t yell at him for leaving a mark.
“We should really, hmm… go upstairs,” Charles manages to say. He’s reached back, the palm of one hand cradling the back of Erik’s head, fingers gripping as tightly as they can to Erik’s short hair.
Erik pulls back a bit and blows lightly over the bit of skin he’s been working between his lips. Charles shivers. “Or we could stay here,” Erik says. He straightens up and pulls Charles’ chair back from the desk so that he can kneel in front of Charles.
Charles is already hard and straining against the seam of his jeans. Erik grins up at him, running his hands inward from Charles knees, where Erik knows he can’t feel it, to his groin, where he can, and spreading his thighs as far apart as the chair will allow. Charles is staring down at him, chest already heaving.
Erik works Charles’ fly open with his hands. He could use his powers, and has before, but doing it this way means that Charles jerks a bit every time Erik’s hands brush against his cock through the fabric. Once he has Charles’ cock in his hand he doesn’t waste any time in leaning down and wrapping his lips around the head. Charles gasps above him, hips jerking.
His fists tighten against the arms of his chair before he reaches for Erik, nails scratching against Erik’s scalp as he slides his fingers into his hair. Erik hums around Charles’ cock, earning him a “Fuck” from Charles, and a tighter grip on his hair. Charles doesn’t try to push, just holds on for what seems like dear life as Erik works his tongue against the underside of Charles’ cock.
Erik has to pull back to suck in a breath, but then he licks Charles from base to tip before swallowing him as far down as he can. Above him, Charles is panting brokenly, making the gasping noises that Erik knows mean he’s close to orgasm.
“Erik,” Charles says. He tugs at Erik’s hair. “Erik, I…”
Erik hums lightly, making Charles break off in a moan, and then Charles is coming down his throat, fingers tightening in his hair before going slack. Erik swallows as much as he can, but when he pulls back he can feel the come dripping down his chin. He sits back on his heels, wiping at his chin. He smirks up at Charles, who looks completely wrecked, and sucks his fingers into his own mouth to lick the come off.
Charles reaches for him, snagging Erik’s sleeve with his fist and tugging until Erik stands up and leans over to kiss him. It’s a filthy kiss, loud in the otherwise silent room and Erik knows Charles can taste himself on Erik’s tongue.
Charles reaches for Erik’s fly, hands scrambling to undo the button while not breaking away from the kiss. Eventually Charles pushes him back, tugging hard to get Erik’s pants down. “Take these off,” he says.
Erik toes his shoes off, shimmying to get his pants and underwear off at the same time. He’s been hard since he’d seen Charles sitting at his desk, lamplight highlighting his profile as he’d tipped back a glass of scotch, throat working as he swallowed, and spending time on his knees sucking Charles’ cock hasn’t lessened his arousal at all.
Charles nudges Erik back towards the desk. “Sit here.”
“Your poor history book,” Erik says, but he shoves the book out of the way before sitting on the edge of the desk. Some papers on the far end flutter towards the floor.
“I wasn’t going to buy it anyway,” Charles says. He wheels himself forward a bit, and Erik spreads his thighs, heels winding up resting against the wheels. Charles leans over him, hands curling around Erik’s hips and breath warm against his cock. He spends a long moment just staring at Erik’s cock, like he doesn’t already know what it looks like and is studying it intently.
“What are you doing?” Erik asks impatiently. Charles leans forward and kisses lightly at Erik’s balls. Erik nudges him in the side with a heel. “Stop teasing.”
Charles stops teasing, leaving a trail of sloppy, wet kisses from root to tip and swirling his tongue around the head before wrapping his lips around it and sucking so hard Erik’s toes curl. Charles keeps sucking, and Erik falls backward, shoulder blades hitting the desk uncomfortably hard. He barely notices, the only thing his brain can register is how absolutely amazing Charles’ mouth is. Charles knows exactly what Erik likes best, and he’s got one hand pinning Erik’s hips down against the desk while the other works Erik’s cock in counterpoint to his mouth.
Charles’ hair is hanging forward, tickling against Erik’s skin as he moves. He reaches down to brush it back from Charles’ face, twining his fingers tightly in the strands and gripping hard. Charles winces, but leans into the touch and prods his tongue insistently at the underside of Erik’s cock until Erik’s not even aware of anything other than Charles’ mouth on him. Charles’ warm, wet, utterly fantastic mouth. Erik can feel himself getting close, pleasure pooling inside him and threatening to overflow, and manages the wherewithal to try and tug Charles back off of him instead of coming down his throat.
What actually happens is that Charles pulls back just enough for Erik to come all over his face with no warning. Charles looks stunned, eyes squeezing shut reflexively.
It takes Erik about a minute before he comes down off the high of his orgasm enough to do more than gape at Charles, both of them frozen in shock.
Charles has one hand raised, trying to wipe at his face and not helping much. Erik feels a spike of arousal deep in his gut at the sight of Charles covered in his come, but pushes it aside and sits up, wiping at Charles’ cheek with own hand to try and help. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he says.
Charles opens his mouth, licking at some of the come on his lips and making a face. “No you’re not.”
“I am a little bit,” Erik says, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.
Charles swats at Erik with his clean hand and misses by a mile since he still has his eyes closed. “Stop laughing,” he says, a smile tugging at his own lips.
Erik tugs his shirt off and grabs Charles wrist, to stop him from smearing it even more. “Hold still,” he says, wiping at Charles’ eyes with the shirt. Once he’s gotten the worst of it cleaned he tells him, “Okay, you can open your eyes.”
Charles opens his eyes slowly, squinting a bit. Erik raises an eyebrow at him. Charles swats at him again before dissolving into laughter. “I can’t believe you did that!”
Erik starts laughing too. “I’m sorry,” he says, leaning forward and kissing Charles cheek, then his nose, then his mouth. They’re both giggling too much for a real kiss, but Charles wraps his arms around Erik’s neck and holds on to him anyway.
“We’re a mess,” Charles says.
Erik starts to say that only Charles is a mess, but then notices that he’s managed to smear come across Erik’s chest as well, so actually yes, they’re both a mess. “Think we can make it to the shower without getting caught?”
“ I can,” Charles says. “I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Well, I was going to try and make it up to you in the shower, but if you’re not interested…”
Charles tosses Erik’s dirty t-shirt at his chest. “You’re impossible.”
Erik smiles, with all his teeth. “That wasn’t a no.”
Charles rolls his eyes, but carefully directs anyone who’s still awake and wandering the halls out of their path on the way upstairs.
When they finally make it to bed, both still damp and clean, and Erik's lying sprawled on his back with Charles curled up against him, he says, "I gave Lorna hair dye."
Charles makes a questioning noise.
"It washes out,” Erik continues. “Maybe she'll get it out of her system, realize it looks awful, and not ask for anymore."
Charles snorts. "Sure, she will," he says, in a tone that makes it clear he thinks Erik is delusional.
