Summary: Post-movie. In Charles Xavier’s garden almanac, there is a special entry each November for when Erik comes home. And some seeds need to go through fire before they can grow.
Art by Loobeeinthesky.
What I did before interview, trying out using my collection of washi paper tapes to draw. It feels like art therapy lol
My tape collection has grown to the point I need to seek bigger box for it
[sweetest fan art or sweetest fan art? ugh, this is lovely and magnificent.]
ninemoons42 writes: as sweet as breathing, like the scent of old books
Charles Xavier was standing right in the farthest corner of the storeroom and he distinctly remembered locking the front door, remembered flipping the sign on the glass panel from OPEN to CLOSED.
A glance at the battered pocket-watch hanging from its chain into his waistcoat confirmed what he already knew - that it was four twenty-eight in the afternoon on the 29th of May. The shop was closed early, only for today, because the task of inventory was a good task, an enjoyable task, only it tended to take him several hours.
He had the whole shop memorized anyway, from the floor made out of rough-hewn planks to the ceiling covered in a wallpaper of cabbage roses and purple vines. He knew where every title was, and how much each book cost. This was just a way of making sure everything was in its right place - and it was also his time to reacquaint himself with the sweet wood-scent of paper and leather and warmth.
So who was knocking at this odd moment?
He held his breath carefully as he made his way out of the storeroom, so he wouldn’t sneeze at the smell of dust and musty pages. The storeroom that looked right on to the street through the front door - and in the glass panel Charles could clearly make out a faintly familiar silhouette, broad shoulders tapering down to a lean waist, and a large hand pressed to the words Xavier Books.
Strangely self-conscious though he knew the man on the other side had seen him more dusty than this, Charles unlocked the door and pulled it to, and there was Erik Lehnsherr in a blue suit and a silver-grey tie. He looked much more put-together than Charles in his cardigan and his rolled-up sleeves marked up with ink and sweat.
Though it looked like even Erik had to concede something to the heat of the day, and so his hair was falling out of its usual neat waves; where he normally kept it all combed back and parted precisely there were now some dark strands hanging in his eyes.
There was a paper bag in Erik’s hand, and Charles made an inquisitive face at him and reluctantly let him in.
Erik made the face right back and headed straight to the great old table in the window that served Charles for both a work desk and a counter. “I was hoping you hadn’t started yet,” he said, and when he opened the paper bag Charles smiled and thought about forgiving him, because now he could add the scents of sugar and orange syrup to his bookstore, and those were lovely things to think about and remember. “Or I’d have laughed at you while you ate - you really should mind your own dust, Charles, who knows where it’s been before it came in here.”
“Other books,” Charles said airily, and he went around to one of the cabinets behind the table, and took out his vacuum flask of tea, and a single pair of teacup and saucer.
“Oh, no need,” and Erik pulled the last item out of the bag. Next to the croissants and the sticky buns: a tall paper cup steaming a waft of strong black coffee into the still air.
“This is a feast,” Charles said appreciatively as he sat down, and motioned Erik into the seat next to his. “But so much sugar, really, I’m going to have to do something about that - would you recommend another long walk up into the hills, perhaps?”
“I know you love this place, Charles, but yes, you do have to get out more. If only for your weight. And you should know, people are wondering why you’re so difficult on yourself, because I was given all this with the stern advice to make sure you eat something.” Erik was smiling as he tore one of the pastries apart and bit in with all evidence of enjoyment. Flakes and crumbs on his fingertips.
Charles laughed and poured out the last of his tea, and he wolfed down one of the buns and was nonplussed when Erik grinned even more widely and pushed one of the croissants in his direction. After a moment to chew and swallow: “May I know what brought this on? I…I have to apologize for looking such a fright, really - and I haven’t even started yet.”
“Actually,” and Erik coughed and looked away, and was he blushing? He was red around the ears, and Charles poked him gently in the temple, shaking his head as Erik tried to evade him.
“Out with it,” Charles said fondly.
“I came to ask if you needed any help.” But Erik was so clearly hedging, because he wouldn’t even meet Charles’s eyes.
“We’ve known each other three years, you’re here more often than not, and you’ve made a point of being nice to me, even when I’m distracted and covered in cobwebs. Just tell me what this is or what’s going on, Erik. I promise I won’t get cross.”
“That’s a promise? All right.”
And the world blurred down to Erik’s tentative smile, to the look in his eyes, to his hand on Charles’s shoulder and the brush of his lips to the corner of Charles’s mouth.
He didn’t let Erik get very far away afterwards - Charles held him in place by the simple expedient of putting his hand over Erik’s on his shoulder, and leaned in to smile, and to kiss him properly.
You’ve been spending a lot of time in the gardens, haven’t you sir?
I suppose I have.
(Atonement au x)
Some WIP’s I HAVE to finish before I knuckle down for my X-Men Reverse Bang, I’m so drawing more art for it (my writers ideas are amazing.)
1. Sherlock and John in London (background will possibly have Big Ben in there, lost my ruler so have to find and draw it in before I colour. Plus, don’t get me started about my monitor making greys look brown and whites looking blue, still calibrating the damn thing ;_; Many thanks to Nekomuse and karadin for the help.) Still trying to get the hang of them, by them I bloody well mean Sherlock.
2. I’ve been drawing a lot of semi-realistic art lately, so took a break to try something less so. This was a rejected AU idea for the RBB involving the Oxford and Cambridge boat race during the 60’s (we all know Charles would have cheered on his team, so I stuck him in it, he got to be a great runner somewhere :P) Bit too fond of making Charles nerdy and Erik may be a bit pissed up here. Going to draw in a lovely old fashioned pub and hope to pop in Raven, Hank, Darwin, Alex ect and other dunk Oxford punters if I find the time.
Regrets collect like old friends.
Will slooowly stagger R/Bigbang outtakes over time.
T______T K, this is so sad. And so lovely.