“You should smile more often, my friend,” come the words out of thin air.
Erik’s eyes lift from the novel he idly reads in his lap. Charles smiles across the table at him; he stares back blankly. “So you can be satisfied to know that your ridiculous pep-talks don’t fall upon deaf ears?” he retorts dryly. His tone lacks its old harshness, though, and Erik knows it.
So does Charles, which is why he only smiles wider, the comment hardly phasing him, and shrugs a shoulder. “Well, yes, that too.” He shifts in the cafe chair and folds his hands on the table. “I was thinking more on the lines of how your eyes light up when you smile, and your happiness is much more apparent. ” Erik is silently regarding him, but Charles can hear the thoughts swimming in his head. He tosses him some wit to chew on. “That, and smiling is generally more favourable than scowling.”
The metal bender scoffs and closes his book. He rests his arms on the edge of the table, loosely crossed. “I don’t smile to please others, Charles,” he corrects with a wayward gaze.
“No, you don’t,” Charles acknowledges quickly. He dares to move his folded hands closer to Erik’s wrist. “Just to please me.” And here, Xavier grins, because he has just heard the same thing in Lehnsherr’s head; perhaps thought deliberately, though the telepath doubts it, given Erik’s raised brows. Charles cannot bite down the doggish grin on his face.
A dry chortle pushes past Erik’s lips. He looks down at their nearly-touching hands but holds no objection. “It’s annoying when you do that,” he quips, ducking his head and avoiding Charles’ eyes.
The telepath’s grin grows and he has to bite his lip to suppress the joy from wholly breaking out on his face. Then why are you smiling? he thinks, passing the words to Erik, whose attempts to hide his face have clearly failed. To Charles’ delight, it only makes him smile more.
Precious. BABIES.
