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It's time for McAvoy's face.
Today is a day that was irritating, and the worst kind of irritating, because it was my own fault. I'm edging towards one of those "I suck as a person and oh god why do people even like me" moods, so I'm going to spam you all with McAvoy's face. With bonus Anne-Marie.
Maybe I'll just write mindless fluff or something (hah, when do I write anything other than that?), though with my present state of mind it would be like, Charles adopting ten hedgehogs named Martin Freeman. Well, not that, but you know. Something.
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Maybe I'll just write mindless fluff or something (hah, when do I write anything other than that?), though with my present state of mind it would be like, Charles adopting ten hedgehogs named Martin Freeman. Well, not that, but you know. Something.
no subject
"I--you're wearing a peacoat," Erik says stupidly.
Charles looks up from fiddling with the strap of his bag, slung across his chest. "Hmm? Oh, yes."
"And a tie."
Charles makes a face, and his hands migrate up to the tie, adjusting the sloppily-tied knot, which is off-kilter and decidedly odd looking. Charles has many amazing talents, but an ability to tie ties is not one of them. "Well, yes. It's one of Raven's performances, I figured I ought to--." The tie falls apart in his hands. He huffs a breath through his nose. "How on earth do people manage to get their ties to work properly?"
"Not like that," Erik says drily. He bats Charles' hands away, unspools the tie from around Charles' neck, ignores the sharp, indrawn breath that the smooth slide elicits from Charles. "Collar up," he says, and Charles complies while Erik runs his hands down the length of silk. He can't help but imagine the black fabric against Charles' wrists, across Charles' eyes, covering the pale skin of his face. He wonders if Charles will let him do that.
He carefully arranges the tie under Charles' popped collar and lets his hands follow the muscle memory of tying it, backwards, of course, and a little awkward because of it; after all, he's never had cause to tie someone else's tie before.
"There," he says, rearranging Charles' collar, adjusting the tie so that it hangs perfectly. His fingers brush against the flushed skin of Charles' neck as he does it. "Finished." His voice is a little hoarse.
"Erik," Charles says. He's staring at him, Erik sees when his gaze lifts from Charles' neck, the dot of red from where he nicked himself shaving, the hairs he always forgets about tucked away under his jaw. Charles is drifting into his space, and Erik aches to pull him closer, take his mouth, but--
"Raven's performance."
"After," Charles says insistently.
"Yes," Erik agrees. "I have plans for that tie."
Charles catches his eye. "Good."
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Oh, Erik. You are so full of feelings.
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