"And you're sure your friend will help us?" Erik asks. He doesn't sound uncertain--Charles doesn't think Erik's ever been uncertain of anything in his life--but he does sound...skeptical. And perhaps concerned. Charles is aware of what this looks like, the two of them creeping silently across the foggy streets, the way that passersby glance at them and then hurry away.
"Yes," Charles says. He doesn't add that if Phillip won't help them, he's not above forcing the issue. He's changed the minds of people he's like far more than Phillip with little to no guilt. He has no compunctions about taking advantage if it means they can find out why this man is following them and what he wants.
Charles leads the way, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. He's halfway across the alley when Erik's fingers close around his elbow and redirect him to a gloomy corner. Erik crowds him against the wall, damp and cold, and holds his gaze.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Charles?" Erik asks. "You may not like the answers you receive."
Charles thinks back to their meeting on a train just a week ago, to Erik's haunted, quiet confession--I think there's someone--whatever it is that's following us, I think I may be to blame--to the way Erik is always so quick to step between Charles and danger, to the feeling of Erik's lips brushing his own, gently, reverently.
"I trust you," Charles says.
Erik keeps staring at him.
"Do you really?" he asks.
Charles very slowly and very deliberately tangles his fingers with Erik's own, not breaking their eye contact.
"I do," Charles says.
Erik holds Charles' gaze for another endless minute.
"Fine," he says. "Let's go."
He doesn't let go of Charles' hand until they reach Phillip's front door. It's all the reassurance Charles needs to know he's made the right choice.
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Date: 2011-11-18 03:47 pm (UTC)"Yes," Charles says. He doesn't add that if Phillip won't help them, he's not above forcing the issue. He's changed the minds of people he's like far more than Phillip with little to no guilt. He has no compunctions about taking advantage if it means they can find out why this man is following them and what he wants.
Charles leads the way, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. He's halfway across the alley when Erik's fingers close around his elbow and redirect him to a gloomy corner. Erik crowds him against the wall, damp and cold, and holds his gaze.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Charles?" Erik asks. "You may not like the answers you receive."
Charles thinks back to their meeting on a train just a week ago, to Erik's haunted, quiet confession--I think there's someone--whatever it is that's following us, I think I may be to blame--to the way Erik is always so quick to step between Charles and danger, to the feeling of Erik's lips brushing his own, gently, reverently.
"I trust you," Charles says.
Erik keeps staring at him.
"Do you really?" he asks.
Charles very slowly and very deliberately tangles his fingers with Erik's own, not breaking their eye contact.
"I do," Charles says.
Erik holds Charles' gaze for another endless minute.
"Fine," he says. "Let's go."
He doesn't let go of Charles' hand until they reach Phillip's front door. It's all the reassurance Charles needs to know he's made the right choice.