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vocab_drabblesTitle: Words Hurt
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: Charles/Erik, Quentin
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Charles?Erik, Quentin
Warnings: None
Summary: Charles is far from being indolent.
In his dreams, he can dance. More than that, he can dance with whomever he chooses without fear of what it will do to the Earth, mutantkind's existence, or their plight against humanity. He can dance with Erik out in the open, his arms wrapped around him while Erik's hands touch him in provocative places -- and what most people fail to realize is that when you have had to go as long as Charles has without the touch of a desired companion, almost any touch can be provocative.
He's had millions of people accuse him of things over the years. Of course, the words that sting him the most are always hurtled at him by ungrateful students. The insults shouted by people, both mutant and human, who do not know him lost their sting years ago, but the way his beloved students still judge him... Those thoughts, even when unspoken, cut him to the core. He knows they hate Erik, and they have every reason to do so.
What they do not, however, have reason to do is to think him indolent. Right now, there's a new student body grieving behind him, and he can feel the tenseness growing in his older students. He can hear Wolverine's growl before he unleashes and feel the ice in the rising wind, which he contributes to both Ororo and Robert. He can feel Scott touching his visor, temptation etching through him, and Jean's sorrow and disdain echo his own.
He whirls around just in time to catch the purple-haired punk's spittle in his face. He does not give the impudent child the pleasure of wiping it from his face, blinking though some hits him in his eyes, or even acknowledging it in any way. "I did not fight at your friend's side?" he questions coldly instead. "I brought you all here to die? No, Quentin! I did not! I would gladly deal with your friend's murderer, but alas, son, it's because she did not stop in running between us and the enemy! Remind me, Quentin," he demands, his eyes meeting the boy's, "whose psionic shotgun was fired when she ran in between the two groups?"
Quentin glared, his hands balling into fists. His teeth clenched. Flames seemed to jump from his eyes. But he still knew better than to attack Xavier while he was surrounded by his X-Men.
"There are many, many things I regret in this world, Quentin, but opening my home to all mutants in need of safety and protection will never be one of those. I also am far, far from indolent. Research your definitions, son, before you choose to use such taunts." He could show him, right now, what he was capable of, but instead Charles forced himself to turn, trusting his students to guard his back, and glide back into the school. With his back turned to the world, no one but the single man flying high above them all witnesses the lone tear trickle down his cheek.
The End
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: Charles/Erik, Quentin
Word Count: 500
Characters/Pairings: Charles?Erik, Quentin
Warnings: None
Summary: Charles is far from being indolent.
In his dreams, he can dance. More than that, he can dance with whomever he chooses without fear of what it will do to the Earth, mutantkind's existence, or their plight against humanity. He can dance with Erik out in the open, his arms wrapped around him while Erik's hands touch him in provocative places -- and what most people fail to realize is that when you have had to go as long as Charles has without the touch of a desired companion, almost any touch can be provocative.
He's had millions of people accuse him of things over the years. Of course, the words that sting him the most are always hurtled at him by ungrateful students. The insults shouted by people, both mutant and human, who do not know him lost their sting years ago, but the way his beloved students still judge him... Those thoughts, even when unspoken, cut him to the core. He knows they hate Erik, and they have every reason to do so.
What they do not, however, have reason to do is to think him indolent. Right now, there's a new student body grieving behind him, and he can feel the tenseness growing in his older students. He can hear Wolverine's growl before he unleashes and feel the ice in the rising wind, which he contributes to both Ororo and Robert. He can feel Scott touching his visor, temptation etching through him, and Jean's sorrow and disdain echo his own.
He whirls around just in time to catch the purple-haired punk's spittle in his face. He does not give the impudent child the pleasure of wiping it from his face, blinking though some hits him in his eyes, or even acknowledging it in any way. "I did not fight at your friend's side?" he questions coldly instead. "I brought you all here to die? No, Quentin! I did not! I would gladly deal with your friend's murderer, but alas, son, it's because she did not stop in running between us and the enemy! Remind me, Quentin," he demands, his eyes meeting the boy's, "whose psionic shotgun was fired when she ran in between the two groups?"
Quentin glared, his hands balling into fists. His teeth clenched. Flames seemed to jump from his eyes. But he still knew better than to attack Xavier while he was surrounded by his X-Men.
"There are many, many things I regret in this world, Quentin, but opening my home to all mutants in need of safety and protection will never be one of those. I also am far, far from indolent. Research your definitions, son, before you choose to use such taunts." He could show him, right now, what he was capable of, but instead Charles forced himself to turn, trusting his students to guard his back, and glide back into the school. With his back turned to the world, no one but the single man flying high above them all witnesses the lone tear trickle down his cheek.
The End
