[fanfic] [x-men:first class] [children of dune] Let us bend with the wind

[bromantic.livejournal.com]

Charles can’t slip into Leto’s dreams. He’s tried, many times, just to see what lay beyond the dunes and shimmering heat. He never succeeded. Every time he thought he could reach the doors, a man with sandy hair and clear eyes sent him away. And he always said the same thing, “This is not your choice to make.”

And it worked. Charles always felt guilty about it.

One day, the door opened and Charles slipped past. It was a dark place, filled with men and women in cages, screaming, begging, “Let us out, let us breathe, let us have something”. It was a cacophony of voices, a myriad that blended and slipped into his mind. For minutes, he could stand it, but it didn’t stop him from trying to claw his ears out. But a hand stopped him, steadying him.
Leto. He just looked at him, smiling eyes.

“This is what happens when you tread too far. Pain is a great teacher,” Leto said calmly and Charles wanted to lash out at him, say how could you do this to me, you know what it’s like!

I know, Leto says silently, I know

Charles wakes up to tears.

---

Leto follows his requests soundlessly, his footfalls soft and light. Sometimes, Charles would stare out for hours and never notice that Leto was there, right beside him. Scott would complain about it, often, leaking strained jealousy, and Charles dismissed it.

“But he’s there all the time!” Scott protested.

“No,” Charles said, “Just when he needs to be there.”

---

Your bones are made of bamboo, Charles Xavier, Leto said in his fluttering smile and Charles felt himself taken away, There is no breaking point, just points in a long line.

Everyone breaks, Leto.

Not you. Never you.

There was warmth in his head, which was beating with his heart. He told Leto this and Leto just laughed.

---

Ghani thinks about warning Leto off, of telling him to leave their entanglements be. His head is in her lap, and he’s still begging for his death. She shushes him (not unkindly), looking deep into his eyes. Child’s eyes. In so many ways, Leto was still a child. How could he comprehend what he was doing? All knowledge did little when he needed to be taught, not bent. So she kisses him and wishes him luck, and her hand rests on her knife.

---

Sometimes, Leto takes him running in the back of his mind.

It’s not much, it never will be, but in the moment of wind and sand, it’ll do.

---

Some things (Erik, mutants, the future) become all too much, hammer and tongs beating on his back like an anvil. He’ll never give it up, but the pressure carves a niche on his shoulders. So when he lets Leto kiss him, lets him love him, from eyes to fingers, buttery, slippery kisses, from a person who despises moisture.

Some things, Charles keeps to himself.