Title: Smouldering Glances
Fandom: X-Men First Class
Length: 750 words
Content notes: no warnings apply.
Author note: a sort of out-take from my noir AU, Patterns of Light. Thanks to badly_knitted at ffw_social for suggesting this take on the prompt, and to kalypso for help with the details.
Summary: An unexpected encounter in a Washington DC jazz club.



The Bohemian Caverns looks much the same as the last time Erik was here, six months ago. But then the cellar's décor probably hasn't changed that much since the days of Prohibition, though they don't serve liquor in teacups any more. They're obviously never getting rid of those fake stalactites and stalagmites, and the clouds of cigarette smoke that wreathe the jazz fans and musicians alike are as thick as ever.

What's different about tonight is the musicians: you don't often see a woman leading from the piano. Singing, yes - and this one's a fine singer too. He's got the records to prove it. But it's the way she plays, like a man, that's really unexpected.

Almost as unexpected as seeing Agent MacTaggert off-duty, sitting at a centre table drinking highballs with a man Erik doesn't recognize, but wouldn't have said was her type. Not that Erik knows what her type is. But this man in his button-down shirt and sweater vest looks out of place here.

Nice ass, though, Erik notes as the man stands up and moves to the bar.

Oh, really! The voice sounds British, or like someone trying to pass for British. Disconcertingly, it also seems to be inside Erik's head. He must be tired if he's starting to imagine things. Just as well he's taking a few days' leave after his last assignment.

The song finishes, and he applauds with the rest. MacTaggert pulls her wrap around her shoulders and follows her companion to the bar as the trio launches into a version of Fever.

Erik could do with another drink himself, come to think of it.

“Hi there,” he says to MacTaggert at the bar.

Not a good move: she jumps and turns round sharply. “For Pete's sake, Lehnsherr, don't creep up on me!”

“Sorry,” Erik says. He wouldn't call it creeping, but an apology seems the safest course. “I didn't know you liked jazz.”

“There's a lot you don't know,” MacTaggert says. “Let's keep it that way.”

Erik's not about to argue with that; the less they know about each other's private lives, the better.

“Here you are.” MacTaggert's companion turns round to hand her a fresh drink, and something seems to have happened to all the air in the room.

Outside, it's probably still a cool spring night. Inside, the temperature just climbed several degrees. Because this man may or may not be MacTaggert's type, but he is definitely Erik's. In more ways than one, if the way he's staring at Erik is anything to go by.

“Hi,” Erik says. “Erik Lehnsherr. I work with Agent MacTaggert.”

“Charles Xavier,” the man says, and licks his lips, which should probably be illegal. “How do you do?”

Come back to my place and I'll show you exactly how I do, Erik thinks, and sees Xavier flush from his collar to the tips of his ears.

You should probably know, I'm a telepath, the British voice says in Erik's head, sounding more than a little flustered.

“Um,” Erik says, just managing not to say Oh shit out loud. How do you explain to your boss that you've accidentally propositioned her date?

“Agent MacTaggert was kind enough to give me some advice on an article I'm writing,” Xavier says. “This is my way of saying thank you.”

Not a date, then; that's something.

“Well, this has been an unexpected pleasure,” MacTaggert says tartly, before Erik can ask what the article's about. “See you at work, Lehnsherr.”

She turns on her heel, not waiting for a reply, and marches back to the table.

Erik can't remember when he last saw her so edgy. He would wonder what's up with her, but he's too busy staring at Xavier's broad shoulders and strong, capable hands, his impossibly red lips and deep blue eyes. Pale creamy skin that colours so easily, prompting thoughts of unbuttoning and uncovering, exploring the path of that blush with lips and fingers and tongue -

I'll hold you to that, very soon, Xavier's voice promises. Aloud, he says “I'd better join Agent MacTaggert.”

Erik knows he's right - things may be changing in the city since the protest in front of the White House, but there's still a need for discretion. In his line of work, he can't afford to attract suspicions of being unsound.

“See you later,” Xavier says, and gives him a look so full of intent that Erik can hardly breathe.

“Fever,” Shirley Horn sings, “till you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn.”



***

Information about the Bohemian Caverns can be found here, and a recording of Shirley Horn singing Fever is here.