Title: For The Love Of A Zipper
Fandom: X-Men: First Class
Characters: Charles/Erik
Rating: teen
Length: ~750 words
Content notes: Flirting, banter, uncomfortable clothing.
Author notes: For the latest Amnesty challenge, "Dangling".
Summary: Charles has run out of clean underwear. Erik doesn't see the problem.

Badge notes: Written in less than an hour // Historical (1960s)



"You do this every day?" Charles asks. Erik glances over at him, and the bastard, the bastard, he's smirking. Of course he is. He's smirking and he's trying not to laugh and Charles is not going to shift or adjust himself or scratch because he is not giving Erik the satisfaction, he is not.

"I did warn you we were running low on time."

"Yes, and next time I'll listen, God! How do you stand this?" No squirming. No squirming. Charles is not going to squirm.

"For one thing, I'm not wearing wool trousers today."

"Oh, please, these are fine-woven Italian merino, they couldn't make a baby itch." If he just leans a little, over to the right, that might-- no, that isn't any better. Damn. Damn damn damn.

"Well, if I owned any, I'd have happily let you borrow a pair. Unfortunately--"

"--all you had to offer was an athletic supporter, yes, Erik, I know." Charles wonders if this would be better if he crossed his legs. Or if he spread them a bit. But he isn't just going to shift for the sake of shifting.

Maybe he ought to have taken Erik up on the offer of an athletic supporter after all. It was clean, Erik promised, so perhaps it would be better than this.

"When we get to St. Louis we'll see about a laundromat," Erik promises. He reaches between his legs and adjusts himself, so casual, as though denim isn't rubbing against his cock right now. Charles actually winces; if he did that he'd likely scrape himself with his zipper.

Oh.

He pauses, looking Erik up and down for a moment. "Well, no wonder."

"Hm?" Erik strokes his fingertips along the horn ring, something he does constantly while he's driving. Charles is surprised at times that he doesn't try to steer by it-- but that could be awfully noisy, he supposes.

It's a bit distracting, watching those long, graceful fingers moving along that curve, but it does prove Charles's point.

"You go without because you like your zippers. That's what it is, isn't it?" Charles laughs. "That's it exactly."

"It's a benefit," Erik agrees. He smiles, though he doesn't look over at Charles. "I take it things aren't working out quite the same way for you."

"No, are you joking? That would hurt."

"You might like it."

Charles takes in a quick breath through his teeth. At the rate this conversation is going, he's not going to be able to avoid finding out, one way or another. There's only so much room in his trousers, after all.

"I think in future I'd prefer it if I didn't run out of clean boxer shorts."

"You'd be amazed the things I can do with a zipper." Erik's smiling again, and he's still stroking the horn ring. "I'll show you when we get to the motel, if you like."

"Tempting as that is, I think it would chafe." But Charles reaches over, sliding his hand up the inside of Erik's thigh. "On the other hand... I'd be interested in finding out what you get out of your zippers. First-hand, as they say."

Erik groans a little, and he takes his hand off the steering wheel and the horn ring at last. His hand covers Charles's, and he slides them both up, pressing Charles's palm against his fly. It's very satisfying to feel the bulge in Erik's jeans... but it's more satisfying still to hear the way Erik draws in a long, slow breath, and to feel the intensity of their attraction picking up in the tenor of Erik's emotions.

"We could pull over," Charles suggests, squeezing lightly. "Find a nice quiet turnoff and play with your zipper a bit..."

"The last time we did that I had to drive in sticky jeans for hours," Erik says. His voice is a bit hoarse. Charles smirks at him. "We're waiting for the motel room this time."

"I don't see why I should be the only one uncomfortable in his trousers," Charles points out. "Wouldn't you love to have me touching you through the metal, like this...?" He slips a finger under the outer flap of denim and strokes the rough brass zipper with one fingertip. Erik groans out loud and catches Charles's hand, stilling it.

"It really isn't my fault you're out of clean underthings," Erik says. "We've ninety miles to go. Surely you can wait that long before debauching me."

"I suppose we'll find out," Charles says, grinning.

He doesn't take his hand off Erik's fly, but then Erik doesn't move it away, either.

-end-