X-Men Fic: Side Effects
Jun. 18th, 2014 11:28![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eldabeTitle: Side Effects
Author: Eldarwannabe
Fandom: X-Men: Days of Future Past
Rating: All Ages
Characters: Hank McCoy, Charles Xavier
Beta(s): UNBETAED. PROBABLY JUNK.
Notes: Would like to fold this into a larger fic later because let me tell you I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about the school and Charles and Hank's Magic Drugs and whatnot. But the muse struck and I'm not going to look that gift horse in the mouth!
Summary: Charles just wanted to sleep.
The kitchen was a mess when Hank and Alex came down the stairs in the morning. Loose tea leaves scattered across the floor, burnt egg bits soaking out of the pan in the sink. It had obviously been a long night.
"Fuck this," Alex said. He walked through the kitchen, towards the service door. "I'm going into town to see if our mail is being held up." The door slammed close behind him.
Hank wanted to go with him. Sean's letters were late and neither of them wanted to ask Charles to check up with Cerebro. Not now.
Hank grabbed a broom and followed Charles's path down the hall towards the den, sweeping the scattered crumbs into neat piles. In the den, the curtains were imperfectly drawn, leaving streaks of light across the carpeted floor. Charles had parked his chair in the darkest corner his head cradled in his hands.
"I need more, Hank," he said hoarsely as soon as Hank took a tentative step inside.
"I don't know…if that's safe, Professor." Hank stuttered. The dosage he used on himself was just enough to let his skin fade back to pink when he concentrated. There were side effects -- headaches, nausea, frequent dizzy spells if he took enough to change his feet as well. But Charles kept pushing, asking Hank for doses more frequently, or a more concentrated dose. Charles didn't talk about side effects.
There was a sticky tumbler next to a bottle of scotch on the low table by sofa. The throw blanket was crumpled in the far corner. The teapot and teacup were on a low windowsill.
"I can still hear you thinking," Charles said. He knotted his fingers in his hair. "I can hear Mrs. Abest wondering if her nephew is ever going to come home again. I can hear Alex thinking about leaving. I can hear the men at the military base-" Charles cut himself off, covering his face with his hands.
Hank still couldn't understand why now it was all falling apart. There had been over two dozen students in the house, with two other teachers and a cleaning service twice a week. Charles had been fine, Charles had been happy. But now the neighbor down the street was too much and Charles rolled through the hallways at night, haunting his own oversized house.
Charles groaned. "More, Hank!"
He wasn't due for a dose for two hours, at least. But Hank would be lying if he said he hadn't been experimenting. It was boring these days, the classrooms shuttered and Charles's plans gathering dust.
And…and just in case.
Charles looked up, the tangle of hair almost obscuring the gleam of his eyes. "Yes, Hank, I think I will try that one."
Hank felt a growl grow in his throat, but he turned around and took the back stairs to the basement. The basement was supposed to be heavily locked, to keep students from accidentally stumbling on Cerebro or Hank's laboratory, or the experimental room Charles wanted to use for practicing dangerous powers. But with only the three of them living there now, they were all careless about safety.
Hank hesitated while selecting the higher dose. Charles's power was unbelievably strong, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean that this was the best option. Maybe Charles someone to guide him with his powers, to help him the was he helped Sean and Hank and all the other boys. The way he was still helping Alex, despite at all.
Charles obviously disagreed with him. Hank could feel anticipation thrumming against his skin, foreign and bright.
Hank filled the syringe.
When he made it back to the den, Charles had transferred himself to the couch. His sleeve was already rolled up.
"Professor, I think we should discuss this-"
Charles's hand clenched. "After, Hank. Just let me think for a minute and we can discuss this."
Hank could feel Charles's anticipation, the craving crawling up his skin. It was irresistible and Hank stumbled forward.
Charles took the syringe and tapped it twice for air bubbles. When had he become so practiced? Hank had needed coach him at the beginning, but now Charles was expertly sliding the needle home.
Hank was quiet as he took back the syringe. If this was a huge mistake, he wanted to be there to call the hospital, at least.
Charles pushed his hair back from his face, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Hank," he said quietly, almost ashamed. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to brace elbows against his knees.
Then he jerked back.
"Charles?" Oh god, he was going to die, his heart was going to stop, he was going to have a seizure.
Charles let his hands hover in the air, touching nothing. "Hank, I can feel, I-I-"
Hank followed his gaze down to Charles's knees. His right knee lifted a few inches off the floor, falling back with a soft thump. Then his left knee slowly followed.
Hank looked at Charles's hands, which were now trembling. But there were no wires or strings and Charles looked just as surprised as Hank.
Charles kicked.
"Oh my god," Charles said.
Author: Eldarwannabe
Fandom: X-Men: Days of Future Past
Rating: All Ages
Characters: Hank McCoy, Charles Xavier
Beta(s): UNBETAED. PROBABLY JUNK.
Notes: Would like to fold this into a larger fic later because let me tell you I have SO MANY THOUGHTS about the school and Charles and Hank's Magic Drugs and whatnot. But the muse struck and I'm not going to look that gift horse in the mouth!
Summary: Charles just wanted to sleep.
The kitchen was a mess when Hank and Alex came down the stairs in the morning. Loose tea leaves scattered across the floor, burnt egg bits soaking out of the pan in the sink. It had obviously been a long night.
"Fuck this," Alex said. He walked through the kitchen, towards the service door. "I'm going into town to see if our mail is being held up." The door slammed close behind him.
Hank wanted to go with him. Sean's letters were late and neither of them wanted to ask Charles to check up with Cerebro. Not now.
Hank grabbed a broom and followed Charles's path down the hall towards the den, sweeping the scattered crumbs into neat piles. In the den, the curtains were imperfectly drawn, leaving streaks of light across the carpeted floor. Charles had parked his chair in the darkest corner his head cradled in his hands.
"I need more, Hank," he said hoarsely as soon as Hank took a tentative step inside.
"I don't know…if that's safe, Professor." Hank stuttered. The dosage he used on himself was just enough to let his skin fade back to pink when he concentrated. There were side effects -- headaches, nausea, frequent dizzy spells if he took enough to change his feet as well. But Charles kept pushing, asking Hank for doses more frequently, or a more concentrated dose. Charles didn't talk about side effects.
There was a sticky tumbler next to a bottle of scotch on the low table by sofa. The throw blanket was crumpled in the far corner. The teapot and teacup were on a low windowsill.
"I can still hear you thinking," Charles said. He knotted his fingers in his hair. "I can hear Mrs. Abest wondering if her nephew is ever going to come home again. I can hear Alex thinking about leaving. I can hear the men at the military base-" Charles cut himself off, covering his face with his hands.
Hank still couldn't understand why now it was all falling apart. There had been over two dozen students in the house, with two other teachers and a cleaning service twice a week. Charles had been fine, Charles had been happy. But now the neighbor down the street was too much and Charles rolled through the hallways at night, haunting his own oversized house.
Charles groaned. "More, Hank!"
He wasn't due for a dose for two hours, at least. But Hank would be lying if he said he hadn't been experimenting. It was boring these days, the classrooms shuttered and Charles's plans gathering dust.
And…and just in case.
Charles looked up, the tangle of hair almost obscuring the gleam of his eyes. "Yes, Hank, I think I will try that one."
Hank felt a growl grow in his throat, but he turned around and took the back stairs to the basement. The basement was supposed to be heavily locked, to keep students from accidentally stumbling on Cerebro or Hank's laboratory, or the experimental room Charles wanted to use for practicing dangerous powers. But with only the three of them living there now, they were all careless about safety.
Hank hesitated while selecting the higher dose. Charles's power was unbelievably strong, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean that this was the best option. Maybe Charles someone to guide him with his powers, to help him the was he helped Sean and Hank and all the other boys. The way he was still helping Alex, despite at all.
Charles obviously disagreed with him. Hank could feel anticipation thrumming against his skin, foreign and bright.
Hank filled the syringe.
When he made it back to the den, Charles had transferred himself to the couch. His sleeve was already rolled up.
"Professor, I think we should discuss this-"
Charles's hand clenched. "After, Hank. Just let me think for a minute and we can discuss this."
Hank could feel Charles's anticipation, the craving crawling up his skin. It was irresistible and Hank stumbled forward.
Charles took the syringe and tapped it twice for air bubbles. When had he become so practiced? Hank had needed coach him at the beginning, but now Charles was expertly sliding the needle home.
Hank was quiet as he took back the syringe. If this was a huge mistake, he wanted to be there to call the hospital, at least.
Charles pushed his hair back from his face, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, Hank," he said quietly, almost ashamed. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to brace elbows against his knees.
Then he jerked back.
"Charles?" Oh god, he was going to die, his heart was going to stop, he was going to have a seizure.
Charles let his hands hover in the air, touching nothing. "Hank, I can feel, I-I-"
Hank followed his gaze down to Charles's knees. His right knee lifted a few inches off the floor, falling back with a soft thump. Then his left knee slowly followed.
Hank looked at Charles's hands, which were now trembling. But there were no wires or strings and Charles looked just as surprised as Hank.
Charles kicked.
"Oh my god," Charles said.
