okay, the Magneto/Charles karaoke fic-in-progress is here
So, um, see previous post for the details, but in THIS post I have included her bit and cleaned up and expanded slightly my bit and put them together. Please feel free to comment, or even play along?
Er, my bit uses lyrics from My Chemical Romance's "Summertime," just to give credit where it's due.
Magneto levitated the microphone and stand to where he'd been sitting in the darkened club. The singer and piano player looked like they had something to say about their equipment sailing away, but when their eyes traced the path from the microphone to Magneto's face, there was an obvious change of heart.
The microphone wobbled a bit but overall moved fairly directly to him - which was quite the feat considering just how many pina coladas he'd had.
That's another thing to blame Charles for, Magneto thinks to himself. He used to drink manly cocktails
- scotch, martinis, the occasional manhattan - before he met Charles. That damn irresistible man and his pineapple fixation! Now, whenever this maudlin mood hit him, he found himself ordering impossibly girly, fruity drinks, much to his chagrin.
Blinking his eyes to try to shake those thoughts, he took stock. Drink, check. Helmet, check. Microphone...yes.
"I assume you know this one. Be sure to keep up."
A second or two after he slurped more of his damn fruity drink, he began the song he felt compelled to sing. His deep voice almost cracked as he started:
love is a burning thing
and it makes a fiery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire
A few seconds in, the piano player shook his head and started playing along. As note followed note, the rest of the club fell silent and Magneto continued.
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
and it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
the ring of fire
Magneto decided to skip the next chorus - hell, he was the Master of Magnetism, so he could do what he damn well pleased. Skipping the repeated chorus suited him, as did the cloud of cigarette smoke in the club. It seemed fitting. It also pleased him to stand up for the next verse.
the taste of love is sweet
when mutant hearts like ours meet
I feel for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild.
Throwing the microphone to the floor, Magneto stalked from the room...before anyone else there could see the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
###
He wakes up terribly, terribly hungover.
Dear god, he hasn't felt this bad since...well, since the first evening Charles ever introduced him to pina coladas.
He'd laughed, that evening, and sworn that they couldn't be alcoholic at all, nothing with that much sugar could induce even tipsiness, and had then rather painfully learned better the next morning, when he'd opened one eye and instantly sworn he'd never mock Charles's drinks again.
Of course he'd broken that promise. He's broken everything else, too, though, so what's one more promise along the way?
You haven't broken everything.
That's not true, Charles--CHARLES?! He bolts upright. Instantly wishes he hadn't. With some effort, he makes it to the tiny hotel restroom, at least.
Sorry. I know--I really do--the morning after is never anywhere near as fun as the night before. Here, I think I can help--
Abruptly some of the nausea eases. Well, the physical nausea, anyway. Because Charles is doing that for him. Because Charles is in his head.
Because he--he'd taken the helmet off, hadn't he? Drunkenly, heartsick, sick in general, tasting pineapple on his tongue and wanting to go to sleep with Charles there next to him, one more time. Just one more time.
Oh god.
You made the news, you know. Master of Magnetism Conquers Karaoke.
Oh, god.
You--was that for me? The song, I mean? Charles sounds a little hesitant, a fact for which Erik instantly hates himself. Charles should never have cause to doubt how Erik feels about him. Even when everything else has changed, that much hasn't, at least.
Of course it was for you. You and your damn pina coladas. He's not really commenting on the drinks. They both know that much.
Hmm.
Charles, I-- What can he say? I'm sorry? I can't change what I believe, just for you? I would if I could? I love you? I will always love you?
Is he still allowed to say any of those things?
He kind of wishes Charles would let him throw up again. Maybe that would help with the spinning in his head. Or maybe not.
You should probably try to go back to sleep.
The thought of getting up and actually inching in the direction of the bed is not a promising one.
All right. Don’t move, then.
I’m fairly certain moving is out of the question, Charles. But thank you. That last thought might have been sarcastic. It isn't.
I—Charles stops there, but too late, because the feeling has already bled over anyway, a shared heartbeat of warmth through both their minds. Love. Always love.
No matter what else. Always love.
And at this moment, for this moment, that’s all that matters in the world.
After a second, Charles starts to hum, softly, in his head, and then to sing. And the whisper of tune conjures up memories, Charles baking in the kitchen, cold December mornings made warm by shared affection, Charles blushing but singing for him anyway, when he knows that Erik approves.
It’s not a song Erik knows. But he loves it, regardless of that.
when the lights go out, will you take me with you
and carry all this broken bone
through six years down in crowded rooms
and highways I called home, something I can't know ’til now
until you pick me off the ground
and if you stay, I will either wait all night
or until my heart explodes
how long until we find our way, in the dark and out of harm
you can run away with me
anytime you want
terrified of what I'd be, as a kid, from what I've seen
every single day when people try and put the pieces back together
just to smash them down
turn my headphones up real loud, I think I need them now
could you stop the noise
if you stay, I would even wait all night
or until my heart explodes
how long until we find our way, in the dark and out of harm
you can run away with me
anytime you want
anytime you want
And he falls asleep again, still without moving, on the cold restroom tiles, beside the toilet. To the soft sound of that familiar voice, so very present, so very there. So very real.
Er, my bit uses lyrics from My Chemical Romance's "Summertime," just to give credit where it's due.
Magneto levitated the microphone and stand to where he'd been sitting in the darkened club. The singer and piano player looked like they had something to say about their equipment sailing away, but when their eyes traced the path from the microphone to Magneto's face, there was an obvious change of heart.
The microphone wobbled a bit but overall moved fairly directly to him - which was quite the feat considering just how many pina coladas he'd had.
That's another thing to blame Charles for, Magneto thinks to himself. He used to drink manly cocktails
- scotch, martinis, the occasional manhattan - before he met Charles. That damn irresistible man and his pineapple fixation! Now, whenever this maudlin mood hit him, he found himself ordering impossibly girly, fruity drinks, much to his chagrin.
Blinking his eyes to try to shake those thoughts, he took stock. Drink, check. Helmet, check. Microphone...yes.
"I assume you know this one. Be sure to keep up."
A second or two after he slurped more of his damn fruity drink, he began the song he felt compelled to sing. His deep voice almost cracked as he started:
love is a burning thing
and it makes a fiery ring
bound by wild desire
I fell in to a ring of fire
A few seconds in, the piano player shook his head and started playing along. As note followed note, the rest of the club fell silent and Magneto continued.
I fell into a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down and the flames went higher
and it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
the ring of fire
Magneto decided to skip the next chorus - hell, he was the Master of Magnetism, so he could do what he damn well pleased. Skipping the repeated chorus suited him, as did the cloud of cigarette smoke in the club. It seemed fitting. It also pleased him to stand up for the next verse.
the taste of love is sweet
when mutant hearts like ours meet
I feel for you like a child
oh, but the fire went wild.
Throwing the microphone to the floor, Magneto stalked from the room...before anyone else there could see the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.
###
He wakes up terribly, terribly hungover.
Dear god, he hasn't felt this bad since...well, since the first evening Charles ever introduced him to pina coladas.
He'd laughed, that evening, and sworn that they couldn't be alcoholic at all, nothing with that much sugar could induce even tipsiness, and had then rather painfully learned better the next morning, when he'd opened one eye and instantly sworn he'd never mock Charles's drinks again.
Of course he'd broken that promise. He's broken everything else, too, though, so what's one more promise along the way?
You haven't broken everything.
That's not true, Charles--CHARLES?! He bolts upright. Instantly wishes he hadn't. With some effort, he makes it to the tiny hotel restroom, at least.
Sorry. I know--I really do--the morning after is never anywhere near as fun as the night before. Here, I think I can help--
Abruptly some of the nausea eases. Well, the physical nausea, anyway. Because Charles is doing that for him. Because Charles is in his head.
Because he--he'd taken the helmet off, hadn't he? Drunkenly, heartsick, sick in general, tasting pineapple on his tongue and wanting to go to sleep with Charles there next to him, one more time. Just one more time.
Oh god.
You made the news, you know. Master of Magnetism Conquers Karaoke.
Oh, god.
You--was that for me? The song, I mean? Charles sounds a little hesitant, a fact for which Erik instantly hates himself. Charles should never have cause to doubt how Erik feels about him. Even when everything else has changed, that much hasn't, at least.
Of course it was for you. You and your damn pina coladas. He's not really commenting on the drinks. They both know that much.
Hmm.
Charles, I-- What can he say? I'm sorry? I can't change what I believe, just for you? I would if I could? I love you? I will always love you?
Is he still allowed to say any of those things?
He kind of wishes Charles would let him throw up again. Maybe that would help with the spinning in his head. Or maybe not.
You should probably try to go back to sleep.
The thought of getting up and actually inching in the direction of the bed is not a promising one.
All right. Don’t move, then.
I’m fairly certain moving is out of the question, Charles. But thank you. That last thought might have been sarcastic. It isn't.
I—Charles stops there, but too late, because the feeling has already bled over anyway, a shared heartbeat of warmth through both their minds. Love. Always love.
No matter what else. Always love.
And at this moment, for this moment, that’s all that matters in the world.
After a second, Charles starts to hum, softly, in his head, and then to sing. And the whisper of tune conjures up memories, Charles baking in the kitchen, cold December mornings made warm by shared affection, Charles blushing but singing for him anyway, when he knows that Erik approves.
It’s not a song Erik knows. But he loves it, regardless of that.
when the lights go out, will you take me with you
and carry all this broken bone
through six years down in crowded rooms
and highways I called home, something I can't know ’til now
until you pick me off the ground
and if you stay, I will either wait all night
or until my heart explodes
how long until we find our way, in the dark and out of harm
you can run away with me
anytime you want
terrified of what I'd be, as a kid, from what I've seen
every single day when people try and put the pieces back together
just to smash them down
turn my headphones up real loud, I think I need them now
could you stop the noise
if you stay, I would even wait all night
or until my heart explodes
how long until we find our way, in the dark and out of harm
you can run away with me
anytime you want
anytime you want
And he falls asleep again, still without moving, on the cold restroom tiles, beside the toilet. To the soft sound of that familiar voice, so very present, so very there. So very real.