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trapped behind the counter top (1/?)
eyesex on bed
constantbedhead
Title: trapped behind the counter top (1/?)
Author: aleey/ constantbedhead
Rating: PG thus far. will more likely than not escalate to NC-17.
Word Count: 849.
Characters: Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Logan, Scott Summers, Alex Summers, Rogue, Remy LeBeau, Raven, Azazel, Riptide, OCs.
Summary: Charles starts working in a chain bookstore's cafe. Erik is a regular customer. Other nonsense ensues too, of course.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. At all.
Author's Note: I work at erm. BN. So I've always wanted to write this. Yay?



Charles was nervous, to say the least. Not nervous in that fidgety, often times over speculative sort of way; more in that, remain quiet, nod head excessively and laugh when appropriate sort of way. After having finished yet another year of schooling – now just one shy of finishing his doctorate thesis – and finally having the delicious break of summer upon him, Charles felt it wise to occupy his time with something other than school. Of course it seemed frivolous, backing away from some of his schooling for a whole of three months, but he wouldn’t be overly negligent; he would continue working as he maintained a full-time job.

That job just happened to be a low-paying barista position in a large bookstore chain’s café. Not that he was opposed to the low pay (he wasn’t living with lack of funds). His father would often complain about his son’s obscure desire to squander his summer away at an unnecessary job making unnecessary money when he could be off living the life of the wealthy bachelor that he was, but all of it seemed only to fuel Charles’ desire to be as far away from his father as possible. And if he was going to be anywhere, working around his favorite beverage possible as well as literature was as fine place as any.

But even he couldn’t fully overcome the sudden fluttering of nerves that coursed through his stomach as he pulled his arms through his black collared shirt and neatly tucked it into his black slacks. Turning, he examined his outfit in the mirror and grimaced – he looked so old with his shirt tucked in, but he wasn’t sure what attire was most presentable. Giving his own reflection one last disapproving once over, he decided that at least for his first day he’d remain professionally attired, and then would take it one day at a time as he perceived its importance.

Charles let out a frustrated sigh. He was about to start his first day and he was already overcomplicating something simple like clothes. It wasn’t as though he it was going to be his first lecture, or his first day in his lifetime career. It was work in a café in a bookstore on Long Island. Really, it wasn’t anything life-shattering, and yet every minute detail was causing this harrying of a response. He let out another frustrated sigh and strangled his hair with his hands.

At least he got up a few hours before he was meant to arrive. The clock next to him flashed 9:32 in a brilliant red beam and he let his head hang. He needed to leave in an hour and hadn’t even eaten yet. He was lucky he wasn’t far from his destination – maybe fifteen minutes, at best – but he refused to be tardy. A soft knocking on his door drew him from whatever reverie he’d been captured in and he sought out who it was.

“Ah, Raven, come in,” he smiled, and she clicked the door closed behind her softly, head cocked to the side.

“What on earth are you doing, Charles?”

He spun, arms extended to his sides, showing off his outfit. “Getting ready. Why? Do I look ridiculous?”
Raven cocked her head to the side, smiling, arms crossed. “Ridiculous might not have been the initial word I’d choose. I’d say you look more, out of sorts.” She let out a low chuckle before stepping to him and tugging on his collar. “But then again, that could be because I can see how nervous you are.”

Charles gave her a half-hearted smile and she laughed again, her hand on his cheek this time.

“You need to stop worrying. You’re one of the brightest minds of our generation. Just go, you’ll be fine, I’m sure.” She gave him a warm smile. “Also, eat, please. Az left you some breakfast on the table, something for your strange taste in peanut butter covered waffles or some other odd thing.”

Charles glowered at her. “Don’t judge a man by his food.”

She looked down at her firmly round, pregnant belly. “You’re trying to tell a pregnant woman not to judge someone else on their eating habits. You’re aware you’re asking for trouble, yes?” Instead of a reply received, however, Raven felt Charles warm hand on her bare blue stomach and smiled. A nudge around her belly-button caught her off-guard and she laughed. “God, he only does that when it’s you,” and he knew she was right, but that was because they both knew he was whispering sweet, protective words to the child nestled in her womb.

“Oh gosh, you’re getting all misty-eyed Charles. I swear, you’d think the kid was yours.” This caused another quick glare from Charles. “Well, it’s true. Now, downstairs before the peanut butter melts completely off of the waffles.”

Charles nodded and started toward the stairs, a little less nervous courtesy of his sister’s pep-talk, followed by a slowly waddling Raven. Perhaps his first day wouldn’t be as terrible as he imagined – at least, not at all due to his clothes.


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