charles xavier. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forgodssake) wrote2014-01-23 03:16 pm
forgodssake) wrote2014-01-23 03:16 pm
ic inbox } ataraxion.
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xavier
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xavier
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CHARLES XAVIER
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Well you seem alright. And not terribly in need of a dating service.
[ Chin resting in hand and slightly resigned to the situation, even though Charles has the sense that polite refusal would be taken with grace. ]
How'd this work, anyway? Names in a hat?
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[He sits back, making a face like he's thinking.] So. I'm availabllllle [he says, drawing out the l.] ...now. Whaddya think?
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But once its dropped, he seems a touch more relaxed, amusement thawing off reserve. ]
Now? What I think is that I'm actually at work, so. You'll have to give me at least fifteen minutes to wrap up.
[ Whole minutes. His focus redirects aside from his comms device, ostensibly to begin that process. ]
Drinks, then. What floor do you favour?
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[Yes, Travis has tried out a lot of the bars. Variety is the spice of life.]
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[ He doesn't comment about how oddly poetic that was, although the corner of his mouth is upturned.
And he seems like he might add something else, but ultimately-- ]
I'll see you there.
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[And he turns off the video. Having no cologne around is sad. It's like instant sexy (Not the amount you put on, Travis.) He waits until there's only five minutes till their date (meeting?), then scrambles to get ready. He manages to end up there right on time. The man's dressed comfortably in a t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and boots. He grabs a drink and heads for a slightly secluded table in the corner.]
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Xavier's video feed is cut in the same moment, and he finishes off his work, makes a round of the laboratories, before he heads for the passengers quarters, slightly mechanical and dissociating with what just happened and what he's doing.
Instead, he tries to recall the last time he went on a date. Years and years ago. Or, perhaps, fairly recently, having attended dinner and drinks on the Tranquility several times over the course of a year and four months, just usually with some other motive in mind as opposed to for the sake of it.
Once, that he can recall.
Twice, now.
He is dressed as he was at work -- the white lab coat is left behind, leaving him with dark grey slacks and a blue button down, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, a silver watch at his wrist that says it's half past four, somewhere else in the multiverse. He's had a recent haircut to tame the otherwise perpetual shagginess, but its been a couple days since he shaved.
A stop at the bar to fix himself a drink, before he heads for where Travis is seated. His telepathy is a passive thing, picking up surface thought as a matter of course.
He's used to no cologne. He currently smells of soap and laundry and a cigarette break from two hours ago. ]
I hope you'll forgive my underwhelming reception. Like you guessed, it was a little unexpected. Hello, [ he adds, hastily shoving a greeting there onto his opening as he sets drink down on table. ]
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Your profile was... interesting.
[Your first hint that Mystique made a marvelous profile, Charles.]
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[ Sitting, upon invitation, leg kicked over the other and angled back into his chair, Charles spiders his hand over his glass and takes a quick sip. ]
Then I'm at a disadvantage, I've not had a chance to read any profiles. How interesting are we talking?
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[He takes a swallow of his drink, then sets it down, looking up at the other man.]
So what's the real story?
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[ His tone keeps light, even on that last point. Whatever, Raven. ]
The real story, then. Alright. I'm from a relatively standard sort of Earth, specifically 1973. I was headmaster for a school, before it closed, and before that, a recent Oxford graduate in genetics. [ The transition into self-awareness is seamless as he continues with; ] You wanted my CV, I presume. Hang on. [ He neatly finishes off the rest of his drink. Date. Datedatedate. Not an interview.
The buck is efficiently passed, gesturing at Travis with emptied glass; ]
Why don't you give me the highlights of yours, beyond being over 21 and-- that way inclined.
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[Conveniently leaving out his joined-at-the-hip-ness with his police partner. But he leans forward a little at his last comment, hoping he'll take it as a compliment.]
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He smiles at this last part instead. Be cool, Xavier. ]
Deliberately sexy. If I can't rely on what I say to get me by, then I can at least depend on how it's said.
[ He sets aside his empty glass. His posture -- leaned back, lax -- doesn't list forward in return, but his body language stays open, confident, even if his dialogue seems to fritter and fuss around. ]
I've actually lived in New York for significant portions of my life, American citizenry and all, but there it is. You'll be west coast, yes? What department, LAPD?
[ Maybe Travis' accent is a give away. Or Charles is cheating. Or both. ]
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Yeah, actually.
[He doesn't ask how he knows, assuming it must be his accent.]
Lived mostly in LA, but I've been all over.
[He grabs up his drink and swallows the rest. He's making note of Charles' open posture, but he's usually touching dates by now. He thinks of Blake in a similar bar, how soon he kissed him. Of course they'd met sooner than he and Charles. He presses his lips together, trying to focus on the current date.]
Should I get us another round?
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He'd relaxed, when Travis had been upfront over network. He relaxes more at incremental information.
And will leave the news of his telepathy on a shelf, for the time being.
In the name of keeping things simple. ]
Mm. [ Agreeable to the prospect of a second round. The time it takes for Travis to finish his drink and then look back with offer, Charles is studying -- a warmer kind, rather than analytical. Speculative. ] Although, I have at least a quarter bottle of Dewar's whiskey in my room on fourteen, if you'd prefer a better class of liquor.
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He looks back up (having glanced at Charles' lips) and smiles.] You know what, that sounds great.
[He stands and starts for the door, glancing behind to make sure Charles is following.]
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(And tries not to laugh outwardly at fretting that Marks might anticipate rejection from him.
I mean really.)
As they leave the bar, onwards for the elevators-- ]
Tell me something. You've not been here very long. Do you call this landing on ones feet, or distraction?
[ Here they are, swanning out of a basically empty bar, out into the industrial, dimly lit tunnels of the gigantic kidnap spaceship in another dimension. ]
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[Nothing really horrid has happened to him (yet). He may be using sex to get the intimacy he really desires without having to worry about getting rejected when feelings are in the mix. No heart involved, no mess. He presses the button to call the elevator, letting his arm maybe purposefully touch Charles' as it falls back to his side.]
What about you?
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[ There's an absent glance after that arm, then back up, smile skewing crooked. He nudges back with the edge of his elbow, slightly more friendly than incidentally flirty. ]
You're distracting regardless.
[ Ding. Doors open, the populated levels meaning these things are never far away. Charles moves first, a step inside that turns him to face Travis even as his hand wanders out to touch on level fourteen, eye contact maintained, almost pinning, even if it angles up.
Which is definitely more than incidentally flirty. ]
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He lets Charles go first, and feels his stare as he wanders in with him. His cocky smile melts away to something strangely close to awe. The doors close, and he waits for Charles to press the button before he's suddenly closer. Now, he can probably feel a little nervousness in Travis. There's always a fear of moving in too soon, but that look felt like an invitation. A hand moves to cup Charles' cheek, the other finding a resting place at his hip. He leans in to share breaths with him, their lips close but not touching, close enough for Charles to lean in, should he wish, but still an opportunity to pull away. His face is a big question mark- 'Is this too soon?']
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But here we are, and there is a kindness in the subtle points of contact and the gentling in Travis' expression that is as attractive as forthrightness. Intimacy introduces new details -- cigarette smoke that's had some time to settle into the weave of his shirt, in his hair (shot fine with some silver-grey, visible at this proximity, under starker light), but cleanliness otherwise. A trace of something metallic and chemical, likely the labs.
Hands close on the lapels of Travis' jacket, tugging him in closer while his chin tips up to meet kiss. Smothering out nervousness, softly. ]
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The nervousness is smothered quite easily with the physical contact. It's something he's used to, taking out his emotions through physical fights with Wes, and sex with other people.
His fingers move across the stubbled hair along Charles' jaw, and then he's kissing back harder, his lips moving against the other man's.]
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Harder contact is accepted, eliciting a rough, inarticulate sound from the back of his throat, which must be a positive one because he responds in kind, and the blunt edge of fingernails can be felt catching in the weave of shirt. Fitting his body tighter against the other man's. Sweetness listing to a hint of hunger, but holding back.
While they're in a public elevator.
So lets just do that until the doors open on level fourteen. Eventually, a hint of a smile can be felt pressed into kiss. ]
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Charles is holding back just a bit, and Travis holds back in kind. Just barely not pushing it in a public space. He sneaks the hand on his hip up, though, snaking it under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his stomach.
Travis almost groans at the sound of the doors opening. But he feels him smile against his lips and he can't help but chuckle. He presses his lips against Charles' one last time before murmuring-] I guess this is your floor.
[It's hard to extricate himself from the warmth of Charles' body, but Travis manages to do it, and smiles at Charles before walking out of the elevator, putting his hand on the space where the door comes out so Charles won't get left behind. He'll let Charles lead the way to his room.]
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It's very quiet. Unpopulated. No ambiance of opening doors, conversations behind the walls. His posture is very prim, by course of habit. ]
Now, [ Charles says, turning to walk backwards a few paces so as to address Travis directly ] you'll have to forgive me, but there's a labrador I'll have to relocate from my room before we go much further.
[ He turns back to see where he's going, passing door after door. ]
Otherwise he'll expect all attention is for him.
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