1960-05-11 - Learning to Share
Summary: Charles convinces Moira to take a break from working on her thesis. She teaches him a lesson about sharing. They end up sleeping on the couch.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
xavier moira 


The building of the school has been more than a bit hectic and harrowed. Moira's come in, partially as a consultant from the government, but now mainly because she actually *likes* Charles and can admire his work. She's moving more and more from consultant to assistant here, especially with her own work in genetics. This has been a fascinating opportunity to see her theories in practice. But, she's stil working, currently finishing up her own Doctorate, and thesises don't write themselves. That means she's stationed up in the big library, a mess of papers all around her and her glasses perched on her nose. SHe's been here since four in this afternoon and it's nearly 10 o'clock. She also didn't come down for dinner, she probably straight up forgot. At least it's quiet now, most of the few students they have in bed or studying themselves.

*

Thankfully a lot of what is needed was already available in the grand old house; getting it functional in large part was just a matter of some fairly serious shifting of furnishings and a good deal of airing out— but in some cases construction was a neccessity, and Charles has jumped into managing all of it with the same ferocious optomism and keen focus he seems to apply to anything he feels strongly about.

He's spent the better part of the day pouring over architectural plans and far too many pages of graph paper, but even this is light work compared to writing a thesis— he should know, he's only just finished one of his own not even a year past.

And perhaps that's why, come 10PM it's he of all people who appears at the library doors after a cheerful knock, carrying an actual silver tray with what appears to be dinner, because of course a place like this would have silver dinner trays stashed in it somewhere. "I hope you won't mind the intrusion, but I have it on very good authority that you, my dear Moira, are in dire need of a bit of room service." he informs her.

*

No one enjoys writing a thesis. Anyone who says they did is a liar. Even if Moira loves her work, this is mind numbing. Hell, part of how they've bonded is over their mutual work, he having given some advice as she finishes her own dissertation. They worked very much on the same mental level and that was a great rarity for Moira in this world. Still, she's stiff and more than a bit cranky by the time she looks up to his voice, sitting a bit straighter. That motion alone makes several cracks and pops echo from her back. She's been leaned over that table far too long.

"Hmm?…Room service? I… its…I just need to finish this page. Then I'll come down for dinner." She half drowsily protests, pulling her glasses off and rubbing one hand across her slender, lovely features. It's clear she has no clue what time it is, but she long missed dinner hours ago.

*

Charles is one of those people who, despite generally being an awful liar somehow does find it in him to brightly lie through his teeth about enjoying his thesis when asked by those interested in the topic— only to turn right around and enthusiastically bemoan the horrors of it in solidarity with Moira minutes later. Probably because of that strange capacity he has to believe more than one thing concurrently, rather like the unwavering belief he seems to hold that people are basically good, even while he of all people has seen the worst of many.

And also rather like how right now he seems to fancy himself a cook when it wouldn't take anyone long at all to establish this is very much not the case. But he makes up with presentation, even having put a few bright sprigs of flowers into a little silver vase on the corner of the tray as he sets it rather carefully but pointedly on top of her spread papers.

"You've only just now finished a page," he points out far too reasonably. "That's why I came when I did. And should I allow you another, I very much fear today's dinner will end up tomorrow's breakfast." he says, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. "Do you have any idea what time it actually is?"

*

He knew her too well. Yes, she had an apartment in the city. No, she couldn't remember the last time she'd gone back there. This place just felt like home, even if it had barely been a month since she started working with them. A half wry, half guilty smile flickers across her rosy lips as she rests her glasses on top of the page she did, indeed, just finished. She didn't need them to eat, just to read. "…You… know me too well." She mutters about the page accusation, then finally lets out a slow, long breath and stretches arms into the air, making her back pop a few other places. It's probably good indication she's giving in and finishing up for the moment.

"Mm…what time? Couldn't be any later than 8.. I guess I missed dinner, but you didn't have to do all this…" She protests gently to the tray, even as her smile betrays her words. She's touched that he brought it up and her stomach is now reminding her quite how long it's been since she ate.

*

"Well, I do have one or two advantages in that respect," Charles allows with a chuckle, tapping one finger to the side of his head as he leans the other hand on the back of her chair. "..But in this particular case I hardly need them to work out that it's high time you took a break and had a bite, because as a matter of fact, it's quarter past ten. So you see, I had plenty of time for 'all of this', as you put it." he answers, still amused.

*

The claiming of the time gets an outright stare from her, "You're shitting me." She dares to say, though her cheeks heat a moment later as she realizes she's cursed out of pure surprise. At least none of the kids were here! She shakes her head clear with a bit of a laugh, "Pardon. I… mm…am going to regret saying this later, but I *suppose* you are right. Don't let it go to your head." She grumbles affectionately to him, as she drags the tray a bit closer. The edge of her thumb traces over the side of those flower sprigs, but her expression softens. She really is touched and, probably, a little bit charmed.

As much as she insisted she wouldn't find the young professor charming, attractive or a distraction, he's proving to be all three.

*

At the curse Charles' eyebrows climb, though her backpedaling causes his expression to take on the sort of delighted cast that suggests, yes, this one won't be dropped any time soon. "I assure you, I 'shit' you not." he deadpans. "And I -have- heard cursing before, you know. They do it even at Oxford, albeit with recieved pronounciation." he confides with a smile.

"And you needn't worry; it had -already- gone to my head when I realized that not only had I returned to the world before you, but that I'd likely have time to make you food as well." he informs her helpfully. "Really, I'm just pleased to be on this end of the equation for once." he tilts his head a bit as she traces over the blooms he'd picked from his mother's old flowers, and laughs a little, even if she didn't say anything aloud.

*

That little laugh catches her attention, shaking free of whatever thoughts had crossed her mind. Moira just smirks at him and grabs the plate from the tray, "Mm…flowers, Professor? Keep this up and a girl might think you're sweet on her." Yes, that was flirting. She clearly was tired, she'd been so good about keeping this professional. But he was the one that came up here with dinner on a tray, flowers, and that devil may care charming smile. So, flirtatious words leave her mouth before she even knows what is happening, though that flush has lingered on her cheeks. Possibly from the cursing. Maybe. It's not about him at all. "And yes, flaunt your freedom from dissertation. Lucky man, you."

*

It turns out the fine plating and sprigs of flowers have been paired with whatever pasta leftovers regularly scheduled dinner was to be, but even if it's reheated it at least holds the promise of being filling.

"Mm, and here I thought I'd made that fact abundantly clear even before the flowers— I'll definitely have to keep them to mind." he replies without so much as missing a beat. But even if there's that same innocent banter quality to his words, there's something in his voice that softens it a bit, his eyes falling to her shoulders. Which reminds him of something.

*

Late spring, almost edging summer, Moira is in an achingly comfortable sundress right now. Spaghetti straps on her thin shoulders, showing those delicate collarbones and the soft, still winter-pale decollatage, she was often lovely but there is something about a loose peach sundress which just makes a lady look all the more feminine. Especially with her hair down and half messy from the length of the day. Her blush deepens at his confession of being sweet on her, words momentarily catching in her throat. She picks up the fork instead and digs into dinner, the food really much needed.

Finally, though, between bites, she does find her voice. "I… thought we were supposed to be colleagues. Keep this professional. For the sake of the program, of course.." She half protests, but there is no real, actual fight in her voice. If anything, it's a bit hopeful that she was mistaken about that.

*

"It was 'for the sake of the mission' when last I heard words like that from your mouth." Charles muses, both hands on the back of her chair now and glancing up thoughtfully while she has a chance to get some food in her. "When I said that about the school, it was only because I was prepared for 'professional' to still be the status quo if that was still how you felt. But I've always believed it foolish to not take a chance at happiness because of the fear it might fail. After all, every chance is assured to be a failure if you never take it." flirting through philosophy seems to hold an equal place with impish charm and parlor tricks, apparently.

*

Almost instinctively, she leans back into her chair, against his fingertips, making that gentle, warm contact with him. It's… Encouraging, almost welcoming. Tempting him to stay close, or perhaps rub at those shoulders which have been hunched over paperwork the enire evening. She takes another few bites, smiling around the simple, stomach warming pasta dish that isn't anything gourmet, but tastes like the best food in the world after this many hours.

"Mmm… Yes, I suppose you may have a point there… but you know graduate students. The only relationship we can really hold down is our dissertation. You sure you aren't going to end up feeling like a thesis-widower?" She teases him gently over her shoulder, even as her head sinks back, daring to find his chest.

*

The only reason he'd left her shoulders alone thus far was to give her a chance to eat a bit first— after all, she was only just musing on how distracting he was uncooperatively proving to be, and he does have his manners.

That little lean back is all the invitation he needs however, and cool fingers soon slide off the chair and over Moira's shoulders. His fingers begin working at all those built up aches and knots even as her head lolls back against the cream colored linen vest he's wearing in deference to the warming weather over his usual button down, sleeves already rolled up to the elbows. "Oh, I don't know." he answers in the manner of one giving the matter all due serious thought. "Honestly, considering how busy this school is likely to keep me, if anything we might be a smart match on that count."

*

One last bite, most of the dish finished, and she has far more tempting things than food on her mind. Moira gently pushes the tray away so she can fully lean back into his fingertips, a low, happy sound escaping her throat as her eyes half lid, head turning so she can fully rest against the center of his chest, the quiet sound of his breath and heart against her ear. The tender ministrations of his fingertips against her sore shoulders. Maybe she should give in. Maybe they could be happy.

"Mm… you have an answer for everything, don't you, Charles Xavier? Smart boys like you are generally the worst kind of trouble…" She mutters throatily into his vest, not a single thing about her words being an actual complaint.

*

"And smart girls like you are the very best sort." Charles replies cheekily. "—But I do try. Most of the time I think that's more important than one's answers being entirely correct, really. Not that I've had much chance to test that." he jokes. Despite his teasing though he does give his all to whatever he does choose to try, if his impromptu shoulder rub is any indication. Then again, a suspicious person might soon guess that he were snooping into her mind just enough to tell just exactly which misused muscles are most in need of attention.

*

Whether he's snooping or not, his fingertips are managing to find quite the spots, bringing another sound to her lips which almost sounds dirty in it's pure enjoyment of that touch. "…I can't remember the last time I had a back rub. You… are just adding points to your case, you know?" She murmurs softly, eyes now fully closing as she nestles in there against his chest. "Can't promise I'm going to be the most thrilling of dates tonight, though. I could almost just fall asleep right here." It's another few heartbeats of silence, just enjoying his touch, before she does idly answer, "And…having *some* answers… or at least theories, is far more important than being correct. That's what experiments are for… and tests. You have no science at all without a hypothesis… doesn't mean the answer is right. It's just a good place to start." Of course, she couldn't entirely escape being a science nerd about it.

*

Charles breaks into a full grin as she responds to his academic rambling in kind. Maybe it's the close contact, but she could almost believe she was feeling some echo of a smitten rush from his own mind this time. "Hypothesies, exactly so." he agrees. "..And I am serious, you know. I've learned my lesson and shall keep my distance, if that is what you want. ..But if you ever do change your mind Moira, then this.." his touch gentles, one thumb brushing lightly over that delicate collar bone of hers, "Is a hypothesis I'm very much willing to test, if you are."

*

Keep his distance? Why was he saying such things, now, when Moira was complete puddy in his hands. She gives a little moan to him, "…Distance? You are a *tease*, Charles… You don't butter me up, bring dinner… a massage, lovely discourse, only to say 'Well, if you don't want to'… Has anything I've actually done tonight given you any impression that I don't want this in any way?" Moira asks softly, finally reopening her eyes and daring to sit up enough she can turn her body to look up to his eyes. She didn't want to pull away, but this was serious enough she wanted to see his face.

*

"Well, you made your point so eloquently that first time, I didn't want you to think I'd given it so little consideration as all that." Charles says, still smiling though he's tilted his head, one eyebrow quirked as he meets her eyes. "Though I admit, all of this tonight has made me rather hopeful you might have had a change of heart after all."

*

"…I think, if you are willing to share me with my thesis… well, perhaps it'd be worth a try?" Moira offers with slightly arched brows, just languid under his finger tips tonight. A bit more awake for the serious end of this conversation, but it's still been an incredibly long day. "And I might even be tempted to steal you away for a little bit on that couch over there. I can probably take… a bit of a break, for a handsome man like you. Get back to it later on…"

*

And that earns another flash of that charming grin, Charles all but beaming, "If I ever don't want to share you, I'll simply have to help you with your cross referencing, now won't I?" he replies glibly, though even as he's saying so he's leaning rather teasingly closer, agreeing with that instructor's voice he seems to come by so naturally; "However the occasional break is, after all, proven to increase productivity in the long run."

*

Having half turned around in her chair, she completes the process, coming to her knees on the chair's seat so she can fully face him and lean up. Closer. Dangerously so. She lets her lips just ever so slightly brush against his as she speaks in turn, but hasn't quite fully leaned in for that kiss. Yet. So tantalizingly close. "…This is true. There is good psychology behind the logic of it… I suppose having a distraction would be… wise… Right about now."

*

And she did say something or other about the couch, but he never was very good at following other people's plans left to himself— he leans forward right over the back of the chair, closing that last distance and kissing the wondrous driven brilliant woman he's so very much wanted to since he first got to know her, all those months ago. <And farbeit for you to overlook a valuable study tactic, hm?>

*

Well, there is an advantage to telepathy she never thought about until this *very* moment. They can still keep talking, flirting really, while their lips are busy with other pursuits. The kiss is warm, slow and lingering, something to be savoured and remembered after all these months dancing around it. He even smelled good, some elegant touch of cologne going right to her head. <Just… a few minutes. And there is a rather convenient couch, you know. Or we could just stay awkwardly over this chair.> It seems her teasing is going to carry on even between their minds.

*

Even as delighted as he is, it does seem as if shutting him up isn't something that can be done quite so easily. His thought is almost humming as he answers back, <Mm, we wouldn't want to strain your neck after all you've put your poor back through to day, I suppose.> though despite his cheerful agreement, one might note he isn't actually moving just yet.

*

<Ten minutes. You have me for ten minutes. You get to decide how you want to fill that time, darling. Then I really should go back to work.> Moira isn't entirely teasing — she did need to work — but the time limit almost made it a touch of a game. Even as the kiss deepens a little bit, her head tilting to the side, auburn hair falling away from the slender cut of her throat and jawline.

*

Charles does finally break the kiss, leaning back even as he catches her by the hand with a smile and a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose I did say that I would share, didn't I?" despite the lamenting he still has that innocent smile on his face as he tugs on her hand, leading her over to the couch with not the slightest intention whatsoever of turning her back over to her paper in ten minutes' time. Happily unexpected development or no, he came here with a purpose after all.

*

The woman is beautifully flushed by the time he finally breaks the kiss, her cheeks a high, rosy pink which stretches at the way to her ears and throat. Moira's a touch breathless as well — it's been a long time since she permitted herself anything OTHER than something purely professional. There is both hunger and, to be frank, exhaustion in her eyes. But the kisses are so tempting. So, she allows her hand to be caught, swinging one leg down to the floor and then standing so she can skirt around the chair and follow him over to the couch. "I did warn you and you agreed already. No take backs." She murmurs, sinking into the couch with him before leaning a bit closer and into another kiss.

Sadly, if amusingly, he doesn't even get those ten minutes. The first few minutes of fervent kissing is thoroughly enjoyed but then, as she goes to nestle into his neck with a few other kisses, her head just ends up dropping a bit more. A few tender rubs to her back and, well… Moira has fallen dead asleep on his shoulder. Probably desperately needed. But he was warm, relaxing and had convinced her to let go enough that her body's desperate need for rest just followed.

*

Sad in one sense perhaps; Charles was very much enjoying the turn that conversation had taken. But in all truth, getting her to eat and then to rest had been his design from the outset, so it's with the contented hum of a job well done that he nestles his chin over her lolling head. He had rather expected to harangue her off to sleep and then go his own way, but he's doing anything but complain. In truth, he's dozy enough after a long day as well, he thinks he could be quite content to simply follow her to sleep, library couch and all, but—

"I feel I should note darling," he murmurs quietly, planting a little kiss on the top of her sleeping head, "That while I did promise to share you, I said I would do so by helping you in your work, and just now your work needs you to rest as much as you do, so." and with his conscience thus clear, he squeezes an arm warmly around her, eyes falling shut.

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