butwedonot | Useless Fluff 1/?

Erik pondered how he got in this situation in the first place; settled on a old warn couch with half a Lego wedged unceremoniously in his thigh. He might have moved to fix it if it weren't for the unblinking five sets of beady eyes focused on him from the parallel couch. He was a strong and stubborn man, and yet the near-half-dozen pairs of eyes on him somehow made him uncomfortable. There was something undeniably creepy about children.

It wasn't as if he was unused to people staring. As a professor, coaching his students in both German and History, he gave frequent lectures to much larger audiences. He was stern, and pushed hard, only the hardworking and stubborn bothered to take his class anymore. However, those who passed greatly befitted from the choice; rewarded both with knowledge and a renewed passion for hard work. He made them work for the grade, but they also could relish in the pride of success.

His eyes drifted toward the kitchen and he was reminded of exactly why he was subjecting himself to this one-sided staring contest. Charles. The younger Genetics professor had his hip propped against the kitchen counter, leaning into it and holding his (ugly) pale blue phone half in the crook of his neck, pressed between his ear and his shoulder and curved at an awkward angle. Charles had been talking rather frantically at first, but seemed to have calmed down from his high of worry. Erik had to wonder exactly what the-- his eyes strayed to his watch--nearly an hour late sitter posed as an excuse.

Charles had an interesting dating history as far as Erik had gathered. In his youth he had been quite precocious, but lately it had become rather short lived. After his separation, and subsequent divorce, from his ex wife he had attempted to date, after the mourning period Erik had been all too aware of watching Charles sit quietly in the break room and eat prepackaged sandwiches. Most times, Charles had confessed to him, moments after he explained that he had five adopted children from his previous relationship the prospective dates were either "busy" or too terrified to put up a polite pretense. Charles had been rather upfront with Erik about his children before he would accept a date. Erik had shrugged it off non-nonchalantly and continued the discussion of what sort of coffee they should get. It was a wholly different situation having the little creatures staring at him like he might catch fire at any moment. He had, in earnest, told Charles he didn't know much about young children-- they were outside his circle of expertise-- but Charles had assured him that was fine. They were going on a date together, not interviewing Erik for a babysitting position. Charles already had a sitter, a supposedly reliable one.

"Her car broke down, but she's already in a cab n the way here," Charles voice carries to his ear, soft and sweet and smothered with that accent that had drawn the tall German man to him in the first place. Erik's eyes flicker from the little bodies on the other couch, his gaze falling onto the lithe figure who was crossing the living room toward him. Before he could even give a small, appreciative, smile one of the little ones-- the girl, Raven, he believed her name was-- let out a desperate whine and halted him in his tracks. Turning back he spied her eyeballing Erik and rubbing her own eye sleepily. 'They should have been in bed a half hour ago', he can hear Charles mutter as he ducks down to pick up the little girl in the baby blue floral dress. Her arms latch around his neck and her little face tucks away into his shoulder; if it wasn't for the fact none of them looked alike-- or much like Charles for that matter-- he'd have trouble believing they weren't his genetically. It was a attachment Erik couldn't understand, almost envied, but most of all respected. Charles looked over at Erik, looking sympathetic to the fact the man was stranded in his living room. Turning back to the other little ones, his voice turned a touch more delicate as if they were like glass, "Come on babes, it's bed time."

One or two stirred, especially the ginger one who let out a impressive yawn but followed it up by wedging his face deeper between the couch cushions. Those that were more alert seemed wary of taking their eyes off of Erik; it was plainly obvious Charles hadn't brought a date home before-- he hadn't even intended to bring Erik inside if it weren't for the fact he couldn't leave the man in his driveway for an hour. He wondered how much the little ones were aware of, if somehow subconsciously trying to protect Charles from further harm.

"Come on, kleine kinder, to bed we go." His voice was a little gruff, and the low reverberation and the sound of a voice that-- unlike Charles'-- was not a sound of comfort roused the smaller bodies. The oldest of the group, Armando, was kind enough to nudge the others around and get them moving toward the stairs. Erik was rewarded for his assistance with a sweet smile that spread over Charles' lips. It took some time for him to get each of the little ones settled in, they all wanted (at the very least) ten minutes of his time. Each child wanted a hug, a small story and the youngest-- the large mouthed Ginger boy, Sean-- wanted a 'monster check' to which Charles readily obliged; ducking under the bed, going through the closet and looking in the drawers. No monsters. He pressed a kiss to the boys forehead and ruffled his hair, plugging in his guitar night light and leaving the door cracked.

Brushing past Erik, he can feel the faint touch of Charles fingers against his hand encouraging him to follow back downstairs. "Thank you," His voice is softer as if worried his tone would keep the children up. Nimble fingers settled on Erik's shoulders and Charles rocked up onto his toes, pressing a sweet -- if not annoyingly brief-- kiss to his cheek.