GENRE: fluff
WARNINGS: none.
NOTES: charliebuckj requested for a charles story where you're childhood friends. i wrote the back story and i obviously got carried away so there'll be apart 2 set in days of future past with more of the stuff you wanted lmao <3

loosely based off of 'fallingforyou' by the 1975. set just when first class starts!

- b.

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"Do you remember what you said to me when we were younger?" He asked absently, watching the fire crackle from where you sat.

"Mm, yeah. I remember a lot. What are you talking about specifically, my love," The pet name fell from your mouth graciously, and he always felt warm whenever you used terms like that. Especially when they sounded so natural.

"How you'd finally let me kiss you when I was closer to your height," He explained, a smile in his voice even though you couldn't see his face from your position.

"You've been taller than me for a while, Charles," You looking up at him from under his grasp, your head tilted so that you were finally face to face.

"I know. . . I just thought about it now," He shook his head, as if it was a dumb to even have said.

"What? you've been thinking about kissing me?"

"Not exactly," That was a lie, he'd been thinking about that since he was at least middle school age, "Just about when we were kids."

"Oh?"

"Mmh. How you used to ride your bike to my house every day - I don't know," Charles told you honestly, remembering fondly the rusty red thing you took to his mansion almost ever day.

Though you were neighbours, you spent more time at his home than yours sometimes. It was a while away, because thats always how properties are with the rich - they like to own acres of unocuppied land. Your family had a plot down the road (in the most literal sense), having inherited it from a lineage of farmers before you. At any rate: your parents had owned it your whole life - and you spent all the time you weren't helping out with the cows and goats, sneaking off to visit Charles.

For as long as you could remember, your mom or dad took you on a daily trip to deliver fresh milk to the Xavier's. In return, they payed your family a pretty hefty sum, because you usually only sold to factories. Since you were young, you'd see the son of the Xavier's through the window, waving at him - your parents occasionally rolling down the window so that you could say 'hello'. Despite how little his mom approved at first, Charles was soon requesting to have you over to play tag, and yard games. The two of you were young, and neither of your parental figures could bring themselves to deny your blossoming friendship - particularly because both of you were so isolated from normal life and society. You were the only kids your age for miles, and both of you were home schooled.

By the time you were ten, your learnt how to ride a bicycle and delivered the milk via your little woven basket - venturing off to his estate whenever you could buy the time. You were inseparable in a way, and his mom had to get a lot more comfortable with having you around. When you didn't have work to do, you'd stay over, building blanket forts, tracking mud into the house from your adventures in the creek, or sneaking into the kitchen to make some late night hot chocolate. She became grateful that you made him happy, because she couldn't handle him when he regressed - when he became sad and overwhelmed by his abilities. She wasn't a mutant, and wanted to ignore how deathly powerful he was. You could understand why she was afraid, but you never were.

When you got slightly older (about right after puberty), things got a little confusing. Charles didn't know why he found himself staring at you so much, or thinking about you before he fell asleep every night. You couldn't help but be annoyed when your dad developed the habit of telling you that 'there's gonna be no funny business going on between the two of you' every time you left to see him. You didn't understand why anything had to change after you stopped being kids. In fact, you kind of resented it. When you stayed over, you slept further apart, and every time you touched on accident, both of you would blush like crazy. You weren't even sure what you talked about back then, but you remembered a lot of teasing.

When he was a fresh sixteen, he understood that he liked you, but he wasn't exactly in his prime when it came to being emotionally intelligent. He was undeniably an awkward, horny teenager - but so were you. He tried to kiss you on New Years, but you turned him down, too embarrassed to let anything happen because his mom was in the next room. When he asked you why, you replied truthfully: "One day we might, when you're closer to my height." You'd hit your main growth spurt, but Charles was getting there slowly, like most other boys did. It wasn't really the reason you turned him down - it was just that you hadn't thought of him in that way before. The next year gave you a while for that to completely change.

By the time you were both eighteen, he was studying at Oxford - and both of you were not-so-subtly head over heals for each other. Whenever he had time to come back home, he'd cherish your time together. Every time he'd visit, you seemed more beautiful than the last, maturing between the months until he could barely keep you off his mind when he was away. That's probably when he first started having dreams about you. Of course he'd seen you in them before, but now they were about you. About the curve of your body, and the way you laughed and smiled. He hated himself for it, but his affection was spilling over in ways that made his skin burn, and his face fill with a generous pink whenever he saw you. You didn't seem to notice, as dutiful and devoted you were to your family - applying for colleges while you helped your parents run your business. He couldn't bare to bother you with his idiot self, deciding to support you where he could, but mostly kept his distance. He didn't know how much you appreciated it, hiding the way your heart always thumped when he was near.

Now that you were a senior in college and going to Oxford, he was visiting to give a lecture - and more importantly: see you. During your time staying in London, Xavier had already finished university, so you only got to see him when you came back to America. Those times were few and far between when you had to buckle down and finish your degree. You'd had a boyfriend in the mean time, and he could barely stand when you spoke about him over the phone during your almost nightly calls. The day before he'd arrived, you told him that you'd broken up with him. Charles tried to act sad for you, but who was he kidding? He never thought the guy was good enough for you (not that he thought that he was any better).

You stayed in student accommodation, but he'd convinced you to join him in his hotel room for the few days he'd be there. It was big, and luxurious - and the two of you were sipping on complimentary champagne once he'd come back from a second successful day of lectures.

The night before, they'd gone out to a bar, but he bit back the feeling he had when he remembered how that had turned out - you hitting it off with a guy across the counter. Today, he'd suggested settling down across from a fireplace in the big hotel room. You both lay on a lounger, tucked beneath his shoulder as you spoke to each other.

You'd started the night in the front room, but as you got tipsier, you wanted to get subconsciously closer and closer to him.

"I was younger then. And really fit, apparently," You laughed under your breath, taking a sip of the light, bubbly liquid in your glass.

His gaze cascaded over your body (and even from his angle, you looked beautiful as always), taking it in as his grip tightened on you, meeting your eyes again, "What - like you aren't now?"

"When was the last time I had to run a mile, or cycle to your place?" You pondered aloud. Since you started higher education, you could barely get a breath in - nevermind a steady athletic schedule.

"You can work out in other ways, too - you know? I'm sure your ex kept you pretty busy," The implications of his words seemed obvious, his voice dropping slightly by the end of his sentence. You tried to hide your blush, annoyed that he still did that to you when he teased you. Nothing had changed since you were children, really.

You were, however, slightly defensive despite yourself, "What makes you so sure of that, Charles? Why are you so interested in my love life?" You pried with a smile tugging at your lips. It was difficult to play with him like you were - because more often than not, he was into the banter.

Charles tilted his head, "I'm not saying anything. I just know that if you were my -"

"If I was your what, Charles?" You raised an eyebrow, hand subconsciously playing with the buttons of his white shirt - not noticing how his heart picked up pace, or the way he flustered underneath you. He liked that now more than ever, you were starting to touch him again - and he tried to hide how much he loved it. You'd gone through an normal awkward patch, but now that you'd matured, Charles enjoyed how you began to drift closer again. You let little names slip, and touches linger. And he was sure this was the closest you'd been physically since you were kids.

"Nothing," Charles shook his head, blue eyes dropping to look at the way your fingers curled around soft fabric. He couldn't help but take a gulp of his drink, hoping it'd get him out of talking.

"No, no - say it," You pried, and when he looked down at you, you had brought your legs up onto the couch despite how it revealed more of your skin due to to the dress style, practically half in his lap as you peered at him. Eyes twinkling, curious as to what he would say.

"Oh cmon, stop. I was just being dumb."

"You know. . . with you bringing up the kissing. . . talking like that," You placed your glass down, reaching over to put it on the arm of the couch so that you could concentrate on him with a questioning gaze, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've developed a thing for me, Charles," You murmured, clearly riling him up by the cheeky smile he saw on your face. It didn't, however, stop you from keeping your pink hue, or the butterflies from jumping into his stomach.

"It's kind of late for you to be noticing, my love," He admitted softly, voice just as tender as it was during late nights when you were kids. His tone was fond, and open, like he couldn't bare to hide it anymore. And that was, because - well, he really couldn't.

"Oh . . ." Your hand paused against his chest, and all he saw was you, as you flustered at his words, not expecting him to answer so truthfully. Or that he'd agree at all. Your words almost caught in your throat, but you couldn't hold them back as you asked with rapid heart-rate: "For how long?"

"Well, I first noticed in when I was fourteen . . ." He watched the way your eyes widened, but you didn't budge from your position right by his side. His head felt like it was spinning as he placed his own drink down, but he needed to say it all - before he really let you slip away for good, "And I'm pretty sure I've had feelings for you ever since."

"Wh - What the Hell do you mean, Charles," The exclamation fell from you so naturally, reminding him of when you'd scold him when he did something dumb when you were teens - probably climbing into your bedroom window, or stealing one of his parents cars to take you into the city, "That long, and you never said anything?" Your voice was soft and empathetic, and Charles thought that of course you'd be a total sweetheart about it. And you'd let him down pretty nicely, he thought. At least he'd finally gotten the guts to spill it to you (or was it the alcohol?)

"It's kinda mortifying, if I think about it too hard," He admitted honestly, eyes fluttering away and his cheeks turning red like they always did in the cold.

You admired him for a moment, sighing, thinking about how you could finally say something that had been on your mind for years, "It's okay. I've liked you since I was seventeen."

His blue eyes snapped back to look at you like he was astonished - and he was, in a way. He knew that you cared for him as a friend, and he knew how close you were: but you returning his feelings seemed impossible since that one New Years night.

His head was rushing with thoughts, lips parting as he almost immediately asked, "Then why (E/N)?"

You chuckled at his question, shaking your head slightly, but it was more fond than anything, "You think I dated another geneticist because I like the field?" Charles head tilted like he'd never considered it, stunned. "He reminded me of you. It was comforting when you weren't around," You admitted honestly, no matter how embarrassing it kind of was. You didn't fully realize it until a while in, but you didn't think it was fair to him for you to lead him on when Charles was the only person on your mind.

"I wish I would've just been there," He murmured, almost too quiet for you to hear. His gaze was soft, and his free hand was drifting to clasp yours, thumb rubbing gently as he spoke.

Silence gathered in the air again, and you couldn't help but look down at your linked hands, "You were doing other things. And, besides. . . I never thought you'd like me back. I was always so far behind you, you know?"

"Jesus, (Y/N). That couldn't be further from the truth," He peered down at you as if he couldn't believe what you were saying, but you wouldn't meet his gaze. Unsure of what else to do, his hand parted from yours, going to hook a finger under your chin - tilting it up so that he knew you'd take in his words properly, "You're always in my head. Ever since I left New York for the first time I. . . I-" He cut himself short, like he couldn't find the right way to express it, "I just ache for you when you're not there. We used to spend so much time together, that not seeing you is torture."

"If you told me that I never would've left to come here just after you finally got back," You replied breathlessly, all too aware of how intimate it all was. You could barely hear the crackling of the fire anymore, over the way he was looking at you.

"Exactly," He whispered, his hand finally dropping from where it lingered on your face - although both of you stayed just as close, only inches apart. "I wanted that for you. When you got accepted you were so happy. Remember that?" He asked with a blooming smile.

"Yeah," Your expression matched his slightly, "It was the second day you were back home visiting." The first day was spent catching up with sleep, and other family. After that, you were all his in most senses (you nearly always were), spending the entire day and night catching up, holding each other, celebrating your acceptance despite the fact that Charles had nearly finished his time at that very same establishment. You remembered how you shared a bed that night, nearly as close as you were in that very moment. His hand was running through your hair, and he paused to grasp the side of your face, watching you closely.

"I nearly kissed you," He admitted.

"I know. . ." At the time you didn't really, but over the years you'd figured it out. You were both leaning in, but nothing ever happened by the time either of you turned away, blushing and acting like it'd never happened.

"I think about it a lot," Charles said, rather earnestly. His vision couldn't seem to leave you, and you could feel his hand slide up your hip, and around your waist. He was bringing you further into his lap, subconsciously magnetized to the way your mouth parted, lips as pretty as ever to him.

"Me too," You told him, your one hand ran across his chest, fingers glancing against his collarbone through the material of his shirt.

"I really wished I did."

"Me too,"You repeated, eyelashes flittering as you glanced up through them, hoping he'd get the message after all.

Thankfully, both of your long-time waiting was finally over - cut short by Charles pressing his lips to yours with more neediness than either of you anticipated. You soon matched him, however, allowing your hand to reach up and thread through his dark hair, kissing back just as fervently - fueled by all of the anticipation and love and deprivation that had built up over the years.

When you pulled away, you saw a smile drifting to his face, realizing you'd subconsciously climbed into his lap for better leverage. His one arm supported you, while his other holding your face gently, practically glowing with how the situation had played out. You wanted to tell him to stop looking so smug, but instead, you kissed him again - long, and soft, and slow. Different to the other one, but Charles loved it just as much.

"What would sixteen year old you say if she could see you right now?" Charles asked, teasingly.

"She'd hate me. But then again, I'm not really her anymore," You observed.

"Well. . . I'm just as in love with you as sixteen year old me was."

"'In love'?"