GENRE: fluff, fake marriage au
WARNINGS: none
NOTES: this is for charles bitches where u at????? 💗♥️😤💓😌💗 i wanna do a part 2 lmaoo

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After what happened in Cuba, all of the mutants present at the beach had been hounded by the FBI. Charles knew he could've erased their memory of you and the rest of your friends ever being evolved, but he also knew (as you'd so kindly pointed out to him), that mutants could never begin to co-exist with humans if Charles kept trying to fix everything by removing the past.

Anyone that hadn't gone with Erik that day were brought onto a team that worked for the FBI, in order to escape jail time. While it wasn't something any of you were particularly keen on, at least you were still helping out in a positive way. Charles even mentioned that humans were beginning to see mutants as someone to work with - while Alex had mumbled something about them 'using us'.

Nevertheless, Hank was helping with research for the Government along with you and Charles, and Sean and Alex mainly spent their time pretending to pay attention in board meetings until some real action came up.

Sean was practically twitching with boredom on that day, sitting next to you, and across from what appeared to be quite ordinary white men in suits. To your right was Charles, who held an amiable smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you all could be here," The Federal Director voiced in an avert American accent; as if you and your friends had a choice on whether you showed up.

When he received no replies or pleasantries from your side of the table, he raised an eyebrow and carried on instead, "As of last night, we received intel that Lord and Lady Sharipova of the USSR are laying low at a country club on the West Coast. We would send our own men in, but I suppose they would seem out of place in such a club. That's why we've brought this case to you, with your particular expertise, Mr. Xavier, we're sure it won't take too long before you can get some information out of them."

"What are you implying, Mr. Smith?" Charles had an amused glint in his eyes, and you couldn't help but look over at him with a smile. He was such a unabashed tease sometimes, and you loved it. His eyes caught yours for a brief moment, twinkling, before he was looking ahead again.

"What I'm implying, sir . . . is that us here at the FBI would like you to go undercover at this country club. And Miss (Y/L/N) will join you," He remarked, tossing a pamphlet for the place onto the table in front of the two of you.

You peered down at it, taking it in your hands as you examined the grand facilities in the pictures. Your eyes flickered up to look at him expectantly, not allowing yourself to react. It tended to throw men like him off their rhythm.

"You'll be assuming the part of a married couple. I've picked you two as you're the least physically imposing, and the most mature. Any questions?" He looked out at the rest of the mutants, and you could tell his words were more submissive than genuine.

You held your tongue, knowing what he'd meant by what he said. Charles being 'less physically imposing' sounded more like a ableism than anything else. The only reason Mr. Smith was trusting you at all was because he need a wife to stand beside Charles' character, not because he thought you were capable at all, despite your counterparts holding you in such high regard - even reverence - for your mutation. Almost as powerful as Charles himself, you could influence people's emotions, and sometimes even what they saw. You however, were seen as someone there to help a man.

Alex had his jaw clenched in reply to the Director, and Sean's eyelashes fluttered in disinterest. Hank seemed like he wanted to leave as soon as possible.

"Mr. Summers, Mr. Cassidy, you'll both be there, too. Separately. You'll have your own covers to study," He smiled, but it held no hospitality, "Dr. McCoy, you'll be remaining here in our research facilities."

You couldn't see him, but you could imagine Hank was breathing a sigh of relief round about that point. He was most comfortable in situations he was familiar with, and going undercover and acting like someone else entirely didn't seem like something he could overcome with his sort of demeanor. Besides, you already had enough fire power with Havok and Banshee around, and enough brain power with you and Charles. You were sure Director Smith didn't particularly want him blowing your cover by losing control of his mutation, either.

"Will that be all?" Charles asked him, finger drifting up to run underneath his jaw in thought, elbow resting on the arm of his wheelchair.

The Director regarded his words with a plain expression, but didn't make comment on them. "Here are your files. You'll be co-ordinating with us every two days . . ."

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After helping Charles into his wheelchair from the passenger seat of the Mustang, you handed the valet the key, thanking him with a gentle smile, as you just did to the man that took your bags from the back seat. He nodded his head courteously, slipping into the driver's side as you pushed Charles to the entrance of the building.

"Thank you, darling," Charles said easily, looking back and up at you through his dark sunglasses. "And have I told you that you look absolutely stunning in that dress of yours?" He peered back in front of him. You glanced at your red wrap dress, courtesy of a shopping expedition you'd done with Sean and Alex to get into the mood of a rich, country wife. There were mostly florals involved, but Sean had convinced you on the flirtatious number, remarking that Charles would love it.

You rolled your eyes slightly, and he read your mind; something about 'laying it on a little thick, huh?' He simply replied back to you telepathically, telling you that it was true.

Your cheeks filled with a faint blush when you spoke, wheeling him through the front door as you regarded the bell boys with kind look, "I remember you telling me earlier," You smiled at the memory - it was true, he didn't waste time in saying so as soon as he'd seen you that very morning in the mansion, before you took off to drive to your destination ('Waterfront Country Club'), "Twice."

"Well, I can't help that I want my wife to know how beautiful I think she is," He remarked, removing his glasses now that you'd moved inside. They now rested on the top of his head, pushing strands of long dark hair from his face. He looked awfully handsome, and he must have heard your thoughts, because once you stood beside him, he looked up at you and shot you a wink. You laughed lightly in reply.

The woman behind the front desk - who had observed your interaction with a smile at the corner of her red-lipstick covered mouth - leaned forward to see the both of your properly, "Hello miss, mister. How can I help you on this fine morning?"

Her accent was surprisingly and charmingly Southern for the fact that you were in California, but you didn't let it deter you as you answered her, "We're the Yorkes. I believe we're booked in for three whole weeks." You allowed a certain excitement to seep into your words, your hand subconsciously drifting to land on Charles' shoulder, light but meaningful as you seemed to claim him as yours without a thought.

His lips parted at how natural the the movement, the touch, seemed to be for you, and he didn't seem to have to fake the grin that appeared on his lips when you made eye-contact.

The woman had finished typing a few things into her large computer, before she looked back at the two of you again, her friendly green gaze meeting yours, "I see everythings sorted on our system. You'll be staying in our Honeymoon Suite." She reached over to a draw, pulling it out, before locating the set of keys she'd be giving you.

"Honeymoon Suite?" Charles' one hand moved up to place itself over yours, catching your attention with its tenderness, "Imagine it, (Y/N). Ten years too late for that, huh?"

"Ten years? Must've been young love. Congratulations," The woman told you two, handing you the key happily. "And by the way, I love your necklace," She complimented.

"Oh, how lovely of you!" You told her, hand wrapping around the locket for a moment, before you dropped it, "Thank you."

With one last pleseantry, you took the handles of your pseudo-husband's wheelchair, and pushed off in the direction of your shared room. Before you made it down the hall you caught the eye of Sean, who - clad in a flowing Hawaiian shirt and an easy look - was stood at the front desk, talking to a smartly dressed man.

It didn't take long before Charles was pushing the doors to your villa open, revealing a large, luxurious room. You closed the doors behind you, and when you turned back around to locate your friend, saw that he had moved to sit near the large window in your bedroom, that you could see through an archway that was attached to the lounge area.

Catching up to him, your breath was taken away by the view. Your room overlooked the embankment which lead to the ocean. You couldn't have been a good couple of yards away from where the beach started, and it brought a feeling of excitement to your chest. Despite the circumstances, you couldn't help but feel grateful. The ocean was calm, folding in on itself in perfect blue waves, and you were sure you could stand, mesmerized forever.

You looked down once you felt eyes on you.

"It really is a beautiful dress," Charles reiterated, eyes flickering over your body for a moment, before reaching yours, filling with quiet amusement, "You'll have to keep it on for the dinner this evening."

You chuckled, not bothering to respond to his words as you walked over to sit on the bed, removing one of your scarlett heels slowly. Charles watched your movements carefully, enraptured.

"I will. You know . . ." You looked up at your counterparts through your eyelashes, and he paused unintentionally in response. "When Sean said you'd like this dress, I though he was bluffing," You remarked, looking down as you dropped your second heel to the carpet.

Charles wheeled closer to you, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips, "When is Mr. Cassidy ever a man that bluffs," He heard you think, 'you're right', before he carried on, a hand placed gently on your knee, "I know you're nervous for seeing a bunch of new people . . . you ready?" By his words, you could tell he was referencing the Sharipova's, but didn't want to say it out loud.

You breathed out, offering an unsure look, "As ready as I'll ever be," You admitted. You didn't know how Charles always managed to stay so relaxed whenever you were on missions, or doing whatever crazy thing you did back when you were X-men. But you reckoned that, if he was going to be touching, and holding, and reassuring you like he had been all day - like you were his wife - you'd be fine.

Charles didn't miss that thought, and couldn't help the way his heart seemed to swell, and his stomach filled with butterflies.

Your hand curled into the one that lay on your knee, and his thumb ran across your knuckles in a comforting way.

'I'm glad we're here, together. We make a pretty good team,' You told him in your head.

'Yes,' his eyes fluttered down to the way you were touching one another, 'I think so, too.'

"How about we get settled in?" You finally voiced, ruining the tender moment as you realized you had work to do. You had been debriefed quite thoroughly on precautions to take. Much of what you said out loud in the room was code; at least until you made sure it wasn't bugged.

"After you, my lovely," Charles murmured, bringing your clasped had to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of your hand momentarily.

You beamed, watching as he relinquished his touch, and gestured for you to get your gear from your bags, placed uniformly by the hotel door by the bell hops.

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