"Good morning, Erik," Charlotte smiled, setting a plate down in front of Gustave. "How did you sleep?"

"Better once I truly got to sleep. Thank you," Erik replied as he walked into the kitchen.

"You're very welcome. It was my pleasure," Charlotte said kindly. "I made crépes for breakfast."

"Thank you. Just so you know, you don't have to make big meals every day, alright?" Erik asked as he walked to the table and kissed the top of Gustave's head.

"I know," Charlotte chuckled. "But I wanted to."

"Well, as long as you want to and don't feel forced to. I won't object to crepes if you offer them."

"Take a plate, then," Charlotte nodded. "There's also orange juice in the fridge and I'm making coffee."

"Papa, can I have juice?" Gustave asked. "I can get your crépes for you, if you'd like."

"No, no, you both can sit down. I'll get it," Charlotte nodded, handing Erik a plate of crépes. "I don't mind."

Erik shook his head and laughed as he sat down. "I don't know what we're going to do about you constantly serving us," he said. "I feel a little bit bad about it."

"Don't," Charlotte shrugged. "Cooking is fun when you aren't being pressured to get it just right."

"If you say so," Erik replied as he took a bite of the crepes. "To be fair, your food is delicious, though."

"Thank you. I'm glad," Charlotte smiled, setting a glass of orange juice down in front of Gustave. 

"Would you like some coffee, Erik?"

"Yes, please."

"Perfect. What would you like in it?"

"Just black is fine," he said. "Thank you, Charlotte."

"You're welcome," Charlotte smiled as she poured a cup for him and one for herself. "I take my coffee black too."

"You and I are incredibly alike," Erik replied. "It's getting a bit scary."

"I'll say," Charlotte giggled, sitting beside him with a plate of crépes for herself.

"Papa, did you and Charlotte get to talk about books like I said you should?" Gustave asked.

"We talked mostly about our lives, although, I do recall Les Misérables coming up," Erik nodded.

"I tried to read that one, but I only got about halfway through it," Gustave said.

"It took me about a year to finish," Charlotte giggled. "It's Nadir's favorite Hugo, actually."

"Of course it is," Erik said with a chuckle.

"Yes, he loves to read," Charlotte smiled.

"Which is why he picked one of the longest books in existence."

"Exactly," Charlotte chuckled. "I had trouble getting through that one. It's like, 'I don't care what the table looked like that he set his candle on. Just get on with the plot, please.'"

Erik couldn't help but laugh. "I know exactly which portion you're talking about," he said.

"Quite honestly, I think it would be better suited as an opera or something. A little music may liven it up a bit."

"Maybe I'll try my hand at it," Erik replied.

"That could be interesting," Charlotte smiled.

"Yes, well, it would get me back into composing, which I haven't been doing. I do have work to do for my new little business, though, so it might sit at the back of my mind for a time."

"I don't blame you," Charlotte shrugged. "There's actually an art show at the Populaire today, and I'm going to try to sell a couple of my paintings. I haven't showed you any of my work yet, have I?"

"No, you haven't. I would love to see it, though," Erik said with a smile. "A painter, a talented musician, and an aspiring singer. What don't you do, Charlotte?"

"I'm not sure," Charlotte giggled. "And I could show you the paintings I'm going to sell. Do you want me to?"

"Can we please see them?" Gustave piped up.

"Well, I think he speaks for both of us," Erik said.

"Alright. I'll be back in a moment." Charlotte hurried upstairs, returning a few minutes later with three paintings.

Erik looked at the first that she set down on the table. "Charlotte, this is beautiful," he said. The painting was a relatively simple, yet detailed one of a white horse with blue eyes.

"Thank you," Charlotte smiled. "It was hard to paint since the horse wouldn't keep still."

"It looks really good!" Gustave said. "What are the other two?"

Charlotte set down the other paintings. The second was of a young girl in the rain, dressed in clothes that clearly showed she was of very little means. You couldn't see much of her face, since she was turning to look back at a very large, beautiful house, but there was something about the painting that easily conveyed the fact that the girl had a longing to have a better life.

The third was of a young couple laying in a field of flowers as they looked up at the stars. Though, the woman in the painting looked as if she had tears in her eyes. Almost like she had never experienced anything so beautiful in her lifetime.

"You're really talented," Gustave said as he looked up at her with a wide grin.

"Thank you," Charlotte chuckled. "It's a talent that's taken time to master."

"Like any art. It's a delicate process," Erik said.

"Definitely. Lots of trial and error," Charlotte nodded, her gaze fixed on the second painting.

"There's something special about that one, isn't there?" Erik inquired.

"Sort of," Charlotte nodded. "The little girl is me, in a way."

Erik nodded. "So it means a lot. It touches your heart."

"Yes, it does," Charlotte smiled.

Erik took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Well, you've painted what you were feeling beautifully, Charlotte."

"Thank you," Charlotte nodded. "I think that's the one that will definitely get sold."

"I would think so. If it doesn't, we'll hang it up here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Charlotte shrugged.

"Why wouldn't I? It's beautiful, and I would love to display your art in my home," Erik said with a smile.

"That's kind of you," Charlotte smiled. "I could always paint something special to hang here, though."

"You could do that as well, but if this one is particularly special to you, I would love to put it up for us to see."

"I mean, I do have other paintings I could sell," Charlotte shrugged. "It's up to you."

"They're your paintings, Charlotte. It's up to you which you sell and don't sell," Erik replied.

"It's your house. It's up to you what you decorate it with," Charlotte chuckled.

"Let's just keep it," Gustave finally said, pulling the painting away and setting it aside.

"Okay," Charlotte smiled. "I'll go see which other one I want to part with, then. I'll be back in a moment."

As she left the room, Erik ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "I can't see how we could possibly be anything more than good friends. We're much too alike," he whispered.

"Not to mention the fact that she's much younger," Gustave mumbled, sipping his orange juice.

Erik rolled his eyes and looked over at his son. "There is that too," he said through gritted teeth. "What is it with you and your commentary about this?"

Gustave shrugged. "Not sure. But the way I see it is, there are two choices. You can pursue her, which may be awkward because she's Mother's sister and because you're much older, but would could still be a good thing if she returns your feelings. Or you can let her run back into Thomas's arms and return to London, slipping out of your life forever."

Erik's mouth hung open a bit as he simply stared at his son, making an attempt to process the completely logical statement that he had just thrown at him. "Well, I..." he stammered.

"You'll have to decide the lesser of the two evils," Gustave nodded, getting up to leave the room.

Erik craned his neck to watch him go, eventually straightening out and putting his head in his hands with a groan. "What am I going to do?" he mumbled.

—————

"Gustave!" Charlotte called from the foyer. "Gustave, come here!"

The boy came running into the front hall from the parlor, his book still in hand. "Yes, Charlotte?"

"I sold all three paintings for four francs a piece," Charlotte grinned. "I had no idea people would actually buy them."

Gustave grinned. "That's amazing!" he exclaimed. "I knew people would love them."

"At least one of us had faith in me," Charlotte giggled. "I'm going to go tell your father. Decide on what you'd like for lunch."

"Okay. He's in his study working," Gustave said.

Charlotte nodded and hurried up the stairs. "Erik?" She asked softly as she slowly opened the door. "Have you got a moment?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Come in," Erik said as he waved her over from where he sat at his desk.

Charlotte approached but quickly noticed he had a damp handkerchief in his hand. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine," Erik said, tucking the handkerchief into his suit jacket pocket and continuing his work.

"Are you sure?" Charlotte asked softly with a little frown. "You look like you've been crying."

"Charlotte, I'm...I'm alright."

"No, you're not," she sighed. "What's wrong?"

Erik hesitated for a moment, but eventually reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small photograph, setting it on his desk without a glance at it.

"I see," Charlotte nodded, sighing again as she looked at the photo of her dearly departed sister. "You miss her a lot, don't you?"

Erik nodded. "It's difficult. Every day is a bit of a struggle," he admitted.

Charlotte put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm here to help you," she said softly.

Erik nodded, keeping his eyes on the work he was doing. "Thank you," he replied.

"I know it's really hard," Charlotte sighed, bending over to wrap her arms around his shoulders. "It's okay to cry in front of me."

He tensed a bit at the gesture, still not quite understanding how she was so comfortable touching him like that. "Yes, you've made that known," he whispered with a breathy laugh.

"Are you alright?" Charlotte frowned, observing his disposition. "You're very stiff."

"Yes, I'm alright."

Charlotte gently removed his mask, giving his deformed cheek a quick kiss. "Are you sure?"

"I'm just not used to people being so willing to touch me like you are. The hugs, the hand holding, the...the kisses," Erik admitted.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" Charlotte asked softly. "I could stop, if you'd prefer it."

"No, it's fine," Erik answered quickly. "Like I said, I'm just not used to it. I'm still getting used to it with Gustave."

"I can understand that," Charlotte nodded. "Just let me know if it ever makes you uncomfortable, alright? I'd never want that."

Erik gave her a nod. "I will. I'm not, though, so you don't have to worry."

"Alright. Good, then," Charlotte smiled. "Are you hungry? I was going to make lunch."

"I'm alright for the moment. I'm just going to try and get this design finished."

"Okay. Would you like some help?"

Erik looked up at her, taking his mask from her hand and slipping it back on. "You can try to help. I'm very much creating as I go, so I'm not sure what I can tell you to do."

"That's fine," Charlotte giggled, looking the design over. "What about a bay window there?"

Erik tilted his head a bit, looking at what he had laid out so far. "That could work nicely," he said, quickly sketching the detail in.

Charlotte gave a nod, studying the layout of the home. "Don't you think the staircase should be moved?"

"To where?"

"Over there," Charlotte said as she pointed. "That would open up room for a closet."

Erik nodded. "That it would," he said, smiling as he switched around the room's structure. "Why aren't you an architect?"

"Because I prefer painting," Charlotte chuckled. "I have more leeway with my work."

"Alright, I can understand that. You're very good at this, though. You have talents across the board, you know."

"Thank you," Charlotte smiled, blushing ever so slightly. "Well, I should go down to make lunch. I'll bring you something."

Erik smiled. "Thank you," he said, taking her hand and taking a leap when he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Charlotte smiled a bit brighter, lingering a moment before gently pulling her hand away to walk downstairs.

"Did you tell Papa about your paintings?" Gustave asked as Charlotte walked back in the kitchen

"No, I didn't. He was missing your mother and it didn't seem like the right time."

"Oh. Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Charlotte assured. "Now, what would you like for lunch?"

"Something simple. I'm not too hungry," Gustave admitted.

"What about a sandwich with turkey?"

"Sounds good."

"Perfect," Charlotte smiled, glancing over to the doorway, only to find Erik standing there. "I see you've decided to join us."

"Yes, it turns out I'm more hungry than I thought," he replied with a small smile.

"I figured as much," Charlotte giggled. "Have a seat at the table. I'll make you a sandwich."

"I'll do it, it's alright. Let me just grab cutlery for myself," Erik said with a nod, stepping over to the nearby counter and reaching for the drawer that held the forks and butter knives, his hand brushing Charlotte's waist as he did.

Charlotte blushed slightly. "That's okay. I'll make it for you."

Erik looked over at her, noticing the pink tone to her cheeks. "Why are you blushing?" he asked, turning the question she so often asked him right back on her.

"I'm not blushing. You're imagining things," Charlotte giggled.

"No, you are certainly blushing," Erik replied

"I am not!" Charlotte laughed.

"You are, but tell yourself whatever you want." Erik shrugged and reached past her again to grab himself the cutlery he needed, then grabbing himself bread for his sandwich. "I'll make my sandwich."

"Are you sure?" Charlotte smiled.

"Positive."

"Alright," Charlotte nodded, setting a plate in front of Gustave. "And I wasn't blushing."

"Oh, you were," Erik said with a smirk

"I was not," Charlotte laughed softly, playfully hitting his arm.

Erik chuckled and looked at her with a warm smile, which he noticed got her to turn her head quickly as she walked back to the kitchen counter. "Now, what was that?" he asked, his smile getting wider.

"Nothing. Mind your own business and eat your sandwich," Charlotte giggled.

"Alright, alright," Erik said, turning to look at Gustave and finding a smile on his son's face as well. "I'll keep to myself."

~~~~~

hehe look at charlotte blushing. what does that mean ;)