Therapy for the Therapist

A sad kitten in the Cone of Shame.

(I promise it’s just until your medicine dries, kittypants!)

crazymaexchen:

Happy Tuesgay to all of you! <3

There should be fic for this, yes?

Maybe Charles, despite being filthy rich, is secretly a cheapskate, and makes Erik buy their condoms in bulk using the school’s Sam’s card. Erik is not amused.

codenamecesare:

Hi res. Summer camp AU.

“Aren’t you a little young to be coaching the soccer team?” Erik asked.

“Maybe. But I’m old enough to be coaching the football team,” said Charles, emphasizing his English accent so much that he sounded like a parody of a BBC announcer.

So that was the first reason Erik hated him. The second came during the next time-out, after they resolved the matter of Logan fouling Ben; Charles stepped between them when things got heated and told Logan to go cool down and walk it off, with a cocked eyebrow at Erik suggesting that he say the same to Ben. “Get back in formation,” was all Erik told Ben. He turned to Charles. “So tell me. How old are you?”

“I’ve just finished my first year at university,” Charles said.

“Which doesn’t answer my actual question.”

Charles shook his head. “Fine. Seventeen next week. I had early admission.”

“I’m sure it’s a huge challenge to get into Bible college early,” said Erik. In his three summers as a camp counselor at Camp Wise, everyone he’d ever met from Camp Hope was planning to go to Bible college.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Charles, “I’m going to Harvard.”

And that was the second reason. The third and fourth reasons came one right after another at half time. Charles was stretching; fine, whatever, it wasn’t like Erik was watching, it wasn’t like Erik was interested in some snob from Camp Hope with his stupidly complete soccer uniform with knee socks and his stupid floppy hair and his stupid stumpy legs and shortness. Then Charles bent at the waist, hands curled against the ground, and he stayed like that and stayed like that, white shorts pulled obscenely tight around his ass and his solid, sturdy thighs. He held that position til Erik was pretty sure he could draw every seam and stitch and fold on those shorts from memory, not to mention the lines of Charles’s underwear, visible through the thin white fabric. He wanted to verify those lines with his tongue.

When Charles finally straightened he was flushed and gorgeous, all that fluffy hair falling all over the place. The most acrobatic member of his team, a blonde girl named Raven, hugged him and kissed his cheek. And those were the third and fourth reasons that Erik hated Charles a lot.

Hang on while I flail a little…

[x]

While I appreciate your effort, it’s totally unnecessary.  ;)