A/N: I must say, I quite enjoyed X-Men: First Class, particularly because I felt the movie was pretty much a romance between Charles and Erik! This slash (that means maleXmale, please don't read if you don't like) fic is specifically about those two characters, not Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen's versions! :-p

Enjoy!

The Lost Night

Erik was avoiding him.

Charles hadn't seen his friend all day, not since their last training session.

… Their successful and very... intimate session.

Charles had brought to the surface an old childhood memory, and even he was surprised at the emotion it had brought forth in them both.

His hardened friend's memories were now a part of him, for better or for worse.

And now the professor feared that instead of continuing his emotional journey toward happiness and serenity, Erik would work twice as hard to restore his mental barriers, unnerved by the intimacy he had unwittingly shared with his companion.

Charles painstakingly wandered the halls of his estate, checking every room for his friend. He wouldn't use his powers to find him. Not without permission.

Finally, he gently pushed open the door of an empty guest bedroom, and there he was.

"Leave me be," came Erik's gruff voice from the dark interior. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees and gaze toward the floor.

"Erik," Charles said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "My friend."

The other man had no energy to move away when the professor gingerly sat down next to him, their thighs almost touching.

"What am I to do now?" Erik turned toward him, eyes filled with questions, soul pleading for answers. "No one has seen my past, much less lived it like you have."

Charles placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "What I did... I did it to help you. I only wish to help you. You must know that."

"You shed a tear, Charles," Erik accused, nearly spitting his words. His shoulders began to shake. "The only other person to have done that is dead now."

Erik slumped against Charles, head resting in the crook of his friend's neck. The professor put an arm around the trembling shoulders.

"You brought this pain to the surface." Erik was sobbing freely now. "You take it away."

"Erik." Charles cupped the taller man's face with his free hand and gently guided it up, so their eyes met. He whispered, "I'm so... sorry."

For an impossible moment blue eyes held the gaze of blue, and then the two men kissed. Their minds were beyond words now, far gone from hope of conversation.

It was their bodies' turn.

Charles undressed the taller man with care, discarding clothes with slow and gentle fingers.

Erik was more willful in his gestures, greeting each piece of his companion's newly exposed flesh as a precious yet fleeting treasure, his lips devouring it with not a moment to lose.

That night they loved each other, in the hours that followed. Though their love-making eventually ended, and though neither of them spoke of it again, neither would ever forget.

And perhaps their hearts would never stop yearning, silently, for one another.