"When you said shark's teeth, I was expecting something a bit...different," Charles says, holding the tooth in question up above his head and squinting at it. "Honestly, I was picturing something a little less...gray. Not to mention larger."
In other words, he'd been picturing something shiny and new, about the size of his hand, as if a great white shark would helpfully spit out a loose tooth onto the beach just in time for Charles to find it.
"The ones we'll find are old," Erik says. "Fossilized."
"Really? How fascinating." Charles perks up, as he always does whenever anyone tells him some fact he didn't already know. Erik doesn't doubt he'll be up half the night googling shark's teeth when they get back to the hotel, reading everything he finds out loud so Erik can keep on top of it, too (whether or not he actually cares). "Well, let's look some more."
They explore the beach for a while, keeping an eye out for shark's teeth among the seashells, pebbles, and general debris the waves dump onto the sand. Now that Charles knows what he's looking for, he spots more teeth than Erik does, and doesn't hesitate to point them out so Erik can stoop down and retrieve them. Charles gives himself the job of holding onto what they have in one hand while guiding his motorized beach chair with the other, though eventually they've gathered so many teeth that he starts sticking them in Erik's pockets lest he drop any.
It's January, and although the beach isn't quite deserted, it's close enough for Erik's liking. The few other figures in the distance are easy enough to avoid, so it's just the two of them for all intents and purposes, old fossils themselves and alone with the wind and the waves, the salt and the sand. It's beautiful, and all the more so because there's no chance whatsoever of their trip being spoiled by the snow.
After a while, they go back to the car for the supplies, then lay out a blanket and lunch on the sand a few yards away. While Erik weighs down the corners of the blanket against the breeze, Charles transfers to the ground from his chair and unpacks the basket. Erik's still not clear on why two twelve-inch subs require an entire picnic basket, but Charles was willing to humor him by coming here, so he's willing to humor Charles about this.
"Be careful when you sit down," Charles says. "You don't want to take a bite out of yourself."
"That was bad, even for you," Erik says, but he nonetheless pulls several teeth out of his back pocket before sitting down.
Charles beams at him, unwraps his sandwich, and immediately pulls off a small chunk of bread and throws it onto the sand, causing every seagull in northern Florida to congregate around them.
"Don't encourage them," Erik says.
Charles beams at him some more, tearing off more chunks of bread. "I'd guess they're already encouraged," he says, and proceeds to encourage them more. The birds end up getting more of it than Charles does, but he doesn't seem enthused about it anyway, nibbling at it now and then and otherwise staring off at the ocean.
In fact, he stares so much, and stays so quiet, that it's unsettling. Perhaps a beach wasn't the best idea after all. Erik finds himself reaching out for the ring on Charles' hand with his powers, not to move it or warm it or change it, but to steady himself, remind himself of where they are, of how much has changed between them in the handful of days since they exchanged their vows, unexpected and sudden and a foregone conclusion all at once.
"What are you thinking?" Erik asks. He never would have asked, before, and he's not at all sure he wants to know—but everything is different now, and after everything they've been through together and apart, there's nothing they shouldn't be able to say to each other.
"Oh, nothing much. The water looks cold," says Charles, who's spent their entire time in Florida scoffing about how warm it is, and how very un-Christmaslike. "I'm rather glad we met in July."
Erik points out, "Miami's much warmer than this, even in the winter. It wouldn't have been an issue."
"Even still."
Erik stares out at the water for a long moment, too, then turns again to Charles and says, simply, "I'm glad we met."
Charles' eyes go soft at that, they way they always do. Erik wants to tell him not to do that, the way he always wants to; that it's dangerous to be so vulnerable in front of another person, especially when it's Erik himself. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."
Erik sniffs. "I did propose."
"You floated in my window and said, 'We're getting married,'" Charles says. "It sounded like a mandate to me.'"
Before he can criticize one more thing, Erik leans forward and kisses him. It is, as it has always been, the most effective way to distract him from any of Erik's flaws.