Erik's half-asleep on the couch when his mom comes to pick up the kids. He's awake by the time her car pulls out of the driveway, taking Lorna's braces and the eyelets of David's shoes with it.
That's about when he realizes he forgot about date night. Great. That's just great. Damnit.
A minute later, he feels Charles' chair in the doorway behind him.
"Do we have to go out tonight? I'm not dressed. I haven't even showered. Can't we just," Erik says.
Stay in. Watch a movie. Something non-animated they've seen a million times before: background noise with a plot Erik knows forward and backward, so he won't be lost if he doesn't tune in until halfway through.
Anything would be better than going out. He's tired. He's sore. The last thing he wants to deal with is other people, or other people's kids. It's not like he'd stop in his tracks if he saw a stroller. He's not going to have a meltdown if a baby starts crying in the movie theater or the restaurant, either — but if it's all the same to Charles, he'd rather not.
Charles says, "Yes, okay. That sounds good to me." He rolls past the couch and over to the tv, and starts opening dvd cases. After a minute, he says, "Well, I found The Shawshank Redemption. Would that do?"
"Sure."
Charles sets up the movie. When he turns back around, Erik sees he's still wearing his pajama bottoms. They were obviously never going to go out tonight; Erik would feel dumb about it, but he doesn't have the energy.
Erik moves his feet so there's room on the couch. Once Charles gets settled on the far cushion, he floats the remote into his hand from the coffee table and starts the movie.
"I asked your mom if the kids could sleep over tonight," Charles says. "I hope that's okay. I can call her to change it, if you want."
"It's fine." Erik stretches his legs out again, putting his feet in Charles' lap.
Actually, it's a relief to have the kids out of the house. Lorna's spent all day bursting into tears. When Lorna cries, David cries, too. (David cries when anybody cries; he cries when other people are about to cry. He doesn't really understand why everyone's upset right now, and Erik's glad they won't have to try to explain it to him tonight.) It's the last thing Erik needs to deal with right now.
He wishes they hadn't told the kids he was pregnant again to begin with. They didn't really have much of a choice — David would have picked it up from one of them sooner or later — but still. If Erik had had his way, they'd have kept it between the two of them.
They hadn't told anyone outside the family yet. They agreed to hold off until the first trimester was over, to be on the safe side. So he won't have to explain it to every acquaintance who wants to know how things are going, and he won't have people trying to tell him "At least you weren't that far along yet," or "Thank goodness you already have two kids," like they think they're helping, like they think it's any of their business.
Well, it's Erik's business. His and Charles'. No one else gets a say.
Charles's hands are warm on Erik's bare ankles. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Erik says. He doesn't know what there is to talk about. Two days ago, he'd still been pregnant; yesterday, he was, and then he wasn't.
"Okay. Is it all right if I give you a foot rub?"
"Since when do you have to ask permission to touch me?" Erik snaps. He can't stand it when Charles tiptoes around him like he's going to break, but he immediately regrets lashing out anyway. "— That's fine. Sorry."
"It's okay," Charles says, very quietly.
Erik hates that too, the way Charles won't snap back at him, the way he gets sadder instead of lighting into Erik like he usually would. Part of Erik wants to start a fight, to pick and pick at Charles until they're both screaming themselves hoarse, the way they can't when the kids are home, the way they almost never do even when they aren't. But he's too tired, too drained to try to start something.
Last time, he'd fought so hard to stay pregnant that he hadn't believed he could actually lose it until he did. Afterward, he'd been so angry. He picked fights with whoever was available for weeks. He was nastier to Charles than to anyone else, just because Charles was there. He still can't believe some of the things he said to him.
But this time, Erik braced himself for the worst from the moment they found out he was pregnant. If it had happened once, it could happen again. So he didn't let himself think of July 27 as anything other than another date on the calendar. He didn't let himself think about names, mutations, boy or girl. He didn't let himself think getting through another day without cramping or bleeding meant anything — and it didn't.
He didn't let himself love it. He barely let himself want it. Now it's gone, and he won't get to.
Maybe it's his fault. Maybe he made this happen by being so sure it would; willed this to happen, the same way he wills metal to do what he wants it to do, to be what he wants it to be.
He didn't want this.
"Erik?"
"I'm going to bed," Erik decides, jerking his feet out of Charles' lap and standing up. "You can come if you want, or — whatever."
"I'll be up in a minute," Charles calls after him.
Erik's halfway up the stairs before he realizes he should have taken the elevator. Too late now. It won't kill him.
He didn't bother getting dressed when he got up this morning, so he doesn't bother undressing when he gets to their room; he just climbs into bed, pulls up the covers, and lies there.
A little while later, with all the lights off and Charles lying next to him, Erik says, "I might want to stop."
"Okay," Charles says.
"I don't know if I can do this again."
"All right."
"I'm not sure yet. I'm just saying I might be done. I want to make sure you understand that."
"Okay," Charles says again. He pauses. "I don't know, either."
"I don't want to make any decisions about it tonight. I just wanted to let you know."
"Okay."
After a while, Erik turns over and wraps his arm around Charles' waist. He presses his face to the back of Charles' shirt, his lower half angled away. He stays there even when it gets a little too warm to really breathe.
Eventually, he manages to fall asleep.