Even at the ripe old age of seventy-five, Erik still had the most glorious backside. Charles had rarely gotten to see him in jeans before he'd moved in, but after he'd laid down his mantle (and, better still, left his old helmet behind him when he came), he had also stopped bothering to dress up most days. No more suits, no more fedoras, unless they were going out for dinner or Charles had made the mistake of making a comment about Erik's wardrobe the day before; it was all khakis or blue jeans and a red ball cap these days. Today, Erik was even wearing a T-shirt, which Charles absolutely was not going to make any sort of comment about, or even indicate he'd noticed if he could help it. Charles was good at acting dignified. It had become easier to pull off over the years, as people came to expect it of him. Probably no one could tell that he was practically wiggling with delight on the inside, like a particularly rambunctious puppy.
Finally, Erik stepped away from the car, turning around so that his backside was no longer available to view. (His front, however, was; even if Charles hadn't already known he wasn't wearing any underwear today, well, it would have become obvious now.)
"Is that what you wanted?" Erik asked. He left off the 'your majesty,' but it didn't really make any difference, since he was thinking it rather loudly. Erik could definitely tell Charles was wiggling with delight on the inside, and found it ridiculous.
Well, Charles never had minded being ridiculous to Erik. 'Ridiculous' was a soft-edged, fuzzy thing inside Erik's head, one that invariable made him become gruff on the outside, as if he could ever hope to hide his affection when it shone so very brightly.
"The car," Erik prodded, when Charles didn't answer.
"Oh." Charles looked at the car. The back window now had writing on it: 'JUST MARRIED (2 years ago, but still excited)'. "Well, it's all right, I suppose," he said. "I think I might have liked it better when the 2 was spelled out. Do you think you could—"
"No," Erik said, and it was possible, just possible, that he had caught on to why Charles kept making him change the 2 to a two and back again. Then he said, "You'll see enough of my ass when we get to Maine," so he definitely had. "Let's go."
"Could you change it back just one more time?" Charles asked. "That 2 is really going to bother me, actually. I mean, unless you'd rather wait an hour and have to pull off the road..."
As Erik turned back to the car, his thoughts had a definite edge of 'I don't know why I put up with you/this.' But in reality, he knew why, and so did Charles: it was because Erik was excited, too.
