1963 - Shaw's sweet little sparrow

[hellishfire]

[Shaw had told Xavier once that love was nothing more than chemicals and he continues to abide by that position. Chemical reactions and biological instinct are easy enough to manipulate after all; the brain is nothing more than a bunch of pulpy gray matter and blood vessels and synapses, and he doesn't need to be a telepath to recognize opportunities for changing things around when he sees them. Case in point: one Erik Lehnsherr, six months post the Cuba fiasco. (Though "fiasco" does seem a bit understated for what eventually sparked nuclear war and paved the way for what will eventually be total mutant superiority. He'll ask Emma how to spin that a little more impressively late.)

Lehnsherr's little telepath boyfriend has been months on the serum and though they are allowed their conjugal visits, Shaw's old pupil hasn't felt Xavier in his mind for a very, very long time. Shaw starts slowly: condescending hands at his shoulder, pats on Lehnsherr's cheek when Shaw's pleased with him. It doesn't matter how many times the other man all but snarls and shoves him away because Shaw knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that Magneto's getting nothing from anyone else in Genosha.

It is not as though Shaw is trying to coax Erik to love or even like him; the other mutant's hate is enough for his plans. No, what Shaw wants is for Erik to need him, and this is a game he's willing to play over a long, long time.

He times his next visit exactly one week after Charles and Erik were last allowed to see each other: long enough for the loyalty and passion to fade from the forefront of Lehnsherr's mind, but fresh enough that everything should still ache. It is night and he knocks at the door to Erik's quarters. There is no lock on this door, of course. In his other hand he holds two dark bottles cradled to his chest as precious cargo. Which, of course, they are. It was fucking expensive to get them shipped all the way out here.]

Comments

[cointossing]

[Erik hated Shaw. He hated him so much, hated him more every day, every time he had to see him or speak to him, or whenever Shaw touched him. He'd always snarl, move away. But still, he was doing the man's dirty work; he hunted the humans who'd started rebellions on the mainland, made frequent visits to the parts of the world that had survived in order to round up anyone who disobeyed. He killed them, tortured them, and he felt nothing. Erik had been a killer before, and he'd done worse. Humans meant absolutely nothing to him.

He didn't tell Charles, and he didn't have to worry about Charles plucking it from his mind, not anymore. It was better his lover didn't know. And though Erik saw Charles frequently, though they even had sex sometimes, he'd long grown tired, annoyed with the other man's continued insistence that he not kill Shaw. He'd stopped bringing it up, because he was going to do it, he swore he was. He just needed the right moment, and an ally or two that wasn't trapped in a cell.

And he didn't have either of those, not yet. If only Charles had his power back, if only... Never mind that Erik found himself thankful sometimes that Charles couldn't hear his thoughts. Thankful. And he hated himself for it. He didn't know when the trust had begun to erode, but he wanted it back.

He's standing by his window in the dark now, having only just returned that afternoon from another mission. He'd captured mutants this time, mutants who sided with humans. He hated the very idea of doing that, and he was becoming unsure of what he was turning into. He'd wanted to see Charles right away, but that was a luxury not allowed him. So instead he'd retreated to his room and hid away in the dark.

He should've known that his privacy wouldn't last long. There's a knock at the door. Erik doesn't move from where he stands, contemplating ignoring it, but he's sure he knows who it is, and that it would just be opened anyway. So he takes a glance at it, letting it open with his power.

And it's Shaw. Of course. Shaw, with alcohol. Erik had to admit he needed a drink. And he could use some company, too; he's been so alone as of late. But no, not with Shaw. Never with Shaw.]

What do you want? [He barely glances at him, his tone bitter, hateful. Loneliness or not, he'd rather be on his own if he had to choose between it and Shaw. Or so he tells himself.]

[hellishfire]

[Shaw likes seeing Erik snarl and shove past him. It doesn't matter what Erik feels in the end, so long as he's passionate about it and it's directed at Shaw. Plus, there is just something so deliciously entertaining about watching his Spatzi dive back into the work he'd first cut his teeth on. He'd made sure the boy had been a murderer long before liberation had been at hand and it'd been no longer expedient for Shaw to keep his lot thrown in with the Third Reich. All the better to prepare him for the horrors of the world outside, of course. Or something like that. To be honest Shaw hadn't been particularly worried about justifying his course of action to anyone, least of all himself.

Shaw's been watching the progress (or decline?) of Erik and Charles' relationship with much interest. That the two men are under a considerable amount of stress is a laughable understatement; that they're becoming more and more snappish and frustrated with each other is a surprising delight. He knows what trust looks like as it starts to erode and be replaced with other, less desirable things. He sees the way they regard each other with uncertainty now. Such a fragile thing, after all.

If Shaw even notices the cold greeting he doesn't let it show. Instead he greats Erik with a wide smile, striding into the room and setting the bottles down on a table.]

It's good to see you back home, Magneto. When you didn't show up to give your report I got worried and came to see how you were. I'm sure everything is fine though - you always do such a good job. So these [gestures to the bottles] are to celebrate. How did the Mexico City job go, by the way?

[The most fun thing about this entire set up, Shaw decides, is that he gets to play so many different roles with his two pet mutants. Angry and quiet, haughty and condescending, or, his personal favorite, like an old pal who just can't understand where all the hate's coming from.]