Kink_meme prompt: Inspired by this: http:/ klavierofdevil. tumblr. com/post/9736985543 /perfection-3 (remove the four spaces)

Kink_meme prompt given: "Erik is at the airport when his attention is caught by a young man blowing a kiss from over the railing of the floor above him (Charles). At first he thinks the kiss is for him, but he then realizes it's for some other dude behind him (Charles' boyfriend). Erik sees Charles' boyfriend with someone else hanging off his arm. Erik finds Charles crying in the men's room."

Erik weaves in between people exiting the plane too slowly, irritated when an elderly couple holding hands blocks his way entirely, and he is forced to trail behind them until they reach the airport proper. Solid ground feels good, and he enjoys the sensation returning to his legs as he walks briskly by kiosks and magazine stands.

He holds a briefcase in his hand, a newspaper under his arm, and a hat on his head-traveling light for business. He loathes waiting at baggage claim, and there's nobody waiting for him anyway. As he nears the escalators, someone in a bigger rush than him jostles him as she passes and Erik drops his newspaper. He turns his head over his shoulder with a scowl but the woman is already half way down the terminal, waving her boarding pass in the air like a flag. He sighs, dropping to his knees to pick it up.

"Hey!" a voice calls.

Erik looks up, and a young man beams at him from the railing on the second floor with a package at his feet. Grey suit, brown hair. Erik doesn't recognize him but the man looks delighted to see him.

Erik stands up slowly, frowning, and the man leans forward, gripping the railing with eager fingers and biting his lip to keep back his smile. It's useless and it widens anyway, slow and warm as it spreads across his cheeks and becomes a messy grin. He presses two fingers to his lips and Erik stares in disbelief. Nobody has ever looked at him like that.

The man is waving now, his eyes bright and blue. Even though Erik has spent the last four hours looking out the plane window into bright blue sky, he thinks he could stand to look a bit longer. Erik lifts his hand to wave back and someone behind him yells, "Charles?"

The man on the railing laughs and leans over the glass. "Hello, my friend," he shouts back.

"What are you doing here?"

Erik turns to the man next to him and knows instantly that whatever they are, it's more than friends. The newspaper crumples in his hand as he's overcome with a pang of resentment so strong, he surprises himself with it. Heat swells and rises in his chest, prickling along the back of his neck.

Charles suddenly looks at Erik, really looks at him, and his smile softens. 'Hello,' he mouths and proffers a half wave, and it makes Erik's stomach flip helplessly. He tosses his newspaper in the trash and storms away, furious and aching somewhere too deep for him to shake off.

Erik finishes his beer and passes the mug between his hands, watching the foam slide down the glass. He's grown tired of the view. Planes taking off and landing outside, people happy and irritated and sad and hopeful on the inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the man from earlier, the older one. He is greeted by a woman with mousy hair and a pretty face. He kisses her gently, and she holds the soft swell of her stomach in her hands.

Erik rises from his seat in disgust and the chair grates against the floor. He leaves money on the counter and gathers his things, stopping by the restroom on the way out.

His shoes clack on the dirty tile as he rounds the corner to the urinals and he stops in his tracks. Charles is standing in front of a sink, fingers holding onto the ceramic as his shoulders shake. The same package lies at his feet.

Erik hesitates, thinking he should probably leave. He doesn't.

"Are you alright?" Erik asks quietly.

Charles straightens up and looks over at him. His eyes are wet but he gives a weak smile anyway and it's still bright and warm as day. It makes Erik's throat thick. "I'm fine, thank you," Charles says. He licks his lips and Erik can see his cheeks glisten in the yellowed light.

"Okay," Erik says though he doesn't believe it. He lingers for a moment before he shakes his head mentally, walking to the urinals to relieve himself.

By the time he washes his hands in the sink, Charles' eyes are dry, though his mouth is still a sad line on his face.

"Do you like chocolates?" Charles asks him.

"They're alright," Erik says, bemused, shutting off the tap.

Charles leans down to pick up his package. He takes Erik's hand, still wet, and presses the handle of the paper bag into Erik's palm. Erik looks inside and sees chocolates in a heart shaped box. "He didn't want mine," Charles explains.

He turns to go and Erik closes his hand around his. "You deserve better," Erik tells him.

"I should've known better," Charles corrects bitterly. He doesn't take his hand back. "Airports are horrible places."

"You have no idea," Erik says and suddenly realizes he's probably spent more time here than home.

"I think the worst part is I can't remember where I've parked," Charles admits with a small laugh. The sound of it fills Erik's chest.

Erik laughs, too, before realizing he hasn't let go of Charles' hand. "I'm Erik," he says quickly, shaking it awkwardly.

Charles smiles tiredly at him. "It's nice to meet you, Erik. My name is Charles. Enjoy your chocolates."

"Have dinner with me," Erik blurts.

Charles raises an eyebrow in surprise before frowning a little. "I really don't think-" Erik squeezes his hand and Charles stops speaking entirely and swallows. And then nods. "Alright," he says.

When they emerge from the restroom, they are swept up in a sea of people rushing to get through the gates, but somehow Erik isn't in a hurry.

Erik lets them fall back in the crowd with Charles telling him about single-celled organisms and the passage of time.

A/N Please review.