Synopsis: The reader's period is kicking their ass, they seek to find someone to help them out and Erik might just be that person.
Pronouns: Unmentioned however multiple mentions of having a uterus and having a period.
Warnings: Mention of period, period pains, little bit of fluff, me thinking I'm funny. Brief mention of alcohol, very small mention of Space Cookies which if you don't know is 60-80's slang for edibles. Also Space cookies is the cutest fuckin' name.
Also this doesn't line up with the canon timeline, Erik's in the school mansion. But honestly X-Mens timeline doesn't line up with its own timeline so deal with it.
Word Count: 2,140
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Why couldn't your mutation be to not have periods? You'd give up what you had if you could even just control the cramps. But here you were, miserable, tired, and in too much pain. Mutants were supposed to be advanced, the next step in evolution and if this is what evolution had in store for you evolution could go fuck itself. Someone had to be able to fix this, for Gods sake there are mutants here with telepathy, mind-reading abilities, everything under the sun someone had to be able to ease this pain.
So on a mission you made your way out of your room much to your uterus's anger, it shot painful cramps at you telling you to get back into bed but to Hell with that. "Hank." You mutter to yourself.
Surely, Hank would have some kind of medicine for you or could whip up something. You head over to the stairs and decide no, no that is not the kind of torture you're willing to sign up for. Charles elevator it is, you're not one of his students and he can't give you detention for using it. You may not be a student but riding down in his elevator does give you childlike glee though it seems your period notices your split moment of joy and strikes it down with a gut wrenching cramp. Right, Hank, gotta find Hank. You walk down to his work room, giving small waves to the students who pass you in the halls, a tight polite smile aimed at them since it really isn't their fault you're in a fowl mood. "Hey, Y/N...you alright?" Bobby asked.
You nod and wave him off as you continued to walk. "Bobby wait." You realize, an idea striking you. "I need you." You let him know.
A look of confusion passes his features. "Uh-okay, is it quick? I need to get to class." He asked.
"I'll write you a note." You brush off.
"You can write me excuse notes?" He checks.
"I can do whatever I want." You say.
Earning a laugh from him. "Cool, what's up?" He asks.
"Can you make me cold without killing me?" You checked but at this point death didn't seem like the worst possible scenario.
"Yeah..." Bobby said a little confused as to where this was going.
"Great." You grabbed his hand. "Freeze Hell over." You place his hand to your aching gut.
"What?" Maybe going to math class would be more simple than this he thinks.
"Right, not funny." You sigh. "Make me cold, please." You settle on.
"Is this a test?" He asked confused.
"My will to live is testing me." You sigh.
You can still see the clear confusion but none the less you start to feel cold and sweet relief, you don't care if he's frozen your insides, this is worth it. "Better?" He checked, not exactly sure what he was checking.
"Yes, and I'm gonna bully Charles into giving you an A, thank you." You tell him as you let go of his hand.
It drops to his side and he nods with a small smile "Sick." He settles on with a nod. "Don't tell Rogue." He realizes.
"She'll understand more than you will." You assure him which only leads to more confusion on his end. "Get to class." You tell him.
"Alright, see you around." He shrugs and heads off.
You once again start yourself towards Hank except now you don't need to cling onto yourself in a feeble attempt to keep your uterus from throbbing. You arrive at his office and give a knock as you enter and you're greeted by...nothing? No he's always here. "Hank?" You call around the small room hoping he'd pop up from under a desk but no such luck. "Oh come on." You whine.
Where is he? He's always here, he practically lives in here and the one time you need him he's decided to get a life? Oh, fuck. And as if this didn't suck enough the numbness that was quelling your cramps was starting to fade. Okay, you're Hank, you're big and blue where would you go? To see Raven. You head out of the room as if you've got any idea as to where she would be, maybe Charles would know. So the other side of this God forsaken mansion. Great.
By the time you get there nothing about you is cold and numb only hot and throbbing. You don't bother to knock on the door, he's heard you coming as you've been cursing the entire way here as a warning. You open the door and at least this time you aren't greeted by no one but you're greeted by someone you weren't expecting. "Little early for training, are you alright?" Erik asked from his seat.
Oh, fantastic, fucking great, you look so terrible he thinks you've been training? Oh God! "Why are you here?" You ask.
"Good to see you too." He teases.
What else were you expecting? It's Erik. "Where's Hank?" You ask as your uterus is making it known it wants revenge for being put in the freezer.
"Not a clue. Don't exactly keep tabs." He says arching his brow at your question.
"Where's Raven?" You try.
"Getting married? Looking for something blue?"
If his smile wasn't so charming you'd wipe it off his face. "Where's Charles?" You finally ask.
That should've been your first question, Erik usually knows where Charles is at least. "Out with Moira." He answered with an unimpressed shrug.
"Ugh." You groan in frustration putting your arm back around yourself.
"Are you hurt?" He asks.
You're sure you would've found the concern sweet if it wasn't for the throbbing that was now making itself to your head to give you the start of a splitting headache. "I'm dying." You answer.
From a look over he can see you're not, and while he's gotten used to your flair for the dramatic this is even a bit much for you. "Well, dying in the doorway seems like an inconvenience, come sit." He pitches gesturing to the seat across from the one he's in. Smug asshole. But standing does suck at least sitting you can curl up to put more pressure on your stomach so you go over and sit, putting your feet up on the lip on the chair...at least it's a soft chair. "Care for a game of chess?" He offers.
"I'd rather die" You let him know with a shake of your head.
"I thought you were already dying." He points out.
You glare at him as your rebuttal, if only you knew how much he loves that. He likes you in general but he likes you even more when you're angry, he can't help but flirt with danger especially when it's as good looking as you are. You're too lost in concentrating on trying to keep your pain in check to notice his affectionate gaze but you do notice when he gets up. "If you grab the chess board I'm going to throw it at your head." You let him know.
He doesn't answer, he just walks over to Charles desk, opens the bottom drawer and comes over with a bottle of booze. "If I offer you a glass are you going to throw it?" He asked.
"I might out of spite to Charles, he didn't tell me about his desk booze." You complain.
He chuckles as he grabs two glasses. "He didn't tell me either." He lets you know and it makes you smile a little at his mischief. "I just know him." He says simply as he pours. "Just like I know you." He says looking right at you.
Stupid pretty blue eyes. "You know where my stash is too?" You joke earning a chuckle.
"Not yet." He smiles. "But I know you enough to know something is bothering you." He says sliding a glass over to you.
Oughta call him Sherlock Holmes, wonder what gave you away? Maybe being nearly doubled over in pain? The statement that you were dying? You keep your snide comments to yourself by having a sip, cringing a little at the taste. "Why does expensive booze always taste so bad?" You mutter into your glass.
Erik lets out a small chuckle at the fact even though you're clearly displeased you take another sip. "It's American, you can't expect much." He sums up having a sip himself.
"Snob." You teasingly prod.
"You don't like it either, what does that make you?" He mused.
That's what you get for trying to out snark the snarkiest of snarks. "I tell you I'm dying and you make fun of me?" You accuse
"I asked what was wrong, I got no answer." He points out sharply. It's not exactly something you want to declare, nor are you sure what comment would follow if you did. Probably some kind of snarky remark and you are two snarky remarks away from losing it since incredibly booze isn't exactly helping your headache. Words that would usually make you giggle and swoon you're sure right now would make you swing at him. "Perhaps you've gone mute."
Ah, there's the first snarky remark, you down the rest of your drink to deal with it. As you swallow and your gut squelches in a disgusting way you're striked with an idea. "You control iron." You point out.
"Next you'll tell me my name is Erik." He said taking a sip of own drink.
You go past his remark. "Great, force the iron in my blood somewhere else." You come up with.
His mouth opens but nothing comes out, he's eyebrows are brought together in pure confusion. It's not often that Erik is left with no words. He tries to give himself a moment to process your request by finishing off his drink but at the end of his swallow he's still got nothing. "What?" He finally asks.
"The iron in my blood. For the love of God just like from my gut area, move it somewhere else." You say.
It doesn't matter if it kills you, you just want for this agony to stop. Who need a uterus anyway? It's overrated. You hate it and it can't cramp if there's no blood to let it move. You move your legs to gesture to your hip area to give him a better idea of where you want the blood to leave from and as if your uterus was sentient and sensing its own demise it sends a painful cramp that makes you double over and hug your legs that had just hit the ground. It's quite a weird display for Erik to take in but he does take it in and the dots he needs to connect start to form. "I think you know I can't do that nor would I if I could." He lets you know.
"You suck." You grumble.
You glare at your sock covered feet in anger, stupid body, stupid uterus, stupid Erik. "Shame you feel that way." Erik says getting up. "Especially since I know where Charles space cookie stash is too."
It's almost comical the way your head pops up to look at him, he has to wrestle back his smile. "No." You gasp amused.
Charles has a space stash? That little stoner. "Shame you'll never find out unless you find it yourself." He taunts.
The smile he had been wrestling back finds its way to his face as he sees the look of desperation on yours. "Erik."
It's half desperate plea and half warning...or maybe 3/4 desperate plea and 1/4 warning if you're being honest. His smile broadens if only a little. "Agree to a chess game." Is his ultimatum.
"Fine, done, I'll play chess." You easily settle on. He gives a satisfied nod and heads over to the chess set. "Hey." You complain.
He grabs both sets and opens one to show the cookies. Of course, no one but him and Erik play chess so no one would ever find it in there. He offers you the box and you get yourself sat up properly and happily take it. Finally sweet relief. You take a bite and are rewarded with literal sweet relief, these are good. You look from your newly found stash and over at Erik to see him setting up the other chess set...? He means right now? Of course he means right now. "I'll make it fair, don't pout." He chastises as he grabs a cookie and pops it into his mouth.
He sets it up so you're the white pieces which means you go first. "Fuck." You mutter under your breath.
"Kinky, that'd be quite the first move to make." Erik says and he can't help but to delight at the blush that colours your face.
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