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Can't Buy Me Love

Summary:

Erik's a single dad struggling to make it work and nab the promotion he's been waiting for. The last thing he needs is to get involved with politician and notorious playboy Charles Xavier.

(The Maid in Manhattan pastiche that no one asked for.)

Notes:

Because silly rom-coms should always be Cheriked! And one day I'll stop writing kid fic. That day won't be today.

The working title for this was "Mo Money Mo Problems".

Chapter Text

Erik

Monday mornings were created to punish him, Erik decides. He's not sure what he did to deserve it, maybe he killed someone in a past life. He must have been some sort of super villain to bring on this level of suffering.

"Lorna if you don't get your shoes on and get out the door right now we're going to be late," Erik yells, pouring coffee into his travel mug and cursing when it spills over. 

"Erik," his mother chides, not even glancing up from her newspaper.

"Sorry Ma."

He's sopping up the mess with a handful of napkins when Lorna finally appears in the doorway, dragging her feet dramatically. "I don't wanna go," she says.

"I don't want to go to work either but I enjoy eating and having a roof over my head, so suck it up," Erik says. He almost sighs when that only makes her pout harder, and says, "You've got your show this afternoon. You've been practicing for weeks; you don't want to miss it."

"Is Mom coming?" Lorna asks.

"Of course," Erik says. Edie lowers her paper enough to shoot him a look, and Erik adds, "I'll call her after I drop you off."

"She promised," Lorna says.

"Yep," Erik says. “She’s going to be there, and then you get to go stay with her for the weekend.” He smiles, or tries to, because Susanna has a history of bailing at the last minute. Pretending like she doesn’t is something Erik only does for his daughter’s sake. 

He points to Lorna's shoes, sitting by the doorway. "Shoes, now."

Lorna plops down onto the floor with a dramatic sigh and starts putting her shoes on, finally. "Are you coming, Oma?" she asks.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Edie says, smiling at her. To Erik she says, "I'll meet you at the hotel."

He nods, handing Lorna her backpack and herding her out the door. "Bye Ma."

Edie waves at them as Erik pulls the door shut. He glances at his watch and starts pulling Lorna behind him at a brisk pace. He's going to be so late.

---

Erik runs into work with only a minute to spare, hurrying to punch his time card before he relaxes. Janos, sitting at the security monitors, raises an eyebrow at him.

Erik chugs down the last of his coffee before asking, "Anything interesting today?"

Janos spins his chair around and points to one of the monitors, where a man is standing naked in the hall and pounding on the door. "The missus locked him out."

Erik’s probably going to have to go unlock the door and let the poor bastard in. Hopefully someone else will get him a robe first.

He leaves Janos with a wave and heads to his locker, digging out his cell phone as he goes. He still needs to call Susanna and make sure she hasn’t forgotten about Lorna’s play.

Susanna has, of course, forgotten. Or, more likely, she’s decided not to go and is lying. “I really don’t see what the big deal is, Erik,” she says. "It's a class play. She'll have more of them."

And you'll miss them too. Erik refuses to sigh into the phone. Instead he says, “She’s got a whole speech for it that she’s been practicing.”

“She’s ten, how big of a speech can it be? It’s not like she’s running for president.”

Erik wants to throw the phone against the wall, but that would only cost him more money he doesn’t have to replace it. “You told Lorna you would be there. She’s been asking about it.”

“She’ll get over it,” Susanna says.

“Sure. Just like every time she’s gotten over you not giving a shit about her.”

Susanna sighs heavily into the phone. “I give a shit, I just don’t--”

“You just don’t want a mutant for a daughter,” Erik finishes for her. They’ve been over this a million times before. Lorna hasn’t even manifested any powers yet, but her green hair--fairly mild on the scale of physical mutations--is enough to mark her as different. As mutant. “You know what, fine. But stop telling Lorna you’re going to show up for things and then fucking off. I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout and it’s getting pretty hard not to just tell her ‘sorry honey, your mom’s a bitch.’”

“Fuck you, Erik.”

“Fuck you too.” Erik jams his finger against the end call button as hard as he can. It’s not as satisfying as slamming a phone receiver down.

Emma, who’s sitting next to him, raises an eyebrow. “Lover’s spat?”

“Fuck you too, Emma.”

Emma raises her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, forget I said anything.” She drops her hands and leans forward conspiratorially. “Did you hear that Smith is leaving?”

Erik frowned, actually paying attention to her now. “No, when did that happen?” Smith is the facilities manager, and Erik’s direct boss. He’s decent, and friendly enough towards mutants, and Erik would rather the devil he knows that the one he doesn’t.

“They’re announcing it today. And they’re promoting from within, which mean you’ve got a shot at it.” Emma smiles, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Maybe,” Erik says. A promotion would be nice, but he’s not holding his breath. “How do you know all this?”

Emma gives him a look that says she thinks he’s being stupid and taps her forehead. “You’re not supposed to do that,” Erik chides with a smirk. The laws surrounding using mutations against the baselines are stupid in general, but the ones against telepathy especially so.

Emma shrugs. “They’ll never even notice. It’s not like I made them run around naked in Central Park.”

Later she snags one of the applications, folds it up, and stuff it into his back pocket, ignoring Erik’s glare for touching his ass.

---

Erik is used to being fairly invisible at his job. That’s actually what one of the posters down in the breakroom says, Strive to be invisible, and most people tend to overlook the help anyway.

The ones who don’t overlook the help are always like the guest Erik’s currently being forced to act polite with, who thinks he’s there to be their personal slave. Erik had been sent up to take a look at a broken air conditioner in the Park Suite, but it turns out that the guest, Sebastian Shaw, just didn’t know how to work the dials.

Erik turns it down to 65 degrees and says, “There you go, Mr. Shaw. All fixed.”

“Oh, thank you. How long does that take to work? It’s positively sweltering in here.”

The air conditioner had been set at 66 degrees and functioning perfectly before Erik changed it, so he has to force himself not to roll his eyes. “You should feel a difference very shortly, sir.”

Shaw waves a hand towards his own face to try and generate a breeze.

“If that's all…” Erik starts backing away, intending to duck back out in the hallway and get back to real work, but Shaw stops him with a raised hand.

“Actually, would you mind holding up those two suits they sent over? I have to pick one for the luncheon tomorrow.”

Erik grits his teeth and wants to say he’s just maintenance, sorry, get one of the maids to do it, but he goes to the closet and pulls out the two suits in question, holding the jackets up for Shaw to look at.

Shaw frowns, stepping forward and smoothing down the lapel of one jacket. “Oh, I really can’t tell without the tie. Did they send any?”

Erik looks and no, there are no ties.

“Would you mind--I know this isn’t your job but I’d be very appreciative if you could run down to the shop and grab me a couple options.”

“Ties?” Erik asks.

Shaw nods.

“Um, the concierge usually does--”

“Oh, but it will get lost in translation,” Shaw says, smiling at him insipidly. “You look like a man who knows the difference between silk and polyester.”

Erik has no idea what about him makes Shaw think he’d know that. He’d like to change whatever it is so that no one ever thinks that again. He smiles tightly and says, “Alright," thinking of the big tip this is likely to get him.

---

Charles

Charles would really like to pretend he can’t hear anything Raven is saying, but part of the problem with having a sibling is that they can always tell when you’re faking. Well, Raven can always tell when Charles is faking. Charles is sometimes hard-pressed to tell if it’s even Raven he’s talking to unless he uses his telepathy.

“This article isn’t too bad,” she insists, trailing after him as the bellboy leads them towards their suite for the week.

“Senator Charles Xavier, blah blah blah, son of the late Brian Xavier, CEO of Xavier Pharmaceuticals, blah blah blah--”

“What does my father have to do with anything?” Charles asks. He pulls back on Banshee’s leash, trying to get the corgi to stop running ahead after the bellboy.

“--Is expected to push for more educational reforms in the coming term, blah blah blah, end of quote. It’s not bad,” Raven insists. “It’s very respectful.”

Charles hands Banshee’s leash off to Hank and reaches for the paper, barely glancing at the room they’ve been led to. “Give me that.”

Raven holds it up out of reach until Charles' glare turns particularly nasty. He snatches it from her hands and flips it open. “Sentimental favorite and playboy politico Senator Charles Xavier,” he reads. Charles looks up at Raven and says, “You missed a few words.”

“You can’t fault them for calling you a playboy,” Raven says. “I lived with you at Oxford.”

Charles keeps reading, “Who called off his engagement last month to uber babe Gabrielle Haller arrives in town solo.” He shoots his sister a withering look. “Respectful, right.”

“What do you expect?” Raven asks.

“We weren’t engaged,” Charles says.

“That doesn’t matter to the press,” Hank points out.

Charles groans, and is distracted by the butler introducing himself and the general hubbub of getting their belongings sorted into the right rooms. Banshee is nearly vibrating in excitement, and Charles grabs one of the dog toys that have been left in the room to throw to him. He’ll have to thank the staff for that later.

“By the way, you’re going to Summers’ fundraiser on Monday,” Raven says, sinking down onto one of the sofas and taking her heels off.

Charles is wrestling with the dog. “No I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” she says.

“No, I’m not.” Charles looks up at her. “I told you, I hate Summers. I don’t care how much money he has.”

Raven sighs dramatically. “You’ll care if his campaign donations suddenly dry up,” she says. “He’s funded our entire television campaign upstate single-handedly.”

Charles groans and flops over the arm of his chair dramatically. “I’m too sick to go,” he says. “Hank, tell her I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick,” Raven says.

“I will be if you make me spend time with Scott Summers.” Charles gags dramatically.

“Suck it up.”

“He’s too handsy,” Charles complains.

“Take one for the team.”

“Ugh,” Charles groans. He’s going to wind up going, he already knows it. And it will be torture. He pushes himself uprights and starts looking around for the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” Raven demands.

“To piss,” Charles yells back. “Or should I wait until you find a way to make a donation off of it?”

“Gross!”

Charles finds the bathroom and barely glances at the room before swinging the door shut and heading for the toilet. Behind him, there’s a cough and then a man saying, “Sorry, sir.”

Charles twists around and almost shrieks when he realizes there’s someone else in the room. The other man beats a hasty retreat and Charles realizes he must have been maintenance.

Charles had been joking about his sister making people pay to watch.

---

Erik

Despite a day filled with things breaking left and right, running errands that were not a part of his job description, and the encounter while fixing a shower head when he’d seen a senator’s dick--memorable only because it didn’t happen everyday--Erik manages to clock out on time, pick up his mother, and get both of them to Lorna’s school just in time to sneak in the back. Perfect timing too, because Lorna’s up next. Erik’s heard her speech about the beginnings of the mutant rights movement in the Seventies enough times that he can recite it himself, but he’s still proud of her for picking a topic that actually matters and getting up in front of the mostly human students in her class to give it.

That she’s been obsessed with the entire decade ever since getting this assignment has really been more amusing than anything. Erik’s been forced to listen a lot of oldies music and hear Lorna prattling on about hippies and civil rights leaders.

Except Lorna chokes once she’s standing in front of everyone, and it’s physically painful to watch. Erik feels like it’s own heart being stomped on when she finally stops stuttering through the first paragraph and runs off stage.

Edie pats his leg, but Erik’s already on his feet, heading backstage to find his daughter.

Lorna is sitting on the floor, stuffing her notes into her backpack as angrily as possible.

“Hey,” Erik says, crouching down behind her.

“I messed it up,” she says. He can tell she’s about to cry and he wants to tell her she did great, but lying will only make her more upset.

“Everyone messes up sometimes, schatzi” Erik tells her, reaching out to rub one hand over her back. “You’ll do better next time.”

“I don’t wanna do it again.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do,” Lorna says, twisting away from him.

Erik sighs. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it right now,” Erik says. He pulls out the ‘great job’ gift he’d gotten for her from his pocket. It can be a consolation gift just as easily. “Here, look what I’ve got for you.” He holds out the small box. Lorna glances over, but doesn’t take it from him. “It’s those earrings you wanted…” He tries to tempt her. They’re large dangling plastic peace signs and Lorna’s been asking for them ever since she found a picture of a girl on the internet wearing them.

Lorna twists back towards him and moves to give him a hug. Erik squeezes back tightly. When she pulls away she’s still a bit teary-eyed, but she wipes at her face with the back of her hand.

“Is Mom here?” Lorna asks.

Erik winces internally, but forces it not to show on his face. “She had to work this weekend,” he says. It’s a blatant lie and Lorna sees through it, but they both pretend it’s the truth.