Chapter Text
Five months later
Being the First Family is not easy. At least four years of living in the spotlight and sharing the most important person in your life with the other three hundred million people in the country. And as taxpayers, they all believe they have an equal right to his time.
Thankfully, Erik continually reinforces his image as a family man and a loving husband. Every speech he gives, he talks about how important his family is and how lucky he is to have his mate. Every time there is a national disaster that needs him, he speaks of making sure the families of his constituents are just as safe and well taken care of his own. Every holiday, he sends well wishes and shares how excited he is end to spend time with his husband and kids. It becomes a running joke that half of his speeches could be summarized as ‘blah blah I’m happily married with kids. God bless America.’ Erik doesn’t care. He even reserves time off for the anniversary of the day Raven introduced them.
I’d make it a paid federal holiday if I could, he teases. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m lucky you put up with me.
People eventually forget the drama, because Erik is a Family Man and a Loving Husband ™.
The DNA results proved conclusively that Erik is not the father of Magda Gurzsky’s daughter. Honestly, the aftermath made Charles feel worse for her, even if what she did was extremely hurtful. The coverage of the case eventually drew out Magda’s siblings who revealed that she was assaulted and it deeply traumatized her, aggravating already existing mental issues. After speaking with her, her sister apologetically theorized that Magda focused on Erik because he was so kind to her during their brief time together. She’d never set out to hurt Erik or Charles. But once the accusation was out, it was hard to publicly admit that she’d made the whole thing up. She’d simply gone overboard in her fantasy of a loving partner and caring father.
Social media was as unforgiving as ever. The hateful Men’s Rights Group crowed as though they personally been vindicated. The Women’s Advocacy groups were vicious in their anger over their platform being used to knowingly promote a falsehood. Magda’s accounts were bombarded with hate-filled messages from all sides. She never apologized in any form and one day all of her social media accounts abruptly deactivated.
Deeply worried over the stability of Magda’s mental health under such a bombardment, Charles pulls some strings so that one of his family’s charitable organizations ensures that Magda has all the mental and emotional support she needs. But, of course, the endlessly nosey sleuths somehow discover the small act of kindness and attempt to blow it out proportion. Online conspiracy theorist make it seem like an Ethel Kennedy situation where he’s institutionalizing her to keep her from embarrassing their family. But supporters point out that there’s nothing to hide as Erik has been fully vindicated and Magda’s care is a voluntary outpatient program that allows her to co-design her own treatment. They deem him St. Charles for caring for a woman who’d tried to destroy his family. Charles ignores both sides. His only statement on the matter is ‘I wish Ms. Gurzsky and her daughter well. I have no further comment on the matter.’
A small minority of Congress members continue to push for an investigation into the whole debacle, but unlike in the furor pre-paternity results, there’s no real traction. It’s hard to question a man who has irrefutable proof that he’s wrongly accused. Able to frame his accusers as unrepentant mudslingers, Erik gets to go back to focusing on politics, preparing for the Congressional mid-term elections.
The twins are now nine months old and already growing much too fast for Charles’ liking. They’ve long conquered Tummy Time and are now periodically doing a funny little belly crawl a few inches at a time. They spend the day cheerfully filling the air with nonsensical babbling that Charles and Hope answer as though it is thoughtful, incisive commentary. The only unique sounds they’ve truly mastered are ‘Opie’ and ‘Abba’, their painfully cute twinsie take on Opa and Apa.
Charles absolutely loves it.
David is the spitting image of Charles with deep blue eyes, wisps of curly, dark brown hair already growing in, and burgeoning telepathic abilities. Lorna is more of an original with blue eyes that could’ve come from either of them, no obvious powers, and her scalp was as smooth as her bottom for the first three months. They were surprised and thrilled when the first strands of bright green hair sprout into an adorable cowlick on the crown of her hair. Obviously, she’s Mutant, but they don’t know if she’ll have mutations beyond that.
Now with a head full of hair, Lorna’s code name is Chartreuse, a nod to her loud-colored mane. David is Crackerjack because of his forceful personality.
David is not the least bit shy about making demands. Charles often gets thoughts that are just solid colors, temperatures, and texture. Upset is red, hot, and prickly. Tired is gray, room temperature, and gritty. Excited is bright purple, bubbly, with streams of heat like sunny days. Wet is obviously warm, damp, and like having static from a TV beamed into your mind. It’s an infinitely politer feeling than soiled which David communicates simply by sharing the deeply uncomfortable sensation of sitting in his own mess with everyone in a twenty-foot radius. As a budding telepath, David favors Charles who has an easier time interpreting his mental missives.
Today they’re in the townhouse. Erik is wrapping up a few last things before coming home to join them for the Thanksgiving break. Charles and the kids are here with Hope on hand to help until Erik arrives. She’s doing the never-ending loads of laundry while Charles feeds the kids and does the dishes. He leaves them to their snack of scrambled egg, soft cheese cubes, and banana slices while he works.
“Okay, sweetlings,” he says as he turns to the sink. “A yummy snack for you while Opie cleans the kitchen.”
Behind him, Lorna is incessantly banging her plastic spoon on the table while David babbles at top volume and mentally throws random colors and temperatures at Charles. All this on top of the sounds of his dishwashing and both the washer and dryer going in the next room. Overstimulated by all the input, Charles turns and takes Lorna’s spoon, the easiest of the stimuli to stop.
“Eat up,” he reminds her, ignoring her adorable pout as he puts the spoon on the far end on the table. It’s not as though she’s using it to eat. Most of her food is smeared across the tray of her high chair, her face, and a few gobs have made it into her hair.
Charles moves to get a towel to clean her and her high chair. As he’s at the sink, he hears an unusually sharp clatter and then Lorna starts babbling anew, banging something against the table of her high chair. Charles whips around to see her very awkwardly but happily wielding a large, metallic serving spoon.
Confused, he looks from the hook where he could’ve sworn that spoon had been hanging and then back to Lorna.
“How did you--,” Charles starts to ask.
Before he can investigate any further, the heavy utensil falls from her chubby fingers, dropping to the floor with a clatter.
Then slowly and clumsily floats back up, landing on her table within reach of her pudgy, grasping fingers.
Charles stares, speechless and wide eyed.
“Opie?” she asks, pausing from waving the spoon in triumph to furrow her brow in innocent confusion.
“Wait until your Abba finds out about this,” Charles says with a delighted grin.
FIN