black—betty said: CONGRATS!!!!!! For little fic prompts: Erik and Charles mistaken identity (one of them thinks the other is their blind date? Undercover associate? Spy contact? Cue attraction and shenanigans?)
Erik isn’t sure how Emma talked him into this blind date. Well, that’s not true; he knows full well that Emma didn’t talk him into anything, she just bowled him right over as usual. With friends like her, who needs enemies?
"I’ll tell him you’ll wear that green ascot you like despite your otherwise high intelligence," she said casually, typing in the password to access his schedule and block off Friday night. "He’ll wear green as well, he always does. He’s tall, has longish dark hair, witty, and just as screwed-up as you are. You’ll get along great and probably take over the world together."
What was the name? Erik racks his memory, but can’t bring it up. Something Scandinavian, maybe. Odinsson?
He pauses outside the door to the bar, adjusts his ascot in the glass. This is going to be a disaster, but at least he’s going into it looking his best.
KHDLJKSHldjd THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS OMG. This is EXACTLY how I imagine Erik would approach dating hahaha
turifer said: Prompt: MORE FOOTBALL. ALL THE FOOTBALL. ENDLESS FOOTBALL.
Saturday marks the fourth match in the row that Charles sits it out on the bench, watching the action flow tantalizingly past him, back and forth across the pitch. It’s almost torture to be so close to the game but not being able to influence it at all. When he’s not watching the game, he’s watching Wenger, hoping for a glance, a nod that says, “Get your jacket off, I’m putting you in.” But it doesn’t come.
The match ends with Arsenal drawn level with Everton, with relatively lackluster performances from the both of them. Charles watches as Erik shakes hands with some of the Everton players on the field and wishes fiercely he were among them. God, he hates being benched. It’s very hard not to take out his frustration on Wenger, who’s just doing his best. He has to do what’s best for the team and right now, Charles isn’t an option.
“Hey,” Erik says as he comes over, water bottle in hand. He’s bare-chested, having exchanged shirts with someone else, and any other time Charles would have made a show of appreciating the sight but at the moment, he just feels worn.