Somehow, Jubilee had roped Peter into siding with her on the idea of wanting a dance contest. It was almost midnight when they ran down the stairs of the mansion and into the kitchen—when they should have been asleep—knowing where you would be. Upon hearing their footsteps, you looked up from your laptop, coffee cup raised to your mouth, with a startled expression. Both of them tried getting through the doorway at the same time, both evidently getting stuck, grumbling to each other. After they tumbled into the room, skidded along the tiles, straightened themselves up, and made their way over to you, explaining their plan, they began asking if you wanted to join them. When you placed the coffee cup down, turning away from your laptop—that you had been previously staring at in order to finish off a paper that was due soon for your university—you raised an eyebrow, reminding them that Charles was the one who had to agree to it, not you.

Some of the students forgot that, even though you didn't attend the school at the mansion, you were a still student at a university nearby. Charles had offered you a place at the mansion while you attended for your course. It was mainly so you didn't have to look for a place to live, you didn't complain because everything seemed to be overpriced and working an average job just didn't pay for everything that you needed in order to live a semi-decent life while being a student and because you were a mutant too.

When Charles had found you, it was purely by accident. He had offered to make a speech at your university for the science department and stumbled upon you in a, supposedly, empty lecture hall. It was while you were getting ready to make a presentation for your morning class. There were no students on the campus and when he saw you, standing at the front, with your flash cards in your hand, talking to a hall full of students, he knew you were different. When you finished, he watched as the students seemed to fade away before you were the only one left. He moved into the room startling you while talking about how fascinated he was with your mutation. You were worried he would expose you to the school board, but he simply offered you a place to live, and a place to work on your ability.

That was over two years ago, and you were now nearing the end of your course, you only had a paper to complete, even though you had already finished your exams, your professor still wanted one last paper. Over the two years, Charles and yourself had grown closer, almost to the point where you could say that you were in a relationship, but neither one of you had said anything about it out loud.

Jubilee and Peter groaned, almost forgetting you didn't work at the mansion and agreed to ask Charles in the morning, leaving you to finish your paper in peace.

The next morning, just like they said they would, they pitched the idea to Charles, pretty much cornering him in his office and blurting out their ideas and plans. He simply smiled, leaning his arm against the armrest of his wheelchair while mulling over the suggestion. They had all been through so much, and just the prospect of having them act like children and simply relax and enjoy themselves for a night seemed to be something that Charles also wanted for the students.

When you arrived back to the mansion, after handing in your final paper for good, Jubilee made her way over to you, zipping in and out of the other students, making a direct beeline to you. You didn't even have time to set your bag down or get a drink before she linked her arm with yours, pulling you up to her room, claiming how she needed you to judge how her choreography was going so far. Her room, painted a bright yellow despite Charles' protests and warnings that the walls were not to be painted, was rearranged differently to the normal dorms. She had pushed her bed and desk chair out of the way to give herself more floor space. Jubilee pushed you to the bed, brushing her hair out of her face while she got the music ready. A small laugh bubbled from the back of your throat as you crawled onto the bed, leaning against the wall, with a pillow in front of you to rest your head on while your arms hugged it to your chest.

"Okay, so, I don't want you to speak until I'm done, okay?" Jubilee asked, turning around to face you.

With a smile, you nodded. "Of course."

Jubilee grinned, pressing play on the CD player. The music echoed around the room. The curtains to the window were pulled open and the sunlight shone into the room as Jubilee began her dance. She had cartwheels, twists, turns, a lot of complicated jumps, and strange hand movements choreographed into her dance, just watching her made your limbs ache and grow tired. By the time she finished, you could barely remember if she had made any mistakes—not that you would have known if they were mistakes or moves made on purpose—and simply told her that she was amazing. Jubilee seemed happy enough with your answer and let you leave, but not before she grabbed hold of your arm and smiled widely.

"You should enter too!"

With a nervous laugh, you shook your head. "Oh, uh, I don't—"

"Yeah! Yeah!" She ignored you. "You could dance with the professor!" Jubilee caught wind of your uncertain expression. "Oh, c'mon, it would be so romantic! Just imagine it! Think about it, for me," she told you, finally letting you leave for the rest of the night.

As you walked to your room, you couldn't help but think about it. It would be nice to just be carefree and join in, even if it wasn't the greatest dance, it could still be fun. The more you thought about it, the more you did want Charles to be your partner, but you doubted he would ever agree to it, he would have been too busy, or maybe he would be tricked into being a judge. Before you made your way to your room, you looked down the hallway—you were now on the ground floor where some of the other professors at the school had rooms—and saw Charles sitting in his office.

With a burst of confidence or possibly sheer stupidity, your feet moved away from your dorm room and towards his office. Your knuckles gently tapped against the dark wooden door, bringing his attention from the papers on his desk to you. A smile rose on his face as he ushered you in.

"How did it go?" He asked, referring to your paper.

"Good, good." You nodded. "I think I got carried away with how much I wrote, but, I can only hope for the best."

Charles nodded. "I'm sure you did fine. When I read over it this morning before you left, it seemed perfect." You couldn't help but smile, nodding in appreciation. "I'm proud of you."

"Thank you, Charles," you breathed out. "And thank you, for, you know, allowing me to live here and use the library whenever I needed to, and for helping me with my mutation."

"The pleasure was all mine." He nodded back and watched you shuffle on your feet, playing with the ends of your sleeves that covered your hands. "Was there something you wanted to ask?"

"It's about the dance."

"What about it?"

"I was—" Your face scrunched up, rethinking it. "No, never mind," you mumbled, shaking your head.

"No, tell me," Charles spoke with a light laugh, obviously at the expression you pulled.

"Well, it's just..." He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish. "Jubilee got me thinking, which I know is never a good sign, but maybe it would be fun to take part, you know?"

"You're more than welcome to take part, I see no problem with it," he replied.

A sigh escaped your lips. "I wasn't done."

"Oh," he commented with a shy smile.

"I wanted to ask if you would be my partner?" You bit the inside of your mouth, your heart picking up speed as the nerves got the better of you. Which was meant to happen during the contest, not now.

Charles looked down at the papers on his desk, picking them up to tap them against it, straightening them. "I see," he finally spoke.

"I was just wondering, you don't have to be my partner if you don't want to—"

"It's not that." He sighed.

"Then what—?"

"My legs," his voice grew quiet. "I can't move my legs, I wouldn't be much of a partner, you deserve someone who has the mobility of their legs."

With eyebrows furrowed, you moved around his desk to kneel in front of him, placing your hands on the armrest of his wheelchair. "Charles," you whispered, causing him to turn the chair to face you, still not meeting your gaze. "Look at me," your gentle voice made him look up at you. You placed your hands on top of his, giving them a gentle squeeze. "I don't want anyone else."

"Why?"

"Because nobody else is you."

"I don't—?"

"Just let me show you something, okay?" You asked quietly.

He nodded. "I'm trusting you."

"As you should."

Charles laughed to himself, watching you get up to close the door to the office. "What are you—?"

You held a finger up to your lips, he got the idea and remained quiet, only leaving a smile on his lips as he watched you edge closer until you sat on his lap, his arms automatically wrapping around you. "Close your eyes," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his.

When Charles did as you asked, you closed your own eyes, visualising the large empty room that Jubilee had been decorating with Jean for the dance. It was dark, but the large windows across one side of the wall still had the light from the moon shimmer through. Charles let out a breathy, mesmerised chuckle, being able to see what you were showing him. The ceiling in the room began to fade and was replaced by the sky, painted with small stars, shooting stars, and the edge of the moon. With a smile, you visualised him, standing in front of you, his hand outstretched and a loving smile brushed upon his features.

Taking his hand gently, he slowly pulled you close to his body, one hand around your waist while the other encased your other hand. The sound of soft melodic music began to rise. Charles smiled down at you and began to move with you in his arms. You could hear the thumping of his heart in his chest, underneath the crisp white shirt that he wore. You could hear his breathing, inhaling and exhaling. You could even hear him humming along quietly to the music that played.

Charles sighed softly, smiling to himself, watching as you showed the two of you together.

After a few minutes, it changed. He was no longer standing, but instead in his chair. From where your foreheads were touching you could feel him furrow his eyebrows together in confusion. But you didn't stop. Instead, you showed him how the two of you were now, simply holding each other in a warm embrace. His wheelchair slowly moving as if nothing had changed, the two of you still dancing faintly, together. You could hear Charles' breathing falter as you showed him that he didn't need his legs in order for him to dance with you. There was more than one way to dance with him.

You opened your eyes, slowly having the illusion fade to black. Charles still had his eyes closed, a blissful expression was left behind as you pulled your forehead away from his.

"Mobility doesn't matter to me, Charles," your voice was soft and barely above a whisper as you watched him reopen his eyes.

"Thank you," he spoke just as quietly.

"The pleasure was all mine," you repeated him from before.

Charles' hand slowly lifted from your waist, gently pushing the hair from your face, resting upon your face. "Thank you," he told you again, pulling your face closer as he pressed his lips to yours.