based on a prompt from behindthemirrorofmusic on tumblr - ' Erik insists on carrying Christine to bed every night, resulting in him throwing out his back one night'


They had fallen into a comfortable routine in their day-to-day lives. The marriage had been an adjustment for both parties; Christine had been used to walking in the light and going out on the streets of Paris whenever she pleased, while Erik had been used to silence and solitude. Naturally, the fact that Christine now lived life beneath the Opera House and Erik had another person always living in his house involved a little patience, but they were determined to make it work.

An idea to make that happen occurred to Erik one night; it was a simple one in his mind, so he proposed it to his wife one night at dinner, hoping that she would be inclined to agree and the idea would please her, for that was all he ever wanted to do: "Christine, what...what if I were to carry you to bed each night?"

He noticed her fork stop halfway to her mouth, immediately making his heart start to race. "Why...why would you do that?" she inquired, looking at him expectantly.

"Well...you do so much during the day. I only thought it would be a gesture from me to show that I appreciate how much you do for me, for us, and to give you a way to relax during the evening, but now that you're questioning it, I realize that it was a silly idea, don't mind me, my dear," Erik rambled on as he got to his feet and set his dishes in the sink, making a mental note to himself to wash them later, but soon enough that he would beat his wife to it. "You know me, I have plenty of ridiculous ideas that I'm sure you must laugh about in your moments alone."

"Erik."

"You really needn't try to explain yourself, I understand completely."

"Erik."

Finally ceasing in his stammering, Erik turned around to face his wife, rather wide-eyed as he looked at her and found himself confused when he saw a fond smile on her face. "Yes?"

"You're doing it again," Christine said with a soft laugh.

"Doing what?"

"The rambling! You do it whenever you get nervous about my opinion on something even though I've hardly said a word on the matter. You need to wait for me to finish my thought," Christine replied as she got to her feet, set her plate aside and rested her hands on her husband's chest. "Can you do that now? Please?"

Erik nodded, giving her a small smile as he set a hand on the curve of her waist. "Yes, I'm listening. No more stammering," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that I even do that in the first place, it's just a bit of a nervous reaction to-"

"Erik!"

"I'm sorry."

Christine laughed quietly, pressing her head against his chest for a moment. "I think it's very sweet that you want to carry me to bed, and if you wish, you can. I think it would be rather nice," she said.

A smile immediately spread across her husband's face. "You do?" he asked.

"I do, yes. It's a kind gesture and-" Christine began, only to cut herself off with a quiet squeak when Erik lifted her into his arms. "What are you doing? We've only just eaten dinner, it isn't time for us to go to bed yet."

"Perhaps not, but I thought I would get some practice in before the real thing. Not to mention that the bedroom isn't just for sleeping, my love," Erik said, quirking a brow and leaning down to give her a kiss.

Christine smirked slightly as she pulled away. "That is true, yes. Let's go, then," she replied, giggling despite herself when her husband noticeably picked up his pace.


Their new routine went quite well for some time, and Christine quite enjoyed being doted on by her husband as much as she was. She knew Erik didn't mind, though; he jumped at every opportunity that he had to treat her to some sort of gift or special treat. All was going right for quite a while.

Until it wasn't.

Erik had been carrying her to bed, Christine's head on his shoulder and a content smile on her face, when a sudden sharp gasp from him shocked her out of her daydreaming.

"Erik?" she asked, lifting her head to look up at him.

"Christine, I must put you down." His voice was breathy and strained, she noticed, so she immediately set one leg on the floor to get her balance before she stood up straight and looked at him.

"What's wrong, Erik?" she inquired, noting the pained grimace painted on his face and his hand that was set to his lower back.

He managed a soft laugh. "I appear...to be getting too old to carry you around whenever I please, my dear," he choked out. "My back does not agree with that decision."

"Oh dear," Christine said, stifling a laugh as she wrapped an arm around him. "Come, I'll help you to the bedroom. We'll get you out of your shirt and I'll bring a hot towel to help relax the muscles a bit, come along."

Reluctantly, Erik shuffled along with her towards the bedroom, quietly grunting and groaning as he went. She could tell it stung his pride to have to move at a snail's pace and let her help him because a sign of his age was coming through when he only wanted to do something nice for her, but that wasn't her concern at the moment; her primary concern was to try and help him get his mobility back.

"Now, just try not to move around too much," she instructed as she slipped off his jacket, quickly unbuttoned his dress shirt and slipped it off, pressing a kiss to his cheek while she was at it. She then helped him to slowly lay down on his stomach, smoothing down his hair before walking into their ensuite, very grateful for the heating that Erik had managed to install beneath the Opera House at moments such as this.

"You don't have to do this, my angel. It's late, you shouldn't be worrying about me," Erik called from the bedroom.

"Nonsense," Christine replied, ringing out a towel and bringing it back into their bedroom to drape it over her husband's lower back. "You're hurt. I love you and want to help you feel better. I'll just leave this towel here for now and try to massage your back a little bit once the heat has warmed your muscles."

She saw Erik give her a small smile as she crouched down next to the bed so they could be at eye level. "You are truly perfect," he said softly. "I'm sorry that I am far from any sort of Prince Charming, too old to sweep you off of our feet."

"Perhaps that's true, but..." Christine began, trailing off and leaning forward to give him a gentle kiss. "You're not going to get too old for that."