Author's Note: Well, I finally decided to try writing Charles, and he ended up sort of…angsty.
Contains: Uh…not much, actually. Huh. I think that's a first, writing something that doesn't warrant any warnings (as far as I can figure out, anyway).
At first, Nathan wasn't sure why he'd woken up. The digital clock on the nightstand told him, in numbers that were too red, too bright for this hour, that it was just past two A.M. Giving a faint sound of displeasure, he let his eyes fall shut and turned over, stretching, reaching out into the cool expanse of bedsheet to his right.
Oh. That was must have been why he'd woken. He was alone.
Nathan sat up and rubbed his eyes. After a second or two, he perceived the still silhouette of his missing bedmate at the window, outlined against the clear moonlit sky. Quietly, Nathan slipped out from beneath the covers and started toward the window, the stone floor cold against his bare feet.
"Hey," he said softly, laying a hand on Charles's arm. "What's—uh, is anything the matter?"
Charles didn't respond immediately, but after a moment, he turned away from the window to look up at Nathan.
"I'm sorry. You, ah, asked me something?"
"Just if you were okay," said Nathan. "Are you?"
"Oh," said Charles. "Yes. I'm—fine. I woke up and couldn't fall back asleep. It's a nice night," he added, nodding toward the window.
Nathan looked out. The moon shone like a drop of molten silver in the sky, and the pure white of the untouched snow blanketing Mordland seemed almost to glow. Somewhere out of sight, one of the yard wolves howled.
"Yeah," agreed Nathan doubtfully. It looked very cold outside. He moved closer to Charles, taking one of the manager's hands in his own. "Your hands are cold."
"Oh," said Charles again. "I, ah, suppose I hadn't noticed."
"What were you thinking about?" asked Nathan bluntly.
Charles blinked at him. He wasn't wearing his glasses, Nathan realized, and the way he stood in profile to the window, the beam of moonlight illuminated the scar on his cheek, just like the first moment Nathan had seen him again after months of believing him to be dead.
"I was just thinking," Charles said slowly, "of some of the things I've seen." He moved almost imperceptibly backwards, but it was all that was necessary to press his back to Nathan's chest. "Things I'll never forget, even if," he hesitated, "if I, ah, wanted to."
Nathan frowned. "Come back to bed?"
Charles said nothing, but turned and followed him back. Nathan pulled the blankets over them both and slid over to lie against Charles.
"Don't think about it anymore, okay?" he whispered. "Just think about something else and go to sleep."
"Do you have any suggestions?" asked Charles wryly, turning over to face Nathan.
"Think about this," he said, gesturing to indicate them both. "Us. Me. I'm right here. Uh," he went on, feeling increasingly embarrassed at the words he heard himself saying, "Right here, if you need me."
He leaned over and kissed Charles lightly on the lips. As Nathan lay back on his own pillow, Charles snuggled closer to him, wrapping one arm around the singer's waist and resting his head against his shoulder. The words he spoke came out as a whisper.
"What if I need you right now?"
Immediately, Charles felt strong arms tighten around him, pulling him in close.
"Then I'm here."