Title: "When In Doubt"
Author: Klarinette-18
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Charles/Nathan
Rating: PG
Word count: 799
Warnings: Umm... angst? Maybe light fluff? Whatever.
Summary: When in doubt, it's probably best to ask questions instead of taking action.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Charles sat at his desk, like any other night. There were piles of paper surrounding him, like any other night. He had told the boys to count him out for the evening due to work, like any other night. What was different about tonight, though, was that Charles didn't actually have anything to do. No, he had managed to finish this evening's work fairly early, a slow in the seemingly never-ending barrage of paternity suits and insurance claims from the families of victims of Dethklok concerts.

The glass in his hand was nearly empty again, as was the bottle of brandy of which he'd been known to comment on the quality of while drinking slowly. He hadn't even tasted it tonight - rather, most of it had gone down in a few quick gulps, Charles wanting the alcohol to saturate his blood quickly. He didn't usually drink while stressed or upset, but tonight... tonight was different.

Nathan had been on his case all day, telling him about the evening's plans for a bar excursion, repeatedly thwarting Charles' protesting and opting out to stay home and work. Charles wouldn't normally give into Nathan's whining and nagging, but there was something in the way that he was so persistent that let Charles think he could let his guard down. He started to question things he'd previously chosen to ignore, thinking there was no way that what he had put together in his mind could even remotely be true. Maybe Nathan actually wanted to spend time with him? Maybe Nathan felt the same way that Charles did, and just never had the words - or courage - to say so? Nathan had bothered him to come out with the boys before, but never quite like this; something was definitely different.

It happened all at once, it seemed. Nathan had walked over to Charles' chair, not seeming to get his point across when yelling from the other side of the desk. He stood there in front of Charles, towering over him, his strong shoulders held back and high, those amazing green eyes peering from beneath his curtain of long, black hair...
Charles stood up, face-to-face with Nathan. He felt drunk, not having imbibed a single drop of alcohol today. What am I doing? He put his hand on the big man's shoulder, rubbing absently at the t-shirt fabric under his fingers. He could feel Nathan's shoulder muscle tense beneath his touch. No, really, what am I doing? He looked into the emeralds staring down at him as he gently brushed the black hair aside. Grabbing the back of his head, he pulled himself up to kiss Nathan's mouth. Oh my god...

Nathan didn't react. For a moment, he stood there, somewhat kissing back. Then, all at once, Charles felt Nathan push away - hard - and walk quickly out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Holy shit," Charles said to himself, breathing heavily, his hand on his chest. "I... cannot believe... I just fucking did that."
He sat down in his chair, staring blankly at the empty room in front of him. What had he done? How could he have been so stupid? The bottle of brandy had already been opened, but with only a few shots having been taken from it. He poured the first glass and swallowed it without thinking, two more following suit. He closed his eyes and felt the weight of the alcohol pulling the sheet of black down over his conscious mind, clearing the anxiety, releasing the tension, leaving behind only the self-pity, doubt, fear, and continuous urge to drink until he fell asleep, hopefully blacking out and forgetting how he'd just blown the only thing that mattered to him more than Dethklok.

Nathan stood outside the door that he had slammed, eyes wide, chest heaving. Charles had caught him off-guard. Maybe he'd overreacted. He sorted through his scattered thoughts and wondered whether or not he'd just blown it by walking out of the room like that and slamming the door. What if he'd scared Charles off? He hadn't meant to do that; he'd just panicked. Shit. There's no way that Charles would be going out with them, now. And what the Hell would he say to him later on, 'sorry'? That seemed a little... pitiful. It was too late, anyway; no point in thinking about it now. He walked away from the door to join the rest of the band as he could hear them now gathered in the living room, presumably ready to leave. Nathan decided the best thing to do right now would be to just drink until he'd either forgotten about what happened, or grew the balls to go back to Charles' office and maybe be the one to start the kiss.