Written during season 2 for the 'house guests' challenge on downton100 community on LJ.

Elsie balanced the tray of hot soup as she unlocked the door to the men's section of the attics; an action that was, worryingly, developing into a routine. Ever since his bout of the Spanish flu, Charles had become susceptible to every vague illness that was going around.

Next, not wanting to wake him should he be resting, she slipped into his room without knocking.

She needn't have worried because he definitely wasn't asleep. He wasn't even lying down.

Instead, he was standing by the bed, wearing only a pair of trousers. The upper part of his body was bare. He held an undershirt in his hands. The rest of his butler's livery was draped over the back of a chair.

Her mouth went dry and she turned away to drop the dinner tray onto his sideboard with a noisy clatter.

After taking a determined breath, she turned back to face him. He was hurriedly pulling the plain white singlet over his head.

She wanted to tell him it was too late. She'd already committed to memory the impressive width of his chest; the salt and pepper hair which was smattered there; the way that hair tapered and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Biting her lip, she stepped forward to place a hand on his arm. Just as she suspected, his skin was clammy and sweaty.

"Back to bed," she commanded softly.

"We have a house full of guests. I'm needed-"

She gripped his shoulders, steering him towards the bed.

He surrendered, too easily for her liking, laying back and closing his eyes.

With trembling fingers, she gently brushed back a wayward lock of hair which was naturally curling into a cowlick on his forehead.

"You're right," she whispered as he drifted off to sleep. "You are needed."