A/N: I'm not sure if you might think Lady Macbeth and Macbeth are a little out of character or not, but they were in love once, before she went mad, and he... well, um her went mad too. But anyway, hope you like in anyway, and some of the language isn't perfect, I'm not an expert I just love Shakespeare!

It's only been one month as King of Scotland, but it felt more like ages for Macbeth. He's hardly slept at all in the new environment of the castle. But this change of scenery was not the thing that kept him up at night. It wasn't even his guilt, for recently, he hasn't lingered on the thought of Duncan once. Then what was troubling him?

Macbeth slowly raised himself from where he lay, leaving his imprint on the mattress and pillow, and pulled a robe over his nightgown. He bent over his night stand and lit a candle. Then he walked over to his shelf, which nearly touched the celling, and searched for something to read. There was mostly just a few leather-bound books, a copy of the bible, and a stack of old letters. The rest of the shelf was just a bunch of empty space. He set his candle on the center shelf, pulled out some of the old letters, and searched through them. Most of them were from thanes of different places, Cawdor, Fife, etc. and he just forgot to throw them away. Then, his eye landed on a small separate stack of letters that looked especially old. He unfolded one of them gently. It was so old, he was scared it might just disintegrate when he opened it, but it didn't. It stayed in tact, for the most part. At least he could still read it:

My love,
I count the days until our marriage. It is such a relief my father shares my eyes, for then I may never have been able to marry one who I truly love. The sun has almost set, and soon I will be lacking light if I do not fetch a candle soon. The sunset is beautiful this night. I pray it is a sign for our love, that it will stay as beautiful and bright as this. I have much more to say to thee my dear, but I should be downstairs with my father, and yours as well. He is here, visiting my family. So I bid thee farewell until we see each other again. Art thou as anxious as I? Again, I am counting the days!

Love,
Your Lady

Macbeth smiled as he folded the note back up and returned it to it's place on the shelf. Only this time, he put it on top of the pile. He wanted to read the rest of the letters from his wife, but the pain in his heart kept him from doing so. It was the same ache that kept him up. The ache of longing, and missing. He closed his eyes, trying hard not to feel so alone. Then he felt a sudden leap in his heart. He was lonely! His loneliness has been keeping him up all this time. Ever since he became ruler of Scotland, he has not slept with his wife once. It never even crossed his mind that he might be longing for her company. But now that he thought about it, he missed her warmth.

He picked up his candle with three fingers. Then he opened his door with a creek, and walked out into the hallway. Then he closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. Lady Macbeth was only three doors over, so he walked to her door, and prayed that none of his servants would make up. He didn't want them interfering with his personal issues.

He opened the door slightly and peered in. Her room was cold and darker than his. He saw his wife across the room, sleeping silently, but not peacefully. She was tossing and turning, and shivering like mad. Macbeth walked over to her, shutting the door behind him, and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, which was covered by layers of blankets. He could feel her body under the blankets. It stopped moving, but tightened, then relaxed. Her eyes fluttered open and she turned to face him.

Why are you....? she began, but he put a finger to her lips. They were cracking and dry.

Shhh. Don't speak. He set down the candle and sat beside her on the bed. I couldn't sleep.

I told you not to linger on the thought of murder, she said wearily as she rubbed her eyes. You'll lose your sanity.

I wasn't thinking about Duncan. I was....... He almost couldn't bring himself to say it. How could he admit to his wife that he felt sad and alone? She already proved she was stronger than him. But he had to tell her somehow that he missed her. I was lonely.

She didn't say say anything in reply. Instead, she slid over on her bed, and opened up a section of her blanket for him. I need something to keep me warm, she said.

Macbeth smiled in relief as he tucked his body under the covers beside her. For a while, they sat in solitude, backs turned, and silent. Then Macbeth felt a warm hand on his chest. He turned, and saw his wife beside him with her arm across his body, eyes closed in peace. He wrapped an arm around her, bringing her cold body closer, trying to warm her. She welcomed the gesture, laying her head on his chest, both arms clasped tightly around him. They stayed like this for a long time, laying in the darkness, the silence.

Finally, Macbeth glanced down at her, and saw that she was smiling. Her eyes were closed so gently that he couldn't tell if she was really asleep. But he bent down and kissed her forehead as softly as he could, just in case.

she murmured, and looked up at him. Slowly she leaned in to kiss him, but not for very long. When she pulled away, Macbeth's eyes drooped. She smiled and laughed.

Expecting more, eh?

But before he had time to answer, she grabbed his nightgown at the collar and pulled him in for another kiss. This time, she searched deeper into his mouth, and he let her in as far as she wanted to go.

Once she pulled away again, Macbeth seemed satisfied. But it left her with a stronger taste of longing in her mouth. In one swift motion, she slipped her hand across his nightgown, unbuttoning it as far as it would go, which was just bellow his chest. He allowed himself a grin as he lifted the nightgown off his body, and onto the floor. Lady Macbeth did the same.

She pulled her body close to his. She stopped to feel her husband's bare self, for it's been so long since she last saw him like this.

She leaned over him, her mouth inches from his. It's been ages, she said with lust, barely able to contain herself.

You're acting intoxicated, he said, putting a hand on her face, pulling her lips in, desperate for her kiss.

And you're not? she said, between kisses. After a few moments of chaos between them, they relaxed and Macbeth put a hand on her breast to settle her. Are you ready?

It's been so long, she said. But of course I'm ready.

At first it was painful. More painful than she remembered. But of course, it's been years. But after a few moments, it was back to the part she remembered; Simple pleasure. She groaned, and pulled her frigid body against his. She never felt so vulnerable in her whole life. She'd always felt like this strong, powerful person. But now she felt so open to everything. Almost frail and weak. But not quiet, for she would never let herself fall completely weak.

What time do you think it is? she groaned.

I must be nearly morning, he replied.

What if the servants come in?

Damn the servants, he said, breathlessly. Just tell me if you want to stop, I promise I will.

Lady Macbeth sighed, and smiled. No, love. Don't stop.

They continued for another hour before they both fell asleep together.

The next morning, Seton was in early to make breakfast in bed for the lady. But of course, it wasn't just the lady in bed.

he cried as he glanced in the bed.

Another servant came in. What is.... awww.

You'd never think they were still in love, the way they act in public.

Maybe they weren't, the other servant said.

What do you mean?

I mean, maybe they didn't think there was still any love there before tonight. Maybe they missed each other's company.

Seton nodded. It does seem that way.

Well, they do look awful comfy, that's all I have to say. But that may be a little bold of me to say.They're not awake, what harm could it do?

And with that, the two servants left the couple in peace. And together they got some well deserved rest, and a night to remember.