Fluffy fluff.
Title: The End of a Long, Long Day
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Nathan/Charles
Summary: Charles joins Nathan in bed at the end of a very frustrating day.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 300
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author Notes: A late birthday present for piedcrow. It's not what I was trying to finish, but have some fluff instead. :)
It’s late when he comes to bed, but Nathan half-wakes as always to let Charles slide into his arms. He can feel the slight scratch of his manager’s five o’clock shadow, or whatever the hell time it is, against his chest. Charles is wearing pajama pants, which is a shame... but it’s too late to still have been hoping for a boxers night or, even more enticing, a naked night.
So Nathan doesn’t bother to open his eyes as Charles settles in, preferring to stay practically asleep. “S’late,” he mumbles blearily into Charles’ short hair.
“I know,” Charles replies quietly. “Go back to sleep.”
They lay there for a moment, wrapped in silence and darkness, until Nathan is nagged into slightly more alertness by how little the man in his arms is relaxing. And that’s a problem, because he likes Charles to relax every now and then, even if it’s only enough to sleep. The guy is always wound so fucking tight.
“Stop thinking,” Nathan tells him. He eases his arms lower, around Charles’ waist, and pulls him closer, chest to chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat. His own is lazy and steady; Charles may as well be a humming bird.
A pause. “Sorry,” Charles mutters, and sighs. “It’s just... they’re all so disorganized. They’re all idiots who couldn’t find their asses with both hands if you gave them a map.”
Nathan doesn’t bother to ask who or why Charles is so indignant about it. That doesn’t really matter, and also he’s not awake enough to understand work stuff. He just combs his fingers through Charles’ hair with one big hand and mumbles a steady stream of stuff about how people are shit, until the other man is placated and comfortable enough to let go of his frustrations for the night.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Nathan/Charles
Summary: Charles joins Nathan in bed at the end of a very frustrating day.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 300
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author Notes: A late birthday present for piedcrow. It's not what I was trying to finish, but have some fluff instead. :)
It’s late when he comes to bed, but Nathan half-wakes as always to let Charles slide into his arms. He can feel the slight scratch of his manager’s five o’clock shadow, or whatever the hell time it is, against his chest. Charles is wearing pajama pants, which is a shame... but it’s too late to still have been hoping for a boxers night or, even more enticing, a naked night.
So Nathan doesn’t bother to open his eyes as Charles settles in, preferring to stay practically asleep. “S’late,” he mumbles blearily into Charles’ short hair.
“I know,” Charles replies quietly. “Go back to sleep.”
They lay there for a moment, wrapped in silence and darkness, until Nathan is nagged into slightly more alertness by how little the man in his arms is relaxing. And that’s a problem, because he likes Charles to relax every now and then, even if it’s only enough to sleep. The guy is always wound so fucking tight.
“Stop thinking,” Nathan tells him. He eases his arms lower, around Charles’ waist, and pulls him closer, chest to chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat. His own is lazy and steady; Charles may as well be a humming bird.
A pause. “Sorry,” Charles mutters, and sighs. “It’s just... they’re all so disorganized. They’re all idiots who couldn’t find their asses with both hands if you gave them a map.”
Nathan doesn’t bother to ask who or why Charles is so indignant about it. That doesn’t really matter, and also he’s not awake enough to understand work stuff. He just combs his fingers through Charles’ hair with one big hand and mumbles a steady stream of stuff about how people are shit, until the other man is placated and comfortable enough to let go of his frustrations for the night.