bloodyrockgod | Stargazing

"My shift's finishing right this minute." Bartleby smiles.

"I thought so--you were getting that 'get me away from this madness' look to you. Can we snag something hot to drink? It's chilly out."

Charlie Pace, master of understatement.

"I was?" Bartleby pats his face. "I'll have to watch that. Not good customer relations. Gimme a sec." He turns to root for a thermos. "Anything in particular?"

"I think it's a secret code just between you and me," Charlie soothes him. "You're a coffee drinker, yeah? I can manage that if you put enough cream in it. Or some rum or something."

"Coffee, cream, rum."

He glances at Charlie for approval and then smiles. "Got your face healed?"

"Oh--yeah." He scratches his beard. "Moiraine did it. I don't believe the two of you have met--which is a shocking thing that needs to be corrected at some point."

"I don't think we have." Bartleby starts making the coffee. "There are some really thick blankets in my room," he adds. "You mind grabbing them?"

"No problem." He can't help grinning. Blankets.

He hurries back from Bartleby's room, blankets rolled up tight under his arm and his guitar in its case on his back. "Got 'em."

"Wicked." He's just adding generous portions of cream and alcohol to the coffee. "Decided on whiskey instead of rum."

"Tasty either way," Charlie says, leaning his hip against the bar. He looks around the bar, smiling at faces familiar and un-, and watches Bartleby finish putting things together. Outside he's calm--as calm as he ever is--but inside he just wants to get out of here, be a lone with the trees and the stars and the lake.

And Bartleby.

"You had supper?" Bartleby shoots him a glance. "Or you want something now?"

"I don't need anything." He takes a small step towards the back door. "Are you ready?"

"You're not going to eat?" Bartleby frowns, but comes out from behind the bar, stopping in front of Charlie to kiss him.

He clutches at the back of Bartleby's head, and releases him quickly, remembering where they are. "Mm. I had some fried paradoxes earlier, I'm fine. Not exactly supper but they'll do."

"Okay." He's not quite convinced. "Onwards and upwards, then." He grins.

"Come on." He tugs on Bartleby's hand, leading him to the door and out into the starlit night.

Bartleby stops for a second to crane his neck back enough to look at the sky.

Charlie pauses too, looking up. He knows beyond what they see the universe is crashing in on itself--but what they do see is spectacular enough, stars and the endlessness of night.

He squeezes Bartleby's fingers and smiles at him.

Bartleby smiles back. "Shall we go find a place to sit? There's a little hill over there."

"Sounds good." He leaves his hand in Bartleby's, letting him lead the way.

When they reach the top of the little hill, Bartleby casts around for a suitable rock, and then swaps with Charlie the thermos for the blankets.

He lays one blanket on the ground in front of the rock and then sits down with the other draped around his shoulders, leaning against the rock. He pats the blanket between his legs. "Sit?"

Charlie takes off the guitar and puts it aside, and sits between Bartleby's legs, leaning back against him. "Mmm . . . nice." He unscrews the thermos and pours a cup. "Drink?"

Bartleby arranges the blanket so that both he and Charlie are cocooned in it, and then extracts a hand to accept the cup. "Thank you."

"Mm," Charlie sighs again, wrapped in Bartleby-warmth. The night is clear, the stars are brilliant in the deep blue sky, and he has only one complaint. "The only problem with this is that I can't kiss you."

"I can kiss you, though." He demonstrates by licking the back of Charlie's neck.

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