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Nights at site-19 got cold.
Buried under layer upon layer of thick rock and sediment, far below where any regular person would ever find it, the site lay, in all its plastic, corporate glory, unburdened by the lack of sunlight and warmth reaching its bulletproof walls and useless windows.
The site itself may not have felt the cold, but the people inside most certainly did. Especially on midwinter nights such as these.
Above the ground, snow had fallen, further burying the site and its people under yet another layer of earth. Walking through the cavernous hallways and gloomy atriums at this time of night, accompanied only by the persistent buzzing of the overhead lights and the distant echoed slamming of containment unit doors - you'd feel like the loneliest person in the world.
Perhaps you actually would be the loneliest person in the world. A tiny speck deep within the crust of the earth, wearing your silly little labcoat and holding your silly little clipboard, wanting to make a difference. Wanting to save humanity from the horrors all around you.
After all, no matter how alone you feel, you will never be truly alone at the Foundation. For better or for worse.
Charles can't tell if he wants to be alone or not at the moment.
He rolls over again, pulling his knees up to his chest, trying to somehow keep the little body heat he had left. His teeth chatter. His nose and ears are numb, as are his fingertips. He's piled under three separate blankets, and he's still shivering in bed beneath the covers.
He wants to sleep tonight. He hasn't slept at all in three days, and he hasn't had an actual decent sleep that lasted longer than a few hours in three months.
Groaning softly, Charles goes back to rubbing his hands together. Maybe he'll get so exhausted that he'll just... fall asleep. His body won't be able to function anymore in this state.
But it's just so cold.
He knows exactly why his teeth won't stop chattering, and why he's starting to lose all the feeling in his face. Julian is asleep next to him, serving as more of a block of ice beside him rather than a boyfriend.
The instinct to cuddle up to the nearest human is there. And Charles desperately wants to hold Julian, and kiss him, and play with his hair like all the couples do, but his lips would go blue and numb and he'd put his already frail, sickly body at risk of hypothermia.
Charles rolls over again.
He looks at Julian. His white eyelashes feathering over his soft cheeks. The little clouds of cold air that drift from his mouth as he sleeps. He way he holds his clenched hands over his face like a cat trying not to be bothered.
He's so pretty. Charles feels a pang of frustration at the knowledge that reaching out to hold him would make him even more violently cold.
He sits up in bed, threading his fingers through his thick greying hair and holding his head in his hands. Defeated.
"I think I have insomnia." He grumbles to himself.
Beside him, Julian stirs a little. His brow tightens, and he shifts around, mumbling something incoherent. Charles can't help but notice the discomfort in that scrunched face of his.
"He's still cold." Charles whispers, again, to himself. "I suppose I could get him another heated pillow."
Julian stirs again. Charles bites his tongue.
His eyelids flicker open.
Charles inwardly curses himself.
"... Charlie..?"
Settling back down, Charles turns to face his dazed, half-asleep boyfriend, amused at his slow blinking.
"Hello," he croons. "You're freezing."
Julian sighs. "I really am."
They lay in silence for a while. Cool, comfortable silence. Julian's voice is husky and gravelly with sleep when he does speak, and it's criminally attractive.
"You aren't asleep?" Julian yawns.
Charles shakes his head. "Not yet."
"Too cold?"
"Yes."
"Ah."
Silence again.
Julian rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling through the gloom. Subconsciously, Charles begins to do the same.
"... sorry."
"Hm?"
They face each other. Julian is almost grimacing, his eyes looking anywhere but his partner.
"Sorry for being like this. We can't even cuddle."
"It's hardly your fault." Gritting his teeth through the cold, Charles shuffles closer to his boyfriend. His body shudders at the touch of his hand. Julian sighs, and Charles feels hot guilt override the physical feeling of being cold.
"It kinda is my fault." Julian, tentatively, curls his body into the frame of Charles', pressing his forehead against his chest. "I could've just... not freaked out and killed that thing. Y'know, it's not like it would've done anything anyway, if I had actually been successful."
Charles doesn't comment on that. He places a hand on the back of Julian's head, stroking into those soft, frosty curls. It hurts him, but his body is strangely welcome against his own. His heart rate quickens.
"You should put that incident behind you." He says plainly. "Dwelling on it will only serve to dig you deeper into this hole."
Julian huffs a laugh through his nostrils. He looks up, meeting Charles' eyes.
"You just used a figure of speech."
"See? I'm learning."
Julian laughs again, a little harder this time. His arms snake around Charles' waist, pulling them closer together.
Charles gasps. Julian notices this, and shuffles back a little.
"Sorry." Comes that apologetic murmur again. "You're just so warm."
Charles ruminates on this for a moment.
Yes, he's shivering so hard that he very well could've had some sort of fever. His teeth are chattering so much that it was starting to hurt.
But he loves Julian. A lot. And to see the little icicles forming on the end of his nose, while adorable, was heartbreaking.
He opens his arms as much as he can lying down.
"Come here," he says at last. "Let me hold you."
Julian moves closer.
Charles' wiry limbs envelop Julian's sinewy frame and close around his broad shoulders. His skin, even though the thick sweatshirt he had on, chills his own skin. It's like hugging an ice cube. It's like trying to sleep in a freezer.
Julian exhales an icy breath against his partner's chest. Charles can tell he's smiling, even without looking at him.
"Your chest is so... flat." Julian sighs. He nestles further against him, settling. "There's literally nothing here. I'm actually impressed at how skinny you are."
Charles can't tell what that's possibly supposed to mean.
"I'm quite slender, yes."
"That's putting it lightly. You're making it sound like you're all lithe and elegant. You're a gangly nerd, Charlie."
Charles understood that this was intended to be one of his boyfriend's 'teases.' This was always a difficult situation for him to navigate without coming off completely unnatural, but he tries anyway.
"I'm a what?"
Julian laughs. His arms squeeze around his boyfriend. The pressure is greatly welcome, and oddly comforting. "You're a gangly nerd. You're built like a pencil. Like one of those push-up mechanical pencils, you know the ones."
Charles squints. "I'm... I'm a mechanical pencil?"
Julian snickers. "Forget it. I'm just saying you're skinny. Which I like." He drapes a leg over Charles' hip, disturbing the blankets. "What you lack in muscle and fat and like, everything, you make up for in height. Six five? Like, that's stupid. Save some for the rest of us."
The ghost of a smile flickers across Charles' face for a moment.
"Perhaps you're just bitter because you're short."
Julian gives an overdramatised gasp of indignation.
"Short?! Charles Gears! What's gotten into you?"
"I am not insulting you," Charles assures. "simply stating a fact. Five foot five is not very tall."
Julian huffs. A grin breaks out across his face.
"Shut up. Asshole."
The night drags on. The cold does not subside.
But, with Julian against him, Charles begins to grow completely numb to the cold.
He accepted an hour ago that neither of them were sleeping tonight. So, they'd both agreed to try and stay warm, wait the night out, and get some rest tomorrow night. Maybe it would be warmer. Or maybe they'd lie together in bed, awake, kissing and telling useless stories again.
Charles wouldn't mind that. Even if he knows that he really, really needs to get some sleep.
Their lips separate again.
Charles looks up at Julian. He feels a cold hand brush a strand of hair from his cheek.
"I wish I could use your tongue to warm up my mouth all the time." Says Julian.
Charles gently takes hold of his forearms. Making out is all they can think to do. They're tired and bored, and they have each other - and it feels like it's been a decade since they last did anything even remotely intimate.
"Impractical and inefficient." Says Charles in his trademark matter-of-fact monotone. "No matter how much you enjoy it, I can't, say, start passionately kissing you during a meeting."
"Oh my god, imagine!" Julian laughs. He climbs off of his boyfriend, laying down beside him, head laying against his chest. "We'd be famous. Those gay lunatics who started making out at the O5 administrative staff conference." He laughs at his own joke.
Charles allows himself a smile. He shifts around, getting comfortable. As comfortable as he can be, anyway.
The silence is comfortable.
Julian's deep breathing is a comfortable sound. The presence of another human against his chest, no matter how much it numbed his skin and made the back of his throat sting, is comforting.
Charles had gone a very long time without this before.
His case is a strange one. He flinches at being touched, he insists on not being hugged or shown any sort of physical affection, yet it's the one thing he craves most in the world. He can't explain it. He doesn't know why it happens. But every time Julian lays with him, with their limbs tangled together and his head resting in the crook of his neck, Charles finds he never wants to let go.
The silence lingers for a while.
Charles begins to suspect that Julian is asleep. He feels reassured, if only slightly - at least his boyfriend is getting some rest.
He leans back, teeth still chattering, and closes his eyes. He barely felt the cold now. His body may have been reacting to it, but in his mind, he’d always been this cold.
Then, Julian speaks.
“I love you, Charlie.”
His voice is muffled. He’s still laying atop Charles, head on his chest, arms around his shoulders.
Warmth sparks in Charles’ blood. He feels his ears starting to burn.
He places a hand on the back of Julian’s head. Threads his fingers into the curls.
The cold is bearable.
It doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore.
“I love you too.”