TITLE: Dick In A Box
AUTHOR: Shampaggin
PAIRING: Nathan/Charles
FANDOM: Metalocalypse
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Metalocalypse (c) Small and Blacha; Dick In A Box (c) Saturday Night Live. And now, without further adieu...
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It was Valentine's Day, and life at Mordhaus continued much as usual. The sole concession to the traditionally sickly-sweet holiday was the number of hearts strung along the walls, a macabre collection of fakes that dripped on unsuspecting roadies.
The five members of Dethklok were often to be found in the hot tub, lazily channel-surfing and tossing insults back and forth when they could be bothered. By this time, none of them were keen on winter; instead, they preferred multiple blankets and multiple warm, curvy bodies in their own immediate vicinities to chase away a chill.
So when Nathan Explosion shyly edged into the office of one Charles Foster Ofdensen this particular Valentine's Day, holding something in his large hands, the man's eyebrows were in consequent danger of disappearing under his hairline.
"For me?" came the query.
"For you," was the answer. "I... uh... well... Happy motherfucking Valentine's Day."
Nathan removed his hands from the wrapped and be-ribboned box at his midsection, earning a strangled laugh from the producer-manager. And much later, sated and curled under black satin sheets, Charles privately decided never to let the boys watch Saturday Night Live again. Outside, a small angel with ridiculously un-aerodynamic wings buzzed ineffectually against the glass. Deciding no arrows were needed here, it giggled and zoomed off to another wing of Mordhaus where, it had heard, two other band members were re-inventing the phrase "let's get it on."