Disclaimer: I own nothing. Brendon Small is a god. 'Nuff said.

Apology: Short part... Sorry! The next one is longer!

...

"Come in," Charles called, from his office desk. He had been organizing various documents that had been inputted into a new computer system which allowed him to access them verbally and have them read out loud into an earpiece.

He looked up as the door opened, listening for any indication as to who his visitor was.

"Charlie… hey, I've got a question for ya!" It was Pickles cheery voice, and from the lack of a slur, Charles could tell that the drummer was not very drunk yet.

"Pickles', please, have a seat." He indicated to the chair that was facing his desk. "What can I do for you?"

"You have any lamps that need breaking?" Charles could all but hear the man's lopsided grin. "I'm just kiddin'. Seriously though, question… We've narrowed it down to two songs for the mini-concert, and you need to choose which one."

"Ah, really? Okay, what are they?"

There was a pause that felt rather contrived. Finally Pickles continued,

"It's either "Castratikron" or "Ejaculate Fire". The choice is yours. Choose wisely."

Charles was perplexed by the odd request.

"Interesting selections… And, ah, you want me to choose?"

"Yeah. Art imitating life."

"I'm sorry?"

"Okay, just so you know, I am rolling my eyes right now, dood. Seriously. It's time to make the move. I mean, when are you and Nathan gonna stop fuckin' around and start fucking around?"

If Charles had been taking a drink at that moment Pickles would now be covered in it. Instead he tried to compose himself, with little success.

"Ah, are you saying, ah, what are you saying?"

"Charlie. You may think we don't see past our own asses, and, okay, so you'd have a point a lot of the time, but it's pretty obvious that you and Nathan, you know, have something goin' on! Or want to, anyway, so what's the problem?"

"Are you…. What makes you so sure, that Nathan, ah…"

"That he digs you? Okay, so I wasn't sure at first, cause he's usually into the ladies, but like, really, a lot of that's been pretty superficial… And, seriously, dood, he will not shut up about you! He gets all kinda sweet when he talks about you, which would be pretty nauseating if it wasn't kinda cute, cause, I mean, he's Nathan, and he's acting like a freakin' puppy!"

Charles felt himself blush, which did not go un-noticed by Pickles.

"I knew the feeling was mutual! So, seriously, "Castratikron" or "Ejaculate Fire"… Nathan needs to know what song he's singing, dood."

Charles felt a surge of empowerment from the drummer's observations.

"Well, Pickles, thank you, for, ah, bringing this matter to my attention. I will, ah, see to it, ah, soon…"

"Dood, am I some executive guy who you've just had a business meeting with? I've seen you passed out drunk on the floor, remember?"

"True… very true. Well, ah, right then… Seriously, thank you Pickles, I, ah, I kind of needed that information. I know which song to pick now…"

"I know you do, dood. The band's already practicing it. Hang in there, Charlie. See you at tomorrow's meeting!"

With that, the drummer walked to the door, casually humming a tune.

After hearing the door close, Charles leaned his head into his hands and broke into a giant grin.