Disclaimer: I own nothing. Brendon Small is a god. 'Nuff said.
Note: I cannot believe we still live in a world where etiquette suggests the need for a "warning" about this, but if you are bothered by mild slash content then consider yourself warned (and you might not want to read the next story!).
...
Charles was used to being the first one at the band meetings, so the next day he was surprised to walk in to the meeting room and hear the buzz of quiet conversation. It stopped suddenly as he entered.
"Well, ah, hello there. Am I late?… What time is it?" Charles asked, shocked at the boys' early arrival and not exactly sure which band members he was addressing.
"No, no, you're fine, Charles, we're uh, extra early, that's all. Everyone except, uh, Pickles, who's… uh, not here yet." Nathan was quick to reassure Charles that he wasn't running late, but there was something odd about the way he was hesitating.
Charles tried to brush it off and made his way to his seat at the head of the table. He had learned that there were approximately 7 steps from the door to the table and this was confirmed as his cane gently taped the edge of the chair. He sat down.
"So where is Pickles then?" he asked.
"Ohhhh, Pickle is…" Toki started, his tone heavy.
"…Comings soon! Pickle ams gonna be heres soon…" Skwisgaar finished quickly, cutting the Norwegian off.
"Yeah, schoon. Then we can get thisch meeting schtarted!" Murderface, enthusiastic about a meeting? Charles was about to ask what the hell was going when the door opened, presumably revealing Pickles.
"Doods! Oh, hey Charles…" As Pickles was approaching the table Charles heard Nathan's whispered voice say,
"Oh shit, that is brutal!"
"What is brutal?" Charles loudly asked with annoyance.
Murderface was the first to reply. "Oh, you know, lotsch of schtuff… like uh, psycho axe-murdering… 40 car pile-upsch, and like ten of them are gasholine trucksch… uh, guillotinesch chopping off people'sch headsh, or their cocksh… That'sch all brutal, right fellasch?"
"Yes, ands also guts ams brutal, and bloods, and puke, and guts, bloods and puke mixed togethers..." Toki chimed in as if it was a game. "And when your cat ams dead, that ams totally brutal, and… Wowee, Pickle, your hand ams brutal too!"
Oh my god. "Pickles, what happened to your hand?" Charles raised his voice to be heard over Toki as the rhythm guitarist continued his list out loud.
"So, okay, here's the thing…." The drummer started. "Don't be mad or nothing' but this morning at breakfast we were, uh, dickin' around and uh, Murderface kind of, uh…. accidentally stabbed me in the hand."
"What!?" Charles could feel a headache coming on. "How does one accidentally stab someone in the hand at the breakfast table?"
"Well, like you schaid the other day, I knew where my hand and mouth were, but juscht not Pickle'sch hand, and I went to stab another piecshe of frencsh toascht juscht asch he wasch reacshing for it…"
"Oh my god." Charles put both hands to his now throbbing temples. "Tell me you were not all playing "blind", while eating with daggers."
"I wasch the only one with a dagger. I alwaysch eat with one!" Murderface chimed in pointedly.
This was too much. If Pickles couldn't play, and he couldn't very well play with a wounded hand, it would mean they'd have to cancel the concert. The concert that was going to show the world that Dethklok was alive and well and that Charles could still do his job. But could he? He hadn't been able to prevent his boys from accidentally stabbing each other. In fact, in an indirect way, he may have even encouraged their behavior, though he certainly didn't condone it.
"When," Charles started slowly and darkly, "were you going to tell me about this?" It grated him that he had found out only because the band's failure at subtlety. Were they just planning on letting him think everything was fine?
"Uhhh," It was Pickles. "Dood, we were going to tell you, it's just that, well, we knew you'd be mad…."
"Really, why would I be mad!?" Charles barked, clearly upset. "Why should it bother me if you see this whole thing," he indicated to his eyes, "as a curiosity, or a joke? Why should I mind if you carelessly hurt yourselves days before a concert that is meant to show the world that everything's fine here, that it's business as usual? Maybe that concert is a joke, because everything is not fine and it's not business as usual." He paused to take a deep breath, amidst the silence of the band members.
"Pickles," He started more calmly, but there was an edge to his voice. "Have you seen the doctor about your hand?" The fact that there had been comments about the "brutality" of the wound encouraged Charles to believe it had not been properly cared for.
"The last time I saw a doctor he had me convinced I was dying, remember? I don't want to go through that again!"
"Describe the wound to me. Details."
"It ams bleedings all overs the place!" Toki cried out, as if he'd been repressing this information the whole time.
"What? You didn't stop the bleeding? Oh god." He thought for a moment while Pickles explained,
"Well I did have this bandage, but I guess it's kind of soaked through. Actually I really don't feel great."
"That's because you're losing blood. Here, take this, and go to the doctor now, or you will be dying!" Charles loosened his red tie, pulled it over his head and reached across the table towards the drummer.
"Can somebody wrap this for him, and go with him to the hospital wing. Do not take your time. I'll let them know that you're coming.
"I'll go!" Murderface said enthusiastically. "Maybe you'll get stitchesch!"
"You did this to me, asshole! Whatever, alright, fine. But you are NOT helping them give me stitches!"
Charles activated the com unit on his watch and alerted the medical wing of the situation, requested that he be notified of their arrival and kept up to date, and finally added that under no circumstance should Murderface be allowed to do any medical procedures.
"Go. Now!" Charles suddenly found himself exhausted, and after he heard the two men leave, he sunk down in his chair.
"Well, the meeting was going to be about the concert, and, well, that's not happening, so you might as well all go."
"Alrights. We'll talks to yous later. C'mon, Tokis." Charles heard the two Scandinavians leaving together. He directed his attention to Nathan's spot at the table.
"Well?"
"Look," Nathan started. "Charles. I know what this concert was for you, okay. I'm gonna make this right."
"Really." Charles found he couldn't keep the hurt out of voice now that he was alone with Nathan. He stood up and turned away.
Nathan quietly came up behind him, put a hand on his shoulder and gently spun him around so they were facing each other.
"We can't do the concert," the singer said quietly. "But we can do something even better. I was talking to everyone before you came in about this and we decided… we're gonna make a new album. We'll announce it at what would have been the concert. Everyone will know that Dethklok, all of Dethklok," he gave Charles's shoulder a squeeze, "is back!"
"And what do the others have to say about this," Charles asked skeptically.
"Some of them needed a little convincing, but they're all for it, now. And I didn't even have to threaten them."
Nathan Explosion and his powers of persuasion. Charles couldn't suppress a slight grin, which didn't go unnoticed by Nathan.
"What?" Nathan asked with a smile in his voice.
"It's just… you never cease to amaze me. You convinced the band to do a whole new album? Do you know what it's like to try and get you guys to even show up for practice? You amaze me, Nathan."
Charles felt as the singer's fingers start to gently caress the back of his neck, and he took in a quick breath.
"You're not so bad yourself." Nathan replied, and his low, gravelly voice seemed to take on a velvet quality. With his free hand, Nathan reached up and removed Charles' glasses, placing them on the table next to them. Then Nathan softly took Charles's hand and placed it against his face. "I want you to see how you make me feel," Nathan whispered. Charles could felt along the singers' strong jaw line and the curve of the younger man's broad smile. Nathan pulled Charles in closer and found the CFO's parted lips with his own. The kiss started slow and gentle, yet felt like it was being held back, as if each didn't want to seem too eager, until Charles reached around and grabbed Nathan's hair, pulling him in firmly. His second hand found it's way into the black locks, gripping at the roots, not wanting to let go.
When Nathan finally gently broke off, he took a deep breath, as if taking in Charles's scent. Then he leaned closer and said,
"We've even come up with a name for the new album."
"Oh?" Charles asked, resting his head against the taller man's broad shoulder.
Nathan leaned down and whispered into Charles's ear,
"We're going to call it Out of Darkness."
Charles looked up at Nathan, and could almost picture the singer's beaming face.
He pulled Nathan in and their lips met again, and for the first time Charles comfortably allowed himself to become completely enveloped in the darkness, feeling each cell in his body sparkle with life.
When they pulled slightly apart Charles whispered back, "Out of Darkness… Comes Light."
…THE END…
…But don't worry, there's a follow-up story coming soon!
THANK YOU for reading my first story! I really hope you enjoyed it!
Please let me know if you did, comments mean the world! (Constructive criticism is welcome too!)
:) :) :) :)
