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Frost Blue Eyes	By : Yaoiandcoffeeaddict Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1401 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse or Thor and make no profit from this.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1

Charles had sworn almost two decades earlier that he would never return to Norway after his lover left him. How the event had happened had grown fuzzy over the years and Charles was convinced he was fed LSD at the time, but Loki was still gone by the time the drug worked its way out of his system. Charles waited a month to see if Loki would return before he packed up his stuff, shut down the tavern, and requested a transfer back to America to forget everything as quickly as possible.

Yet, Charles was a businessman. He always was and always would be. When it was apparent to him that Dethklok would make the most money touring the land of death metal, then he loaded up the private plane and made it happen. Dethklok was good, but with a little more exposure, they could be unstoppable.

A slight dinging noise broke Charles from his thoughts and he raised his eyes from his ledger to see the fasten seatbelt sign bold and clear in the lounge's bar window. The sign really was pointless, the boys would not follow it and would continue to play their pool game until they were forced to leave the jet. 'Schrew scheatbeltsch,' Murderface would complain. 'I'd rather die than have schomethin' choke my ballsch.' How a seatbelt would choke a guy's balls, Charles didn't know and didn't really want to find out. So, Charles gave up on trying and simply fastened his own seatbelt until the plane stopped.

When the sign finally clicked off, Charles knew they had landed. He unbuckled the strap and stood up, letting out a soft groan as his back cracked from the slumped position he'd been in for a few hours. "Okay, boys, we're here. The roadies already have your bags and instruments, minus Skwisgaar's guitar, on the tour bus, so we just need to make it through Oslo Airport without causing an international incident, then everything will be fine."

"Pfft, Norways am dildos countrys anyway. Be fines to be kicks out forevers," Skwisgaar commented as he stood up from his heavily padded lounge chair.

Charles felt a migraine coming on. Really the blonde was in his thirties and acted like an angsty teenager. Charles wondered sometimes if Skwisgaar was some sort of cosmic karma for all the wrong he had done in his life. "Regardless… we have five concerts to play here. The tickets of those concerts each reach over three million American dollars in sales so it would be a shame to refund them."

"Wow, that's a lot," Pickles commented in between using the two pool cues as drumsticks on the furniture.

"Well, that is the amount without factoring in the cost of renting the arena, equipment, pyrotech…" Charles noticed the band's eyes were glazing over and barely contained the sigh. "Yes, it's a fair amount," Charles amended.

"Cool. If we do all these concerts can we get a shark tank for the new house?" Nathan asked as he put his pool cue back on the rack.

"A shark tank?" Charles repeated.

"Yeah, a shark tank," Nathan confirmed, looking like an excited gorilla who had just been offered its favorite fruit. "I always wanted one of those."

"I suppose we could have a small one…" In his head, Charles was crunching numbers for the fee for the permits, the cost of building a shark tank and installing it along with natural and artificial filters, the cost of fish, and what species of shark would be the safest for the boys to have as a pet in case they also wanted to 'pet it'. Nurse and whale sharks were the only species that came to mind.

"AWESOME!" Nathan cheered, a big grin splitting his face into its most frightening mold. Charles had been unnerved the first time Nathan had smiled. Sharp teeth and feral eyes made him resemble an alligator or the shark that Nathan was craving as a pet. "Okay, guys, let's make sure we don't get kicked out. I want a shark tank."

Magnus raised a dark brown eyebrow but said nothing in response before putting his own pool cue away. He never really talked much anyway.

Without another word, the band began filing out of the jet. Nathan was the first to break the threshold of the gate and was greeted with the screams of anxious fans. He clasped his massive hands over his ears and hunched in pain as he mumbled something about remembering to never have a hangover around fans again. Skwisgaar was next, sky blue eyes scanning the crowd for the most desirable women to invite to the hotel later without breaking Norwegian law. Then silent Hammersmith, who grunted in acknowledgement of the crowd and waited at the gate for Charles to emerge so he could follow him out. Pickles trailed behind Magnus, skipping in an effort to relieve the energy he had from whatever drug he was on this week. The redhead smiled and waved to the crowd before jumping on the back of a tall roadie whose height rivaled Skwisgaar's with a "Giddy-up!" Last to emerge from the band was Murderface whose beady eyes scanned the fans for pretty women before he found a target and went to insult the woman to sleep with him. Even with the language barrier, the woman was not interested and all Murderface got was a kick in the balls.

Charles and the remaining roadies filed out last with some boxes and bags. Charles waved the boys over to follow before leading the way out of Oslo Airport. He'd practically lived at this Airport several years ago when his line of work had been far different and now he was still able to navigate his way to the waiting limo. If the boys noticed this was odd, no one made any comment.

/ / / / / / / ( 0.0 )

Once the boys were settled in the hotel suite and the roadies assigned their security posts, Charles planned on checking on the outdoor arena to make sure its construction was going according to plan. But, as usual, the boys protested his leaving their sight.

"Where ya goin'?" Pickles asked tugging on Charles's sleeve like a puppy trying to prevent its owner from leaving the house.

"To the concert venue to make sure everything is going as planned," Charles responded, carefully avoiding the big green eyes of the drummer. Green eyes had always been Charles's weakness.

"But whose gonna make me sandwiches the way I like 'em for lunch if you're not he'r? Ya know I'm nat allowed to use a stove or microwave no more…"

Charles bit back a sigh. Really, sometimes he had trouble remembering the drummer was only five years younger than him until he looked at the receding hair line and thinning dreads. "Roadie Twelve knows how you like your sandwiches…"

"He doesn't put the pickles in the shape of a smiley face…" Pickles whined, his green eyes glistening.

Charles shook his head, unable to believe he was going "Okay… fine. You can come with me and then I can make you a sandwich when we return to the hotel, okay? I think I need to pick up food any way…"

"I wanna go too!" Nathan said, emerging from his room.

"Mes as wells," Skwisgaar piped up from his place lounging on the couch fingering his guitar with his pale feet in a woman's lap as she gave him a foot massage.

"Hey. Isch no one inviting me?"

Magnus turned around in his seat and rose with a nod, indicating he was going to go too.

Charles simply shrugged and resigned himself to his fate of dealing with five teenagers for the day. Hours later, with one mishap after another due to one of the band members touching something they were not suppose to and two people on the construction crew with a bad injury but nothing life threatening, Charles found himself watching five adults trapeze around the grocery store he used to frequently visit years ago.

He was just picking out the freshest loaf of rye bread for Pickle's sandwich when he felt someone behind him. "Char?" came a soft, accented voice behind him. He turned and saw one of his former friends, Olaf, with a small basket on his arm. The years had not been kind to either of them but Olaf appeared the worst off. Olaf's forehead was set with long wrinkles and his clothes were hanging off of his once muscular frame and his skin was almost translucent. Charles recognized sickness when he saw it and he instantly felt guilty for losing touch with the man who had once been his best friend.

"Hei, Olaf," Charles responded with a tight smile. "How are you?"

"Speakings Anglish, Char?"

"Well I am a few decades out of practice with Norwegian, I'm afraid," Charles confessed as he found himself wrapped in a one-armed hug from the taller man.

"It's god to see yous, Char." Olaf smiled. "I'm doin' okays now. As I'm sure you cans tell, I hads cancer but it's gone into remissions. Elsa is god too. We has two teenagers now who needs to meet their Uncle Charles." He placed the basket down and opened his wallet to pull out a picture of two boys around thirteen with their mother's features but their father's dark blonde hair.

"I guess I'll have to stop by sometime."

There was an awkward moment of silence, the type of silence that only occurred when two people had so much to say but were unsure how to say it. "Yous know, your apartments is stills there, just boardeds up."

"Is it?"

"Ja, if yous ever wants to comes home…"

"It's not my home anymore, Olaf. Not since Loki left…"

"Charles…" came the familiar call as the redheaded drummer came sliding into the aisle. "There ya are. Nathan says he wants sushi fer lunch."

Charles didn't even blink before he turned to Pickles. Of course, when Dethklok comes to Norway, they want to stop at a Japanese restaurant. "And the sandwiches?"

Pickles shrugged. "Ya know if ya make 'em later, I'll eat 'em."

Charles nodded in agreement. "Very well." Charles glanced back at his friend Olaf. "Olaf, this is one the boys in the band I manage now, Pickles. Pickles, this is an old friend of mine, Olaf."

"Is pleasures to meets yous, Pickle." Olaf said as he wrapped the suddenly stunned drummer in a hug and giving Charles a wink of approval. Charles wished he could protest the misunderstanding… there was no way he would ever date someone who was constantly high and stank like an old brewery… but that would involve accidently coming out to his employers. "Yous take cares of my Charles, okays?" Olaf released him, then the Norwegian gathered his basket and left the two standing in awkward embarrassment.

"So… that was weird, huh?" Pickles finally commented, then shrugged and skipped away. Minutes later, the limo was stocked with groceries and the band was on its way to the closest and most highly rated sushi bar in Oslo. Charles was really hoping that the incident with Olaf would be forgotten but there was no such luck. A minute after the limo began moving, Pickles announced, "So Charles made a friend…"

"Reallys? Is she cute?" Skwisgaar asked, leaning over his guitar with interest.

"It was a guy."

"Gay," Murderface announced and Charles barely contained a flinch.

"A guy?" Nathan repeated with an unreadable expression before rounding on Charles, "I don't like the idea of you hanging out with strangers, Charles. There's a lot of weirdos out there."

"Yeah. What if the guy wantsch to like kidnap a robot or schomething to have asch a robot schex slave. Then where would we be? I tell you, thatsch juscht selfisch."

Hammersmith looked Charles square in the eye and nodded in agreement.

"It was nothing like that," Charles replied as evenly as possible. "Olaf is just an old friend from when I used to live here in Oslo."

"Wait, you're Norwegians?" Skwisgaar exclaimed.

"No, I just worked for an American company in the '80s that happened to have a Norwegian branch that they wanted me to look after."

"You worked somewhere else before Dethklok?" Nathan asked as though he just found out the world had a country named Australia. "How come I… we… didn't know about it?"

"You… uh… never asked."

"He's right. We never did ask what he did before us," Pickles confirmed.

"I guesch they had to reprogram him at the factory then."

"So, what did you do before you met us?" Nathan asked, leaning forward in the seat just as the limo rolled to a stop outside the restaurant.

"Oh, look, we're here," Charles stated, distracting the band from their new line of questioning. Thankfully, none of the boys save Hammersmith had a very long attention span so they quickly forgot their interrogation in favor of slices of raw fish. Pickles bounced out of the car first and the others followed suit.

"Do you think they have pufferfish?" Charles heard Nathan ask his band-mates.

"I wonder if they has herrings sushies," Skwisgaar noted.

The inside of the restaurant was very clean and modern- chrome, white, and black with small splashes of blue and red from some Japanese family heirlooms and large glass windows to let the light of the afternoon sun in. They were greeted by a Norwegian waitress with long gold blonde hair pulled back in a harsh braid and shown to a table in the corner.

"Can I starts you outs withs anything?" the waitress asked, pen poised on her little notepad.

"Do ya have any beer?" Pickles immediately asked.

The waitress blinked but replied, "Yes, we has the…"

"I'll take three bottles of whatever ya got in stock," Pickles cut her off.

"Me too," Nathan agreed.

"Me too."

"I wants the three beers toos."

Hammersmith nodded at her and pointed to himself in agreement. Charles noted the waitress's smile tightened at the action of the silent man before turning her light brown eyes to Charles.

"I'll just have hot tea," Charles announced, mentally preparing himself for the job of dealing with a very drunken band for a few hours and trying to prevent an international incident.

An hour later, after picking a very drunk Pickles up off the restaurant bathroom and putting him in the floor of the limo on his side, Charles got a weird feeling. He did a quick survey of the group and noticed someone was indeed missing. "Boys, where is Magnus? Is he still in the restaurant?"

Skwisgaar looked around. "He was right heres…"

Charles felt another migraine coming on. One of these days, he knew the boys were going to kill him by giving him an aneurism from the stress. "Did anyone see where he went?"

The door of the limo opened and Magnus appeared clutching an obviously human shaped bundle to his chest wrapped in a frayed and strained cotton blanket. He ignored the curious looks of his band-mates and slid onto the cushioned seat without a word.

"Hey!" Murderface yelled. "I thought we agreed there were to be no schluts in the limo without band approval!"

The blanket whimpered and curled into itself in Magnus's arms.

"I don't thinks that's a sluts," Skwisgaar stated the obvious as he craned his long, pale neck for a glance into the bundle's contents.

Nathan was far less subtle, capturing an edge of the blanket and dragging the corner down to reveal the face of a very starved and beaten teenager with long light brown hair and large, scared eyes in a frosty blue shade. "Awe… can we keep him?"

/ / / / / / / ( 0.0 )

Charles was sure he'd be completely bald before they left Norway as he was nervously raking his hair back while trying to reason with five grown men with the IQ of a potato. "For the last time boys, we cannot keep him. In fact, we need to get rid of him immediately. If the media found out you brought a teenager in your hotel room, you can bet there will be intense speculation as to what that kid was doing here. Five grown men kidnapping and hoarding a young Norwegian boy… it could be the end of your career."

"But look at 'im, dude," Pickles pleaded, gesturing to the boy in the corner between the couch and the chair of the hotel suite's living room gazing at the pattern in the carpet with some sort of make-shift doll clutched in his swollen arms. The flushed cheeks and forehead were a sign that he was probably running a fever. "He's messed up."

"So are a lot of kids in the world, Pickles. Look… the only way to help this kid is to call the police. They'll come in, take the kid to the hospital and put him in a home that can take care of him."

"So he can bes beats ups in fosters systems?" Skwisgaar questioned.

Charles wanted to scream. "Not all foster homes are that bad."

"How would ya know, Charles? Huh?" Pickles asked. "Were you ever in the foster system? I was. Ma parents thaught I was becomin' a bad in.. in…"

"Influence?" Charles supplied.

"Yeah… influence, on my brother so they sent me into the foster system for a year. Two bad families even worse than mine and I ran away to Los Angeles."

"Well, the Norwegian foster system is probably diff…"

"How do you know?" Nathan asked.

"Well… I don't but we can ask the police when they get here how their system works." Five distrustful stares bore into Charles. Outnumbered and knowing that he couldn't persuade them anyway, Charles sighed and said, "Look, the kid needs to be seen by a doctor first. I'll hold off calling the police until the kid is better and in the meantime I'll be doing research on the Norwegian Child Services program. If I don't like what I see, I'll… I'll look into adopting him okay?"

Charles was tackled in glee by a small redhead at the news and Charles instantly knew he would regret his words. His instincts were proven right only a moment later when Nathan approached the battered teen.

"You hear that kid?" Nathan asked, stooping down to the kid's eye level. "You're going to be staying with us."

Frost blue eyes just blinked in confusion and clutched his little straw doll even tighter.

To Be Continued…

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Frost Blue Eyes