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From Dreams to Reality	By : Pat4pat Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Het- Male/Female Views: 1566 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse or Dethklok. I do not make money from this story.

Chapter List
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Don't own Dethklok or Metalocalypse.
Monday morning, 7 A.M. Layla reached out from under her covers to silence the screech of her alarm clock. Five days a week, she had an inward struggle with herself about getting up and facing the day. High school was truly a bitch, if she might say so herself. But she wasn't really going to high school. No, today everything would change.
The steam from the shower felt good on her skin, helping her wake up. She took her bar of soap and lathered up her sponge with it. She ran it over her body, scrubbing vigorously. Layla had a fleeting thought of what it would feel like to have a man close behind her, scrubbing her body for her. His muscular arms would envelope her small frame. His face buried in her neck as his fingertips explored her sensitive skin. A faint smile crept along her lips as his red goatee tickled her neck.
Suddenly the sponge slipped from her hands and landed on the shower floor. She was slightly alarmed by her train of thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me?
She tried to dismiss the fantasy and turned off the shower and stepped out. She used her towel to wipe away a small circle from the steam on the mirror.
Layla never thought she was anything special. She was medium height with hazel eyes and long, dark hair. Though she was not at all fat, her hips and curves were something she still had to come to terms with. Layla had always been a shy girl, very naïve to the opposite sex and sex in general. Hence, the way her jeans hugged her curves and her shirts accentuated her bust made her uncomfortable in her own skin.
Layla quickly brushed through her tangled hair; there was no time to blow-dry it today.
Dressing hastily, Layla grabbed her book bag. She doubled checked its contents as she would never be returning to her room. The items were scarce but it was all she could take with her in her book bag so as to not look suspicious. She headed towards Mordhaus' version of a garage walking quietly through the dark hallways. The fastest way was always past Dethklok's rooms. She silently prayed that they all had shut their doors last night.
Layla had once accidently peeked in on Skwisgaar's room. She shuddered, remembering the odd interactions she witnessed between the lanky, blonde Swede, an elderly woman old enough to be his grandmother, and a young Asian girl. She had gasped as all three turned to stare at her, squeaked her apologies and ran the rest of the way down the hallway. Later, when she had returned from school, Skwisgaar had teased her about it, enjoying as her face turned beat red. He loved teasing her, reminding her of her lack of knowledge about the opposite sex.
Thankfully though, his door was shut tight. She hurried by.
Layla was almost at the end of the hall when she heard bottles clanking together. She paid no heed to it and was about to pass Pickles' door when she thought she heard him faintly call out her name. Layla stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart had slightly fluttered at the thought of her name leaving his lips.
His door was slightly ajar. She tiptoed over to it, listening. After some silence, she readjusted her book bag and was about to continue onward. She was probably just hearing things. Pickles never wanted anything to do with her, rarely spoke with her. Layla was pretty positive that he greatly disliked her company and presence in Mordhaus. At first she was a little hurt by his callousness, but she just accepted that they would never get along.
"Mmm, Layla…" she heard Pickles murmur again.
This time she was positive she heard her name being called by him. Slowly pushing the door open, Layla peeked from behind the door into the dim room. She stopped short when she saw Pickles lying on his side, his back towards her. He was clad only in his white underwear. I shouldn't be seeing this…I should leave, she thought. Pickles was clearly still fast asleep. Layla did not want to disturb the slumbering drummer.
But he caught her eyes when he shuffled again. A couple more bottles slipped from his bed and onto the floor. He was now on his back, his body sprawled out. And something long and large was stretching out from beneath his underwear. Layla's breath caught in her throat; her heart began to pound in her chest. She could feel the blood rushing to her face. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from Pickle's large member stretching at the white cotton.
Oh my God, she thought, Is he…is he dreaming about me?
Layla continued to stare in awe, not sure what to do. She knew men were obviously made differently than women; however, she was so inexperienced with what she saw, unsure of how to handle the situation she had gotten herself into.
She was becoming a little curious.
A small twinge of guilt prodded at her from the back of her mind as she watched Pickles. She knew she should just turn around and go, but a faint tingling between her legs made her want to stay and watch.
"Layla." She heard a firm voice call to her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin and whipped around to see her uncle rounding the corner. Layla backed away from Pickle's door immediately. She felt guilty, like she had been caught red handed.
Charles looked up and noticed Layla standing awkwardly against the wall. She met his eyes but quickly looked back down.
He wasn't sure why she seemed so flustered. Her cheeks were rosy and her breath was heavy. He disregarded this immediately. Layla was always the shy one, even around family.
"I'm glad I caught you before you left for school. Come, I have something to discuss with you."
Charles took Layla by her arm, leading her down the hall to where a limo was waiting for her. Usually morning rides were very quiet and lonely. The klokateers were never very sociable, so she would sit in the back, dreading every moment she got closer and closer to her high school. But this morning, Charles followed her into the back of the limousine. Layla gulped, hoping his presence wouldn't interfere with her plans.
"To the school first." He sternly ordered the klokateer.
Charles then turned to Layla. "I've had some unexpected business come up recently. I'll be leaving today right after you are dropped off."
"You're leaving?" Layla asked. This was unexpected, but maybe it would work to her advantage.
"It hopefully won't be for too long, but I cannot make any promises. As you know, I hate to leave you alone, but all your needs will still be taken care of as they have been."
Layla's uncle was always so matter of fact. She sometimes wondered if he would ever truly care about her, or at least act like he did. It wasn't her he was worried about leaving, it was his precious band, Dethklok. Layla simply nodded and turned to look out the window for the rest of the drive. Her uncle's callous words solidified why she needed to leave.
"We're here, Sir." The klokateer called into the backseat.
"Yes, very good." Charles readjusted his glasses.
Layla didn't say a word to her uncle as she grabbed her bag and opened the door. This is it.
"Layla." Charles suddenly said, making Layla turn back to look at him. He was looking at her intently, like a stern, concerned father would look at his daughter. Layla's heart tugged at her chest at how much Uncle Charles resembled her father at that moment.
"Please…be careful." His concerned look soon left his face and the normal, business-like man resurfaced.
Layla gave her uncle a faint smile and got out of the limo. It sped off as she walked towards her school. Layla tried to forget her uncles' resemblance to her father; she could not cry, not now. The time for her tears and sorrow had passed; a new beginning began here and now.
She instead breathed a sigh of relief. Her uncle seemed oblivious to any plans she had made for today. That was plus.
I don't think he knew what I saw. Thank God! Sex education was a topic she hated discussing. Biology class was her most feared subject. Layla didn't think she could ever talk openly or comfortably about it, especially with her uncle. The scene from earlier in the morning passed through her thoughts again. But her curiousness soon turned to guilt. Maybe I had purposely looked into his room, just to see him one last time. As much as Layla wanted to accept the fact that Pickles might never like her, she sometimes wished for his attention. These thoughts and feelings were so foreign to her; she could never discuss them with anyone. She just did not understand what she was feeling. A crush? Why would I be crushing on a man who doesn't even take the time of day for me?
The limo had long since vanished down the street. Layla could see other students were running late, rushing into the dismal building. But she stopped dead in her tracks. Readjusting her book bag across her other shoulder, Layla turned on her heel and headed away from the school. Her new life began today. She had promised herself that she would forget about her parents' disappearance, her Uncle Charles' inability to care for her, and especially Dethklok. But as she continued walking down the sidewalk, away from the past, a thought trickled into her mind. She did not dare think his name as she re-imagined the red-headed man that had touched her so gently in the shower.

Pickles' hangover headache was forcing him to wake up from the pain. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness around him. There was a faint light coming from his doorway. Through a slight haze, Pickles thought he saw Layla watching him with a curious gaze. She looked like a Madonna, her dark hair haloed by the light behind her.
"Layla. I'm glad I caught you before you left for school. Come, I have something to discuss with you."
Pickles shot straight up in his bed as he heard Layla quickly shuffle away from his room. With wide eyes and a racing pulse he listened to Charles' voice. Fuck, that really had been Layla in his doorway. Didn't he shut his door last night? He knew she walked through that hallway five mornings a week.
Had he been talking in his sleep? Did he call out her name? He looked down, now noticing his morning wood.
"Ah, son of a -" Pickles grabbed his face in annoyance and utter embarrassment. She had to have seen. I said her name and she saw. Shit, will she tell anyone? Does she know my secret now?
In frustration, he grabbed his blankets and threw them over his erect member, not wanting to face it.
Laying back down, Pickles concentrated on slowing his breathing. His heart rate seemed rather erratic. He didn't want to have to use his puffer.
His erection was still swollen, yearning for some sort of release. That familiar feeling was something not even the blankets could hide. Pickles looked over at the door, making sure no one was watching. He cringed, knowing good and well what he was about to do. Maybe I just need a good wank. Though it couldn't reverse what had just happened, it could at least relax him at the current moment.
Guiltily, his hand slipped beneath the blankets and underneath the band of his underwear, grasping his cock firmly. It twitched slightly in his strong hold. Pickles closed his eyes and began a smooth rhythm, gliding his hand up and down along his shaft. It wasn't soon until his imagination felt a soft grasp on him now. It was a small hand with smooth skin, gripping him firmly as it proceeded with the rhythm he had started before. He opened his eyes at half mast, staring down his body. Pickles could make out a girl by his legs. Her dark hair was pulled halfway back, revealing a smooth face. Beautiful hazel eyes looked up at him.
"Heys!" Toki exclaimed as he burst through the door, "Guess whats!"
Pickles yanked his hand away from between his legs and sat up straight. He grabbed all the blankets he could surrounding him, re-piling them over his erect shaft.
With wide eyes, Pickles angrily regarded the guitarist, "Dude! What the hell? It's 8 in the fucking morning!"
"Ohs, I sorry I wakes you." Toki halfheartedly said, "But guess whats?"
Toki waited a moment for Pickles to respond, but all that came was a dark glare from the drummer.
"Charles left a note sayings he has to leave for a bit. So nows we has the whole place to ourselves."
Pickles pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, "Toki. We're not little kids, we always had the run of the place. Charles doesn't always tell us what to do, you know."
Toki was still smiling, "Wells, now we can has another party and invite Layla!"
"Toki, I really don't think that's a good…" Toki had already left his room, darting down the hallway to Nathan's bedroom.
If there was a God, he was being a real dick lately. Pickles knew he couldn't avoid being dragged into some party, Layla there or not. The guys would wonder what was up with the drummer if he failed to show. Pickles wished he could just play it cool like Skwisgaar. Then he could at least enjoy her company, getting his fix by casual conversation, listening to and watching her with no fear of losing his self control.
When Toki wanted something to happen, he was usually very adamant about it. Therefore, it always happened. So at this so called party that would eventually come to pass, Pickles would just drink or get high or both until he completely blacked out. That seemed like the logical solution.
But one thing was for sure. He really needed to start shutting his door at night.
Hope you all enjoyed this next chapter! I promise good stuff is on its way ;)
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From Dreams to Reality