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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 3
Charles sighed in relief when he ripped open the envelope that had been delivered earlier that day while the band was setting up for their last concert in Norway. Inside the bumble-wrapped brown envelope were the documents he’d been waiting weeks for- a passport, adoption papers, and a new birth certificate. They had come just in time; Charles had been afraid that he wouldn’t legally be allowed to take Toki out of the country and Charles would have to either remain in Norway until the papers were processed or leave the child behind with Roadie 12 while they continued their Scandinavian tour. But here they were…
Charles found himself smiling as he looked over the adoption papers and birth certificate. Name: Toki Haakon Ofdensen. Charles had tried to select ‘Haakon’ as Toki’s first name but had quickly been vetoed by the band. Date of Birth: October 31, 1989, 00:01. Because Toki didn’t know when he was born, Pickles suggested they list his birthday as midnight on Halloween. Place of Birth: Oslo, Norway. It only seemed natural that they list the place they had found him as his place of birth. Mother…
Charles blinked and checked again, thinking his eyes were tired and playing tricks on him. They were not. Mother’s Name: Nathan Explosion. Charles looked did a quick glance through the adoption papers. Written on the copy in big bold letters was the unmistakable signature next to adoptive mother’s name. Snatching up the paper, he left the tour bus to go find the singer. He found him sitting on the edge of the stage with Toki drinking a cup of coffee as he tried to teach the boy English while the roadies set up the equipment.
“Stage,” Nathan said pointing to their current platform. “Cup. Amp. Guy. Girl…”
Charles stomped his way across the stage and interrupted the English lesson. “Nathan, just what is this?” he demanded angrily as he waved the paper in front of Nathan’s face.
“Uhhhh… it’s a piece of paper,” Nathan said with confusion. “I thought you would know that.”
“Yeah, robot. Your optischs not workin’?” Murderface teased from his position on the opposite side of the stage as he ate a sandwich and smeared huge globs of mustard into his mustache.
“Paper,” Pickles repeated as he moved to sit next to Toki on the edge of the stage. “Can you say paper, Toki? Pay-purr.”
“Pay-purr,” Toki obediently repeated and earned a hair ruffle from a very pleased drummer.
“I’m talking about what’s on the paper,” Charles hissed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Uhhhhh… no?”
“You signed your name on Toki’s adoption papers!”
“Oh? Yeah… there was a blank spot and I wanted to make sure it was all filled out. Umm… how is that bad?”
“You signed your name as the mother, Nathan. Toki is now legally your son as well and to make matters worse the adoption is going to make people…” Charles’ rant was broken by the beeping of his cell phone. Pulling it out, Charles saw it was Crystal Mountains Records’ main office calling him. “Hello, Charles Ofdensen speaking.”
“Charles, it’s Roy Cornickelson.”
“Uh, yes Roy. How may I help you?”
“Have you watched the Dethklok minute today?”
“No, I thought that only comes on at eleven o’clock in the evening in the States?”
“Yes, it came on just a little while ago and the footage was just brought to my attention. Is it true that you’ve adopted a Norwegian child with your lead singer?”
“It would appear so. However,…”
“What exactly is your relationship with Nathan Explosion?”
Charles felt heat rise to his cheeks. He knew this would happen if anyone found out before they corrected the adoption papers. This was going to be a very delicate situation seeing as Charles had no idea what Roy’s stance on homosexuality was. “Well…” he struggled to come up with a way to put this delicately. If he denied it and Charles’ sexuality was ever exposed to the media, he could be seen as a liar.
“Charles, I’m not asking as the leader of your record label, I am asking as a friend. If you are, I don’t think it is a wise decision. Over the years, I’ve noticed a lot of musicians tend to sleep around. While you might allow that kind of thing, it doesn’t allow for a stable relationship or a stable home down the…”
Charles imagined he was flame red right now. It was like getting a sex talk from his father. “Roy, I’m not in a relationship with Nathan,” he cut the executive off. “There was a mix up with paper work when I filed to adopt a homeless boy the band is fond of.”
There was silence on the other line for the space of several seconds before Roy recovered. “You adopted a child because Dethklok liked him? You do realize this is not a goldfish…”
“Yes,” Charles sighed. He was highly aware of that fact.
“Well… in that case… I’ll arrange a press conference concerning the matter soon.”
Charles was very relieved. That was one thing he could scratch off his to do list. “Thank you, Roy.”
“You’re welcome, Charles. Tell the boys I wished them good luck with the concert tonight.”
“Will do. Good night.”
“Good night.” Charles hung up the phone and turned back to the boys. Murderface was laughing uncontrollably on his end of the stage, his forgotten sandwich smeared all over his clothes; Pickles was blinking rapidly in confusion; and Nathan’s mouth was open in astonishment.
“Dude…” Pickles finally said. “You two are toge’her?”
“WHAT!” Nathan shouted. “NO!”
“It’s okay if you’re gay. There’s nothin’ wrong with it.”
“I’m not gay,” Nathan growled.
“Dude, you can admit it. I won’t treat ya any diff’rent.”
“Juscht schtay away from me. I don’t wanna catch it.”
“You can’t catch gay, Murderface.”
“But that’s what the guy on T.V. said.”
“Pfft, ams Republicans and religious dildos not knowings what they’s talkings abouts,” Skwisgaar voiced as he magically appeared from somewhere trailed by Hammersmith.
“Have you been listening this entire time?” Charles inquired.
Skwisgaar shrugged his shoulders and feigned a look of innocence and ignorance. “Maybes.”
“I AM NOT GAY!” Nathan repeated, his shouting finally frightening the confused child to his right enough that Toki was running to Charles’ arms.
Charles sighed as he wrapped his arms around the trembling boy and pet his fine, silky hair. “Shhh, it’s alright. Er det ok.” Once Toki began to relax, Charles turned back to Nathan and replied, “Yes, Nathan, I know you’re not gay. However, by you signing your name next to mine on the adoption papers without properly reading them, you have created a misunderstanding in the media. Now we need to hold a press conference to do damage control and re-file Toki’s adoption papers. Perhaps this will teach you not to sign something without fully understand it.”
“But Nathans makes such a prettys moms for Tokis,” Skwisgaar argued with a snicker.
“That may be,” Charles agreed just to torture the man who had caused all this mess, “but we need to get this straightened out with the public before this begins to affect our bottom line.”
“W’at do ya mean?” Pickles asked, blinking his eyes again. Charles suddenly realized he must have done cocaine earlier that day for his eyes to be so dilated.
“I mean that it could start to affect the band’s record and concert sales.”
“Why? Just because yous and Nathans ams gays?” Skwisgaar asked. When Charles nodded, Skwisgaar flipped, “That’s dildos. Why’s it peoples busy-eye-ness whats you dos in bedrooms?”
“It’s not but this is one of the drawbacks to being famous; some people like Murderface have a problem with it and will refuse to buy your records,” Charles explained as he tried to untangle himself from Toki’s arms, only to give up after a few seconds. This boy was definitely desperate for affection. It was obvious Toki was in need in counseling but they were leaving Norway a few hours after the concert so they would probably have to wait for Toki to learn more English to find a psychiatrist or employ a translator for the sessions. That is, if the boys allowed a psychiatrist near the kid.
“Hey, I just had a thought. If Nathan ain’t Toki’s Mam no more, who is?”
“I volunteers Murderface,” Skwisgaar replied with a straight face. Hammersmith was laughing silently beside him.
“What, no way! F(guitar rift) you, Skwisgaar,” Nathan piped up, an odd expression on his face.
“Toki needs a Mommas and Papas.”
“No, he does not,” Charles countered. “He has you boys and me to care for him.”
“ ‘Sides it’s not like our mams have done us any good,” Pickles grumbled. “I know my mam hasn’t. Murderface’s mam’s dead, Hammersmith’s mam attacked me once with a knife, Nathan’s mam never really acknowledged him until he was ten, and yours only taught you sexual sex positions.”
“Was val…val-you-ables informaskins,” Skwisgaar defended.
That information explained so much that Charles really had no desire to find out. He decided to change the topic, “Alright boys, enough standing around. We have a stage to set up and a concert to prepare for.”
/ / / / / / / (o. }=>
The rest of the day had been uneventful. The stage had been set up, the marks laid out, the equipment sound-checked. It was when the last warming rays of sunlight were leaving the earth, fifteen minutes before the band was to go on, when Charles received another phone call from Crystal Mountain Records. “Hello, Charles Ofdensen speaking.”
“Hi, Charles, it’s Roy again.”
“Hello, Roy. What can I do for you?” Charles immediately saw Nathan, Pickles and Magnus become interested from their spots near Toki where they had been applying the ritual concert paint onto the excited boy in their boredom. Great, Charles was sure the boy would find a way to get some of the make-up on his suit before the end of the night.
“I’ve scheduled the press conference for after tonight’s show. I figured it was best to get the situation under control as soon as possible.”
Charles swallowed. That didn’t sound good and Charles wondered how full the concert was going to be that night. “I take it the band’s profit has been badly affected in the last few hours.”
“Stupids, dildos fans,” Skwisgaar commented as his fingers flew over the latest song in a blurred frenzy.
“It’s a little too soon to tell, but Dethklok’s popularity does not appear to have been affected by the newscast yet. I just do not want to take a chance by waiting to see the outcome of the report.”
“I understand, however, I’m not sure the boys are ready for a press conference right now.” In the past, the preparation for any press conference took several days of sobering and careful instruction and even then did Charles almost find himself lapsing into the old habit of biting his fingernails off.
“Charles, we need to get this situation dealt with as fast as possible.”
Charles sighed. “Very well. Thank you, Roy.” After Roy again wished him luck with the concert, he looked at the boys. Five empty cans of beer were left forgotten near Magnus’s chair and even more around Pickles and Nathan. Skwisgaar and Murderface had been smoking pot and the forgotten joints were left smoldering in a nearby crystal ashtray. It wasn’t as bad as some earlier concerts, but Charles would have to make sure the boys had plenty of water to flush the booze out of their system. Charles was extremely glad there was no cocaine or meth this time.
“Alright boys, the record label has set up a press conference after the show.”
“W’at for?” Pickles whined as he reached up to scratch his dreads.
“Well, it’s to clarify Toki’s adoption and my relationship with Nathan.” Charles could hear the song of the opening band start up in the distance. Ten minutes ‘til showtime.
“Oh, scho you homosch are finally comin’ out of the closchet?”
“Good for yous, makings honest mans of Charles,” Skwisgaar commented before taking a drink of the ice water he had sitting to his left.
“No, boys, we discussed this earlier today,” Charles replied, cutting off any protest Nathan was going to give. “Nathan and I are not, I repeat, NOT in a relationship and Toki’s adoption papers are going to be re-filed.”
“But what if I don’t want them to be re-filed?” Nathan asked as his large, manicured hands pulled Toki’s long hair back into a neat, low ponytail with a purple hair-tie.
Charles was taken back. “What do you mean you don’t want the papers to be re-filed?!” He was beyond frustrated now. He would not be surprised if the stress gave him a heart attack in the next five minutes.
“I kinda, uh, like the idea of Toki being my son. The little goof-ball has kinda grown on me.”
Charles restrained himself from bashing his own head into the nearest wall in frustration. Taking a deep breath, Charles managed to say as kindly as possible, “Nathan, while I understand that you care a great deal for Toki, this matter is serious. Toki is not a goldfish. If something should happen to me, you would be responsible for Toki’s well being- his schooling, his food, his health, the roof over his head and any other duties that come with raising a child. Do you really think you would be able to put someone else before yourself and care for them for the rest of your life.”
“Uhhhhhh,” Nathan stammered. “Yeah.”
Whatever Charles was going to say next was broken by a roadie announcing the five minute warning. There were the typical grumbles of lazy and tired musicians as they left the trailer and the situation was completely forgotten in the bands’ minds.
The next few hours of the concert, Charles could not allow himself to relax and enjoy the sheer power of the music. His stomach was in knots as he stood off to the side and watched the press quietly accumulate back stage and roadies set up chairs and microphones. A sudden flash of light came from his left and he belatedly realized one member of the press had spotted him and taken a picture. There was another movement and Charles noticed his new son had come to find him in a sleepy daze. Charles could not decide which was worse- five grown men who acted like teenagers or a teenager who acted like a clingy toddler.
The teenager held out his arms as though begging to be picked up without a word. This worked on Nathan and Magnus, but Charles knew his back would not be able to handle the extra hundred pounds. Charles shook him head no and pointed to a nearby cushioned chair, hoping the boy could curl up there on his own. When Toki didn’t move, Charles sighed and sat down in the chair and motioned for the boy to join him. Toki curled up on his lap, his face resting on Charles’ shoulder and smearing the inevitable white face paint on his dark suit. More flashes went off and Charles did his best to ignore them.
As he heard the final cords of the final song ring out, his upset stomach was threatening to rebel on him. He’d never before been this anxious over a press conference before and Charles casually wondered if he was more nervous because he was afraid of what the boys would do when they hadn’t been properly prepared or because the press was here to discuss his own personal life.
The final note echoed its farewell and Pickles voice suddenly sounded out, “Good night Trondheim!” There was thunderous applause and the sound of heavy boots shuffling on stage before the boys began to file backstage. Magnus was the first one down. His eyes roamed the scene amassing before them- the sea of reporters with microphones, cameras and notepads at the ready. He turned to Charles and croaked out, “Where?”
Charles had forgotten that Magnus could speak when he needed to. “Just pick a seat at the large table at the front. I will join you in a second but I have to get the teenager off my lap first.”
Without being asked to, Magnus leaned down and scooped the small Norwegian into his arms as though Toki actually was a toddler and took a seat at the far left of the large table, ignoring the onslaught of light bulbs. Well, there went Dethklok’s reputation as unfeeling metal gods. Charles got out of the chair and took a seat in the middle. Skwisgaar was the second one backstage, most of his stage make-up already wiped off. He towered over the crowd and glaring at them over his long, slim nose before going over to sit by Magnus. He leaned back in the cushioned chair and looked the very image of bored.
Nathan was next, his stage make-up still on but smeared from a night of screaming and head-banging under hot stage lights. When he took a seat between Charles and Skwisgaar, Charles could see the patches of sweat on his clothes. He was immediately followed by Pickles, who took the empty seat next to Nathan and stage-whispered, “Murderface ain’t comin’. He said he had somethin’ better to do.”
“Does thats means I cans goes toos?”
“No,” Nathan answered with a glare at Skwisgaar before turning back to the crowd. “Let’s just get this stupid thing out of the way… What’s this about again?” Charles barely restrained himself from smacking himself in the forehead in frustration at the lack of attention span.
“Toki,” Pickles piped up.
“Oh, yeah…” Nathan suddenly stood up to address the crowd. “What the f(guitar rift) do you people want to know?”
The crowd was dead silent, blinking owlishly at the great hulking figure of the lead singer at his full height. It was several minutes before a brave female reporter stood up. “Mister Explosion, we are here to find out the nature of your relationship with your band manager, Charles Foster Ofdensen.”
“Dude, your middle name is ‘Foster’?” Pickles exclaimed. “That sucks and I thought my middle name was bad.”
Skwisgaar suddenly became very interested. “What ams it?”
“Dude, I ain’t sayin’.”
“Sir, your relationship?” the reporter reminded Nathan.
“Uhhh… we’re friends.”
“Then why would you adopt a child together?” came the drawl of an older southern reporter who was gazing between Charles and Nathan with suspicion and distaste.
“Because,” came the simple answer.
“That is not an explanation, Mr. Explosion,” came a bark from the very back of the crowd.
“Why the hell nat?” Pickles asked. “If Nathan and Charles see a kid and want to give it a home, that should be enough for you people.”
“Yeah, you peoples am too ins theirs busy-eye-ness,” Skwisgaar seconded. “What Nathans and the managers do in bedrooms ams only their concern.” Why, oh, why couldn’t the Swede just keep his big-lipped mouth shut?
“Mr. Skwigelf, is it true that the child the two have adopted is biologically yours?” came the question from the same coward in the back.
“Where ams yous gettings that ideas?” Skwisgaar demanded, casting a side look at Toki. “The kid has no resemblances to mes. He looks more like managers with long, lighter hair and blue eyes.”
“Hey, you’re right, he kinda does,” Nathan voiced. Charles shuddered as the tiny gears in the singer’s head suddenly began moving. “Didn’t you used to live in the area where we found him? Could he really be your kid?”
“No,” Charles answered. “That would be impossible.”
“So you didn’t have sex at all in Oslo? Dude, no wonder you left.”
Charles didn’t answer Pickles’ question so he would not have to lie to the boys, preferring to change the topic before the truth about his sexuality was revealed. “Next question?”
“Have you ever had sex?” Nathan asked.
Charles fixed Nathan with a glare. “I meant if there were any more questions for you.”
“Dude, are you a virgin?”
Charles clearly saw there was no way out of his boys questioning. “No, Pickles, I am not a virgin; I lost my virginity at eighteen. I did have sex in Oslo when I lived there, however there were condoms involved. May we move on?”
“Pfft, condom. I always breaks thems when I cums.”
“Thank you for that image, Skwisgaar. Can we move on now?”
“You ams so sures you nots Toki’s reals Papa?”
“Yes, Skwisgaar. There would be no physical way for the person I had sex with to conceive a child.”
“Mr. Ofdensen, are you gay?” came the question from beside the first female reporter.
Charles attempted to masterfully evade the question, “I am not in a sexual or romantic relationship with any band member.” He was unprepared for the rare moment of deduction in Nathan’s head.
“Oh man, you’re actually gay.”
Charles did not deny it, simply pretended to ignore Nathan’s statement and inquired, “Any other questions?” He ignored the stares of the boys at his head. If he did not deny or confirm it, perhaps the issue would go away.
/ / / / / / / (o. }=>
The crowd was silent for several minutes, trying to process the intensive questioning in their minds. There was no clear answer. Then there were more general questions regarding Toki such as how old he was and if he had any health problems. Several female reports gushed that he was adorable and one offered the sleeping boy a teddy bear. Pickles took it and would later sew a demon tail on it to make it more ‘metal’. Toki, of course, adored the new toy.
The papers would later say Charles had made no comment on his sexuality other than he was no sleeping with his band. There were a few jokes on comedy talk shows about what he and Nathan would have looked like in bed and how he probably wouldn’t have been able to sit down at the conference if they were having sex. Charles occasionally got a few threatening letters from people who thought homosexuality was a sin, but he ignored them. Despite Skwisgaar’s assumption that Toki was his biological child, Charles never took a DNA test.
The next two years were fairly uneventful; the only unusual occurrence was the alarming amount of death at concerts as Dethklok’s popularity continued to climb at an alarming rate. Toki’s English vocabulary had grown in outstanding leaps and he began to gradually grow more confident and talked more but he still remained the band’s baby/ pet.
Charles never noticed the tension beginning to build between Magnus and Pickles until one concert when the band was attacked and Magnus took a knife to his left eye for the redhead. Charles hired more security and bodyguards that became known as klokateers but Magnus began to develop control issues. The rhythm guitarist soon had to have his hand in everything and every song. Charles recognized the actions as that of a man terrified of another attack happening and tried to get him to seek counseling. Hammersmith refused and, months later, was thrown out of the band.
Toki cried for weeks at the loss of his silent friend as the band searched for a new guitarist. After three disappointments, the band later discovered they already had the perfect replacement in Toki when they found him in the studio playing Hammersmith’s lines on one of his old guitars.
To be continued…
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Frost Blue Eyes