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Parabola	By : Ennead Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1106 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, nor do I make any money off of any of the fan works I create of its characters.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Charles looked down at Nathan, who seemed quite content to lie on the ground. Waiting for him... he couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his mouth, feeling rather pleasantly surprised. Nathan saw this, and it made the hours of waiting on the floor entirely worth it; though his lower back would disagree.
"Where you going?" he asked, putting his arms behind his head and getting comfortable. "Kinda late."
"I was going to check on you and the others, to make sure you weren't breaking anything. I do have to do that periodically."
"I didn't break anything."
"I trust you," Charles said, surprised to find it was true. Nathan had often been the one who ended up destroying furniture and other objects around the house, but it was quite clear where the singer had been this whole time... that was, in the hallway. Waiting for him. Waiting for Charles...
He was struck by how... sweet it was. There wasn't any other word for it.
"Well, I should still go and make sure the other boys are behaving. Would you like to come?"
Nathan sat up and turned, sitting cross-legged in the doorway now. "No."
"Er-"
"They're fine. I don't hear any screaming. Stop worrying."
"I really should," Charles argued, trying to step around Nathan. The frontman blocked him, standing up and effectively filling the doorframe. There wasn't any way to get past him when he did that; it was a convenience of size.
"I waited in this hallway for like. Three hours. To stop you from working."
"I wasn't even working then."
"But you're trying to now. Cut it out."
Charles crossed his arms and looked up at Nathan with a falsely stern expression. The singer filled the doorway, leaning on one arm casually and looking down at him in a very stubborn way. Charles liked how at-ease he looked that way, so large and yet not awkward at all. There was something about the way his t-shirt fit his broad chest that drew the eye, especially when he was so close... ah. He was, actually, very close...
He realized immediately what was happening, and shook his head lightly to clear it. That wasn't allowed. He'd spent hours that night explaining to himself why it wasn't allowed.
"Very well, if you won't let me leave I suppose I can't. Would you like to come out of the doorway?"
"Sure." But he didn't move, looking down at Charles with a frustratingly unreadable expression. His eyes were intense but calm, and made it hard for Charles to really think about going anywhere at all. Why did he have to be so captivating?
He seemed to be waiting for the smaller man to walk away, but Charles did no such thing. Torn between two different thoughts, he reached up and placed his hand carefully on Nathan's chest, palm flat. It was the lightest of touches, but it made Nathan's breathing falter for a moment when it happened.
What the fuck was going on?
Charles looked at him very strangely for a moment, their gazes locking. Nathan's eyes were wide, and he easily stepped backwards when the hand on his chest pressed ever so slightly, almost stumbling. It really wasn't a push at all, but he felt tethered to the hand and had to move when it did. He was powerless against it, against that gentle pressure.
Before he had time to figure out what had happened, the door closed.
"Hey!"
"I'll be back in a minute," Charles said through the locked door, and Nathan scowled at it as though he could be seen through the wood. His heart was hammering in his chest, hands shaking, eyes still opened wide in confusion. One question pulsed angrily in his mind:
What the hell had just happened to him?
In his bedroom, Charles was wondering more or less the same thing about himself. He tugged on his pants and one of his many white shirts, omitting the jacket and tie, as he thought about it. What he'd intended to do was try to push Nathan out of the doorway, so he could go get dressed. But once his hand had touched the other man, felt how warm and solid he was, it had been very difficult to control what happened next. So many things had raced through his mind in such disarray that he hardly recognized his own brain at the time. He'd wanted so badly to lean up, to brace himself against Nathan's chest with that hand and kiss him. It had come out of nowhere, and almost overwhelmed him; the intensity was frightening.
Could he not even touch Nathan, now, without nearly losing control over himself?
He finished buttoning up the shirt, though ignoring the top few buttons, and went out into his office again. Charles took a few deep, slow breaths. He couldn't just ignore him, or leave him in the hall; he'd promised to come back. The whole point of leaving had been to become presentable. He didn't need to be presentable if he was hiding in his office... so he had to leave.
Oh, but Nathan was still out there, still waiting, and still so appealing in every way...
He would just have to bear it.
The door swung open and Nathan looked over at it from his position against the wall, trying and failing to appear as if he had not been waiting attentively for his return. Charles emerged, looking as casual as he could on his own, and gave him a friendly look. Something in Nathan demanded that he take Charles' hand or put an arm around him, but he did neither. He wasn't ready to be disappointed just yet.
"I'm yours for the night," Charles said, mentally cursing himself for the poor phrasing; he had not intended it to sound that way. "What did you want to do, to stop me from working?"
Nathan noticed the slip easily, though didn't see it for what it was, and grit his teeth as a very bad response rose in the back of his mind. "I dunno, but I'm hungry. And you can't check on the guys, because that's work."
"They could all be drowning in the hot tub as we speak."
Nathan shrugged. "If they drown in a hot tub they fucking deserve to die. Nobody drowns in a hot tub."
"Actually-" Charles was cut off as Nathan raised a hand.
"No. Whatever you're gonna say is based on facts and that means I consider it work. C'mon, let's go somewhere."
Shaking his head, Charles walked alongside Nathan down the hall. He'd just have to get used to this; periodically he would just not be permitted to think or work or function in any way. Fine, that was acceptable. He could deal with that, without snapping and doing something both he and Nathan would deeply regret moments later. He could spend large quantities of time around Nathan without going insane, of course he could.
Probably.
"I can totally hear you thinking," Nathan commented, making Charles jump and then silently praise the fact that the other man could NOT hear what he was thinking - or see it, either, since it was frequently illustrated. "Cut that shit out."
It was a hypocritical command, since Nathan himself had done nothing but think since before Charles had emerged in proper clothes. He'd felt completely overpowered by something that barely constituted contact, and it had honestly shaken him. Coming to terms with what he felt for Charles had been interesting, but he realized he had underestimated what the man could do to him with simple gestures. It had been a moment for him where he'd hoped... but no. What he had hoped for, then, would never happen. He knew that.
"Wanna get some food?"
"I had a sandwich earlier, but I could certainly eat again," Charles replied. "Did you have something in mind?"
"Burgers and fries. It's a delicacy in my country. You've probably never heard of it."
The tone to Nathan's voice made Charles sincerely want to stick his tongue out at him, but he resisted. "Sounds good."
On the way past the main room, Charles did peer over at the hot tub to see if the boys were in it. They were not, and Nathan caught him trying to look for them before they came to the hallway leading to the garage. He gave Charles a light shove. "Thought I wouldn't notice?"
"I had to try. It's what I do."
"Do you really check on us at night?" Nathan asked, having not really thought about it until then. "Like, on all of us? In bed and stuff?"
Charles nodded. "Repeatedly throughout the night. You boys have no actual sleep schedule that you adhere to and I have to keep an eye on you. I have cameras, but not in the bedrooms, so I just walk around the house and make sure you're all alive."
"That's... really creepy. And kinda cool." He looked at the manager gently. "We'd probably die without you around."
"Well, I'm not going anywhere."
They walked in comfortable silence after that, Nathan considering how terrible it would be if something actually did happen to Charles. It was a dangerous job to even exist near Dethklok, and he was their fucking manager. Someone could easily target him, though Nathan was unsure how easy doing anything past that point would be. Charles seemed very organized about their security. Surely that extended onto himself... right?
"What do you have protecting yourself?"
"Hmm?"
Nathan gestured with one hand. "Yknow. You have all this shit to keep us safe. What's keeping you safe if we get attacked by some crazy fucking extremists or monsters or something?"
"Well," Charles began, wanting to rule out 'monsters' as being unrealistic but recalling the Mustakrakish incident very clearly, "The basic defences of Mordhaus are quite extensive."
"That's it?"
"It's enough."
Dismayed, Nathan fell silent again. He'd hoped there would be more than a house and some guys in hoods between Dethklok's enemies - though he wasn't sure who exactly their enemies were, only that they existed - and his little manager. Charles could take care of himself, but... still. It wasn't very encouraging.
They picked one of the many black cars housed in Dethklok's massive garage, Nathan uncaring as to what it was or when they'd acquired it. He set off for Dimmu Burger with a growing emptiness in both his stomach and his chest, trying to pay more attention to the road than to Charles. He was doing poorly at that, but managed not to get them killed.
It was just something about his profile, Nathan decided. He could see the way Charles' throat curved into his open collar, and it was distracting him greatly. Ideas of what he could do to that throat were already creeping through his mind; he wanted to feel the soft skin there, and taste it, and hear the sounds that he liked to think Charles might make while he did that. It was just a neck, it was something you could see at least part of all the time even when he wore suits, but he could not stop thinking about it. He wondered about the way it sloped down into the rest of his body, and thought about what was under that shirt. It wasn't intentional, he just couldn't help himself.
"We're going very fast," Charles pointed out, jolting Nathan from his unnecessary daydreams. Oh fuck me, he thought, we're going really fast. Time to slow down and focus on driving, we're almost there. Get ahold of yourself, Nathan. Christ.
Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Don't look at him. Almost there. Almost there. Almost...
Nathan peered sideways at Charles, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Focus. Don't think about it. He looked away, and missed the moment later when Charles looked back in much the same way that he had. Neither had seen the other looking, but they were both thinking more or less along the same lines.
"Right," Nathan said, breaking the silence. "Food, awesome."
Charles frowned and looked out the window. "Oh, we're here."
Truthfully, he hadn't been paying attention. Even as he'd been gazing out of the windshield, he wasn't actually looking at the things around them. His mind had been a million miles away, sneaking a peek at what he'd told himself he'd ignore. It was so difficult to control that it frustrated him; normally, self-control was easily obtained. Not so much anymore. Damn.
Nathan sat there, despite having parked, and clenched the wheel bitterly. He wanted to grab Charles and just... it didn't matter, really, all he wanted was to touch him. He wanted contact, contact of any kind, and it was driving his mind away. It had been so easy for him to relax and open up to Charles before, and now that he was consumed with what he wanted it was as difficult as speaking to a stranger at times. He had to let go of the nervousness... just show him you care, Nathan thought, remembering what Pickles had told him. Fuck, but he cared too much, in the wrong way, and he just wanted to... to...
"Fuck, this is driving me nuts!" Nathan exclaimed with a pound to the steering wheel, not realizing he was speaking aloud.
"I... What?" Charles asked, confused and a little worried. Had he been doing something? Was Nathan tired of his company already, that it was annoying him that much?
Hastily, Nathan shook his head. Charles was very obviously connecting his outburst to his own presence - it was plain on his face, though most of his emotions usually weren't - and that meant... no, he hadn't intended to make him think that! He put on his most relaxed grin, trying to be reassuring but not really knowing how to do it. "I'm just really fucking hungry. Let's go, uh. Get some food. Like, now."
The wounded look vanished. "Sounds good."
Charles sighed internally. He'd thought maybe Nathan was sick of him, already. It seemed pretty plausible; spending any amount of time around someone like himself would probably make anyone lose their patience. He just wasn't very much fun. But no, surely Nathan would just tell him if that was the case. This was, after all, Nathan. He was honest, if anything.
They exited the car, Charles still half concentrating on stressful thoughts. Nathan could see his face tensing up a little, giving him the blank look he carried during work hours, and frowned.
"I told you, no working. I can tell. Your face gets all serious. Stop it."
He far preferred it when Charles was smiling, but preferred not to have to get him drunk to see that. It would happen if he needed it to, but the best case scenario was getting Charles to be happy without the help of alcohol.
Though, Nathan reflected, it might not be long before he'd need that to function, himself. He needed a distraction, and badly.
He took hold of the door handle and yanked, surprised when it resisted. A closer look told him the store had closed an hour earlier - who knew it was so late? - and that they would be forced to use the drive-through. Which in turn meant...
"We'll just have to go back with the food then," Nathan decided aloud, speaking to himself as much as to Charles. "Okay. Cool. Back to the car."
Back in the confined space with that delicious-smelling manager and his beautiful neck. Great. Charles frowned, peering around him to see the 'closed' sign. "Oh, I see. All right then."
Nathan stopped short of the vehicle, then turned to Charles and instructed him to stay right where he was. "What did you want to eat?"
"I'd be happy with just some fries. I did eat earlier but I could deal with something light. Why?"
"Like I said. Just, uh. Stay here."
He was gone, walking off around the drive-through side of the building with that unusual determination Nathan got when he had an idea. There was no way to talk him out of whatever he was up to, and Charles knew that better than anyone, he was sure. So he just sat on the hood of the locked car, pondering the singer and enjoying the air.
Five minutes passed, and Nathan returned with a large bag of food and a raised eyebrow. "They didn't want to serve me because I'm not a car."
"Well, you're not a car. They have a point."
"Fuck them, I'm big enough to use the drive-through lane without a car. Anyway, I got the food."
Nathan joined Charles on the hood of the car, which groaned slightly in protest, and opened the grease-stained bag. Typically Charles would object to fast food, but with the contents of his previous meal he was really in no position to complain about it. He took a cardboard container of steaming fries out and balanced it in his lap, eating one contentedly. He had to admit, as cheap and terrible as the food was, there was a certain quality to eating oversalted fries that was.... comfortably normal. He couldn't even recall the last time he had eaten fast food.
"So are we just going to sit on the car? Not that I mind."
"Yeah. I figure why not. It's kinda nice. Outside," Nathan said, shrugging.
"Yes, it is."
With the illusion of being sneaky, which he was not, Nathan glanced sideways at the man next to him. Charles looked at ease, but also very unusual. Seeing him doing things like a normal jackoff, eating regular food and just sitting around, was pretty strange. Even being out of the suit was a change. These were all welcome things, though, and Nathan was enjoying seeing them happen. It reminded him that Charles was just another normal man under all of his training and conditioning and unhappiness, and normal people did normal things. Normal things like hanging out, and eating fries, and having fun, and being in relationships.
He grit his teeth. There was that grain of hopefulness again. It kept cropping up, making him feel like he had a shot when he knew damn well he didn't. Charles may look like a normal guy now, he thought, but I know he's not one. He's special, and I'm just not good enough for him.
Remember that, he told himself. Don't forget it. Don't get your hopes up... again.
Charles munched on his fries quietly, and decided for the hundredth time not to kiss Nathan.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Parabola