Drabbleklok
Part One: First Impressions
Part Two: Press Conference

Rating: PG/R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Pt 1: Nathan/Charles Pt. 2: Nathan/Charles/Skwisgaar/Pickles
Warnings: None/Implied group action.
Summary: Pt. One – If you can’t make a good impression then at least make it memorable.
Pt. Two – There are some things the world just doesn’t need to know.
Notes: Ages ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I was in Lord of the Rings fandom, I used to have something called a meadbunny rating – there are four meadbunnies in a bottle of mead, and as each one escaped, the plots got crazier. The chapter with a meadbunny rating of 12 got me hate mail. Anyway last night I learned that eight bunnies live in a bottle of almond cream sherry, and this is the result – two drabbles written in the span of a couple minutes in an IM window. Since I’m hung-over I thought it only fair to share the pain.

First Impressions.

Charles Foster Ofdensen sat at the head of the boardroom table, hands neatly folded before him, blinking large brown eyes at the six men facing him. They were important men - leading executives in the music industry. Men with the power to make or crush a band, even one as formidable as Dethklok. Charles had very much wanted to make a good impression, however... he had a funny feeling that not all was going as planned.

It may have had something to do with the fact that he was wearing glasses with one lens missing, and that somehow during the night his brown hair had been siliconned into a Mohawk. It might have had something to do with the fact that, under his grey suit jacket, he was wearing Pickles' shirt. It could also have something to do with the fact that he was wearing Murderface's shorts, Skwisgaar's boots, and someone had done corpsepaint with a child's indelible marker around his eyes. At any rate Charles was not making the impression that he had hoped to, and to top it all off he had a hangover that would kill an elephant. His mother had told him to stay away from rock stars. She never mentioned it was because he might end up having to conduct business wearing someone else’s clothes while looking like a reject from an Alice Cooper look-alike contest. Finally, after a very long uncomfortable silence, one of the men leaned forward.

"Are you QUITE all right, Mr. Ofdensen?"

Charles cleared his throat. "It... was my first New Year since... Nathan and I became a couple and... well... to quote Bob Cratchet... we were making rather merry last night."

"I see. Well. I'm not entirely certain I find your attire at all amusing, and if it were not for your reputation, Mr. Ofdensen, we would all leave. However, I am willing to overlook this insult for the time being."

Charles just smiled, and hoped to fucking god they didn't get a good look at what Nathan was currently wearing. Charles would have bet ANYTHING there was no way Nathan could have got into his grey dress slacks.

* ~ * ~ *

Press Conference.

Nathan Explosion was dead.

The grief was clear on the faces of the remaining band members standing before the massive gathering at the press conference. Pickles especially was heartbroken, and made no attempt to hide his grief, weeping openly against Toki as Charles approached the podium to make the official announcement. At Charles’ left was Murderface, looking old. His eyes were blank and distant, as if he simply could not comprehend what was happening. At his right stood Skwisgaar, looking drawn and wearied to the bone with pain. Charles cleared his throat.

"At three-fifteen this morning, Nathan Explosion was pronounced dead from a severe, indeed violent, heart attack. The arteries leading into the heart ruptured, and death was instant. He felt no pain."

A female reporter held up her hand. "Any ideas on what caused the heart attack?"

Skwisgaar leaned into the mic. "We nots reallys sure, buts we t'inks maybes was because he was fuckings me while blowings Charlie an' sniffings da cocaine off Pickle."

There were no more questions.