Wassail!

Rating: R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles
Warnings: None
Summary: Toki and Skwisgaar decide Offdensen needs to enjoy life more, and Offdensen learns the difference between intelligence and cunning.
Notes: I included my recipe for Wassail and baked apples at the end of this ficlet. Sort of my Christmas offering. Hope it makes your Christmas MUCH more warm and fuzzy! Or at least warm and blurry.

To quote the late great Roseanne Roseannadanna; “It’s always something!”

The current ‘something’ was an unsigned contract. Offdensen had learned ages ago that if something was deemed ‘dildos’ by his boys, then getting them to move on the issue was not unlike getting an elephant to jump off a cliff; while theoretically possible, it was highly unlikely and would take a great deal of persuasion to achieve. Offdensen wanted them to agree to this contract, but it was a matter of catching them at the right moment, which was never easy. Someone was always tired/hungry/cranky/piss-drunk/glued to a wall or just plain stubborn.

“I’m forever chasing brats with a piece of paper in my hand,” he muttered. “I feel like a preschool teacher for developmentally delayed alien toddlers.”

He loved his boys, he truly did. He had a level of affection for these five idiots that he frankly didn’t hold for anyone else. Affection was not Offdensen’s strong point. Emotions made a person soft, vulnerable. He didn’t like being vulnerable. It was not his job to coddle these twits; it was to ensure their continued success and keep them safe. Not that keeping them safe was a simple job, not when there were gun-toting assassins looking to pick them off first chance they got. And then there was good ol ‘DethStooopid’ themselves. He’d personally seen Nathan get a laser pointer stuck up his nose, and just the other day Toki required sedation after happening across a roadie with his hood off. There had been instant hysterics because Toki “didn’ts know da heads come off.”

The worse part was Offdensen was absolutely certain the ‘stooopid’ was contagious; Pickles used to be relatively sane, but the longer he stuck around, the dumber he got. Offdensen knew it was just a matter of time before he also was wandering around in his underwear with a laser pointer up his nose. He was resigned to his fate. The dumb was bound to infect him as well some day. In fact just last week he caught himself speaking to a business associate with a Swedish accent sprinkled with a little Wisconsin just to make it interesting. But… he loved his boys. Of course that didn’t mean he did not occasionally find himself filled with an overwhelming desire to bitch-slap all five of them across the face at the same time a la Larry, Curly and Moe. If he didn’t honestly and deeply care for these guys, no amount of money would convince him to stay.

Now, where were the little darlings?

Probably drowning each other in the toilet…

Let’s see… cold winter day in a chilly castle… piss drunk in the hot tub was a safe bet. Of course it would be a safe bet if it was a heat wave in the dead of August.

Offdensen peered into the hot tub room, and found Toki and Skwisgaar chest deep in water, and, as he suspected, piss drunk. And not just drunk but gooned. Not pleasantly tipsy, not a little inebriated, but somewhere between Jim Morrison and Passed Out. And it was a mellow drunk, too. They were nearly boneless, which was a little worrying. They could drown like that. Offdensen could see the headlines now. “TOKI AND SKWISGAAR FOUND DROWNED PISS-DRUNK BUTT-NEKKID IN HOT TUB.”

Offdensen always wondered what he would say in the event that his boys died unexpectedly. The media could be vicious to celebrities, but really, how did anyone explain the stuff that went on around Mordhaus on a daily basis to an outsider? He just knew that one day he was going to find himself dressing a bleeding corpse while roadies herded twenty-one monkeys out a window and Jean-Pierre tried to explain to a jaded CSI detective how it was all the teddy bear’s fault.

“Are you boys all right?” he asked.

“Ja we’s good,” said Toki. Skwisgaar just smiled.

“You certainly seem relaxed.” Offdensen stepped into the room and became aware of a scent; a wonderful enticing fragrance, like warm apples and cinnamon. He was used to entering this room and smelling things, all right, but it was seldom a pleasant smell. Forcing himself to disregard the fragrance, he opened his mouth to speak, but Toki interrupted him.

“Aw you is gots dat contract again!”

“Toki, this is important,” said Offdensen patiently. “If you don’t agree to do the benefit concert, then the levies that protect the town just outside Mordland could break. They need our help.”

“What’s we care ifs some dildos town is washed away?” said Skwisgaar.

“Because we are directly in the path the water will take after it wipes out the town.”

“In path?”

“Directly in path, yes.”

“We is gets flooded?”

“We will be under water.”

“Under?”

“Under.”

“Oh dat’s nots good,” said Toki.

Skwisgaar sighed. “I is hates benefits concerts. All dat’s behaving ands looking likes we is caring what’s happen.”

“I care,” said Toki.

“So you’ll sign?” Offdensen dared to hope.

“Ja we is sign, sure,” muttered Skwisgaar.

Victory! The first elephant had leapt! Now to get the rest of the herd to follow.

“Good. I’m glad you boys are doing this. Now I’ll get to work on…”

“Aw you is workings too hards all da times,” said Toki. “When’s you evers takes time off?”

Offdensen’s face actually showed surprise. He didn’t think he was capable of being surprised anymore. But to hear Toki voice concern for his workload was… well… sweet.

So why did he immediately suspect he and Skwisgaar were up to something?

“I take time off,” said Offdensen.

“No yous don’t.”

“I do. I took time off just last week.”

“Ja to goes to some dildos meetings ats da record label!”

“I happen to enjoy those.”

“Why not sits and has a drink wit’ us?”

That was a very tempting offer. He didn’t know exactly what it was in which they were indulging, but the smell was divine. Tempting, but… no.

“Toki I’ve got a lot to do.”

Toki got that ‘whipped puppy’ look that usually made Nathan crumble like badly rusted iron. “Aw… well… okays. Is just sads you is nevers has any fun and you is havings to wear dat suit all the time.”

“I like wearing suits.”

Skwisgaar snorted. “You was da nerdy kid wit’ da pocket protector dat de other kids was beatings ups after school, ja?”

Offdensen narrowed his eyes. “That is completely irrelevant!”

“Just one drink,” said Toki. “Please?”

Offdensen felt the hair go up on the back of his neck. Oh they were up to something, all right, but what? He doubted very much that it was anything earth-shaking; probably some plan to pour a couple drinks into him in the hopes he would agree to some hare-brained idea they had. Oh what the heck. Why not?

“All right. One drink.”

Toki seemed pleased. Skwisgaar ladled some of the strange brew into a mug and handed it to Offdensen as he seated himself beside the hot tub. He breathed in the warm fragrance.

“Smells wonderful. What is it?”

“Wassail!” said Skwisgaar. “Me an’ Toki mades it.”

Oh joy. Offdensen gave it a quick examination for anything that looked like herring. He knew herring was supposedly a traditional Scandinavian, dish but the way Toki and Skwisgaar shovelled it back bordered on parody. Offdensen suspected that part of the reason was that they did truly enjoy eating it. However the main reason for the depletion of the world’s herring supply by these two probably had far more to do with the way it made Murderface gag.

Seeing nothing frightening, Offdensen took a sip. The wassail was hot and sweet and slightly thick, roughly the same colour as coffee with cream in it, and it burned all the way down, hitting his stomach and exploding. Almost immediately he felt it in his head.

“What is in this?” he asked.

“Oh, you know,” said Toki lazily. “Water, sugar, spices…”

“Raw eggs,” said Skwisgaar.

“Ja raw eggs, an… four bottles of sherry.”

“An’ t’ree cups brandy,” said Skwisgaar. “An’ bakesd apples.”

“An’ while you drinks da wassail you eats da apples,” said Toki.

Offdensen peered into the large metal bowl, which was warming gently on what seemed to be a device for heating chaffing dishes. He used a fondue fork to spear a piece of apple and picked it up. He bit into it, the fruit still slightly crisp, but hot and soaked with alcohol and sweet spices. It was fantastic.

“This is really good. Where did you two learn to make this?”

“Is old family recipe,” said Toki. “My grandmamma is makes it. Keeps away da cold.”

It would keep away the cold all right. A couple mugs of this stuff and he’d be ready to row a longboat across the Atlantic. Jeez it was powerful. By the time he had eaten a few pieces of apple and finished his cup he was beyond the point where he was going to be able to get anything done. Skwisgaar refilled his mug.

“I really should not have anymore,” said Offdensen.

“Ah two cups. What’s it matter?”

Such a compelling argument. Who could refuse? And it made them happy. Poor guys really were jusht worried about him… hic.

“All right. But then I really have to get some work done.”

Offdensen had another drink of the brew. It seemed to warm from the inside out, radiating heat, and making everything irrelevant. He had another piece of apple, and thought maybe Toki and Skwisgaar were right – things could wait a little while.

By the time he was working on his third cup, the world could definitely wait.

“Comes sits in da hot tub!” Toki invited brightly.

Offdensen willed his eyes to focus.

“Ja whys da hells nots,” he said.

Three hours later, when Nathan, Murderface and Pickles made their way to the hot tub room from the recording studio, they were met with an extremely unlikely scenario; Toki, Skwisgaar and Offdensen, all drunk in the hot tub. Offdensen was wearing only his neck tie, and Toki was wearing his glasses. They were all drinking something that smelled like apples and cinnamon, and singing…. badly.

“I’m in love I’m in love with Attila the Hun,
Attila the Hun, Attila the Hun.
We’ll pillage a village and kill ev-ry-one,
Just me and Attila the Hun.”

The three just stared, trying to process what they were looking at, exchanging glances.

“What the hell are you doing?” Murderface finally asked.

“Looks like they’re getting drunk without us,” said Pickles.

“What are they drinking? Looksh… lumpy.”

“I don’t care,” said Nathan. “Anything that can get Offdensen naked in a hot tub has to be good.”

***---***

Offdensen awoke face down, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He was in bed. Okay, that was good, though he wasn’t certain exactly how or when he got to bed. The previous evening was pretty much a blur. He didn’t seem to have more than a slight hangover, though. That was good too. But he was sorta… sticky. Kinda sore, too, as if he’d been dong something strenuous...

Bit by bit, he woke up. He opened an eye, and saw he was not in his own bed at all. He was on black satin sheets, in a bed that was so large as to border on ludicrous. In fact it looked a lot like…

Oh boy. Oh what had he done?

He became aware of a weight on his back, and the quiet sound of something large breathing deeply and evenly. There was a second weight across his legs, and Offdensen had the sinking feeling he knew what it was. He managed to raise his head, and saw what he feared was true. It was Nathan, his head resting on the small of his back, an arm across his thighs.

Oh god he hadn’t. Had he?

Yeah… he had. Oh boy...

Offdensen considered his plight, then began trying to slowly, quietly, creep away in an attempt to escape the situation. Maybe Nathan wouldn’t remember. Maybe he could just pretend last night never happened. He was not supposed to be getting involved like this. His job was to…

Nathan raised his head, and Offdensen felt himself stopped cold, the strong arm around his legs simply increasing its grip. He was halted like a mouse under a paw. Nathan lowered his head to quietly growl into his ear.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“My office?”

“Did I say you could leave?”

Offdensen narrowed his eyes. He was fully trained in hand-to-hand combat. If he wanted to, he could kick Nathan’s ass with ease.

If he wanted to.

“Nathan, I really do have a lot to do.”

“You always have a lot to do.”

“Well empires don’t run themselves.”

“That’s true. But you have contractual obligations to meet.”

Offdensen’s brow furrowed. “I what?”

Nathan nibbled his neck, then produced a piece of paper, placing it before Offdensen and then resuming nibbling and kissing his flesh. Offdensen located his glasses and read the paper, feeling the disconcerting shift in the mattress as Nathan began moving over top of him. Offdensen stared in horror at the paper he held, written in his own hand.

“I Charles Offdensen do hereby swear that in exchange for Nathan Explosion having signed contract number 874-8978 re: the Levy Benefit Concert, I will spend the next 48 hours as his personal companion, performing the following duties including but not limited to… Oh. My.”

“All nice and legal.”

“It certainly seems to be. I’m most thorough, aren’t I? As well as, dare I say, descriptive.” Offdensen read through the contract, then looked over his shoulder at the large form pinning him down. “Just how did you get me to agree to this?”

“I had Toki and Skwisgaar get you loaded on wassail.”

Offdensen’s jaw dropped. “The three of you set me up?!”

Nathan simply smiled, raising one eyebrow in acknowledgement, the intensely green eyes taking on a wicked glint of cold, calculating intellect. Offdensen was astounded.

“You set me up!”

“Wasn’t hard. You think we’re pretty stupid.”

“I never once used that word.”

“But you think it.”

Offdensen didn’t have a response to that. He did think the five of them possessed a collective IQ of three.

“I would never call any of you stupid. But I have seen all of you make pretty ridiculous decisions.”

Nathan nodded, not arguing the point. “So we’re not, like, geniuses. But… we all survived, didn’t we? You don’t make it to be an adult when no one wants you if you can’t… you know… figure stuff out.”

That was quite true. Offdensen had forgotten there were different kinds of intelligence. Nathan might not cure cancer or write a book that earned him a Pulitzer prize, but he had long ago learned how to get what he needed, and wanted. Any predator worth his claws knew how to stalk his prey.

“You conniving shit,” said Offdensen. “Bravo. I’m… actually impressed.”

Nathan seemed pleased. “You… don’t have to… you know… honour that contract if you don’t want to. I mean it was fine last night but… well… you were pretty wasted.”

Offdensen permitted himself a slight smile. “Well it’s hardly conducive to one’s personal reputation to back out of a contract.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I will say one thing however. I won’t underestimate you again. But you could have simply told me.”

Nathan was nibbling the back of his neck. “No, because you think I’m stupid. I had to show you I’m not.”

Offdensen closed his eyes, enjoying the nibbling. “And why do you care in the least what I think?”

“I want you to like me.”

“Like you?” Offdensen rolled over, and found himself staring up into green eyes. Damn, Nathan was a big guy; all broad shoulders and strong jaw, and those eyes that could cut glass. “Nathan to be perfectly frank I adore all five of you.”

“But I want you to… like… me.”

Offdensen pondered that. “Oh. You mean…”

“Yeah. You think you could?”

“Frankly I never gave it much thought. I try to keep our dealings strictly professional. But… it’s an option I’d be willing to look into. On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You stop stealing my laser pointers and using them to blind the other four members of the band and jamming them up your nose.”

“Fine. Anything else?”

“No, that’s pretty much it for now.”

“Good.” Nathan lowered his head and kissed him, settling the weight of his large body over him. “By the way, you’re fucking adorable when you cum.”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to put that on my résumé.”

***---***

BAKED APPLES

12 apples. (I like Red Delicious, but you can use any kind)
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup butter
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Pre-heat oven to 375. Peel and core apples. Place in a roasting pan. Now my mom puts tiny meticulous amounts of the ingredients into each apple. I'm flippin' lazy. I melt the butter and drizzle it over the apples, then mix the dry ingredients and sprinkle it over the apples. Carefully pour water into the pan until it is about maybe a centimetre deep. Bake the whole mess about 30-40 minutes. Yummy!

Now, while you are waiting for your apples to bake...

WASSS-SAAAAAIL!

The word, 'Wassail', actually is a bastardization of the Anglo-Saxon toast "Wass hael!", which means "Be well." Now you have your own bit of useless trivia to add to those pained silences while you are sitting with a pack of relatives wondering why in hell you invite these people over every year. Of course after a couple glasses of this stuff you probably won't care.

1 cup water (Stop yelling, it gets better!)
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon nutmeg
2 teaspoons ground ginger
6 whole cloves
1/2 teaspoon Allspice
2 sticks cinnamon
12 eggs (Look just trust me on this, okay?)
4 bottles of sherry (I told you it got better.)
Three cups brandy

In a large pot, combine water, sugar, and spices and simmer over medium heat. In separate pots, also heat the wine and brandy. While that is happening, separate your eggs. Beat the yolks until they are thick and sort of lemon-coloured. Beat the whites until they are thick and frothy. Now! Here comes the fun part. If you're me you can dress up in your ceremonial robes, light incense, and chant the lyrics to In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida while mixing this to scare the crap out of your Born-Again brother-in-law, who’s dead certain you've hexed the gravy. Carefully begin mixing and stirring all the ingredients, saving some of the egg white and brandy for last. Then pull out your lovely hot apples and add them to the cauldron-sized punchbowl you will need. (I use the metal bowl I mix bread dough in.) Serve the whole strange frothing, steaming thing to your company.
Instant family bonding!