Metalocalypse Fic
Title: Sick
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nathan x Charles
Disclaimer: Metalocalypse is not mine.
Notes: This is the first fic I've ever written outside of the One Piece fandom and I posted it to a couple Metalocalypse communities and I figured I throw it up here just so I had it.
Charles Foster Ofdenson did not get sick. He had contracts to sign, a business to run, five unruly band members to keep out of trouble. He couldn't do all that lying in a bed. Had it been a cold Charles would have forced himself out of bed and powered through the day in hopes that his small cold would disappear before the morning. But no. Charles Foster Ofdenson was not that lucky. Instead of a simple cold he had full blown stomach flu. Fantastic. How was he supposed to run Dethklok lying sideways in his bed trying not to choke on his own vomit? Which reminded him, maybe he should move out of the puddle of puke on his mattress. He had honestly tried to make it to the bathroom but only managed to turn on his side before his insides had exploded out of his mouth. He just didn't have the strength to move anymore.
So this is how I die, huh? Not in some horrid Dethklok related incident, no, of course not. Instead I'm going to drown in my own throw up. What a way to go out.
He just hoped none of the boys came in and found him in the messy, disheveled state. Of course, the second the thought was finished, a heavy knock sounded on his door followed by Nathan's gravelly bark of "Hey, uh, Charles? Uh... It's... It's two-thirty and we were wondering if, uh, if you were gonna show up at the meeting?"
Sure, the one time I don't show up you all decide now is as good of a time as ever to start being punctual.
Charles opened his mouth to tell Nathan the meeting was canceled and the band could just have the afternoon off but all that came out was a strangles gurgle before he retched again, only adding to the mess on his sheets.
"...Charles?" Came the questioning and somewhat worried reply. Receiving no answer Nathan pushed the door to Charles' room open and blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The singer sniffed lightly and wrinkled his nose in disgust. It smelled liked Murderface on a hot summer's day. He spotted Charles on his bed who was currently dry-heaving and shivering as if it were the dead of winter though it had to have been at least seventy degrees in the small, stuffy room. "Brutal" Nathan muttered, stepping up to the edge of the small, queen-sized bed.
"Go away." Charles managed to rasp out before his stomach again tried to force up what was no longer there. He heard his bedroom door shut and was shocked that Nathan had actually listened to him but then he heard loud running water and some clattering in his bathroom and groaned inwardly. Whatever that boy was doing in there could not be good.
Before he had any time to speculate as to what it was the singer was up to he was being pulled gently into a sitting position. His head spun and he felt as though he might pass out. Charles closed his eyes and willed the dizziness to go away. When he opened his eyes he saw that Nathan was attempting to unbutton the shirt of his cotton pajamas and with each button he could not get open he just ripped it off the shirt. Charles tried to bat his hands away but found he was far too weak to truly care about the state of his clothing so he let let Nathan do whatever the hell it was he was trying to do.
Eventually the shirt was removed and Nathan disappeared into the bathroom once more. Charles, losing his means of support, slumped backwards onto the bed, very narrowly missing the pile of sick now seeping into his mattress. A chill shot through his body and the shivers he was experiencing made his teeth chatter.
When Nathan came back he was carrying a dripping washcloth. Carefully, he slipped one arm under trembling shoulders and lifted the smaller man into a seated position again. He dragged the cloth lightly across the managers face, cleaning off the mess that he had previously been lying in. When he deemed the mans face clean enough he threw the washcloth aside and slipped his free arm under Charles' knees and lifted him bridal style. The brunette tried to protest such fragile treatment but when he tried lifting his head to argue it his neck gave out like a newborn baby's and flopped onto Nathan's broad shoulder.
The frontman carried Charles to the bathroom with ease and placed him on the toilet. After a small struggle he dragged the managers pants and boxers off and tossed the messily to the ground.
"Nathan..." Charles protested feebly, still not sure what was going on. He was suddenly scooped up in Nathan's strong arms again and unceremoniously dropped into a full tub of water that splashed and overflowed onto the tiled floor.
"Oops, sorry." Nathan rumbled, not sounding the least bit remorseful. Charles told himself he would scold the man later when he was feeling a bit better but for now he was just going to relax in the soothingly warm bath Nathan had drawn for him.
It didn't take long for gentle hands to be on him again, washing away the nighttime grime and the feeling of sticky sick. Charles sighed softly and leaned into the touch, allowing the larger man to wash him. There was one final swipe across his chest and then the hands left him, making the manager feel strangely disappointed. Before Charles caould assess why it bothered him the hands were back, slowly massaging his scalp. He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Nathan whose face was screwed in concentration, trying to be careful. Charles wondered if the frontman had ever had to be this gentle with anything before in his life. Nathan quickly finished washing his hair and was extra cautious not to get any soap in Charles' eyes.
"Just relax." The singers gruff voice commanded suddenly and Charles leaned back against the tub allowing himself to do so for the first time since he began managing Dethklok. He watched Nathan fumble with his dethphone and smiled lazily at him. He let out a short laugh when the man dropped his phone and swore under his breath, a light pink tinge coloring his cheeks. He hooked the phone back onto his belt and then moved behind Charles.
"Scoot forward." Nathan's gravelly voice commanded again as he helped move Charles forward in the tub. Large hands gripped his shoulders and palms began digging into his skin causing a small moan to escape the smaller mans lips. Nathan worked the muscles in Charles' back until the man practically turned to putty in his hands. He helped Charles shakily stand up and climb out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy towel around his shoulders before setting him on the edge of the bath. He went into Charles' room and came back with a clean set of pajamas, helping the man redress.
All the while Charles wondered why Nathan was doing this for him. He could have just as easily yelled for a Klokateer to come take care of him. They would have called a doctor and everything and Nathan knew that. But then events of the past few weeks began coming together in his head. When he had come home from the hospital to a newly built Mordhaus Nathan had been watching him a little more closely than usual and he often lingered behind after meetings long after the others had left. There had even been a few times when the man had come into his office and sat across from Charles just to stare at him. He had just brushed it off as usual Dethklok weirdness, paranoia, and drug abuse but now, maybe, he kind of understood why.
Nathan was worried.
Whether he would ever admit it or not, it didn't matter because it was written quite plainly across his face and Charles couldn't help but feel just a little flattered.
Charles, off in his own world, hadn't even noticed he'd been moving until Nathan slowly lowered him to his bed which felt completely new along with the sheets and pillows. The Klokateers must have been in here, he thought as the comforter was dragged up to his chin. He smiled up at Nathan again, feeling much better than he had earlier.
"Thank you, Nathan." He said, yawning tiredly.
"You, uh... You're welcome." Nathan replied, sounding nervous. His finders twitched towards the manager before quickly pulling back again. Charles looked up at him inquisitively and Nathan glanced quickly around the room before briefly pressing his lips against the other mans forehead and practically running from the room, mumbling something that sounded a lot like 'Get well soon.' or something along those lines.
Charles felt his insides warm and for the first time in years he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Nathan x Charles
Disclaimer: Metalocalypse is not mine.
Notes: This is the first fic I've ever written outside of the One Piece fandom and I posted it to a couple Metalocalypse communities and I figured I throw it up here just so I had it.
Charles Foster Ofdenson did not get sick. He had contracts to sign, a business to run, five unruly band members to keep out of trouble. He couldn't do all that lying in a bed. Had it been a cold Charles would have forced himself out of bed and powered through the day in hopes that his small cold would disappear before the morning. But no. Charles Foster Ofdenson was not that lucky. Instead of a simple cold he had full blown stomach flu. Fantastic. How was he supposed to run Dethklok lying sideways in his bed trying not to choke on his own vomit? Which reminded him, maybe he should move out of the puddle of puke on his mattress. He had honestly tried to make it to the bathroom but only managed to turn on his side before his insides had exploded out of his mouth. He just didn't have the strength to move anymore.
So this is how I die, huh? Not in some horrid Dethklok related incident, no, of course not. Instead I'm going to drown in my own throw up. What a way to go out.
He just hoped none of the boys came in and found him in the messy, disheveled state. Of course, the second the thought was finished, a heavy knock sounded on his door followed by Nathan's gravelly bark of "Hey, uh, Charles? Uh... It's... It's two-thirty and we were wondering if, uh, if you were gonna show up at the meeting?"
Sure, the one time I don't show up you all decide now is as good of a time as ever to start being punctual.
Charles opened his mouth to tell Nathan the meeting was canceled and the band could just have the afternoon off but all that came out was a strangles gurgle before he retched again, only adding to the mess on his sheets.
"...Charles?" Came the questioning and somewhat worried reply. Receiving no answer Nathan pushed the door to Charles' room open and blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The singer sniffed lightly and wrinkled his nose in disgust. It smelled liked Murderface on a hot summer's day. He spotted Charles on his bed who was currently dry-heaving and shivering as if it were the dead of winter though it had to have been at least seventy degrees in the small, stuffy room. "Brutal" Nathan muttered, stepping up to the edge of the small, queen-sized bed.
"Go away." Charles managed to rasp out before his stomach again tried to force up what was no longer there. He heard his bedroom door shut and was shocked that Nathan had actually listened to him but then he heard loud running water and some clattering in his bathroom and groaned inwardly. Whatever that boy was doing in there could not be good.
Before he had any time to speculate as to what it was the singer was up to he was being pulled gently into a sitting position. His head spun and he felt as though he might pass out. Charles closed his eyes and willed the dizziness to go away. When he opened his eyes he saw that Nathan was attempting to unbutton the shirt of his cotton pajamas and with each button he could not get open he just ripped it off the shirt. Charles tried to bat his hands away but found he was far too weak to truly care about the state of his clothing so he let let Nathan do whatever the hell it was he was trying to do.
Eventually the shirt was removed and Nathan disappeared into the bathroom once more. Charles, losing his means of support, slumped backwards onto the bed, very narrowly missing the pile of sick now seeping into his mattress. A chill shot through his body and the shivers he was experiencing made his teeth chatter.
When Nathan came back he was carrying a dripping washcloth. Carefully, he slipped one arm under trembling shoulders and lifted the smaller man into a seated position again. He dragged the cloth lightly across the managers face, cleaning off the mess that he had previously been lying in. When he deemed the mans face clean enough he threw the washcloth aside and slipped his free arm under Charles' knees and lifted him bridal style. The brunette tried to protest such fragile treatment but when he tried lifting his head to argue it his neck gave out like a newborn baby's and flopped onto Nathan's broad shoulder.
The frontman carried Charles to the bathroom with ease and placed him on the toilet. After a small struggle he dragged the managers pants and boxers off and tossed the messily to the ground.
"Nathan..." Charles protested feebly, still not sure what was going on. He was suddenly scooped up in Nathan's strong arms again and unceremoniously dropped into a full tub of water that splashed and overflowed onto the tiled floor.
"Oops, sorry." Nathan rumbled, not sounding the least bit remorseful. Charles told himself he would scold the man later when he was feeling a bit better but for now he was just going to relax in the soothingly warm bath Nathan had drawn for him.
It didn't take long for gentle hands to be on him again, washing away the nighttime grime and the feeling of sticky sick. Charles sighed softly and leaned into the touch, allowing the larger man to wash him. There was one final swipe across his chest and then the hands left him, making the manager feel strangely disappointed. Before Charles caould assess why it bothered him the hands were back, slowly massaging his scalp. He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Nathan whose face was screwed in concentration, trying to be careful. Charles wondered if the frontman had ever had to be this gentle with anything before in his life. Nathan quickly finished washing his hair and was extra cautious not to get any soap in Charles' eyes.
"Just relax." The singers gruff voice commanded suddenly and Charles leaned back against the tub allowing himself to do so for the first time since he began managing Dethklok. He watched Nathan fumble with his dethphone and smiled lazily at him. He let out a short laugh when the man dropped his phone and swore under his breath, a light pink tinge coloring his cheeks. He hooked the phone back onto his belt and then moved behind Charles.
"Scoot forward." Nathan's gravelly voice commanded again as he helped move Charles forward in the tub. Large hands gripped his shoulders and palms began digging into his skin causing a small moan to escape the smaller mans lips. Nathan worked the muscles in Charles' back until the man practically turned to putty in his hands. He helped Charles shakily stand up and climb out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy towel around his shoulders before setting him on the edge of the bath. He went into Charles' room and came back with a clean set of pajamas, helping the man redress.
All the while Charles wondered why Nathan was doing this for him. He could have just as easily yelled for a Klokateer to come take care of him. They would have called a doctor and everything and Nathan knew that. But then events of the past few weeks began coming together in his head. When he had come home from the hospital to a newly built Mordhaus Nathan had been watching him a little more closely than usual and he often lingered behind after meetings long after the others had left. There had even been a few times when the man had come into his office and sat across from Charles just to stare at him. He had just brushed it off as usual Dethklok weirdness, paranoia, and drug abuse but now, maybe, he kind of understood why.
Nathan was worried.
Whether he would ever admit it or not, it didn't matter because it was written quite plainly across his face and Charles couldn't help but feel just a little flattered.
Charles, off in his own world, hadn't even noticed he'd been moving until Nathan slowly lowered him to his bed which felt completely new along with the sheets and pillows. The Klokateers must have been in here, he thought as the comforter was dragged up to his chin. He smiled up at Nathan again, feeling much better than he had earlier.
"Thank you, Nathan." He said, yawning tiredly.
"You, uh... You're welcome." Nathan replied, sounding nervous. His finders twitched towards the manager before quickly pulling back again. Charles looked up at him inquisitively and Nathan glanced quickly around the room before briefly pressing his lips against the other mans forehead and practically running from the room, mumbling something that sounded a lot like 'Get well soon.' or something along those lines.
Charles felt his insides warm and for the first time in years he fell asleep with a smile on his face.