Sans Pink Sweater Vest
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Title: Sans Pink Sweater Vest
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Pairing: Knubbler/Murderface, but the characters here are Knubbler and Twinkletits.
Prompt: STAFF MEETING.
KNUBBLER AND TWINKLETITS HAVE A BITCHFIGHT OVER WHO KNOWS MURDERFACE BETTER.
Note: This is for metalmanagement, who requested it here back in January. I started it then, and only finished it now.
Sans Pink Sweater Vest
Oh great. He'd spilled his latte on the grass taking his walk when a stray bullet had startled him, and now here he was, sitting next to that pink-wearing, soft-voiced Douchebag.
"It was really amazing," Douchebag said. "I mean, really. Pickles doesn't seem to understand me when I tell him that he did was he was supposed to do. You can forgive without someone accepting your forgiveness. You can't control what other people do, you know?"
"I can," Knubbler said casually.
Douchebag got quiet for a while.
"Who're we waitin' on?" Knubbler called down the table to Offdensen, only to promptly get bored when the manager started listing off a couple Klokateers. Numbers, babe, no, they weren't his thing. He tried to give the ones he had to work with names, whether he used their legal names or any nicknames they got from him after enough interaction. It made more sense for him, because he only worked with a small number of Klokateers, and numbers got all wiggy woo in his head if he didn't pay express attention to them.
"Oh! Oh," Douchebag said after one Klokateer's number was called, gently nudging Knubbler, "she's nice. She helps me take notes sometimes."
"Amazing," Knubbler declared. He didn't really mean that, of course. But it got pink-wearer to smile, which was preferable to when he frowned or, God forbid, cried.
"Hey, Jempy," Knubbler called over to Jean-Pierre, "did you try out that recipe?"
"Oui! And Monsieur Murderface enjoyed it very much."
"He loves to see stuff burn," Knubbler explained to Douchebag.
Douchebag replied, "Yes, he does," smiling.
"You really seem to understand good cuisine, if I may say," Jempy said, smiling that awkward smile.
"It helps that you're a master!"
"Ah, Sire!" Jempy was blushing. That was so fuckin' easy to get him to do. And Knubbler meant it. That man's recording snacks, and his French toast? Forget about it, just...step aside and let Knubbler at it! Keep your fingers outta the way!
Deciding to be generous, he turned to include Douchebag in the conversation. "So have you...have ya seen Willy at all this week?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah. You wouldn't think he'd open up so much to a therapist. I'm so pleased with how he's doing. He mainly talked about his Thundy guilt, you know."
"Oh yeah," Knubbler replied with a smile. "Yeah. Poor guy. Doesn't need to feel guilty. Not sure why he does. A stroke is a stroke. I was a little asshole who drove adults over the edge, but no one ever stroked out like that. Not his fault."
"Oh, of course it's not his fault!" Douchebag chuckled gently. "It's just that the last thing William had said to Thundy was that he was angry cause he'd had to work late and missed his baseball game."
Suddenly, Knubbler really wasn't okay with this guy. He looked around, and then glanced at the clock on his cell phone. It still wasn't time to start yet. Good. Maybe it was stupid. But he really felt like he needed to prove his William knowledge was better than this guy's. This guy was a therapist, yeah. But he wasn't the man's...friend.
"Well, Stella was there, right? She usually was." He remembered Willy complain about how embarrassing she'd been at his games as a kid.
Twinkletits-Douchebag-shook his head.
"No, Aunt Marian'd called her over to help babysit. Thundy's daughter," he clarified.
"I know who she is. The one with the little assholes who superglued Willy's ass to the toilet."
Twinkletits grimaced at that. "Oh okay. So that's them."
Knubbler felt a bit relieved. "Yeah."
"He just said Sarah and Preston, didn't say they were Marian's."
Knubbler grimaced. He hadn't gotten names.
As the last Klokateer filed in, Knubbler quickly extended an invitation. "Hey D-Twinkletits," he said, "Jon. We should go get a coffee or somethin' after this, and talk about Willy. Unless, you know, you can't for legal reasons."
"Actually, I'm sorta contractually obligated to share important things with the staff," Twinkletits said. "But yeah, I'd love to get a coffee! It's been a while since someone invited me out."
"Can't imagine why," Knubbler said sarcastically.
"So," Knubbler finally said, sitting next to Douchebag at the nearest Duncan Hills. "About William."
"Yeah? What about him, Dick?"
"Eh, Mr. Knubbler," Knubbler corrected. "Anyway, the thing you gotta know about Willy is that I'm kind of his pal."
"Yeah. Oh yeah. He talks about you a lot."
"I know more about him than you do," Knubbler said with a little laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
"I think we know different things," Douchebag said, smiling. "I know about, you know, the deep stuff, the hard stuff. The nitty gritty. It's not all, you know, margaritas and sunshine."
What?! Knubbler sat stock still. "Margaritas and sunshine, huh?" he said quietly, taking a sip, calculating. "Margaritas and sunshine. What exactly do you mean by that, huh?"
"Oh, you know."
"Enlighten me. Ya douchebag," he added under his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"What is it about what me and William have that ain't 'deep' enough for your fuckin' pansy ass?"
Twinkletits paused at the insult, and thenlet it slide. "Oh, you know, stories about his past, the feelings he has about things, his regrets. Things like that."
"You don't gotta wear a powder pink sweater vest to hear that shit! You just gotta serve up a couple of...drinks," he said quickly, avoiding the word "margarita". That would have seemed like defeat.
"Look. You're his best friend. I'm just a therapist. He tells me what he can't tell you, or anybody else."
SMACK.
"Oof!" Twinkletits said, rubbing at his cheek. The old Jon would have attacked for sure, would have snapped his fucking lid. As it was, he stared at the blond, wondering if he was going to be hit again.
SMACK.
"Hey, stop!" Douchebag put his robotic hands up and cringed. "Hey!" He tried to push Knubbler away. Not nearly finished with Douchebag, Knubbler leapt forward across the table.
Two hot coffees spilled, and Douchebag reached for Knubbler's neck, choking him just as Duncan Hills security stepped over to break them up.
They presented their Dethklok badges to the security. Cooling off with some complementary iced coffee and glaring at each other, Knubbler and Douchebag sat in a back room to escape bothersome customers who thought they'd be a nice way in to see Dethklok.
"Sorry I went for your neck," Douchebag said first
He sighed. "Maybe I shouldn'ta overreacted, you know? Yeah."
"Want some of that information-what I think you should know, anyway? I think it's somethin' you wanna hear."
Eh, what could it hurt? "Sure, why not?" He took a sip of the coffee.
"He likes you." When Knubbler didn't react much, he said, "You know, like, he wants you. Sexually, Knubbler. Sexually."
"Oh." He gripped the sweaty, cool plastic cup, looking at two different spots on the wall, and not at Jon Twinkletits.
"It's not me he wants, okay? It's you. You don't have to worry. I'm not a threat! He's all yours. You should tell him how you feel!"
"How I feel? How would you know how I feel?" He bristled. "You're nothin' but a fuckin' quack!"
"Wow."
"What?" he asked, tone indicating irritation. His eyes were glowing red.
"Mr. Knubbler, maybe you should think about calmin' down right now, huh? I promise I'm not judging you, or trying to steal anyone away from anyone, or anything like that."
"You're right," Knubbler muttered. "Yeah, you're right. It's okay. We're fine."
Jon stood, heading to the trash can to dump the rest of his coffee. "Wanna head back to Mordhaus?"
"I guess we better." He rubbed at his thigh nervously.
"You should say something to William," Jon repeated. "He thinks you're too good for him."
Knubbler, stunned for a moment, got up, and took another sip of his coffee.
"Really," Jon said, "I should have been more understanding about your jealousy. I was just proud of his progress, and I like knowing people share important things with me. I like knowing I'm useful."
"Yeah, I guess it's not your fault you came off as a giant douchebag, huh?" He wrapped his arm around Twinkletits' shoulders. "Thanks anyway. Gonna ask him out, so, no appointments tonight."
"Want me to bring you in if he has a gay crisis?"
Knubbler raised his eyebrow. "Sure, why not. Maybe I should bring some...drinks."
After a pause, Twinkletits nodded.
Title: Sans Pink Sweater Vest
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Pairing: Knubbler/Murderface, but the characters here are Knubbler and Twinkletits.
Prompt: STAFF MEETING.
KNUBBLER AND TWINKLETITS HAVE A BITCHFIGHT OVER WHO KNOWS MURDERFACE BETTER.
Note: This is for metalmanagement, who requested it here back in January. I started it then, and only finished it now.
Sans Pink Sweater Vest
Oh great. He'd spilled his latte on the grass taking his walk when a stray bullet had startled him, and now here he was, sitting next to that pink-wearing, soft-voiced Douchebag.
"It was really amazing," Douchebag said. "I mean, really. Pickles doesn't seem to understand me when I tell him that he did was he was supposed to do. You can forgive without someone accepting your forgiveness. You can't control what other people do, you know?"
"I can," Knubbler said casually.
Douchebag got quiet for a while.
"Who're we waitin' on?" Knubbler called down the table to Offdensen, only to promptly get bored when the manager started listing off a couple Klokateers. Numbers, babe, no, they weren't his thing. He tried to give the ones he had to work with names, whether he used their legal names or any nicknames they got from him after enough interaction. It made more sense for him, because he only worked with a small number of Klokateers, and numbers got all wiggy woo in his head if he didn't pay express attention to them.
"Oh! Oh," Douchebag said after one Klokateer's number was called, gently nudging Knubbler, "she's nice. She helps me take notes sometimes."
"Amazing," Knubbler declared. He didn't really mean that, of course. But it got pink-wearer to smile, which was preferable to when he frowned or, God forbid, cried.
"Hey, Jempy," Knubbler called over to Jean-Pierre, "did you try out that recipe?"
"Oui! And Monsieur Murderface enjoyed it very much."
"He loves to see stuff burn," Knubbler explained to Douchebag.
Douchebag replied, "Yes, he does," smiling.
"You really seem to understand good cuisine, if I may say," Jempy said, smiling that awkward smile.
"It helps that you're a master!"
"Ah, Sire!" Jempy was blushing. That was so fuckin' easy to get him to do. And Knubbler meant it. That man's recording snacks, and his French toast? Forget about it, just...step aside and let Knubbler at it! Keep your fingers outta the way!
Deciding to be generous, he turned to include Douchebag in the conversation. "So have you...have ya seen Willy at all this week?"
"Oh, yeah. Yeah. You wouldn't think he'd open up so much to a therapist. I'm so pleased with how he's doing. He mainly talked about his Thundy guilt, you know."
"Oh yeah," Knubbler replied with a smile. "Yeah. Poor guy. Doesn't need to feel guilty. Not sure why he does. A stroke is a stroke. I was a little asshole who drove adults over the edge, but no one ever stroked out like that. Not his fault."
"Oh, of course it's not his fault!" Douchebag chuckled gently. "It's just that the last thing William had said to Thundy was that he was angry cause he'd had to work late and missed his baseball game."
Suddenly, Knubbler really wasn't okay with this guy. He looked around, and then glanced at the clock on his cell phone. It still wasn't time to start yet. Good. Maybe it was stupid. But he really felt like he needed to prove his William knowledge was better than this guy's. This guy was a therapist, yeah. But he wasn't the man's...friend.
"Well, Stella was there, right? She usually was." He remembered Willy complain about how embarrassing she'd been at his games as a kid.
Twinkletits-Douchebag-shook his head.
"No, Aunt Marian'd called her over to help babysit. Thundy's daughter," he clarified.
"I know who she is. The one with the little assholes who superglued Willy's ass to the toilet."
Twinkletits grimaced at that. "Oh okay. So that's them."
Knubbler felt a bit relieved. "Yeah."
"He just said Sarah and Preston, didn't say they were Marian's."
Knubbler grimaced. He hadn't gotten names.
As the last Klokateer filed in, Knubbler quickly extended an invitation. "Hey D-Twinkletits," he said, "Jon. We should go get a coffee or somethin' after this, and talk about Willy. Unless, you know, you can't for legal reasons."
"Actually, I'm sorta contractually obligated to share important things with the staff," Twinkletits said. "But yeah, I'd love to get a coffee! It's been a while since someone invited me out."
"Can't imagine why," Knubbler said sarcastically.
"So," Knubbler finally said, sitting next to Douchebag at the nearest Duncan Hills. "About William."
"Yeah? What about him, Dick?"
"Eh, Mr. Knubbler," Knubbler corrected. "Anyway, the thing you gotta know about Willy is that I'm kind of his pal."
"Yeah. Oh yeah. He talks about you a lot."
"I know more about him than you do," Knubbler said with a little laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
"I think we know different things," Douchebag said, smiling. "I know about, you know, the deep stuff, the hard stuff. The nitty gritty. It's not all, you know, margaritas and sunshine."
What?! Knubbler sat stock still. "Margaritas and sunshine, huh?" he said quietly, taking a sip, calculating. "Margaritas and sunshine. What exactly do you mean by that, huh?"
"Oh, you know."
"Enlighten me. Ya douchebag," he added under his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"What is it about what me and William have that ain't 'deep' enough for your fuckin' pansy ass?"
Twinkletits paused at the insult, and thenlet it slide. "Oh, you know, stories about his past, the feelings he has about things, his regrets. Things like that."
"You don't gotta wear a powder pink sweater vest to hear that shit! You just gotta serve up a couple of...drinks," he said quickly, avoiding the word "margarita". That would have seemed like defeat.
"Look. You're his best friend. I'm just a therapist. He tells me what he can't tell you, or anybody else."
SMACK.
"Oof!" Twinkletits said, rubbing at his cheek. The old Jon would have attacked for sure, would have snapped his fucking lid. As it was, he stared at the blond, wondering if he was going to be hit again.
SMACK.
"Hey, stop!" Douchebag put his robotic hands up and cringed. "Hey!" He tried to push Knubbler away. Not nearly finished with Douchebag, Knubbler leapt forward across the table.
Two hot coffees spilled, and Douchebag reached for Knubbler's neck, choking him just as Duncan Hills security stepped over to break them up.
They presented their Dethklok badges to the security. Cooling off with some complementary iced coffee and glaring at each other, Knubbler and Douchebag sat in a back room to escape bothersome customers who thought they'd be a nice way in to see Dethklok.
"Sorry I went for your neck," Douchebag said first
He sighed. "Maybe I shouldn'ta overreacted, you know? Yeah."
"Want some of that information-what I think you should know, anyway? I think it's somethin' you wanna hear."
Eh, what could it hurt? "Sure, why not?" He took a sip of the coffee.
"He likes you." When Knubbler didn't react much, he said, "You know, like, he wants you. Sexually, Knubbler. Sexually."
"Oh." He gripped the sweaty, cool plastic cup, looking at two different spots on the wall, and not at Jon Twinkletits.
"It's not me he wants, okay? It's you. You don't have to worry. I'm not a threat! He's all yours. You should tell him how you feel!"
"How I feel? How would you know how I feel?" He bristled. "You're nothin' but a fuckin' quack!"
"Wow."
"What?" he asked, tone indicating irritation. His eyes were glowing red.
"Mr. Knubbler, maybe you should think about calmin' down right now, huh? I promise I'm not judging you, or trying to steal anyone away from anyone, or anything like that."
"You're right," Knubbler muttered. "Yeah, you're right. It's okay. We're fine."
Jon stood, heading to the trash can to dump the rest of his coffee. "Wanna head back to Mordhaus?"
"I guess we better." He rubbed at his thigh nervously.
"You should say something to William," Jon repeated. "He thinks you're too good for him."
Knubbler, stunned for a moment, got up, and took another sip of his coffee.
"Really," Jon said, "I should have been more understanding about your jealousy. I was just proud of his progress, and I like knowing people share important things with me. I like knowing I'm useful."
"Yeah, I guess it's not your fault you came off as a giant douchebag, huh?" He wrapped his arm around Twinkletits' shoulders. "Thanks anyway. Gonna ask him out, so, no appointments tonight."
"Want me to bring you in if he has a gay crisis?"
Knubbler raised his eyebrow. "Sure, why not. Maybe I should bring some...drinks."
After a pause, Twinkletits nodded.