Writing things, fun times.
Title: Small Samples
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Nathan/Charles
Summary: Before Dethklok was really famous, they needed a manager.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 287
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author Notes: A drabble for aryblack. Happy birthday. :)
One day, a young man walked into Charles Ofdensen's office and wanted to hire him. The young man, barely over high school age but already taller and with bigger muscles than Charles could ever hope to have, said his name was Nathan Explosion and that he needed a manager for his band to "do all that boring paperwork shit."
The name certainly rang a bell. Charles liked to keep tabs on various music scenes and he had heard of Dethklok. They performed in the kind of bars that didn't come out of one of the death metal band's bottle-rattling performances looking much worse for wear, usually on nights when Charles was stuck in his office trying to finish some… well, boring paperwork shit. He had never seen the band in person but he had a bootlegged cassette tape or two in his drawer reserved for Possible Rising Stars.
Those sample tapes had not prepared him.
To be in a room with Nathan Explosion, alone and behind a closed door, was to mentally spread your legs and hope he started undressing you with his eyes. Or with his hands, that would be fine too. Charles crossed his legs, resisted the urge to loosen his tie a little… then rejected the job offer and daringly asked Nathan out for drinks in the same breath.
The young man glowered at him, but that seemed to be his default expression. "Fine," he grumbled, and that voice. Bad recordings really did not do him credit. "We can drink and talk more about this." Then he left, with one of Charles' business cards that had a date, time, and place written on the back. And Charles' private phone number, just in case.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Nathan/Charles
Summary: Before Dethklok was really famous, they needed a manager.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 287
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author Notes: A drabble for aryblack. Happy birthday. :)
One day, a young man walked into Charles Ofdensen's office and wanted to hire him. The young man, barely over high school age but already taller and with bigger muscles than Charles could ever hope to have, said his name was Nathan Explosion and that he needed a manager for his band to "do all that boring paperwork shit."
The name certainly rang a bell. Charles liked to keep tabs on various music scenes and he had heard of Dethklok. They performed in the kind of bars that didn't come out of one of the death metal band's bottle-rattling performances looking much worse for wear, usually on nights when Charles was stuck in his office trying to finish some… well, boring paperwork shit. He had never seen the band in person but he had a bootlegged cassette tape or two in his drawer reserved for Possible Rising Stars.
Those sample tapes had not prepared him.
To be in a room with Nathan Explosion, alone and behind a closed door, was to mentally spread your legs and hope he started undressing you with his eyes. Or with his hands, that would be fine too. Charles crossed his legs, resisted the urge to loosen his tie a little… then rejected the job offer and daringly asked Nathan out for drinks in the same breath.
The young man glowered at him, but that seemed to be his default expression. "Fine," he grumbled, and that voice. Bad recordings really did not do him credit. "We can drink and talk more about this." Then he left, with one of Charles' business cards that had a date, time, and place written on the back. And Charles' private phone number, just in case.