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"Ugh. Hey, can you two, like... leave me be for a bit? This shit's getting irritating."
Nathan let out a low growl of a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke. His elbows were propped on the table, dozens of buttons before him. Empty shot glasses and various bottles of alcohol were scattered along the entire thing, Skwisgaar, Pickles, and himself to blame for drinking it all.
Pickles quirked a brow at Nathan's sudden frustration, his emotions expressed so tamely for once. "Yeh? Alreight, just call if ya' need anyt'ing." Pickles said. Skwisgaar said not a single word, though nodded and got up with Pickles.
Once the two had left the room, Nathan sat back in his chair, arms crossed against his broad chest. He indeed needed to hear something new, he thought, though couldn't put his finger on how he could do that without straying away from the Dethklok sound. How could that possibly happen? Well, other than the five of the group, there was only one other person who had truly understood that sound, someone who understood the five individually.
"Hoooly shit." Nathan slurred, sitting back up with eyes widened with wonder.
"Uh. I'm sorry, ah, what?" Charles said at the doorway of the recording room, Nathan glaring down at the manager.
"I want you," long, dramatic pause, "to do some vocals. Fuck, I couldn't be any clearer." Nathan said, words not the clearest due to his still-shitfaced state.
"Nathan, I... you know I have no experience. Not with any creative process, for that matter. I don't think that's the best idea." Charles replied reluctantly, keeping monotone despite the shock-factor Nathan's wish brought him.
"Oh, come on, I'll even let you write down some lyrics! You're smart." Nathan urged, nodding towards the bottle-ridden set-up and clumsily making his way back to his own seat. "Now, sit the fuck down." He commanded, patting the identical chair beside him.
Charles sighed and finally complied after a brief moment of thinking it over, taking a seat and making quick glances around as if he were being watched. It was an act resulting from embarrassment, somewhat; he had never been invited to do anything of the sort for the band until now, and years ago he'd come to accept that it simply wouldn't happen. The five were pretty reclusive, individually and even as a group. "I can try, but I'm not certain that I can get anything good out--"
"Shush, shush. Negative Nancy. Take a shot, loosen up." Nathan interrupted, pressing a finger to Charles' lips. He slid a shot glass towards his manager. "You think too much about what you can't do sometimes, you know that?" He gently pulled his hand away. "You're more than, uh, watching over us like some dad. It can't be fun."
Charles seemed to just pause in shock. He was somewhat appreciative, knowing Nathan wanted to get to working on a new album. The new approach was definitely a bonus. He caved in and took the shot, making no reaction to the strong, putrid taste.
"You gotta know at least a little bit about our creative process. Like, how I come up with the lyrics or whatever." Nathan continued, his tone more gentle this time.
"Fine, okay, just... don't judge me." Charles grunted, reaching for a pencil as Nathan slid his personal notepad towards him. There was already plenty of great parts when it came to the theme of the song, and Charles knew right off the bat that he could go off of that easily. "...Another, please." Charles said as he re-read the words, holding out his glass. Nathan happily did so, gazing down at the notepad with wide, curious eyes as Charles quickly jotted down words and sentences with ease.
Nathan knew Charles could do it. As aforementioned, the man was absolutely smart. His much larger vocabulary was an asset to their songs. As much as Nathan would refuse to admit it, he had taken words from Charles' boring meetings, using those as a base for lyrics from time to time. Due to this, Nathan knew Charles could channel that Dethklok energy that Nathan had been seeking out for ages. He already enjoyed having Pickles on board for vocals, so of course he saw no harm in bringing Charles into this one. Charles had genuine potential. If anything, him using that potential for this rather than useless papers had to have been more fun for the poor guy.
After a few moments of gentle sounds of scribbling, Charles finally set the pencil down. "Alright. Ah, let me know if I need to change anything. I tried."
Nathan held the notepad closer to his own face to read the cursive better, eyes darting around the page in scattered directions, before slamming his other hand down in excitement. "This shit is perfect! God damn," he practically gawked, "why didn't I think of this earlier? Shit, Charles." He smiled, playfully patting Charles' back with mild force.
Charles definitely didn't expect the praise. He couldn't help but chuckle just a little as Nathan patted his back, feeling such an odd pang in his heart from the touch. Flattery, yes, but... maybe a touch of infatuation. Though, of course, he'd blame that on the alcohol that was already getting him buzzed. "Oh. Thank you, Nathan." he murmured, face heating up. Was his throat usually this dry after such a small amount of booze?
"'Course. Tomorrow, we'll get to putting that shit onto the music. I'm pumped already. Here," he blathered on, pouring the drink into a regular glass this time before taking a swig from the bottle itself, "You ever try to death-growl?" He inquired.
"Mh, no, not that I can think of. I'm sure I can, ah... rehearse that? Or is rehearsing, ah, not brutal?" He asked, a giggle slipping out as he swirled the drink around in the tiny glass. A bit spilled onto his fingers, and he'd licked the droplets up. After that, he downed the drink properly, setting the glass down and sitting back. He fumbled with his tie until he finally got it off, setting it on his lap before unbuttoning his shirt halfway. Classic, shitfaced Charles was back.
"Oh yeah, you gotta wing that shit. We don't take, what is it… calculated approaches, in this room." Nathan smiled crookedly, struggling with his pronounciation. He was about to nudge Charles teasingly with an elbow, until he’d caught himself staring at how the other licked his fingers. His drunken mind liked that. He proceeded to watch as Charles made his way to exposing his chest, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Before Charles could catch him, he looked away, taking one last swig before the bottle had become empty. He kept his head down, until he felt his hair getting played with. He looked up, and Charles was right there, batting at the long, black hair and stroking it playfully. "Pff… soft," Charles chortled.
Unlike last time, Nathan simply froze and let Charles continue, curious as to what else he’d do if allowed. Charles’ hand moved up until it was nearly at Nathan’s scalp, combing his hair between his digits. He seemed to move with such calculated, gentle movements, despite the intoxication. Nathan’s eyes fluttered shut, unable to help but lean into the touch. It wasn’t long at all before Charles was full-on massaging his scalp, and it forced out a low groan in relaxation as his usually-tense muscles simply suddenly released.
Charles giggled at how Nathan relaxed, using his nails to scratch his scalp delicately now. "S’it feel nice?" Charles asked, followed by another, more dopey giggle.
"Mmgnh, ye— yeah," Nathan stuttered, "ssso nice…" it turned into a sleepy, mumbly slur, his head slowly going lower until his forehead was against the table. Charles loved such a reaction, though didn’t want him passing out while slumped over the table.
"Hey, no, no, you should go to bed, this is uncomfortable." Charles whispered, pausing his massaging to make a poor attempt at having him sit up. Alas, Nate was too heavy.
"Nooo, stay," Nathan groaned, "I wan’ more." His slurring was a type beyond drunkness at this point.
Without putting any thought into it, Charles stood up. "C’mon, let’s lay down." He encouraged. Nathan let out a dramatic whimper, before complying and standing up.
"Only if you keep doing that," he grumbled, "’cause I’m sure not sleepin’ without it."
"Uh-huh. Yeah, come on…" Charles nodded eagerly, taking Nathan’s arm and tugging it childishly.
Nathan practically pouted as they left the recording room, Charles keeping a hand on Nathan’s arm to lead the two into the singer’s room. Considering what Nathan was eager for, the hallway felt a mile long, and he had gotten so impatient that he was the one taking Charles’ arm and taking them to his room.
Once inside, Nathan threw his shirt off, flopping onto the bed face-first and letting out a long, long sigh. His bed always felt five times softer and cloud-like when he was this drunk, and it was pure bliss everytime without fail.
Charles took off his belt simply for the relaxation, before climbing onto the other side of the bed. He put the heavy blanket over the both, the weight perfect for Nathan’s cold room. At first, Nathan had his back to Charles, though tilted his head back towards the other as a silent OK to continue. Charles smiled and snaked his fingers through Nathan’s hair and against his scalp, going extra slow and moving just a little closer. Nathan squeezed the fabric of the blanket in his hands, brows furrowing upwards in delight. "Oh, God…" he murmured, only leaning further into the touch.
"Hey, hey, turn around," Charles whispered, "this might be better." Nathan was quick to do so, at a distance until Charles moved closer and put an arm under Nathan’s head. Now, Nathan’s body was pressed against Charles’, the scents of their cologne and their body warmth colliding to make something far more comfortable under that blanket.
Charles’ eyelids grew heavier by each passing moment, unable to help but watch as Nathan’s consciousness slipped away from the ecstasy-like comfort with a loving gaze. He took a break from massaging to simply play with Nathan’s hair for a while, twirling the long locks around his fingers and being sure not to hurt him by pulling at it.
That was the last that Charles had remembered doing before he dozed off.