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Charles enjoyed his time 'hanging out' with the boys, he really did.
But, if he wanted to be honest (and since he was a lawyer by trade, this was rarely the case) there were some issues.
For one thing the boys got well... a little clingy, to be honest. They didn't just want him to drink with them, they wanted him to come along with them when they went shopping, to the movies (they always looked at him like he had grown another head when he mentioned the Deththeater, which was actually on Mordhaus grounds), bowling, miniature golf, pottery lessons, hiking (Murderface got tired and Skwisgaar was nearly eaten to death by mosquitoes; the trip lasted less than an hour). The list went on. Charles also caught unmistakeable notes of jealousy from them when he told them he couldn't come along on one of their outings because of a prior engagement. And God help him if he had any sort of business in Australia. Pickles would get an unsettling gleam in his eye, and ask Charles if he was going to see Seth.
At first, Charles would assure him that this was not the case. After a while, he just started lying about what country he was going to.
Another issue was the boys didn't seem to have a clear concept of personal and professional boundaries. Not that he himself didn't become... friendly when he had too much to drink, but he couldn't help that. This was different. With them it ranged from Toki's too-long hugs to Skwisgaar's offering to share a woman or six, to well, the current situation.
Namely, the boys wanted him to strip and get into the hot tub with them.
Naked.
When the boys had first offered, Charles had cleared his throat, straightened his tie needlessly, and attempted to tell them in the politest, most professional way possible that he didn't think it was the best idea.
“Dude! What? You're worried because we jack off in here together? Dat's what we gaht servants fer! They scrub this t'ing ahout all da time'!”
Toki piped up. “Dey scrubs it real goods!”
“Yeah,” Nathan agreed. “I mean, I know this thing's basically a big tub of come and booze and sometimes piss towards the end of the night, but I saw a Klokateer scrubbin' it out this morning. We're fine.”
“Ja, and it amn't de gays, because our dicks don't touches.” Skwisgaar made a circular gesture with his guitar. “We ams jacks off separates all de times, if anys things we ams just beings de socials aminals by jacksings offs togethers.”
“Ja, we jacks off all de times,” Toki chimed in.
Nathan nodded. “Yeah, that's why this thing is basically a big cup of jizz soup by the end of the night! But it's the beginning of the night, so it's okay!”
The band nodded in agreement. Charles tried very hard to conceal his horrified expression.
Skwisgaar made a low noise of understanding, then leaned in to his band mates, his voice lowered but perfectly audible. “Guys, I thinks Charles ams not wantings to go into de hots tubs with us for another reasons.”
Nathan's eyebrows shot up. He didn't even try to lower his voice. “Oh, you think he has a baby dick? Yeah, that makes sense, he looks like he has a baby dick.”
Nathan leaned in, the rest of the band followed suit, so that they were together in a kind of huddle. Charles still heard them very clearly. “Okay. Everybody be cool. Nobody make fun of Ofdensen's baby dick. That's not cool. That's a total dick move. He can't help that. His baby dick. So no shitty comments, okay? You don't even know, he might be a grower or something. Okay?”
The rest of the band grunted in assent.
Charles sighed. In his years working with Dethklok, he had learned to pick his battles. He had learned to instinctively know when the boys had... fixated upon something, and were not going to let it go, and act accordingly. This was one of those cases. He could walk away, and risk losing their good will, or he could acquiesce.
He decided to acquiesce.
Charles began removing his suit jacket. The boys cheered, clinking their glasses and such together. Charles steeled himself as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt.
He'd stay as long as he had to in order to mollify the boys, then excuse himself. Then he'd go and take himself a nice, long shower.
He didn't give a damn how hard that Klokateer had scrubbed it out.
The boys were busy carousing as Charles undid his belt buckle. They weren't really paying any attention to him, except Nathan, who was watching him out of the corner of his eye. With luck, he'd be able to finish stripping and slip into the hot tub without anyone taking any notice. Everything would be fine.
Charles took a deep breath and dropped both slacks and boxers in one smooth motion.
Toki screamed and hid behind Skwisgaar. Murderface swore, his eyes bulging. Nathan gaped. Pickles dropped his drink.
They certainly noticed.
~~~****~~~
“Gentlemen! It appears we have another situation on our hands. We have a clip from last night's Super Special Music Player's Award a Roonie Preshow Red Carpet Zazz Event Extravaganza to illustrate.”
Pickles the Drummer swayed a bit as he spoke into the microphone of a pretty brunette in an evening gown. “So dere we was, mindin' our own business , when Charles comes in and whips out an effin' tall boy.”
Skwisgaar Skwigelf came in from somewhere off screen. “Uh, Pickle? I thinks you ams ex-asks-geratings? He amn'ts quites dat girthys.”
“Naht by much dude, dat's whats messed up.”
Toki Wartooth was now there, seemingly having followed Skwigelf. “You knows what I thinks sucks? He am gots de huge horse cocks, but he also gots de tight ball! Dat's not fairs!”
Pickles pointed at Toki. “Dat's right! Naht only does Ahfdensen have an enormous swinging cahd, he never has to worry about gettin' drunk an' accidentally sittin' ahn his balls! Dat's naht fair!”
William Murderface's voice came from off-screen. “Are you talking about Charlesch'sch tight ballsch?” He came onscreen, his tuxedo too tight for his somewhat corpulent frame, his bow tie undone. “Becausche if he'sch gonna be walking around all day with a ten-inch baby-maker bazchooka, the leascht he could do would be to let usch know that when he schitsch down, it'sch gonna be on hisch own ballsch!”
Pickles swung his drink in a large, circular motion, sloshing it on the brunette. “He don't ever gahtta worry about clapper ball neither!”
Skwisgelf crossed his arms primly. “Ja, he ams shellfishes, is what he ams be.”
“It's bullschit, is what it isch!”
The other three nodded in agreement. The interviewer stared at them for a bit, dumbfounded, then turned towards the camera. “Back to you, Ted!”
Senator Stampingston shut the screen off.
Vater Orlaag stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Dethklok has come to see themselves as virile sex gods. If this notion is challenged by their unassuming manager, their entire worldview could be torn asunder.”
“The implications are devastating,” agreed Stampingston.
“And it is kind of bullshit,” said Crozier.
Everyone gave him A Look.
Crozier spread his hands outward, palms up. “What? It is! Look, I'm no queer, but the man isn't ugly. He's maintained the same look for over ten years, so he isn't aging poorly, he's wildly recognized as one of the world's foremost geniuses in law and finance, he's the world's richest man-”
Stampingston lifted a finger. “Actually-”
Crozier waved Stampingston off, dismissing him. “Oh please. We all know he's cooking the books like Sunday dinner. It doesn't take a 'financial expert' or a member of a 'Dethklok think-tank' to know he's been robbing those bastards blind for years. They're idiots.”
“M-maybe Dethklok is exaggerating.”
Crozier began counting on his fingers. “He's the world's richest lawyer, is possessed of solid if somewhat mousey good looks, has a tested IQ of over 200, and has an army of hooded thugs with military grade weapons at his disposal. With all that, anything above four inches fully aroused is obscene. Or maybe if he were ugly enough, it might still be okay. But his unattractiveness would have to put William Murderface to shame.” Crozier poked his index finger into the table, punctuating his words. “Our expert's analysis of Dethklok's recent statements indicate Ofdensen has at least twice that, even accounting for any sort of exaggeration. And he never has to worry about getting drunk and accidentally sitting on his own balls? Next you'll be telling me his semen tastes like chocolate.”
The members of the Tribunal were silent, letting this information sink in.
“Fuck that guy,” growled Mr. Selatcia, high atop his throne.
~~~****~~~
“Actually, a little bit, yeah.” Number 87,555, whose official designation was 'recording studio glass cleaner' but also did things like straighten things up if their Lordships had left behind beer bottles, pizza boxes, empty chip bags and the like. “Like, super-salty chocolate, but yeah.”
Abigail lifted an eyebrow. “How did you even get into a situation where you could...?”
87,555 paused in her work, then turned to face Abigail. “I dunno, I was heading up the elevator after my shift was finished, and I ran into him. I think he must have been coming back from drinking with their Lordships or something? He's a super affectionate drunk, turns out. Very sweet. Just a one-time deal though.”
“Isn't that a little...?”
“Unprofessional? Are you kidding? I'm a Gear. I have, like, a 15% percent chance of something spiky falling on me and killing me on any given day. So we basically-” 87,555 half-shrugged. “-you know, whatever. Like, half of the lady Klokateers I know joined because they're lesbians who've heard that all the kinky, hot chicks are hoods. I'm not even sure they know any Dethklok songs.” 87,555 picked up her Windex and went back to work. “They only have that sexual harassment video for dildos who don't know that 'no means no'.”
“Would you do it again?”
“Are you kidding? Hell no. Not unless I wanted to store a 2-liter of Coke in my hoo-hah. Then, sure, yeah. Then I'd be set.”
~~~****~~~
“Alright, we have a lot to get through today, so-”
“Scho what?!”
“So we should go ahead and get star-”
“Scho you think you can juscht lord your hulking pork schword over usch, make usch do whatever you want juscht becausche you have a bigger dick?” Murderface slammed his fist on the table. “Well it doeschn't work that way! Juscht because you have a monschter jackhammer...”
Pickles sat forward. “Yeah! Just because you gaht a cahlahssal ding dong doodly doo-”
“Just because you ams gots de...” Skwisgaar racked his knowledge of the English language. “Bigs... pops... cockles...”
“I would much rather that, ah, this not become an issue-”
Toki wanted to play too. “Just because you gots de bigs cods pieces...”
“Guys, I'm still the same person as before, we do not have to make a big deal out of this-”
“Rides in on's dragons!” Skwisgaar leaned across the table, pointing at Charles, then looked around at the others. “Dat what you ams! It tooks me a whiles, but dat was pretty clevers, ja?”
Toki, Pickles, and Murderface all nodded in agreement, then looked toward Nathan expectantly. Nathan shook himself. “Sorry, what? I... uh, wasn't paying attention. I was thinking about...” There was a ten second pause. “Chips. And tits.”
“We was-”
“Doritos!”
“We was tahlkin' about Ahfdensen's humongous dahng, and how he cannot-” Pickles turned to glare in Charles's direction, making an 'I'm watching you' gesture. Charles sat perfectly still, wishing a hole in the Earth would devour him, taking him away from this terribly uncomfortable, unprofessional situation. “Cannot lord dat over us. Right?”
“I, uh, didn't notice.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Even Charles looked surprised.
“Because... I was thinking of chips. Back then too.”
Everyone stared.
Charles saw an opportunity to get the meeting back on track and seized it. “Yes, you should all follow Nathan's example. Now, you're being honored as-”
Nathan squirmed. “Because... because I don't stare at other dudes' dicks all the time! Like you assholes! I barely even noticed he was there!”
“That's good. Anyway, you're being honored as-”
“I DON'T SCHTARE AT DICKSCH ALL DAY!”
Charles allowed his shoulders to slump, just a tiny bit. Why did he even bother with these things? “Guys, if you don't mind-”
“THERE HE GOESCH AGAIN! You think you're better than usch, don't you? Just because you've got a big, veiny, cyclopsch sctuffed in your pantsch-”
“Yeah! Just because you gaht a king-sized beef burrito-”
Toki was having a good time. Someone was being picked on, and it wasn't him! “Ja! Just because you gots de-”
“Fine! Fine. We'll-” Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “We'll continue our meeting later.” He collected his briefcase and his notes, and left.
~~~****~~~
Nathan waited until the guys were too wrapped up in talking about Charles's dick to notice him, then slipped out. Safe in the empty hallway, he put his back to the doors to the living room, sighing.
Yeah, he hadn't noticed Charles's dick. But he hadn't been thinking of chips, tits, Doritos, or even beer. He hadn't really been thinking at all.
Except...
When Charles started undressing, Nathan had kept an eye on him because he was curious. That's it, curious. That was all. He'd never seen the guy when he wasn't in his suit, and he wanted to see what he looked like outside of it. Just curious. Nothing wrong.
And then the clothes started coming off. First the tie, and then the little buttons that revealed collarbone, chest, abs, and he was just so baby-doll pale, all... he wasn't skinny, he wasn't fat, but he damn sure wasn't no linebacker.
Lean, that was it. Yeah. Lean.
Chest, arms, hips, thighs. Even a glance at the curve of his ass from the side. And when you got chicks with real pale skin really into it, they got all flushed, and Nathan bet that if you gave that ass a good smack he'd groan and shiver, and he was probably all hard up because you never saw any chicks with him, and the thing about the really straight-laced ones was once you got them behind closed doors they turned wild because they were so repressed, and deep down they really wanted to do freaky shit, they just needed someone-
Nathan buried his face in his hands. Fuck. Now was not the time. Never was the time, in fact. What if the media found out? They couldn't even fart without the fuckin' stink causing a riot, and it wasn't like the death metal community was open to this kinda shit. And if Dad found out...
No. He was NOT gonna even think about that one.
Nathan blew a long, calming breath out of his nostrils. He was gonna... he was just gonna go and jack off to nice, normal porn, put this whole thing behind him.
He REALLY wished that the guys had just said 'okay, cool' when Charles didn't want to get into the hot tub with them.
~~~****~~~
Charles sighed as he poured himself another brandy.
He very much wished that the boys had let it go when he had indicated he wasn't interested in getting into the hot tub with them.
He had waited patiently for the... issue, as it were, to die down. After all, it always did. He'd seen it dozens of times, one or more of the boys would become obsessed with something for a time, and then they'd forget that they were looking for their father, that they had their own line of barbeque sauce, that they wanted to colonize Mars, or that they wanted to petition Hel, Norse goddess of the dead, so that all of the Golden Girls could be alive at the same time again. Or whatever it was.
Except that it didn't happen this time.
Everything came back to what was in Charles's pants. If he asked them to focus during a meeting, they'd say he was accusing them of being distracted by their tiny dicks. If he sent them an email with an attachment, they'd demand to know if he was sending pictures, trying to show off his enormous manhood. None of them would bend over if he was in the room. There was a lot of talk about the apparent danger of his 'spearing' their groupies, taking them away. Or poking their eyes out. Whenever he defended one or more of the boys in court, they'd interrupt the proceedings to say he should 'just whip it out and get it over with'.
Even beyond that, the subject came up in a thousand different, usually unpleasant ways. Murderface in particular liked to go on in excruciating detail about the idea of Charles choking someone to death with it. Which was a preposterous idea.
It had only ever happened that one time.
After a few weeks (which felt like months) the boys demanded Charles go to a fertility specialist to get himself tested. His tight no-clapper-ball testicles must have very little sperm count in them, they insisted. They would find out exactly how low. Charles acquiesced, feeling that it would be worth an hour or two of missed work and a few off-color assertions about his virility (including some remarks about 'it shooting out dust' that Charles felt was a little much) to get things back to normal. He even agreed to go to an office outside of Mordland instead of St. Necrophagist in the interest of fairness, which the boys were very keen on.
When they arrived, a young nurse led Charles to a back room, handed him a small cup, and told him to seal it and bring it to the front when he was done. Charles did as he was told, then slipped the nurse a twenty five dollar gift card to Hot Topic and asked if she could see to it that the numbers came out a little low.
Charles was equally keen to put the entire matter behind him.
They waited. Murderface played with his phone, Skwisgaar and Toki fought over the waiting room's lone copy of Highlights magazine (the presence of which Charles rather questioned), Pickles drank. Nathan had declined to come. He'd been rather... decent about the entire affair, for which Charles was grateful. He had even started coming by Charles's office every so often to share a drink or two. It was nice.
After a time, a doctor came out with a clipboard and the results. The boys sat on the edge of their seats, gleeful.
They did not feel that way once the doctor was done reading said results. Quite the opposite, in fact.
On their way out, Charles made sure to speak to the nurse.
“What? I did what you asked! It's just... when you lower really, really high numbers, they still turn out super-high!”
The boys didn't speak to him the entire ride back.
~~~****~~~
“Nathan? Ah. Come right on in.”
Nathan did so, sitting across the desk from Charles. “Uh. Hey.”
“Hello.”
Nathan rubbed his thighs awkwardly, then took the brandy Charles offered him with a thanks. “Where... where were you guys this afternoon?”
“You, ah. Did the others not tell you anything?”
“They, uhhhh... They kinda mentioned Pete North, like, maybe a little.” Nathan found he couldn't meet Charles eyes for more than half a second. “Did you guys, like.... go out and do, y'know, something?”
Charles looked down at his own brandy. “Well, ah, you know the others have been rather focused on my-”
“I didn't notice! I was busy thinking about chips!“
“Yes, well. They, ah, they wanted me to go to a clinic to see if-” Charles fancied himself as a man with a way with words, but he couldn't think of an appropriately professional way to phrase what had happened. It all seemed so... dirty, somehow.
Nathan's eyes gleamed. “Brutal. So, like, how does that kind of thing work?”
Charles cleared his throat. “Well, there's not much to it. A nurse gave me a cup-”
“Did they get to watch?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did the other guys get to watch? Did the nurse, like, help you? Get the sample?” At Charles's look, Nathan caught himself. “I mean. Uhhhh. Was she hot?”
Charles gave him a suspicious look for a second, but then shrugged it off. “Moderately, I suppose.”
“Uh huh.” Charles on his knees, mouth open and ready, waiting for Nathan to give him his 'sample'...
“Nathan, are you alright?”
Nathan was staring into the middle distance over Charles's shoulder. “Huh? Uh, yeah. Thinkin' 'bout chips.”
“I could give you some, if you like.”
Nathan shook his head. “Wait, WHAT?”
Charles arched an eyebrow. Was Nathan...? No, that would be terribly presumptuous to think that of Nathan. “Some chips. I could have a Klokateer bring you some, if you like. Are you hungry?”
Nathan stood. “Nah, no thanks. I'm...uh, I've got some in my room. Think I'll go eat them.” His Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed, then he looked back up at Nathan, a little shy, licking his lips... “Like, uhh, now.”
“Are you sure? I, ah, wouldn't mind the company.”
Charles, his eyes hooded in content submission, watching Nathan undress him.
No. It was not the time. It was never the time. Nathan knew he was stupid, but he'd owned fucking goldfish that could figure this shit out. No way. He was gonna... he had to get out of here, before he did something drastic.
He was gonna have a good, solid jerk, then he was gonna smoke a bowl, watch My Little Pony: FIM, and eat chips. Put all of this shit out of his mind, and just... leave it there. Out of his mind. Forever.
Nathan felt this was a solid plan.
“Nah, I gotta go.”
His back turned, Nathan missed Charles pour himself another brandy, his shoulders slumped.
~~~A few hours later~~~
Nathan was content. He'd had his jerk, his bowl, and now he was having his chips, fucking around on the internet, and watching Fluttershy be a total bitch to everyone, because apparently that's what she thought being assertive was. Then again, everybody had been a total bitch to her, so whatever.
There was a knock at the door. It opened before he could say anything. It was Charles, suit jacket and tie gone, shirt rumpled and half-unbuttoned. He staggered in, shutting the door behind him.
Apparently Charles had just kept drinking when Nathan left. Okay.
“'M sorry. I know... I must have said something to upset you, to have you just leave like that. I'm... I've never been very good at connecting with people, and the other boys are still upset, and... I don't want there to be any emnem.... ennmenity...” He swayed a bit. “I don't want you to be mad, too. I can't... I can't live with all five of you hating me, not with it so close...”
Wait, 'it'? What it? Was something coming up?
Shit, had they forgotten his birthday again?
Charles managed to somehow trip over the bed that was right fucking there in front of him, landing with his palms on the bedspread, head down. He sort of stayed there for a second. Charles licked his lips. Nathan licked his, too. Damn, damn, fuck, balls, damn, fuck, he had tried to get away from this, that was why went back to his room! Because he had fucking sense enough not to start shit that he would only end up neck deep in!
“Nathan, if there's something I can do to make it up to you...”
Okay, cool. He could still do this. All he had to do was say 'nah it's cool, I just wanted to smoke a bowl and hang out'.
(Baby-doll pale)
He could say 'I was just pissed off at something from before, it's not even you'.
(Thighs curving into that lean, firm ass)
Or 'nah, you don't have to do anything, it's cool'.
(Wrists small enough that you could hold them both one one hand, trace the other down his spine while you rode him.)
Or anything.
(Slow, grinding at first. Just to make him beg. Then hard, fast. Make him beg again.)
Anything.
(Lean, baby-doll pale, and I'm gonna make the word 'please' come out of those lips of yours before you wrap them around my-)
Charles looked at him, pleading. Desperately lonely.
Nathan felt his hands dragging him forward. He couldn't do this. They couldn't do this. He was into chicks. That's what you were supposed to do. That's what you had to do. The guys would find out. The world would find out. His... their parents would find out. Everything would be ruined. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to the guys. He couldn't do that to Charles.
Except that he kept getting closer to Charles. They were close enough now that Nathan could see the thin, white line of the scar where he had lost an eye, small enough that he didn't even bother to cover it like the other one. Close enough that he could smell the booze-sweat stink of someone who had been drinking by themselves for hours, curling around his hair stuff and cologne.
Charles knew what was going on, Nathan could see it in his eyes. His chest felt like it would cave in with relief. He was off the hook. He couldn't stop himself, but Charles would. He knew better. They both did, but Charles would be able to put a stop to things before they went too far. That's what he did.
Charles let out a slow, shuddering breath, then leaned forward until his head rested on Nathan's shoulder. Submission.
Well, that was it, then.
~~~****~~~
After it was over, Nathan napped; Charles showered. Charles came out in a bathrobe that was way too big for him, black silk hanging around his calves, hair wet and messed up. He had been standing there a bit before Nathan opened his eyes.
“What?”
At Nathan's outstretched arm, Charles crawled back into bed with him. Nathan lifted an arm, and Charles settled in next to him. They... fit together. It was nice. It felt right.
They just had to keep it a secret, was all. Which (to dust off kind of an old chestnut) was totally doable.
Nathan had done an awesome job of keeping the fact he wanted to do Charles a secret, after all.
~~The next day~~
“Alright, I want to thank everyone for meeting up on such short notice. Now, we're a bit behind because we didn't get to cover much last meeting, so-”
“Aw, HERE HE GOESCH AGAIN! You juscht can't schut up about that fucking horsche cock of yoursch, can you? Why don't you juscht-”
“I think-” Nathan cleared his throat. Charles thought he was going to have a heart attack, sure that Nathan was going to bring up last night.
“I don't think its that big. I mean, I think mine's bigger. And. And! There's, like, five of us, and only one of him. So if you think of it that way...”
The boys' eyes lit up.
“Ja... Ja!” Skwisgaar's fingers flew to his guitar. “And de ladies say dat I has de ball hairs what am soft and downies like de newly drivens snows.”
“And I hear dat da ladies like big, low hangin' bahlls! Which I gaht.” Pickles added primly.
“Schit, mine go down to my kneesch!”
“Ja, honestlys Charles, your ball hairs look... not so softs. Do you's conditions dems?” Toki tilted his head into the question. “You needs to conditions dems.”
“Actually, I ah-”
Charles and Nathan's eyes met. Nathan was making a not-so-subtle 'go with it' gesture.
“I, ah, have been meaning to take better care of myself?” Charles looked over at Nathan, who was now making a 'keep going' gesture, in full view of the others. “Thank you... for the advice?”
“You gots to have de rights conditioners for your ball. I keeps a bottle specials.” Toki's voice was soft, caring.
“Ja, I use de Herbal Eskenses.”
Everyone, including Nathan, launched into an animated discussion about which conditioner was best for the balls. There was some disagreement over which was best, but they all agreed that it was necessary to use body wash and shampoo first, because washing your balls felt good.
After the conversation had died down enough, Charles broke in. “So, ah, you're being honored by the-”
“ROBOT!”
Charles blinked, astounded that he would ever be grateful to be called less than human.
“Duly noted. In any case, you're being honored by the-”
~~~****~~~
After the meeting, the boys decided to play a game of hide and seek. Nathan stayed behind.
“I, uh, thought they were pretty okay looking,” he said, hovering over Charles as he gathered his papers.
Charles paused, then realized Nathan what meant, and that this was his way of smoothing things over in case he was offended. It was... nice. Sweet, in a bizarre way. Very bizarre.
Nathan shuffled. “Are you mad?”
If Charles wanted to do the professional, sensible, right thing, he would break it off with Nathan now. Before things got any farther, before he had to had to shuffle on his rumpled, soiled clothes and slip out against the cacophony of Nathan's snores again.
But Nathan's eyes were green and hopeful. And last night's memories were fresh.
And, truth be told, Charles's... working vacation... had caused him to reexamine his priorities a great deal.
“No. In fact, I, ah-” Oh Lord. He had no idea what people even did anymore. Had it really been that long? “I was wondering if you'd like to get lunch together?”
Charles felt the sudden need to shoot himself. It was was 3:50.
“A, ah, late lunch.”
Nathan shrugged. “Yeah. Well, it'll be breakfast for me, 'cause I just got up, but you know. Whatever.”
“Well, alright then.”
So it was that they left together.
~Fin~