Bratklok

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles
Warnings: None
Summary: The boys go off to explore a new city.
Notes:

“I wants to go to da museum first!” Toki enthused, diving into the back of the limo.

“The musheum?!” spluttered Murderface.

“Yeah!” said Pickles. “We can see bones and dinosaurs and stuff.”

“Yeah fossils are cool,” Murderface conceded. “Okay, we’ll do the musheum.”

“Museums are cool,” agreed Nathan, shoving his gigantic form into the limo, followed by Skwisgaar.

“YAY! Naturals History museum!” Toki bounced with excitement.

They settled into their seats, excited to be in a new city and looking forward to seeing it. Normally these little tours were conducted by Charles, but he was back in his hotel room, swearing to the toilet as he discovered belatedly he was allergic to apricots. Fortunately he’d also discovered he didn’t like them so there was no chance of this happening again. He had asked an underling to drive the boys around, given him a list of places to take them, and sent the entire group off. All seemed to be going well until an authoritative voice called from the driver’s seat of Dethklok’s limo.

“No, first stop is the library.”

“LIBRARY?” came the response in bad harmony with assorted accents.

At this point Charles would have explained something about the history of the old main library, being sure to throw in the detail about how it was built over what used to be a small courtyard where prisoners were executed. But Ryan Kotter had never been trusted with the boys before, and he didn’t have Charles’ velvet touch with them. He had a list, an itinerary, and a schedule, and by god he was going to use them.

“Library,” he said firmly. “That’s what the list says. Library, historical monument…”

There was more yowling.

“Hey we want to go to the museum first!” said Nathan.

“Yeah,” said Toki, “what’s dis bullshits? You can’ts treats us likes little kids!”

Ryan was firm. “The list says first stop is the library. Mr. Ofdensen put me in charge, so we’re going to the library.”

Ryan started the car forward, secure in his position as the authority figure, confident that Ofdensen would be thrilled with how he handled the band, amazed at how well he kept them in check. Were Charles in the limo and not throwing up apricots he could have told Ryan that most adults resent being treated like children, and would have pointed out that these five adults in particular react very badly to the whip. Ryan drove along, blithely unaware of a simple truth that every parent and elementary school teacher knew and understood; never turn your back on a group of pissed-off five year olds. The band stared fixedly at the back of Ryan’s head for a long moment, the rusty gears in their mind turning. Then Pickles spoke up.

“We should sing.”

Were Ofdensen at the wheel, that phrase would have had him immediately finding a way to levitate the car over several lanes of traffic in order to change course for the museum. But Charles was currently making his way back to his bed after brushing mashed fruit out of his teeth. He was not there to warn Ryan about Dethklok’s ultimate secret weapon; their complete inability to harmonize.

All the band members could sing. Nathan and Pickles were the best, and Murderface could certainly hold his own when he felt like it. Toki was listenable, and the worst thing one could say about Skwisgaar was that his range was very limited. On their own all were capable of carrying a tune to some degree.

Together they formed a cacophony that would send angels and devils alike scurrying for safety. They were, quite bluntly, fucking horrible, and they knew it.

“Yeah,” said Murderface. “We should all have a nishe shong. Pickles, you shtart.”

Pickles did. Somewhere in Heaven, John Lennon and George Harrison were shoving chunks of cloud into their ears in preparation for what they knew was coming. Pickles began to sing in a smooth clear voice that was really quite lovely.

"Hey Jude, don’t make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

Hey Jude, don’t be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better… "

Nice. Very nice. Ryan was pleasantly impressed. That however changed to mild bewilderment as Nathan joined in, and suddenly the song was now just ever so slightly… well… wrong.

"And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder. "

Okay, still… tolerable. Not great but okay. Funny, these guys were all professional musicians, you’d think they’d be able to sing together but this… this was bordering on bad. The pain only increased when Murderface chimed in.

"Hey Jude, don’t let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can shtart to make it better. "

Ryan’s hands clutched the wheel, knuckles turning white as Murderface intentionally sang a quarter tone flat, worsening his slightly strangled and nasal singing voice. Then Skwisgaar chimed in with the most rangeless deadpan Ryan had ever heard, tempered by a Swedish accent.

"So lets it out an’ lets it in, hey Judes, begin,
Yous waitinks for someone to performs wit’.
An’ don’ts you know dat is just you, hey Jude, yous do,
Da movings you needs is on you shoulders. "

Oh man. This… this was brutal. This was agony. How could these people be professionals?! They were billionaires for crying out loud! A massive fortune made on their ability to play, and supposedly sing! What in the name of everything holy and unholy was that noise? Then he heard a fifth voice join the noise, the worst saved for last, as Toki Wartooth added a vaguely flat and nasal Norwegian accent with an almost gobbling quality to it.

"Hey Jude, donts make it bad.
Takes a sad songs an’ makes it better.
Remembers to lets her under you skin,
Den you begin to makes it
Better better better better better better… "

Ryan didn’t know how it got worse, but it did. The moment Pickles hit the high note that led into the ‘na na na’ it was as if five alcoholic tone-deaf demons were all trying to out-caterwaul each other. There was no single word to describe the noise. It was like the yowling of damned souls in Hell being forced by some sadistic monster to sing old Beatles songs. There was NOTHING worse than this noise. A dentist drill in the eyeball might come close. An electric carving knife in the rectum was probably comparable. Lucifer had released his most tone deaf demons and their name was Dethklok.

“ENOUGH!” Ryan screamed. “Enough please stop oh God in Heaven make them stop!”

Blessed silence fell. Ryan almost sobbed in relief. “Thank you. Oh dear God thank you. We… we’ll go to the museum.”

“Nah,” said Toki. “We change our minds. We wants lunch instead.”

“Yeah!” said Murderface. “At that little burger plashe we went to lasht night when we firsht came into town. The little dive. What wash it called? They made the besht mushroom burgers.”

“Oh yeah!” said Nathan. “Wasn’t it called ‘The Burger Bar’?”

“Ja dats was it,” said Toki. “Oh was so good!”

“But… it’s nine thirty in the morning and the Burger Bar is across town,” said Ryan weakly.

There was a long silence, then Pickles said coldly; “Dood. You do naht want us to resort to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”

Ryan held firm. “Look I am in charge. Mr. Ofdensen wants me to keep an eye on you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You can sing all you want. We are not driving an hour across town for burgers at nine-thirty in the morning.”

There was silence. Pickles turned to look at Skwisgaar as if silently asking a question. The tall blonde narrowed his blue eyes, and Toki piped up in the sort of lackadaisical tone that any mother would recognize as warning.

“Okay, we bes good. You wins.”

***---***

At 8 pm at night, Charles opened one eye and found himself looking into intense green orbs. He made a small sound of acknowledgement as a large hand reached up to stroke his hair.

“Did you have fun?” Charles asked quietly.

Nathan pushed a bit of hair out of Charles’ face. “Yeah. Oh, we went to that Greek restaurant you talked about. I brought you a present.”

Charles raised his head as Nathan laid a gift of hot calamari, fresh cool Greek salad, and other delectable offerings before him on the bed, sealed in foil containers. He smiled.

“Well aren’t you sweet today.”

“Yeah, well… I did kinda talk you into eating the apricots.” He stroked Charles’ hair. “How you feeling?”

“Better, actually. Why don’t we order a movie, eat dinner and just enjoy a quiet evening?”

“Okay. How about ‘The Ring’?”

“Oh Nathan you know I don’t like scary movies.”

“I know. You snuggle up real close and hide. It’s cute.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He positioned himself against the headboard and began examining the food Nathan brought. “So did you have a fun day?”

“Yeah.” Nathan rose to his feet, then picked something off a chair. “Oh. Got you something.”

Nathan handed Charles a bundle of black cloth, then went into the bathroom to shower. Charles unwrapped the bundle and stared sourly at the garment he held.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he called to the man in the bathroom, “I am not actually obsessed with hoodies.”

Nathan chuckled quietly. Charles pulled the thing on, and, snuggled warmly into his new sweater, began eating his dinner. Then his dethphone rang and he answered it.

“Ofdensen speaking. Oh hello Ryan. How was your first day with the band? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Wow. Really? No I didn’t know Skwisgaar spoke any Italian at all. So… the boys sold you? To an insane gay furniture designer. Well they’re certainly getting creative. I see. What’s the man’s name? No his real name. Well the name he does business under then.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “His name is Agrippa Ubuttocks. Well that’s certainly memorable though I doubt the authenticity of the surname. What did they get for you, if you don’t mind me asking? Really. I should think you’d be worth a little more than that. Well they do like their popsicles. Uh huh. Well I’ll send some roadies to come get you. All right.”

Charles ended the call, then looked towards the large form in the shower. “Nathan? Were we naughty today?”

“He had it coming. He took us to an organic vegetarian café for lunch.”

“You don’t think selling him to a man named Agrippa Ubuttocks for two cases of cherry popsicles for making you eat vegetables was a bit extreme, hmm?”

“You think we should have asked for three?”

“I think you shouldn’t have sold him.”

“Oh. Well… he shouldn’t have tried to make use eat guinea pig food.”

Charles began dialling their head roadie, Badger, to let him know they had to rescue Ryan. “I thought you liked some vegetarian dishes.”

Nathan poked his head out of the bathroom, black hair wet from the shower, beads of water wandering slowly over his skin. “One sentence. Murderface in an enclosed space after eating refried beans.”

Charles cancelled the call and set the phone aside. Ryan could just keep Mr. Ubuttocks company for a few more hours.