Work Text:
It’s been about 45 minutes since you last checked. No texts, no calls, each time you check his location it remains in place at Mordhaus. You fidget with the edges of your top as you lay your phone back on the table, the waitstaff comes to check in on you and the missing party every 15 minutes like clockwork, making the pit in your stomach deeper each time. You wonder if he’s entertaining someone or something else, dismissing the thought as soon as it forms. Your other hand moves from your shirt to the silver band on your ring finger, twisting it idly. He’s a good man, he wouldn’t leave you, at least you try to reassure yourself. You had gone through terrible relationship after terrible relationship for so long that being with Charles quite literally flipped your idea of romance on its head. Your favorite floral arrangement would appear on your desk each week, the cafeteria desserts had expanded to include items you remember telling him about once, on evenings when you felt less than stellar; a fellow klokateer would begrudgingly hand-deliver a stuffed animal to your unit. He’s a thoughtful lover, you think to yourself, a finger tracing the rim of your glass.
You begin to reminisce on your first encounter with the CFO himself, you had to take a moment to catch your breath, and your supervisor scolded you about something insignificant again, causing an anxious flare-up. Out in the hallway, you had removed your hood for just a second too long, chest heaving, with impeccable timing, Charles and his nth new assistant manager were discussing something when they had passed you by. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the scowl emanating off of the assistant as he motioned for you to put your hood back on, before you could Charles had held your wrist briefly, intrigued by your appearance. You were starstruck and even more anxious, you apologized as fast as you could before running to the nearest restroom to hurl. After rinsing your mouth out and smoothing down your outfit as best you could, your mind couldn’t help but drift back to how warm his touch felt, how piercing his gaze was. When you returned to your workspace, there were several new notifications of emails, and meetings with the CFO you hadn’t had before your anxiety attack, you inhaled sharply and prayed to anyone listening that you wouldn’t lose this job.
One of the meetings was scheduled about an hour later than the current time, your heart leaped into your throat, and this was it. The beginning of the end, goodbye healthcare benefits, and hello to your inevitable severance package. You silently curse yourself, if you were just a little more tactful, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You finished up most of the work you could get done before pitifully walking to Charles’ office. As you slowly but surely made your wait into his… Really well-lit, yet, grand workroom, you stood in front of his desk, your head low and shoulders slumped, prepared for your departure. You hadn’t even gotten to see anyone get mauled, mutilated, or severed! You waited a moment, then another, before speaking to the man. You tried your best to apologize, your reasons for being hoodless during working hours spilling fast and incoherent as you mumble to him. He raises a hand, a motion to cease your babbling. You swallow hard as he speaks, telling you that although you should never be without your uniform, he understands the predicament you are in.
As he asks you to sit, you can see all sorts of paperwork with your name on it splayed out onto his desk. Medical records, family history, every job title you’ve ever held, what the hell could he be looking at all this for? You give a dry smile, awaiting the inevitable. He meets your nervous gaze with what looks like a genuine smile, although you haven’t been with Dethklok long, you know for a fact Charles never smiled like that unless sales were over projections. “You, uh, don’t need to be nervous. You aren’t losing your position, actually. Quite the opposite.” He states matter-of-factly. You were stunned briefly, stuttering out your next sentence, “S-seriously!?” He replies with a deep chuckle, his hand covering his face for a moment before his eyes return to your flushed face, “Despite you being here briefly, you’ve made quite the, uh, impression, let’s say. Your supervisor, regardless of today’s slip-up, tells me you excel at what you do. I’d like you to be one of my assistants, starting tomorrow. Your raise, new office, and all other adjunct paperwork will be taken care of this evening.” You couldn’t believe what he was telling you, your fuck-up got you promoted… Somehow!? He can see the gears quite literally turning in your head, extending a hand out to grip your wrist lightly, “This is an unusual, but special, opportunity, do not waste it.” All you can think about is the fact he’s touching you, the gentle but strong hold his calloused hand has on your own soft wrist. You do your best to regain what little composure you arrived with and nod, more to yourself than him, “Wow, um, Mr. Offdensen, this is. A-are you sure? I mean-” Stammering through your uncertainty, he squeezes your wrist for reassurance. “I am a man who rarely makes mistakes, if ever. It would be wise of you to not second guess my decision.” He states firmly, you sense your face getting hotter, you’re probably a shade or two pinker than normal. He chuckles once more, releasing your wrist, was the room always this warm when you first came in? “See to it that you don’t make a fool of us both. I expect you here at eight, alright? Have a good rest of your day, I suppose, get some rest, as your workload is just going to triple and quadruple from this point forward.” All you can do is give a quick nod, tucking in your chair as you leave, exiting his office. Once a decent distance away from his office, you do a skip and hop, wanting to shout from the dragon’s head itself of Mordhaus, about how lucky you are. And grateful too, you suppose, Charles pitied you for whatever reason, but you’ll take it. You have no choice but to accept this new path and run towards it, anxiety be damned.
From then on, you were at Charles's beck and call, being nearly glued to his side. He even let you stop wearing the hood, after a few more “incidents” before fairly important meetings, he decided that he needed you composed and calm, uniform be damned if he couldn’t have you at your very best at all times. Days to weeks to months before it had been a whole year with Dethklok, and by proxy — Charles. It has been a particularly grueling day, the entire meeting area of Mordhaus had been flooded with some sort of whiskey Pickles had bought hundreds of barrels of. Other bandmates were already drunk off the stuff when they decided to recreate the first Donkey Kong game, Nathan being DK while he had Toki as Peach on his back, screaming curses at Skwisgaar and Murderface while throwing barrel after barrel down the hallway. A number of them burst, destroying all of the arcade equipment, the hot tub, and a bit of the kitchen area. Before the news arrived to Charles, you did your best to escort the inebriated bandmates to their respective sleeping quarters before calling down a cleaning crew. After running to Charles’ office, spilling all the details about the incident, he sighed heavily and praised you, wondering how you even got them into their bedrooms. You told him they trusted you for whatever reason because you were “cooler” than him, despite working directly underneath him. He scoffed, giving you a curt dismissal before you finished out the rest of the work day, running errands, and checking on the various departments of Klokateers that Charles wasn’t able to maintain himself. Your whole body ached with weariness as you eventually made your way to the employee living quarters.
Unlike the others, who shared military-style sleeping arrangements, you essentially had an entire apartment on the assistant's level. Sure, some were jealous, and you had to deal with lots of petty gossip and even random break-ins when you first were given the position. The look of satisfaction on Charles’ face when you completed a particularly arduous task, and even the rarer praise he blessed you with, made it all worth it. As you unlocked the door to your unit, shrugging off your bag and blazer, you could see some shadowy figures that loomed over in your dining area. ‘Shit! Another break-in?’, you thought to yourself, getting ready to fight whoever was in your living space. It was the wrong day to fuck with you, you were out for blood, as you flicked on the lights to see the bastard who dared to invade your home, what you greeted you instead nearly brought you to tears.
On your kitchen counters were several bouquets in your favorite colors, red foil balloons affixed to the wall in the shape of “365” — a testament to your first whole year here, working under the most powerful man alive with the biggest band of all history, making more money than you could ever imagine. On the kitchen table is a variety of desserts, all to your taste, a framed picture of Charles, and below it, a card signed neatly by the man himself. All anger immediately dissipates from you, and your eyes get watery as you hear the buzz of an intercom above you. ‘An announcement? At this hour?’ You wondered, instead, you heard Charles's voice, “Apologies for, ah, invading your privacy. I can’t celebrate with you in person, but I wanted you to know that your efforts aren’t going unnoticed. Thank you, truly. I mean every word.” All of your emotions from the past few months crash down on you, tears spilling from your eyes as you fall to your knees, sobbing hard. From his office, Charles can see your intense display of emotion on the security monitor, he takes a deep breath before pressing the button on the intercom once more. He says your name once, twice, with a gentle tone you’ve never heard before. It makes you sob even harder knowing the man above you, the one who works you to the bone (because only you can handle it), seeing you like this, a complete fucking mess.
“I want you to know I don’t think any less of you, witnessing you like this. Do not think for a second this makes you any less valuable in my eyes”, his voice crackles over the intercom, still gentle as if his words could wash away the ache embedded deep in your bones. “Take some time to calm down, come to my office when you’re up for it, alright? We can celebrate together if you’d like, even if you don’t want to, well, you can keep me company since you know our work is never finished.” He finishes the sentence with a light-hearted laugh, one that makes you feel just a little better. You don’t say anything for a moment, just nod, “I’ll see you in a bit, don’t keep me waiting.” The last words he speaks make your heart feel… warm. Is your stomach in knots? ‘How pathetic. As if he would ever give me the time of day…’ You think bitterly, before picking yourself up off the kitchen tile. You head to your bathroom to wash the mucus and tear stains off your blotchy skin, ‘God’, you think aloud, the bags underneath your eyes are more pronounced, but maybe it’s all worth it. ‘If not for Dethklok, at least for Charles’, you think tenderly, your hand as if moving on its own, traveling to the back of your neck, tracing the gear scar — once a brand that seared deliciously onto your delicate skin. You change quickly out of your work garb and into something cozy, something casual that wouldn’t give him the wrong impression, this was an impromptu work celebration if not just spending some downtime with your boss, after all. No need to impress the man who's seen you at your lowest, yet, a small part within you wants to entice him, lure him in, and make the man who has all eyes on him, get on his knees for you. As the heat emanates from your cheeks, you give yourself a light slap, ‘Now isn’t the time, stupid!’
The thought still lingers, making you shake your head as you return to the kitchen, with the amount of desserts delivered, you’d think Charles would be feeding an entire family with these. Still, a sweet gesture from a man who didn’t have to do any of this for you, you tell yourself as you put them away in your fridge. Quickly grabbing your phone and keys, Charles watches you exit your unit, finally making your way to him. His heart beats a little faster, watching you stride as fast as your legs can carry you on your way to his office. He knows he shouldn’t have invited you up, shouldn’t take your kindness to his advantage to soothe the hidden loneliness that lies deep within his heart. But, when he saw you fall to the floor, all sense went out the window, he wanted nothing more than to run to you, to hold you close, to press his chapped lips against your temple, soothing your frailed nerves. The intimate scenario brings a slight flush to his face, and the longing fantasy bursts as a knock on his office door dislodges him from it.
“Mr. Offdensen, can I..?” He can hear your muffled voice emit through the mahogany, “Of course, come in!” You hear him shout in response, as you open the door tentatively, his tie is loose around his chest, and a couple of buttons are undone, revealing a few chest hairs. You bite your lip at the site, venturing into his work area. Charles gestures to you to sit on one of the couches near his desk, he gets up, his back cracking a little too loud not to notice as he rises from his plush chair. You do your best to stifle a laugh, immediately coming to his side, offering one of your arms for support, “Maybe we should do office yoga or something, hm?” You tease him, and he scoffs before turning the jest at you, “Group therapy, too, while we’re at it, eh?” You roll your eyes, helping adjust to his full height as he walks you over to his liquor cabinet. You’ve never been much of a drinker, but since it’s a special occasion, you’ll allow yourself to indulge, just a little. Especially since Charles is offering, he interrupts your thoughts, “Anything in particular you’d prefer?” You look up and down the shelves of ornate bottles, “Do you have anything clear? I’m not really a whiskey or brandy type of person..” Charles searches the cabinet, before landing on a bottle with a foreign label, “Ah, here it is, someone at the label gifted it to me last quarter, supposed to be some European vodka, I don’t have any mixers, shots okay with you?” He looks at you, in his disheveled state, his glasses tilted slightly, he looks more like a frat boy getting hazed than the world’s richest chief financial officer. You give him a smile and nod, watch him pull out two long shot glasses, he pours one and gives it to you, pouring another for him. Before you can knock it back, he intertwines your arms, his glass inches away from your lips, his grin makes your lips curl into one matching his, as you mimic his gesture. You both laugh at one another before clumsily positioning the glasses towards the others’ mouth, some of the liquor spills, burning the edges of your lips while you two cackle. A brief moment of silence falls as you look at each other, did Charles always have such deep mossy eyes? Has he always had some stubble on his chin? You can’t help but get closer to him, wanting to commit each one of his features to memory, the crow's feet etched on the sides of his eyes, the deep set smile lines despite his lack of joyous demeanor… Charles had already head start on drinking, so this shot just makes the entire world feel fuzzy, a warmth blooming in his chest that he thought couldn’t happen anymore, but when he looks at you, your pupils blown, looking at him with such admiration. Desire? He can’t help himself, he cups your face, rubbing one of your cheeks with his thumb, his voice becoming huskier, “Give me permission, I need you to tell me I can” If you closed your eyes, it would almost sound like he’s begging you, to feel his lips on yours. With a dry swallow, you nod quickly, before he comes to his senses, before he realizes this might be a big mistake or misunderstanding.
From that night on; the drunken, sloppy, kisses you shared with Charles bound your fate to him, you were more than just the best-damned assistant he ever had, you were his everything. His world, outside of Dethklok, was you, the feel of you beside him, the way you snorted when you laughed, how tightly you clenched your fists when you were upset, the slight skip in your step when you were happy, it was all endearing to him — utterly and completely you. He didn’t know how deep love for another person could go until he found himself hopelessly enamored by you, he would never tell you, but on nights when he’s glued to his work laptop, he finds comfort in your snores and sleep talking. He was never one for coffee until you brought him one each morning, growing accustomed to the bitter brew you needed every day to offset the chaos of working for him. You feel your eyes get glassy as you return to the present, one of the members of the waitstaff breaking you out of the fond memories with your beloved, they tell you the kitchen will be closing shortly if you want to order anything before the staff begins cleaning up for the night. You shake your head, getting up to leave, as you exit the restaurant, a luxe vehicle pulls up to return you to the Mordhaus estate.
The driver notices you’re still alone, knowing he shouldn’t comment but the sag in your shoulders and the sadness emanating from your being makes his heart sink. The older man speaks gruffly, clearing his throat before he speaks, “Offdensen has never been one for romance, ya know. But.. with you, he does care. Cares a lot about ya, kid. In his own way.” His words were meant to comfort just make you feel worse, all the more neglected. You actually haven’t seen Charles in weeks, you yearned for his touch, his embrace, his company. You try to suck in your tears, inhaling sharply. It’s been hell dealing with the side projects of the band members, Charles only allowed you to manage them because they “listen” to you, he relayed to you begrudgingly. You choose not to reply to the driver, just nodding at him as he eyes you in the rearview mirror. A fresh wave of dread washes over you as the driver takes off, heading to your destination, your home, to where Charles’ location stagnates. Your notifications continue to pour in, emails, meetings, and missed calls from the band members. You never had to worry about them though, they only ever called to increase their weekly allowance; they knew Charles would never deny you anything, so they used his affection for you to their benefit in any way they could. You let out a heavy sigh, closing your eyes and fully leaning into the car's headrest. How could he forget today of all dates?
The nights spent working on proposals and arguing with executives over contracts all while making wanting gazes at one another, the time and time again you used his desk as a mattress, leaving your back aching the next morning but God if he wasn’t the most attentive sexual partner you ever had. Is this the end of it all? Has he grown tired of you? It has been years since you got together, hell, since you had gotten engaged to him. You think about walking down the aisle towards him, seeing him look at you with such pure adoration in your eyes, it’s a thought that breaks the dam welling up inside you, and as the vehicle pulls into the driveway of the estate, you begin to cry. Tears blur your vision, as you attempt to tell the driver you need a moment to collect yourself, he knew you were going to bawl at any moment, just waiting for it to happen. He reassures you to take all the time you need, to exit whenever you feel like it. He shuts off the vehicle, killing the engine, and stepping out, pulling a lighter and cigarettes from his coat pocket.
You think about calling one of the band members, any of them, to check on Charles, to see what he could possibly be doing instead of spending time with you, but they could be in any country, any city outside of the property for a number of reasons. A sinking pit of despair begins to grow in the depths of your intestines, what if you go into his office and he’s with one of the other assistants? What if your cruelest insecurity became true? You can trust him, right? You bite down hard on your lower lip, the sharp pain making you come to your senses. He’s been nothing but kind and understanding to you. Even the morning after, when you thought he would revoke your promotion and regret the intense romantic development of your relationship, he didn’t. He turned to you, cupped your face, and pressed his forehead to yours, relishing in the closeness he had long desired since you were branded at the eighty-first gear ceremony all those years ago. There wasn’t even a reason for him to remember the number of ceremonies held, gears came and go, and there was a nearly infinite supply of them, as long as Dethklok fans existed, so did each wave of fresh blood to give to the klok. Seconds, minutes, and a couple of deep breaths later, you exit the vehicle. You’ve had some disagreements with Charles before, he was always open and honest in his transgressions with you, allowing lingering touches from certain European band members, or answering calls too unprofessionally. He was a man who never blurred boundaries or played games, he was concise and clear with his motives, which included your relationship.
You made your way into the large dragon-shaped building, trying your best not to just run to his office. You kept your pace measured, and your demeanor as calm as you could. Sure, you probably looked like a wet kitten, your brows furrowed, eyes rimmed red, and tear stains streaked down your complexion. As you pass corridors, greeting other staff, you know they’re always talking and judging but at this point, you are past sadness and fully into the anger phase of your premature grief at the possible ending of your relationship with a man who could’ve had anyone in the whole world. Yet, he chose to be with you. The notion just makes you more furious, if you were the pick of the litter why didn’t he treat you like the prized possession everyone else made you out to be!? Your steps become harder, and the sound of your feet on the solid floor echoes in the halls. You nearly break a nail stabbing the elevator button to the floor where Charles’ office is. You can feel the heat rising to your face as you tap your foot, wishing you could will your frustration into making the damned platform move faster. As the doors slide open, you continue your dreaded walk toward the large doors. You take a moment as your hand stills on the handle, you inhale deeply before swinging the entrance open. The sight before you makes you lose what little patience you had left.