The Photo Shoot

[Anonymouse]

Skwisgaar from Metalocalypse, which I do not own (or else there'd be a lot more sneezing in the show), and the lucky, lucky fetishist photographer in charge of his photo shoot. He's allergic to something in her studio. Needless to say not a lot of work is getting done, at least not at first. I hope someone enjoys this!

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Kateryna Sokolov didn’t get into this business for artistic fulfillment. If that was all she was after there were better ways of getting it. The starving artist route had simply never appealed to her. She had a natural talent for photography but her options had been limitless: she had had access to the best education and she had the work ethic of a CEO, the persuasive abilities of a lawyer, and the intelligence and the compassion for humanity that most doctors and psychiatrists possessed. Of course she probably made the same amount of money that any of those guys did with this job. Kateryna didn’t do it for the money, though admittedly she was so accustomed to the luxuries she could now afford to surround herself with that she wasn’t sure she could ever be happy with any other lifestyle.

No, she became a photographer for opportunities like this, to photograph her favorite celebrities. Chances were slim that she would have run into Skwisgaar Skwisgelf, the fastest (and hottest) guitarist in the world, had she chosen to become a doctor instead.

Playgirl had asked Skwisgaar to do a spread and Kateryna was the lucky woman assigned to the job. A couple of the other female photographers had attempted to throw themselves off the tops of their apartment buildings after learning this news; one had actually succeeded. Fortunately she had survived the sixteen-story fall. When Kateryna visited her in the hospital she told her she’d ask Skwisgaar to sign a get-well card for her, which nearly caused the girl to rip out her breathing tube in another bout of suicidal rage. The memory of how upset she had gotten caused Kateryna to laugh as she went about the room preparing for Skwisgaar’s arrival.

Okay, so maybe Kateryna didn’t quite have the compassion of a doctor. But those other things were true, especially the part about her love for the rich and famous. She loved having them at her in-home studio, loved embracing their bodies with her camera lens and having candid conversations and seeing sides of them that nobody else ever got to see.

There was a rap at the door and Kateryna finished arranging the last bunch of flowers before giving the room one last sweeping look. Her studio was a palette of beauty; incense was burning, perfuming the air with the musky, sensual scent of patchouli; there was a pot of fiery red West Indian jasmine on every surface; and the couch, draped with faux fur (Playgirl wanted to avoid becoming the latest target of PETA’s vitriol), was positioned before a smoky backdrop. The only thing missing was Skwisgaar.

She opened the door, nearly gasping at the man who stood before her. It had been so long since she’d been starstruck; after a couple of years in the business she was finally used to acting like herself around the celebrities she photographed. But the sight of the beautiful Swede struck her mute.

“Dis ams the rights place?” he asked after a moment, when she failed to introduce herself.

“Yes, please, come in,” Kateryna said hurriedly, craning her neck slightly to look up at him. He was a lot taller than she imagined he’d be. “Kateryna Sokolov. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

When she clasped his hand she could feel how sweaty it was, though she was certain it wasn’t from nervousness. She could feel the heat from outside pulsing into the room through the open door. Skwisgaar grunted in thanks as a hooded man handed him his guitar case before returning to the long black limousine parked in the drive. “It ams pretty hots out theres, eh?” he asked conversationally, as they walked into the studio. “I thinks I gets a little bits sweaty.”

Skwisgaar ran a hand through his blonde mane, examining the strands he held between his nimble fingers. “You look fine to me,” Kateryna said. Not just fine, pretty damn fine.

“Nots used to this heats,” he replied, fanning himself with his hand. “Sounds likes you’s probably nots eithers.”

“I actually grew up in Louisiana,” Kateryna said with a small smile. “I’m just really good at hiding it. This weather isn’t too terrible for me.”

Skwisgaar smiled briefly before hoisting his guitar case up. “What should I- IH’SHOO!”

He had just enough time to direct the sneeze into the crook of his arm. Kateryna could only stare, mouth slightly agape, and wonder how on Earth she had gotten this lucky. She loved seeing how human celebrities could be, and this was the best possible way they could demonstrate it. She loved when people sneezed but never had the chance to experience someone famous sneeze during a shoot. Yet Skwisgaar hadn’t been here five minutes and already she had gotten to witness what she always secretly hoped for every time she worked with an attractive male celebrity.

Trying to brush off the interruption while mentally stashing the memory away for obsessing over privately later (she had a job to do, after all), she held her hand out. “Here, let me take that for y-”

When Skwisgaar held up a finger she fell silent at once, hardly daring to believe it could be true. Was he going to sneeze again? It certainly seemed like it. He returned his hand to his face, his fingers curling under his nose as he stared off to his right with a glazed expression. His half-lidded eyes closed completely, his eyebrows rising slowly as he drew in a deep breath. “Hih—” And then he bobbed forward twice, absolutely silent. Straightening up he exhaled heavily, as if the effort of stifling had temporarily drained him of his energy.

“Pardons me,” he said dismissively, giving a solitary sniff before handing his case over to Kateryna, whose strength had suddenly left her. Struggling to keep her arms from shaking, she took the case and laid it gently against a wall, trying not to let her mind get caught in an obsessive loop about what had just happened. Camera, where was the camera… Spotting it on one of the couches, she picked it up and affixed it to the tripod, eager to fiddle with something, to hide her blushing behind something. Skwisgaar stood off to the side, watching for a moment before walking over to the couch and draping himself across it lazily.

“I was thinking we could do a few without the guitar first,” Kateryna said, peering at Skwisgaar through her camera’s viewfinder before straightening up to actually look at him once she was certain the redness had left her cheeks.

His slow smile put the color right back in her face. “Whatsever you say, you’s the artist.”

This was another thing she loved about celebrities; they knew how to be charming. And she could be charming right back. The sneezes had flustered her but she had managed to recover after a couple of minutes. “I say we have a glass of wine before we do this thing,” she replied.

Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. “We haves wine?”

“I always have a few bottles around,” Kateryna said on her way to the kitchen.

“Wait… this ams your house?”

Kateryna paused at the entrance to the kitchen, drinking in Skwisgaar’s adorably befuddled expression. She had gotten this reaction a few times before. Glamour photography made good money but her rich parents helped supplement her salary. They had more money than they knew what to do with, hence the beautiful home with the studio she could roll out of bed and walk to in five seconds (though she preferred to spend a couple of hours getting ready). With a mysterious nod she vanished into the kitchen, perusing her wine collection before selecting a Merlot. “I like to keep my work close to me,” she explained, standing on her tip-toes to grab a couple of glasses from the cabinet, “and I like my models to feel comfortable.”

There was no response from the next room. Frowning slightly, Kateryna returned to the studio and froze when she caught what must have been the tail-end of another silent sneeze. Skwisgaar had been hunched forward but he relaxed a little now, petting absently at the fake fur spread across the couch with one hand, the knuckles of his other hand pressed against his nose. Kateryna busied herself with the wine, placing the glasses on a table and screwing open the bottle, all the while discreetly watching Skwisgaar out of the corner of her eye.

“Is Merlot good?” she asked, allowing herself a moment to look up at him.

“It’s fine,” he replied distractedly, his eyes glazing over again. His nostrils flared briefly and he pressed his fist harder against his nose, his shoulders rising as he inhaled. “Hiiihh… hih-nxgt’shehhh! Hnxggt’sheehh!”

“Aren’t you feeling well?” Kateryna asked as casually as she could, trying to keep her hands from shaking again as she brought the glasses over to the couch.

It was obvious he wasn’t but Kateryna was curious to see how he’d react. Just as she suspected he gave an arrogant sniff before accepting the glass she offered him. “Thanks you for the wine,” he said, completely disregarding her inquiry.

“I think I need to loosen you up a little before you get undressed for me.”

They were back to the playful banter and he was smiling again. Sneezing seemed to make him want to brood. “I didn’ts need no persuadsings,” he assured her.

“I would hope what Playgirl is paying you would be all the persuasion you need.”

He smirked but Kateryna detected a hint of irritation in his expression. Her heart sped up; he couldn’t sneeze, not while she was sitting so close. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Skwisgaar sniffled, giving a little growl of irritation as he lifted his free hand to give his nose a harsh rub. When that didn’t seem to solve the problem he held his glass out to her shakily, crinkling his nose. “Can you ta-… huh…”

Kateryna froze until the realization that sneezing plus wine plus white faux fur equals an expensive mess prompted her to take the glass from Skwisgaar. His now-free hand joined the other in hovering in front of his face uncertainly as his breath hitched, his chest and shoulders lifting with each desperate inhalation. “Huhh… huh-huh-huPFT’chehh! Hnxggt’shoo! Heh’ISSHOO! IH’SHOO! IHH--…” Skwisgaar paused, though he was so obviously unfinished. Sniffling, still poised to catch that final sneeze (or sneezes), he lifted his gaze to one of the bright photography lights that exaggerated the flare of his nostrils. He gasped suddenly, then snapped forward into his waiting hands. “Hih’ISSHOOOOOO!”

By this point Kateryna was certain that it wouldn’t have made a difference if she or Skwisgaar had been holding the wine glass; she nearly dropped both glasses in astonishment. Setting them aside shakily, she stood up to go find some tissues before returning to the couch with the whole box. The Swede glanced sideways at her before begrudgingly pulling a few tissues out of the box and blowing his nose.

“Allergies maybe?” Kateryna offered helpfully.

“Dond’ts haves any,” he insisted, though his puffy eyes, red nose, and congestion suggested otherwise. “And I’m dot sick.”

“Well, we can’t do a shoot if you keep-”

“I’b fide,” he said sternly, and not wanting to get into an argument with the man she absolutely adored Kateryna dropped the subject.

She waited until he blew his nose again before handing him his glass. “Drink up. I’m going to get my make-up kit. Your nose is a little red.”

He didn’t protest so Kateryna stood up, wandering over to her supply cabinet. She felt a pang of guilt; while she set out the flowers and the incense to help create a relaxing atmosphere, she had to admit that she also did it in hopes of making her subjects sneeze. But she never thought she would (and never had) gotten more than just a couple; she hadn’t anticipated anything like the fits that Skwisgaar was having. They wouldn’t be able to do the photo shoot if he kept this up.

Skwisgaar was still rubbing his nose when she returned with the kit. Sitting down, she took his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his face. He didn’t seem bothered that she was touching him; he dropped his arm compliantly and turned towards her, sitting completely still. No doubt he had done photo shoots in the past, for other magazines or promotional images for the band. He was naturally beautiful but a little make-up couldn’t hurt, especially now that his nose and his eyes were so red.

Kateryna looked down at her available foundations before choosing the one best suited to the Swede’s pale skin. After making her selection she hesitated, not quite sure if trailing a feathery-soft brush covered in powder across her model’s face was the best idea right now. Of course she would have loved to – in her imagination, maybe, where nobody could see her blush, or where it didn’t interfere with her job. But she couldn’t photograph him like this. While Kateryna loved the idea of publishing photographs of Dethklok’s sneezy guitarist looking like an allergic mess, she was certain that her boss (not to mention Skwisgaar himself) wouldn’t be so keen on the idea.

So with a sigh she set to work nervously, moving her hand with the careful and practiced dexterity of a surgeon. She managed to touch up his cheeks and his forehead without any problems, but he made a small, irritated sound as she flicked the brush lightly over his nose. Just as she expected, his nose crinkled and he jerked to the side, leaving a streak of foundation across his cheek. “Hnk’shiew! Hnxgt’choo! Hih… hih’ISHoo!”

Kateryna winced but when Skwisgaar turned back to her with an embarrassed, apologetic expression she saw that her work had not been undone. She blended the blotch of foundation on his cheek before standing up to examine him. “You look gorgeous.”

He gave her a weak smile before stretching out on the couch. “I just wants to get this over withs…”

Kateryna frowned slightly, displeased with the idea of Skwisgaar wanting to leave as soon as possible. He noticed her disappointment and straightened up a little, adding quickly, “I wish I coulds stay longer, I was havings fun with you, I just… I think I’m allergics to something in this house.”

Finally he admitted it. That, along with his reassurance that he’d actually been enjoying her company, was all Kateryna needed to cheer up and get to work behind the camera. She shot a few photographs before she asked him to undress. He sprawled across the couch, his pale body only one shade darker than the white faux fur spread out beneath him. There were a few more sneezes, mostly quick, fittish triples, but Kateryna tried not to let it distract her from her flow, and Skwisgaar was careful not to rub his nose or screw up his make-up. After posing him with his guitar, which had been used to strategically block some of his body parts, Kateryna had taken over a hundred photographs between her film camera and her digital. Of course she’d have to narrow it down to a few of the best for the magazine. She would review them after Skwisgaar left.

“Thanks you,” he said as she escorted him, now fully clothed, to the front door. His hooded driver was stepping out of the limousine, coming to the front of the house to take Skwisgaar’s guitar back to the car. “I apolgisecks for making it so difficults.”

“It was no problem,” Kateryna insisted, trying not to laugh at his butchered version of the word ‘apologize’. “You were fantastic regardless.”

Skwisgaar smirked cockily, though there was a hint of self-deprecating humor in his voice. Kateryna was reminded again of how much she loved seeing the very human sides of the celebrities she photographed. “Maybes this shoot ams a big suck-sessk and we does another ones soon, eh?”

“I hope so,” Kateryna said with a grin.

He lingered for a moment before giving her a nod and turning to leave. Kateryna watched from the door as he strode down the walkway and slid into the back of the black limousine.

She returned to her studio, which once again seemed empty when it had moments ago felt so complete. There was nothing left of Skwisgaar except his scent, all but obliterated by the incense and the perfume of the flowers, and the images on Kateryna’s cameras. She picked up the digital camera and clicked through each photograph, laughing in surprise as she stopped at one she did not even realize she’d taken. It was a still image of Skwisgaar mid-sneeze, and the cherry on top of the entire day.

This one was definitely not one for the magazine, but for her own private collection. It was her one and only photo of this kind. Maybe she would keep the flowers and the incense around after all and see how many more she could get.

[sneezytwilight]

I love this story!! Its' so descriptive! good work!

[kilala]

This is amazing, I absolutely love it! You did a great job, I'm so glad I'm not the only Deathklok fan here. You should definitely write more fics if the mood strikes you, I will definitely read them

[March Hare]

Okay now see, THIS? THIS is what I go trawling through one hundred and fifty-six pages of Fanfiction subboard for. This hidden gem. This piece of my own frkn imagination put into THE PERFECT, THE ULTIMATE, WORDS. Not to mention SPELLINGS.

I LIVE FOR ANYTHING YOU EVER DID TO SKWISGAAR FUCKING SKWIGELF, MI GATO.

I don't know how I missed this when it came out, but who cares? I found it. And now my life is just that much better.