On Kidnapping Skwisgaar - Epilogue (End)
fffff this is a lot longer than I intended it to be.
They had a lot to say to each other. Also they kept trying to have sex but I wouldn't let them. Lol~ <3
This entire fic is 111 pages of size-10 font and nearly 80,000 words dear god LOL
Title: On Kidnapping Skwisgaar
Author: telluryan
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter, R)
Warnings: sex, heavy drinking, violence, gore, etc. etc.
Characters This Chapter: Skwisgaar, Seth, Nathan
Chapter Summary: Seth goes to a concert.
Half an hour late was never a good thing to be at a Dethklok concert. Especially not one of this magnitude. And especially not if you were the head of Dethklok Australia. You were expected to be at these things on time.
Seth had his regular arsenal of excuses ready. Amber was being incredibly difficult, lately, for one. She hadn't wanted him to leave the house, especially not to go and see a concert, which he'd only convinced her he was going to in order to see Pickles.
“You don't even like their music,” she sighed.
“It's my brother,” he argued. “Seriously.”
She warned him not to pull any stupid shit, and he begrudgingly kissed her cheek, promising that nothing he did would be anywhere near “stupid”, even by her definition of the word.
He was walking as fast as he could through the Sydney opera house, which was more or less shuddering from top to bottom, the combined roar of the music and the screams of the crowd shaking the very foundation of the building. It really was clever of Ofdensen to rent this place out, Seth thought: the music carried for miles, off over the bay and into the city itself. Seth had heard the unmistakable croon of a Gibson Explorer long before he'd even seen the opera house in the distance. The sound of it beckoned him. His chest had been aching steadily from the moment his car had stumbled onto the harbor bridge.
He shoved Klokateers out of the way, flashing his special ticket at them whenever one of them so much as looked at him for longer than a second, and one of them finally grabbed him, pulling him back harshly.
“Sir, backstage pass or not, you'll have to wait until after the show.”
“I'm allowed to be back here, jackass, I'm the head of Dethklok Australia!” Seth growled, irritated at having been touched so roughly. The Klokateer just stared at him.
“You think that makes you important? Get the fuck outta here and go find your seat like everybody else.”
Seth was led out of the back hallways and into the main concert hall, where the performance was everything he'd anticipated it would be: dark, sweaty, hot, and full of violently flashing lights coming from every direction. From so far away, he could barely see Dethklok onstage. His eyes trained on the larger screens, his heart pounding. There he was. There. Finally.
It had been eight months since they'd seen each other. Eight months since they'd spoken.
Seth hung back by the door and just stood there, watching them play, longing to get closer but knowing that trying to get up there now would be nothing short of a death sentence. He didn't know the words to any of their songs, and he didn't even know the melodies to half of them. Skwisgaar's fingers were faster than anything Seth had ever seen on his guitar, churning out flawless notes and making it look absolutely effortless. Even on the screens, though, Seth could see the paint dripping down Skwisgaar's face and arms. Seth stopped caring about anything else shortly into the third or fourth song.
The concert went on, holding Seth in a strange sort of trance-like state. He forced himself to turn around and leave the stadium when Nathan snarled that this would be their last fucking song of the night because they were goddamn tired and they just wanted to party it up in Sydney, finding his way back into the twisted halls of backstage, where most of the Klokateers had all but disappeared, preparing for the inevitable rush of fans. He stopped when he saw the room that had been designated as Skwisgaar's, wondering if he should just go in and wait, or if they would all be together after the show, or if Pickles would be on alert...
Scowling to himself, Seth burst into Skwisgaar's dressing room and looked around until he found what he needed: a pen. Tearing his ticket out of his pocket, he scrawled a hasty note on the back of it and stuck it to the vanity mirror, turning on his heel and dashing out of the opera house immediately afterward. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by Pickles.
...An hour later, Skwisgaar wandered drunkenly into his dressing room, still wiping smeared greasepaint from his face with a damp towel. He sank heavily into his chair and just sat there for a minute, exhausted, not even bothering to look up when Nathan showed up at his door with no fewer than six girls on his arms.
“Hey...you know we're going drinking, right?”
“Ja. We alreadies drinks, Nat'ans.”
“We're going drinking again.”
“I's not feelingks goods. I's goingks to stays here, I t'inks.”
Nathan thought hard about that for a moment. The girls at his side whined and begged for Skwisgaar to come with them: he grunted and ran his fingers through his hair in disinterest as Nathan shrugged. “Whatever. Do whatever.”
“I wills!”
Nathan shut the door. Skwisgaar looked up into the mirror, not sure what he was expecting. A knock? A phone call? Seth didn't even know his phone number, did he? Skwisgaar picked the towel up again and scrubbed at his face, dark circles of paint still lingering under his eyes. Had Seth come to the concert? Had the ticket even gotten to him safely...?
Skwisgaar had tried to stop caring about tonight. He'd been trying for months, now, but no matter how much he worked toward getting himself to move on-preferably back to almost any girl that came his way, and the occasional guy, too-he just felt more and more stuck on that stupid week driving across the country in that ridiculous red car, as if someone had hooked his belt over a nail in a place where he couldn't reach it to detach himself. He felt like an imbecile for thinking so much about it. For wondering if it really meant something, when he'd just been fucking around for most of it. He hadn't honestly even recognized his feelings as genuine affection until that night that they'd spent curled up together in the driver's seat of the Camaro. How long had that been, then, that he'd slowly loved Seth before they'd been pulled apart? And even then, he'd been so furious at him when they'd pulled up into his mother's driveway...
Skwisgaar wished he'd had more to drink so that he could have just fallen asleep in his dressing room and gotten over this idiocy more quickly. He was Skwisgaar Skwigelf, for fuck's sake. He was more famous than God. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, nearly jumping when a Klokateer opened his door just wide enough to stick his head in.
“My lord, forgive the intrusion, but a man outside paid me a great deal of money to ask you if you received his note.”
Skwisgaar blinked over at the hooded man, confused. “...Whats note? Where?”
“He said he left it on your mirror, my lord. If I'm not mistaken, I believe that's it, right there.” He pointed. Skwisgaar looked. Sure enough, there was a VIP ticket stuck into the edge of the mirror, and Skwisgaar reached up and pulled it free quickly, shooing the Klokateer away. The door shut loudly behind him as Skwisgaar's eyes shot over the scribbled words.
Come outside. I'm waiting around back. Saw the show. You're fuckin incredible.
-Seth
Two minutes later, Skwisgaar was outside in the cool, pleasant night air of Sydney, glancing around somewhat nervously as he tried to ensure that he was alone. The compound around the opera house was huge, and people were still milling around half-drunkenly, but somehow Skwisgaar managed to make his way to the back without anyone catching him. The back of the building was nearly empty, save two girls making their way toward the front (who seemed much too preoccupied with each other to even notice Skwisgaar walking past them) and a dark blue car parked in the middle of the street, right up against the curb.
Skwisgaar stopped.
There he was.
He was leaning against the hood of the car, ankles crossed, arms folded, wearing that ridiculous suit that Skwisgaar hadn't thought he would ever see again. When he caught sight of Skwisgaar, his face was an indescribable mixture of relieved, startled, and anxious.
“Took you fuckin' long enough,” Seth said quietly, grinning in that crooked way he did everything. He started walking toward the Swede.
Skwisgaar closed the distance between them in fewer strides than seemed humanly possible, knotting his fists in the front of Seth's suit jacket, needing to feel him there to know that he was real. Seth shuddered and let his own hands cling to the bottom of Skwisgaar's shirt, feeling his waist beneath the fabric, and the stomach that seemed somehow stronger than he remembered. He stared up into those icy blue eyes, feeling that long-missed rush pour through him, and Skwisgaar's hands crept around Seth's neck, running through his hair and over his smooth face. He clenched his jaw and swallowed. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against Seth's, finding there that emotion he'd been lacking for so long: that feeling he'd missed. He almost blushed, it felt so good. Seth's fingertips dug into his waist as he pulled gently backward.
“...You comes,” Skwisgaar muttered, as if he couldn't believe it. Seth's eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“Yeah. For a while, I wasn't gonna. I was scared...”
“I woulds have beens pissed,” the Swede grunted. “If I finds out dat you knew I wanteds you to bes here...”
Seth's face was a soft, burning pink. He slid one hand under Skwisgaar's shirt, feeling the sweat on the curve of his back. Skwisgaar's fingers curled in Seth's hair.
“Drives me somewheres,” he urged. “I's been waitingks for dis for so long...”
Seth glowed. He moved his hands around to the front, again, slipping his palms over Skwisgaar's abdomen. The guitarist grunted. “Stops it...takes me somewheres betters. Somewheres quiets.”
“I fuckin' missed you,” Seth breathed, and there was pain in his voice, knowing that this was destined to be even more brief than their first encounter. “Like...I couldn't believe...h-how much...”
“Don'ts cries. Hey.” Skwisgaar leaned down. “Don'ts start dat craps.”
Seth chuckled, shaking his head. His insides were on fire. “I missed you,” he repeated. “So much. God damn.”
They got in the car and Seth drove. It wasn't anywhere near as sporty as the Camaro had been, Skwisgaar thought, but maybe it was just because it was a different kind of car, and besides, it was still nice. The transmission was automatic, though, and that was disappointing, in its own way. Seth drove like a madman through the city and over the harbor bridge again, going until he found a suitable place to park, just across the water from the opera house. He sprinted to the passenger's side and pulled Skwisgaar from the car, and they walked closer to the water's edge, eventually just falling into the grass to stare out over the harbor at the now-distant opera house. It was still lit up from the concert, and Seth took it in for the tenth time that night as Skwisgaar leaned closer to him.
“...I misses you too, Set',” he murmured. “...Mores den I shoulds have.”
Seth turned to him, gently met with that mouth he'd been dreaming about for eight months. Skwisgaar kissed him deeply, still an expert even when buzzed, and Seth whimpered happily, feeling that void slowly filling inside him again. Skwisgaar pushed him down into the grass and pulled off layers of that unspeakable suit, playing with his tie and smiling slowly at the feeling of Seth stroking his hair and tracing his neck with his fingertips. He wondered for a moment if this was okay, by any stretch of the imagination: if the rest of his band would wonder where he'd gone, or if Charles would find out and know exactly where he'd gone, and if Charles would deduce why he'd gone...Seth let out a tiny moan, and Skwisgaar slipped his hands down the back of Seth's trousers, not caring all that much about Charles anymore. Seth's breathing was labored, his hands scratching at Skwisgaar's back.
“I still...h-haven't told Amber,” he murmured, guilt coating every word. “I told her I don't wanna be with her, but...not...about this.”
“I hasn't tolds Pickle, eit'er,” Skwisgaar replied, kissing Seth's neck. “It's okays. Takes your times.”
“It ain't fair to her,” Seth said softly. “...I'm scared, though.”
“She won'ts lets you gos?” Skwisgaar asked, and Seth shook his head. “Den dat ams her problems.”
“N-no, I-”
Skwisgaar's mouth met his again, and Seth groaned a little when strong hands squeezed his backside. “One night...amn't enoughs,” Skwisgaar breathed, and Seth's chest ached. “What I needs...ams anot'er week wit' you.” Seth ran his palms over Skwisgaar's smooth back, loving the sharpness of his shoulder blades. “...Or a mont'.”
“Why not?” Seth asked, and before he even realized that he'd said it, Skwisgaar was hesitating, staring down at him curiously.
“...Whats you says?” Skwisgaar prodded, uncertain. Seth thought over his own words, and excitement pulsed through his chest like a bubble, growing faster and faster until he found himself smiling deviously.
“...My gas tank is full,” he breathed. “And I don't buy cars under my own name anymore. Which pretty much would make us untraceable in that thing.”
“...I has a tour to plays,” Skwisgaar grunted, though Seth could tell that he was deeply enchanted by the idea. “I's supposed to bes in New Zealands next weeks...” Seth gripped Skwisgaar's torso, rubbing the inside of his knee against the Swede's thigh.
“So the tour gets a little delayed...big fuckin' deal,” Seth murmured. “...You...still want me. That's fuckin' nuts to me right now.”
“Of course I still wants you, you dumbs dildo. Why...you still wants me?”
“Because...” his voice lowered to barely a breath. “...I'm crazy for you. I'll admit it. I'll say it out loud. I want you to come with me.”
“Whys?”
Seth stared at him. “...Why wouldn't I? Have you fucked a girl since we left Wisconsin?”
Skwisgaar's cheeks actually darkened with color. Seth had changed more than he could have imagined in the months that they'd been apart. It wasn't bad, though. In fact, this was very good. He was being true to himself, which would make things so much easier...
“...Nos,” Skwisgaar finally answered, and Seth's mouth seemed to tremble. “I hasn't.”
He'd gone out on a limb by asking that. But even if Skwisgaar said that he had, Seth realized, he still would have wanted him to stay. “I want you 'cause you want me bad enough to do that. You wouldn't do that for anybody else. Would you?”
Skwisgaar pressed their foreheads together. “Nos.”
“So let's spend a week on my turf, huh? And this way...this way I can't fuck it up. Let's get lost in the desert, huh? Let's sleep in my car and get wasted and do some coke and fuck and have a good time.” And Seth kissed him, softly, sweetly. Begging him to say yes. Needing him to come closer, and to stay there. A shudder wracked Skwisgaar's body. More than anything, he wanted to. Those lips enticed him. Those hands...
Seth's short eyelashes brushed Skwisgaar's cheekbone. His face was so damn smooth against Skwisgaar's. “...Please, baby.” The words were a whisper. A soft plea for acceptance.
Skwisgaar looked down at him, at his pink, freckled face. His hair was messy. It was getting long in the front. Skwisgaar brought his hands up and gingerly thumbed the pieces out from in front of those gray-green eyes, letting him move down to kiss Seth's eyebrow. “...Dids you just calls me 'baby'?” he asked softly, and Seth laughed quietly, a little ashamed of himself.
“...Maybe.”
The grass was cool and damp, and Seth felt spectacularly good in his button-down shirt and trousers, his jacket cast carelessly aside, his tie half-undone. Traces of paint were still smeared on Skwisgaar's arms, and now, consequently, the once-white shirt. Skwisgaar kissed the spot behind Seth's ear that he knew all too well, and Seth trembled, locking his arms around the guitarist's lithe body.
“...If you leave me tomorrow...I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself,” Seth murmured. “...I almost died waitin' this long.”
“Don'ts bes a drama queen,” Skwisgaar argued, though he could have said the same for himself. “You still has shits to do. Tells your wifes, and your sons, and your mot'ers...”
“My son...” Seth echoed, remembering all too suddenly how he'd so briefly imagined a scenario with himself, his son, and Skwisgaar, living in the deep wilderness...so absolutely alone. He loved his son, as strange as it felt to admit that, and he didn't want him growing up without a father. Amber sure knew how to pick 'em, Seth thought, feeling his stomach turn. But Skwisgaar had the potential to be a good dad. A cool dad. A dad that a kid would want. Seth shook his head, hating himself for thinking all of that. “...I...I can't. Not yet. I can't tell them any of this shit. I'm still barely gettin' it, myself.”
“So whats you wants from me, huh?” Skwisgaar asked gently, still half-running his fingers through Seth's hair. “...You wants a week in de deserts? Dat's it...?”
“That's all you can give me right now,” Seth replied, trying not to let the sadness bleed into his voice. “...Ain't it?”
“I don'ts know,” Skwisgaar sighed. “...I don'ts know whens I coulds come backs, eit'er. It...it coulds be years.”
Seth shivered. “Then come with me. Please. Please. I need this...I need somethin' to hold onto, dude...”
“It won'ts fix anyt'ingks,” Skwisgaar warned him. “It won'ts. You still feels sick every days. I promise you dat.”
“So call me sometime,” Seth urged. “We'll have phone sex. It'll be awesome. Don't talk about not being here. Come on. Be nice, for once.”
Skwisgaar pressed his mouth into the cusp of Seth's neck and shoulder. “...You promise we gets a week? Dey not finds us? Dey's gonna be searchingks twice as hards, dis time.”
“So we'll hide twice as hard,” Seth argued, smirking to himself. “I promise you...we'll get a week. At the very least.” He tilted his head down to kiss Skwisgaar's ear through his hair. “...Please say yes, Slim. Please come with me. I need a second chance to do this right, huh? And maybe after this...I'll be tough enough to do what I need to do.”
Skwisgaar was half-lost in a memory that had struck him out of nowhere, his nose pressed softly to Seth's throat, breathing in that smell that he had in no way forgotten. Car exhaust and cigarettes and the slightest hint of wine. Skwisgaar nipped at his throat, and Seth let out a quiet, excited grunt. “...You wants me dat bad?” he asked.
Seth shivered. “...Y-yeah. I do.” He was quiet for a while, then, running over things in his head, and Skwisgaar pulled the collar of his shirt down just a little, pressing kisses to the hard bone just below his neck. Seth's fingers curled in Skwisgaar's hair. “...I tried not to, but it didn't work, man. Not at all. You know? I...I still love you.”
Skwisgaar's lips formed the words against his collarbone: an echo that made goosebumps rush over Seth's body, the need pounding through him at full force again. “...I loves you, too.” Said so kindly and easily that anyone in their right mind would have doubted that the words had come from Skwisgaar Skwigelf's mouth. Seth wanted to die, right then, as happy as he was. Skwisgaar's hands crept under his shoulders and pulled him slowly up into a sitting position, staring down into his face for a while before he leaned down and kissed him chastely. “...You wants to goes? I goes wit' you. I wants to.”
Seth's heart stopped for a second. “...They're gonna be really pissed at you for doing this again, Skwisgaar...”
“Ja, sos? I don'ts reallies gives a fuck anymores,” Skwisgaar snorted. His fingertips touched Seth's cheek, then pulled away. “You says we gets a week toget'er. I wants dat. I trusts you. So let's goes.”
Seth let out a surprised laugh, and that hadn't changed at all: it was still quiet, still only a few grunts of sound, though his face was flushed with excitement this time, and his hands were shaking against Skwisgaar's shoulders. Skwisgaar stood up, and Seth followed.
He could imagine what Charles and Pickles would have to say when he showed up next week where he was supposed to be. He could imagine the anger and the outrage. The you should have known better! The I told you to stay away from him! But honestly, Skwisgaar did know better. Right now, he just didn't give a fuck.
Seth started the car and they headed northwest, Skwisgaar's hand resting lazily on Seth's right thigh. Back in the grass, they'd left his suit jacket, crumpled and forgotten beneath a tree.
THE END
They had a lot to say to each other. Also they kept trying to have sex but I wouldn't let them. Lol~ <3
This entire fic is 111 pages of size-10 font and nearly 80,000 words dear god LOL
Title: On Kidnapping Skwisgaar
Author: telluryan
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter, R)
Warnings: sex, heavy drinking, violence, gore, etc. etc.
Characters This Chapter: Skwisgaar, Seth, Nathan
Chapter Summary: Seth goes to a concert.
Half an hour late was never a good thing to be at a Dethklok concert. Especially not one of this magnitude. And especially not if you were the head of Dethklok Australia. You were expected to be at these things on time.
Seth had his regular arsenal of excuses ready. Amber was being incredibly difficult, lately, for one. She hadn't wanted him to leave the house, especially not to go and see a concert, which he'd only convinced her he was going to in order to see Pickles.
“You don't even like their music,” she sighed.
“It's my brother,” he argued. “Seriously.”
She warned him not to pull any stupid shit, and he begrudgingly kissed her cheek, promising that nothing he did would be anywhere near “stupid”, even by her definition of the word.
He was walking as fast as he could through the Sydney opera house, which was more or less shuddering from top to bottom, the combined roar of the music and the screams of the crowd shaking the very foundation of the building. It really was clever of Ofdensen to rent this place out, Seth thought: the music carried for miles, off over the bay and into the city itself. Seth had heard the unmistakable croon of a Gibson Explorer long before he'd even seen the opera house in the distance. The sound of it beckoned him. His chest had been aching steadily from the moment his car had stumbled onto the harbor bridge.
He shoved Klokateers out of the way, flashing his special ticket at them whenever one of them so much as looked at him for longer than a second, and one of them finally grabbed him, pulling him back harshly.
“Sir, backstage pass or not, you'll have to wait until after the show.”
“I'm allowed to be back here, jackass, I'm the head of Dethklok Australia!” Seth growled, irritated at having been touched so roughly. The Klokateer just stared at him.
“You think that makes you important? Get the fuck outta here and go find your seat like everybody else.”
Seth was led out of the back hallways and into the main concert hall, where the performance was everything he'd anticipated it would be: dark, sweaty, hot, and full of violently flashing lights coming from every direction. From so far away, he could barely see Dethklok onstage. His eyes trained on the larger screens, his heart pounding. There he was. There. Finally.
It had been eight months since they'd seen each other. Eight months since they'd spoken.
Seth hung back by the door and just stood there, watching them play, longing to get closer but knowing that trying to get up there now would be nothing short of a death sentence. He didn't know the words to any of their songs, and he didn't even know the melodies to half of them. Skwisgaar's fingers were faster than anything Seth had ever seen on his guitar, churning out flawless notes and making it look absolutely effortless. Even on the screens, though, Seth could see the paint dripping down Skwisgaar's face and arms. Seth stopped caring about anything else shortly into the third or fourth song.
The concert went on, holding Seth in a strange sort of trance-like state. He forced himself to turn around and leave the stadium when Nathan snarled that this would be their last fucking song of the night because they were goddamn tired and they just wanted to party it up in Sydney, finding his way back into the twisted halls of backstage, where most of the Klokateers had all but disappeared, preparing for the inevitable rush of fans. He stopped when he saw the room that had been designated as Skwisgaar's, wondering if he should just go in and wait, or if they would all be together after the show, or if Pickles would be on alert...
Scowling to himself, Seth burst into Skwisgaar's dressing room and looked around until he found what he needed: a pen. Tearing his ticket out of his pocket, he scrawled a hasty note on the back of it and stuck it to the vanity mirror, turning on his heel and dashing out of the opera house immediately afterward. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by Pickles.
...An hour later, Skwisgaar wandered drunkenly into his dressing room, still wiping smeared greasepaint from his face with a damp towel. He sank heavily into his chair and just sat there for a minute, exhausted, not even bothering to look up when Nathan showed up at his door with no fewer than six girls on his arms.
“Hey...you know we're going drinking, right?”
“Ja. We alreadies drinks, Nat'ans.”
“We're going drinking again.”
“I's not feelingks goods. I's goingks to stays here, I t'inks.”
Nathan thought hard about that for a moment. The girls at his side whined and begged for Skwisgaar to come with them: he grunted and ran his fingers through his hair in disinterest as Nathan shrugged. “Whatever. Do whatever.”
“I wills!”
Nathan shut the door. Skwisgaar looked up into the mirror, not sure what he was expecting. A knock? A phone call? Seth didn't even know his phone number, did he? Skwisgaar picked the towel up again and scrubbed at his face, dark circles of paint still lingering under his eyes. Had Seth come to the concert? Had the ticket even gotten to him safely...?
Skwisgaar had tried to stop caring about tonight. He'd been trying for months, now, but no matter how much he worked toward getting himself to move on-preferably back to almost any girl that came his way, and the occasional guy, too-he just felt more and more stuck on that stupid week driving across the country in that ridiculous red car, as if someone had hooked his belt over a nail in a place where he couldn't reach it to detach himself. He felt like an imbecile for thinking so much about it. For wondering if it really meant something, when he'd just been fucking around for most of it. He hadn't honestly even recognized his feelings as genuine affection until that night that they'd spent curled up together in the driver's seat of the Camaro. How long had that been, then, that he'd slowly loved Seth before they'd been pulled apart? And even then, he'd been so furious at him when they'd pulled up into his mother's driveway...
Skwisgaar wished he'd had more to drink so that he could have just fallen asleep in his dressing room and gotten over this idiocy more quickly. He was Skwisgaar Skwigelf, for fuck's sake. He was more famous than God. He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, nearly jumping when a Klokateer opened his door just wide enough to stick his head in.
“My lord, forgive the intrusion, but a man outside paid me a great deal of money to ask you if you received his note.”
Skwisgaar blinked over at the hooded man, confused. “...Whats note? Where?”
“He said he left it on your mirror, my lord. If I'm not mistaken, I believe that's it, right there.” He pointed. Skwisgaar looked. Sure enough, there was a VIP ticket stuck into the edge of the mirror, and Skwisgaar reached up and pulled it free quickly, shooing the Klokateer away. The door shut loudly behind him as Skwisgaar's eyes shot over the scribbled words.
Come outside. I'm waiting around back. Saw the show. You're fuckin incredible.
-Seth
Two minutes later, Skwisgaar was outside in the cool, pleasant night air of Sydney, glancing around somewhat nervously as he tried to ensure that he was alone. The compound around the opera house was huge, and people were still milling around half-drunkenly, but somehow Skwisgaar managed to make his way to the back without anyone catching him. The back of the building was nearly empty, save two girls making their way toward the front (who seemed much too preoccupied with each other to even notice Skwisgaar walking past them) and a dark blue car parked in the middle of the street, right up against the curb.
Skwisgaar stopped.
There he was.
He was leaning against the hood of the car, ankles crossed, arms folded, wearing that ridiculous suit that Skwisgaar hadn't thought he would ever see again. When he caught sight of Skwisgaar, his face was an indescribable mixture of relieved, startled, and anxious.
“Took you fuckin' long enough,” Seth said quietly, grinning in that crooked way he did everything. He started walking toward the Swede.
Skwisgaar closed the distance between them in fewer strides than seemed humanly possible, knotting his fists in the front of Seth's suit jacket, needing to feel him there to know that he was real. Seth shuddered and let his own hands cling to the bottom of Skwisgaar's shirt, feeling his waist beneath the fabric, and the stomach that seemed somehow stronger than he remembered. He stared up into those icy blue eyes, feeling that long-missed rush pour through him, and Skwisgaar's hands crept around Seth's neck, running through his hair and over his smooth face. He clenched his jaw and swallowed. He leaned down and pressed his mouth against Seth's, finding there that emotion he'd been lacking for so long: that feeling he'd missed. He almost blushed, it felt so good. Seth's fingertips dug into his waist as he pulled gently backward.
“...You comes,” Skwisgaar muttered, as if he couldn't believe it. Seth's eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“Yeah. For a while, I wasn't gonna. I was scared...”
“I woulds have beens pissed,” the Swede grunted. “If I finds out dat you knew I wanteds you to bes here...”
Seth's face was a soft, burning pink. He slid one hand under Skwisgaar's shirt, feeling the sweat on the curve of his back. Skwisgaar's fingers curled in Seth's hair.
“Drives me somewheres,” he urged. “I's been waitingks for dis for so long...”
Seth glowed. He moved his hands around to the front, again, slipping his palms over Skwisgaar's abdomen. The guitarist grunted. “Stops it...takes me somewheres betters. Somewheres quiets.”
“I fuckin' missed you,” Seth breathed, and there was pain in his voice, knowing that this was destined to be even more brief than their first encounter. “Like...I couldn't believe...h-how much...”
“Don'ts cries. Hey.” Skwisgaar leaned down. “Don'ts start dat craps.”
Seth chuckled, shaking his head. His insides were on fire. “I missed you,” he repeated. “So much. God damn.”
They got in the car and Seth drove. It wasn't anywhere near as sporty as the Camaro had been, Skwisgaar thought, but maybe it was just because it was a different kind of car, and besides, it was still nice. The transmission was automatic, though, and that was disappointing, in its own way. Seth drove like a madman through the city and over the harbor bridge again, going until he found a suitable place to park, just across the water from the opera house. He sprinted to the passenger's side and pulled Skwisgaar from the car, and they walked closer to the water's edge, eventually just falling into the grass to stare out over the harbor at the now-distant opera house. It was still lit up from the concert, and Seth took it in for the tenth time that night as Skwisgaar leaned closer to him.
“...I misses you too, Set',” he murmured. “...Mores den I shoulds have.”
Seth turned to him, gently met with that mouth he'd been dreaming about for eight months. Skwisgaar kissed him deeply, still an expert even when buzzed, and Seth whimpered happily, feeling that void slowly filling inside him again. Skwisgaar pushed him down into the grass and pulled off layers of that unspeakable suit, playing with his tie and smiling slowly at the feeling of Seth stroking his hair and tracing his neck with his fingertips. He wondered for a moment if this was okay, by any stretch of the imagination: if the rest of his band would wonder where he'd gone, or if Charles would find out and know exactly where he'd gone, and if Charles would deduce why he'd gone...Seth let out a tiny moan, and Skwisgaar slipped his hands down the back of Seth's trousers, not caring all that much about Charles anymore. Seth's breathing was labored, his hands scratching at Skwisgaar's back.
“I still...h-haven't told Amber,” he murmured, guilt coating every word. “I told her I don't wanna be with her, but...not...about this.”
“I hasn't tolds Pickle, eit'er,” Skwisgaar replied, kissing Seth's neck. “It's okays. Takes your times.”
“It ain't fair to her,” Seth said softly. “...I'm scared, though.”
“She won'ts lets you gos?” Skwisgaar asked, and Seth shook his head. “Den dat ams her problems.”
“N-no, I-”
Skwisgaar's mouth met his again, and Seth groaned a little when strong hands squeezed his backside. “One night...amn't enoughs,” Skwisgaar breathed, and Seth's chest ached. “What I needs...ams anot'er week wit' you.” Seth ran his palms over Skwisgaar's smooth back, loving the sharpness of his shoulder blades. “...Or a mont'.”
“Why not?” Seth asked, and before he even realized that he'd said it, Skwisgaar was hesitating, staring down at him curiously.
“...Whats you says?” Skwisgaar prodded, uncertain. Seth thought over his own words, and excitement pulsed through his chest like a bubble, growing faster and faster until he found himself smiling deviously.
“...My gas tank is full,” he breathed. “And I don't buy cars under my own name anymore. Which pretty much would make us untraceable in that thing.”
“...I has a tour to plays,” Skwisgaar grunted, though Seth could tell that he was deeply enchanted by the idea. “I's supposed to bes in New Zealands next weeks...” Seth gripped Skwisgaar's torso, rubbing the inside of his knee against the Swede's thigh.
“So the tour gets a little delayed...big fuckin' deal,” Seth murmured. “...You...still want me. That's fuckin' nuts to me right now.”
“Of course I still wants you, you dumbs dildo. Why...you still wants me?”
“Because...” his voice lowered to barely a breath. “...I'm crazy for you. I'll admit it. I'll say it out loud. I want you to come with me.”
“Whys?”
Seth stared at him. “...Why wouldn't I? Have you fucked a girl since we left Wisconsin?”
Skwisgaar's cheeks actually darkened with color. Seth had changed more than he could have imagined in the months that they'd been apart. It wasn't bad, though. In fact, this was very good. He was being true to himself, which would make things so much easier...
“...Nos,” Skwisgaar finally answered, and Seth's mouth seemed to tremble. “I hasn't.”
He'd gone out on a limb by asking that. But even if Skwisgaar said that he had, Seth realized, he still would have wanted him to stay. “I want you 'cause you want me bad enough to do that. You wouldn't do that for anybody else. Would you?”
Skwisgaar pressed their foreheads together. “Nos.”
“So let's spend a week on my turf, huh? And this way...this way I can't fuck it up. Let's get lost in the desert, huh? Let's sleep in my car and get wasted and do some coke and fuck and have a good time.” And Seth kissed him, softly, sweetly. Begging him to say yes. Needing him to come closer, and to stay there. A shudder wracked Skwisgaar's body. More than anything, he wanted to. Those lips enticed him. Those hands...
Seth's short eyelashes brushed Skwisgaar's cheekbone. His face was so damn smooth against Skwisgaar's. “...Please, baby.” The words were a whisper. A soft plea for acceptance.
Skwisgaar looked down at him, at his pink, freckled face. His hair was messy. It was getting long in the front. Skwisgaar brought his hands up and gingerly thumbed the pieces out from in front of those gray-green eyes, letting him move down to kiss Seth's eyebrow. “...Dids you just calls me 'baby'?” he asked softly, and Seth laughed quietly, a little ashamed of himself.
“...Maybe.”
The grass was cool and damp, and Seth felt spectacularly good in his button-down shirt and trousers, his jacket cast carelessly aside, his tie half-undone. Traces of paint were still smeared on Skwisgaar's arms, and now, consequently, the once-white shirt. Skwisgaar kissed the spot behind Seth's ear that he knew all too well, and Seth trembled, locking his arms around the guitarist's lithe body.
“...If you leave me tomorrow...I don't know what I'm gonna do with myself,” Seth murmured. “...I almost died waitin' this long.”
“Don'ts bes a drama queen,” Skwisgaar argued, though he could have said the same for himself. “You still has shits to do. Tells your wifes, and your sons, and your mot'ers...”
“My son...” Seth echoed, remembering all too suddenly how he'd so briefly imagined a scenario with himself, his son, and Skwisgaar, living in the deep wilderness...so absolutely alone. He loved his son, as strange as it felt to admit that, and he didn't want him growing up without a father. Amber sure knew how to pick 'em, Seth thought, feeling his stomach turn. But Skwisgaar had the potential to be a good dad. A cool dad. A dad that a kid would want. Seth shook his head, hating himself for thinking all of that. “...I...I can't. Not yet. I can't tell them any of this shit. I'm still barely gettin' it, myself.”
“So whats you wants from me, huh?” Skwisgaar asked gently, still half-running his fingers through Seth's hair. “...You wants a week in de deserts? Dat's it...?”
“That's all you can give me right now,” Seth replied, trying not to let the sadness bleed into his voice. “...Ain't it?”
“I don'ts know,” Skwisgaar sighed. “...I don'ts know whens I coulds come backs, eit'er. It...it coulds be years.”
Seth shivered. “Then come with me. Please. Please. I need this...I need somethin' to hold onto, dude...”
“It won'ts fix anyt'ingks,” Skwisgaar warned him. “It won'ts. You still feels sick every days. I promise you dat.”
“So call me sometime,” Seth urged. “We'll have phone sex. It'll be awesome. Don't talk about not being here. Come on. Be nice, for once.”
Skwisgaar pressed his mouth into the cusp of Seth's neck and shoulder. “...You promise we gets a week? Dey not finds us? Dey's gonna be searchingks twice as hards, dis time.”
“So we'll hide twice as hard,” Seth argued, smirking to himself. “I promise you...we'll get a week. At the very least.” He tilted his head down to kiss Skwisgaar's ear through his hair. “...Please say yes, Slim. Please come with me. I need a second chance to do this right, huh? And maybe after this...I'll be tough enough to do what I need to do.”
Skwisgaar was half-lost in a memory that had struck him out of nowhere, his nose pressed softly to Seth's throat, breathing in that smell that he had in no way forgotten. Car exhaust and cigarettes and the slightest hint of wine. Skwisgaar nipped at his throat, and Seth let out a quiet, excited grunt. “...You wants me dat bad?” he asked.
Seth shivered. “...Y-yeah. I do.” He was quiet for a while, then, running over things in his head, and Skwisgaar pulled the collar of his shirt down just a little, pressing kisses to the hard bone just below his neck. Seth's fingers curled in Skwisgaar's hair. “...I tried not to, but it didn't work, man. Not at all. You know? I...I still love you.”
Skwisgaar's lips formed the words against his collarbone: an echo that made goosebumps rush over Seth's body, the need pounding through him at full force again. “...I loves you, too.” Said so kindly and easily that anyone in their right mind would have doubted that the words had come from Skwisgaar Skwigelf's mouth. Seth wanted to die, right then, as happy as he was. Skwisgaar's hands crept under his shoulders and pulled him slowly up into a sitting position, staring down into his face for a while before he leaned down and kissed him chastely. “...You wants to goes? I goes wit' you. I wants to.”
Seth's heart stopped for a second. “...They're gonna be really pissed at you for doing this again, Skwisgaar...”
“Ja, sos? I don'ts reallies gives a fuck anymores,” Skwisgaar snorted. His fingertips touched Seth's cheek, then pulled away. “You says we gets a week toget'er. I wants dat. I trusts you. So let's goes.”
Seth let out a surprised laugh, and that hadn't changed at all: it was still quiet, still only a few grunts of sound, though his face was flushed with excitement this time, and his hands were shaking against Skwisgaar's shoulders. Skwisgaar stood up, and Seth followed.
He could imagine what Charles and Pickles would have to say when he showed up next week where he was supposed to be. He could imagine the anger and the outrage. The you should have known better! The I told you to stay away from him! But honestly, Skwisgaar did know better. Right now, he just didn't give a fuck.
Seth started the car and they headed northwest, Skwisgaar's hand resting lazily on Seth's right thigh. Back in the grass, they'd left his suit jacket, crumpled and forgotten beneath a tree.
THE END