Apocalypse Dawning : Chapter Thirty-Seven
Here it is. I haven't abandoned the story, I promise. It just takes me a while to get my thoughts typed out sometimes. Anyway... I bring you porn and plot development! :D
The Klok just keeps ticking forward. Two weeks and counting before the guys find out if Pickles will have to go to trial or not. They have their first gig in less than a week, what the fuck are they going to call their band, seeing as Death Clock is already taken?
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I won't make money from this, I'm sure. (It would be nice!)
Warnings: Swearing, sex
Just so no one's unpleasantly surprised: This is a N/P slash. There may be some dark moments, violence and other non happy things, but hey, there will be some smut and laughs along the way as well! I will warn you at the start of each chapter.
Link to first chapter:
http://community.livejournal.com/capslokdethklok/1112715.html#cutid1
Link to the last chapter:
http://capslokdethklok.livejournal.com/1857818.html#cutid1
Cut to this chapter:
He didn't remember falling asleep or what time it had been exactly, but it must have still been light out when he'd laid down because the only light that was on now was the one in the bedroom. One glance toward the living room and kitchen confirmed that the rest of the apartment was doused in shadow. He glanced at the clock. 3:30. What had woken him up?
A warm hand slipping beneath his shirt and up his back suddenly reminded him that he hadn't been sleeping alone. Pickles' other hand curled in Nathan's long hair and held him tight. Without needing further coaxing, the younger guy leaned into the kiss. Neither of them tasted fresh but it didn't matter. Sunrise would bring them back to the hotel and, presumably, to the auditorium to practice. They had a gig in... five days? Four? Nathan couldn't even be sure what day it was anymore.
Pickles swung his leg over him and nothing else mattered. He watched as the little guy pulled his shirt up and over his head before discarding it. Nathan's hands moved of their own accord, sliding up Pickles' sides and then back down to his hips. He pushed him back until the smaller guy was straddling his pelvis rather than his waist. The pressure was nice, the solid weight of his friend on his already hard cock gave the impression of enclosure. It made him want his redhead even more.
Nathan put a hand on either pale hip and set a rhythm for Pickles to follow. The friction was just a taste of what was to come. Freckled hands moved quickly to unsnap the button on Nathan's jeans and moved to get them off. Sitting up, Nathan hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled both the pants and his underwear down in one motion. He kicked his boots off and let everything fall to the floor.
Pickles was on his knees beside Nathan, watching the younger guys' every movement. Nathan kept eye contact as he lifted his own shirt over and off as well. The instant he was naked Pickles was on him, kissing and biting, clawing at him like they'd been apart for ages. Nathan knew it wasn't true, a day was hardly 'ages' but it had felt like forever. He wrapped his arms around the other and pulled him along as he rolled them both over so that Pickles was on his back, looking up at him.
Green eyes went wide and Nathan was pulled into the emerald sea. There was nothing else in the world as he dove in without a second thought. Pickles embraced him, took him in as if they were two parts of one whole and they fell down together. Nathan was only vaguely aware that he was tearing the rest of Pickles' clothes off of him before the heat engulfed his body. The drummer was a tangle of fiery limbs that pulled him in and held him fast.
They melded into one and Nathan's mind sluggishly reached out in an attempt at coherency. Were they someplace safe? Were there others around? Could they be caught? He couldn't pull up even a single answer. His mind was too slow, drunk from being submerged in the burning green sea.
Pickles pushed and squirmed until he was out from under Nathan and went for his nightstand. Nathan sat up to catch the view as the smaller guy bent over to fish through the drawer. He dropped something and hastily dove to grab it from the floor. The temptation was too much. Nathan squeezed his twitching cock as he rose to his knees and came up behind Pickles. He managed to get one hand on that round, beautiful ass before Pickles straightened back up and turned on him.
With a shove, the smaller guy sent Nathan back. He smiled and waved a playful finger at him. Nathan blushed despite himself. It was almost like the old Pickles was back, kind of like it had been before the younger guy had known so much. He liked it. Maybe if all of the secrets had been bared and there was no more fear of rejection then things could go back to how it had been in the beginning.
Pickles came up to him and Nathan submitted. He laid back with the drummer standing on his knees over him. Pickles didn't say anything when he laid down as well and took the big guy's dick in his mouth.
Nathan startled and let his head fall back. He hadn't expected the other to descend on him so quickly. He let his hand wander and held tight to a fistful of dreadlocks when he found them. Pickles moaned around the cock in his mouth and Nathan felt his insides shiver. 'Jesus.'
He closed his eyes and focused simply on feeling what was happening to him until he heard something snap. He managed to sluggishly pull his eyelids open and glance around. Pickles had opened the top on a bottle of lube. It took a second for that to register. When Pickles started pushing on Nathan's leg, the younger guy realized what was going on. With a small sigh, he shifted to both expose his ass and hide his face. 'Fuck. Pickles. Why my ass?'
If this was how things were going to go then he wasn't going to let himself think about it too much. Thinking just made him embarrassed and uncomfortable. He grabbed Pickles' leg and pulled him around like he'd done in the motel room, back when they'd still been on the road. He sneered when he felt a calloused finger stroking his butt hole but refused to ponder just how gay he was. Instead, he busied himself with a dick. 'So fucking gay.'
Pickles chuckled and freed his mouth long enough to ask, "How ya doin', Chief?" Nathan put forth his best frown and tried to not think about having his ass fingered... while he was rubbing Pickles' cock... There was just no coming back from this.
The little guy seemed amused but didn't push the subject any further. He went back to work on Nathan's dick while making sweeping circles around his point of entrance.
Nathan let himself be pulled in again. So long as he didn't analyze himself, he could enjoy this. He liked the way Pickles' hands were rough and grated on his skin a little as they rubbed and massaged. He liked the smell of musk that was slowly filling the room. Ginger pubic hairs tickled his nose as he pressed his lips to Pickles' cock. He liked the way the little guy stiffened under his touches. He parted his lips and rubbed the tip of Pickles' dick across them. The little guy made some sort of choked noise and reciprocated.
The warmth formed a suction, pushed and pulled on his cock. Nathan relaxed and let himself be lost to the moment. As he continued his ministrations, Pickles picked up the pace. He pressed his lubricated fingers against the puckered ring of flesh that Nathan was currently trying not to focus on. It was difficult to ignore the increasing pressure and the tight feeling in his gut.
Pickles worked slowly and steadily toward his goal, neither pushing Nathan beyond his limit or relenting. Nathan squeezed his eyes shut and took Pickles' cock in his mouth as a means of distraction. He tried to keep his breathing steady and his muscles loose. Pickles worked his dick with his mouth and hand while continuing to apply pressure. Nathan grunted and rolled his hips to help ease the strain.
Pickles' hips bucked unexpectedly. Nathan jerked his head back to keep his teeth from making contact. He glanced down to see that Pickles was blushing like a fiend. His skin had gone so pink that his freckles were slowly disappearing. His hand kept moving and Nathan could feel the progress the little guy was making.
Gritting his teeth, he slammed his eyes shut and hid his face when he felt the first finger break through. It was just as uncomfortable as it had been the first time but it wasn't so foreign.
'Fuck. Getting used to having a finger in my ass.'
He panted as Pickles sunk himself in to his first knuckle, then his second, and then all the way down. His hand was still going, stroking Nathan's erection firmly but he used his mouth to nip at the bigger guy's thigh. "Ya okie, Nate?"
Eyes still closed, he managed to clear his throat. "Yeah." His face was on fire. Why did Pickles have to talk to him right now? Wasn't there a better time to shoot the shit? Like any time he didn't have a finger in his ass?
"Tell me if ya wanna stahp." His voice was hushed but not disappointed. He wasn't pulling a guilt trip. He dropped his mouth back down over Nathan's dick. He rolled the young guy's foreskin back and paid attention to his sensitive glans.
Nathan swallowed and rolled his hips again, grateful for the distraction. He dared to cup one hand around the base of Pickles' skull and press just a little. His friend opened up and Nathan flexed again. He built up a tentative rhythm and Pickles followed along. After a couple of moments he remembered that he really should be returning the favor and went back to work on Pickles' slightly wilted dick.
A few moments later he heard the lid on the lube bottle snap again and he felt more dampness. Cheeks burning, he tried to ignore the fact that he was being finger fucked. Slowly, gently, Pickles had been sliding his finger back and forth. He'd pull almost entirely out and then carefully slip back in until he was buried to his third knuckle. It didn't hurt and so long as Nathan could focus on fucking the red head's mouth he could deal with it. Now, however, he could feel himself being stretched again.
He glanced down and almost took the lube bottle to his face. Pickles had tossed it to him with his free hand. Nathan wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it and frankly he was a little more focused on the fact that Pickles seemed to be slipping him a second finger. The stretching was uncomfortable but not as much as he would have thought. His breathing was a little shallow but he was pretty sure it was more nerves than anything else. He was overreacting. Pickles was looking him in the eye, still blowing him, and still fucking him. With two fingers now. Like it was no big deal.
Nathan wanted to say something, to ask if two fingers was really necessary, but he couldn't find any words. It didn't hurt. It only bothered him because he felt like it should. Even as he debated with himself, he supposed that this was fair. He'd never dedicated much thought to the etiquette of sleeping with a guy. It seemed reasonable that he couldn't expect Pickles to simply take it all the time though, could he? Pickles wasn't a chick. Surely he'd want to be the one doing the fucking sometimes.
'Huh. He doesn't want to fuck me now does he?'
Pickles pulled Nathan's dick out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' and shifted. Keeping his fingers right the fuck where they were, he slid his lower half away from the younger guy and sat up. He crossed his legs and directed Nathan to lift his hips. The younger guy clenched his jaw but submitted. He lifted himself and felt Pickles put his folded knees under his ass, not a smooth operation considering where the little bastard's fingers were placed. Exposed like this with his bare ass propped in Pickles' naked lap, Nathan's chest suddenly felt tight. Christ. He wasn't ready for this. "Uh, Pickles?"
"Relax, dood."
"I don't think I can-"
"I'm naht gonna feck ya." He snorted. "Ya kin take it easy."
'Oh, thank God.' He lifted his head to look at his friend, though he could barely manage eye contact. "What are you doing then?"
Pickles smirked devilishly. "Finger feckin' ya."
He wished he could die right there. Just throw his body in a hole somewhere and let him forget this whole thing. He covered his face with both hands. "I know that."
His laugh would have been cute if not for the circumstances. Maybe. "Den why'd ya ask?"
Nathan opened his mouth to respond but stopped short when Pickles shifted. He was at a different angle now and when he curled his fingers something happened. It was like someone had grabbed Nathan's guts and yanked them up into his throat. It kind of felt like he'd missed the bottom step at the foot of the stairs and felt like he was falling only to realize a second later that he was in no real danger. It was that same wrenching feeling. He gasped.
Pickles did it again and Nathan choked. Like everything else, it didn't hurt. But it sent some sort of a shock through his body. It took his breath away, leaving him confused... and making his cock twitch. What the hell?
He looked up and caught Pickles' dark smile. The little guy tipped his head down and wrapped his free hand around the base of Nathan's straining cock. "Gaht ya." His voice was as dark as his smile.
Nathan sucked in a ragged breath as he was fucked from the inside out. He didn't know what was happening to him but he realized that he was at Pickles' mercy. Whatever nerve he was touching, it was doing something, sending some sort of current through his entire body. It neither hurt nor felt good. It was just... intense.
"P-Pickles... Ugh..." His head fell back on his limp neck. Every nerve ending on his dick was alive and absorbing each shock as Pickles fucked him. It was hard to focus on anything. He was vaguely aware that he was making some sort of noise and that his legs were tightening around his friends hips, pulling him closer.
His back was arching up and every time Pickles would stroke he'd buck into his tight fist. His insides shook and felt raw. He'd thrust and as he'd relax the next shock would come. It engulfed him. He was still lost in the burning emerald sea, being thrown on the chaotic waves. What the hell was happening to him? He tried to blink his bleary eyes but he couldn't focus. He was being burned up, spent too quickly. The all-consuming shock waves were drowning him. It was too much. He was going to explode.
"Pickles." He didn't sound like himself.
"Ya want more or need ta stahp?"
His ears were ringing and his heart was pounding. He tried to form a coherent sentence and realized that he was still making some kind of crazy grunting noise. "Gonna explode-" It was all he could manage before the next shock wave stole his words and he was reduced to animal sounds again.
Pickles nodded. "Okie." He pulled back slowly, released some of the pressure. Nathan sucked in a ragged breath. The little guy removed one finger gently. The buzzing in Nathan's head began to quiet and he managed to blink and look around. A moment later, Pickles removed his other finger too.
Nathan just laid there for a moment in an attempt to collect himself. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly but his thoughts were slowly coming back to him. What the hell had that been? He'd never felt anything like it. It hadn't been an orgasm. He didn't cum. In fact, his dick was still rock hard and laying heavily on his belly. It was the most extreme bodily reaction he'd ever had and he couldn't be sure that it had even felt good. He hadn't been in pain but the sensation was so overwhelming that he wasn't sure it was really pleasure either. He swallowed thickly.
"Pickles?" His voice shook but at least he sounded like himself again. "What the fuck was that?"
The drummer was leaning back on his hands and grinning lewdly at his companion. "Whet? Theat? Theat was yer prostate."
He lifted his head, still panting. "My what?"
Pickles laughed. "Magic ass button. Yers is sensitive, I'd say." He tossed a condom at the younger guy. "Here. Put theat ahn."
Nathan lifted the foil square and stared at it like he'd never seen one before. Pickles snorted. "Or don't. Don't wanna cum, eh? Maybe ya'd rather smile at my ceilin' all night."
"What?" Nathan tried to frown and realized it was true. Fuck. He was grinning like an idiot. And he couldn't stop. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Pickles laughed as Nathan flew into a sitting position. "I tol' ya. Magic ass button."
"Shut up."
"Put yer rubber ahn."
He fought with the wrapper. "Fuck! My face is, like, stuck this way or something."
"Ye-uh, theat's tha magic."
"Make it stop! I look like a pussy."
Still chuckling, Pickles rolled onto his stomach. "Here, I won' look at ya. Theat make ya feel better, Princess?"
His face was hot all over again. "Shut up. Asshole."
"Ass fag."
"Douche hole."
"Pansy ass."
"Dick fucker."
***
The late August sun felt kind of cool on his skin as he fumbled through the kitchen. He'd poured a bowl of cereal, discovered that the milk was bad, and settled on a beer instead. His mind was in a fog as he went through his regular morning ritual on autopilot. Faced with the realities of the day, he didn't know what to think or even if he should think. It was easier to just let it go and hope that everything would work itself out.
They had a job coming up in just a few days and they'd barely had a chance to play together as a whole. On top of that, there were only two weeks until Pickles' fate would be decided. If things went to shit for Pickles then that meant that things were shit for Death Clock.
He turned the shower on and waited for it to heat up. And there was Pickles. There was whatever he and Pickles were playing at. Nathan exhaled heavily and gripped the sides of his head. He didn't know what they were doing. They were fucking but it wasn't a relationship, it couldn't be. They were friends but this was more than a friendship. Wasn't it? Things were so tangled and confused now. They were friends, roommates, that didn't always get along but they slept together sometimes. That wasn't a normal friendship, was it?
Nathan blinked at himself in the mirror. He tried to think back to when he'd been a kid and had friendships but he'd never had many friends. Once, in third grade, there had been this boy with blond hair that had gone to remedial reading with Nathan. They had sort of hung out for a while. But when the teachers had discovered that Nathan could, in fact, read he'd been switched to a different class. He'd never said goodbye to the blond kid and that had never bothered him. So they weren't really friends then were they?
There had also been Troy, a guy from the football team. He'd been quiet and had played guitar. He'd been in Nathan's first band until he'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant and had to drop the band to get a real job. Nathan hadn't missed him when he was gone, though he'd been upset about having to find another guitarist. They hadn't been friends either.
The mirror was fogged. 'Water's hot.' Nathan climbed into the shower and set to getting clean. Pickles wasn't like Troy or the blond kid from remedial reading. He was way the fuck more than either of them but he wasn't like a girlfriend. Not that Nathan had ever had many of those either.
There had been Sheila. She'd been a cheerleader, the first girl to go all the way with him. They'd liked each other enough to sleep together throughout the school year but over the summer they hadn't hung out. The following year Nathan had dropped out of school and they hadn't kept in touch. He didn't miss her. Once in a while he'd bumped into her in town when he'd still lived at home. They had nodded to each other, recognized each other, but hadn't felt the need to talk. She'd had a kid by then. A baby. And a guy walking with her most of the time. A husband maybe, or a boyfriend. Nathan didn't know which and didn't care.
Pickles wasn't like Sheila. When he'd been gone Nathan had felt sick. He still felt sick when he thought about it. Especially now. Not knowing what was going to happen in two weeks was worse than knowing for sure that something bad was going to happen. He groaned and turned the water off.
He toweled dry and got dressed without allowing himself to think any more. When he came back down the hall a noise from the kitchen drew his attention and he turned to look. Pickles was sitting Indian style on his kitchen counter and picking through Nathan's forgotten cereal. They looked at each other from across the kitchen for a few moments before Nathan shuffled forward. He came up to the sink and put both of his hands on the counter top. He wished that he could find something to say but his mind was as blank as a clean sheet of paper. Memories of the night before kept haunting him, making him more afraid than ever to let the little guy out of his sight.
It was Pickles who finally broke the silence. "Whet now?" His voice seemed small and frail in the quiet around them. He put the still half full bowl down and picked up his pack of cigarettes.
Nathan blinked. "I don't know."
Pickles fidgeted with the cigarette wrapper but didn't actually open it. Nathan suspected that he was just using the package as a distraction, something to keep his hands busy. "Ya kin still go beack-"
"No." He looked Pickles in the eye. "No going back. We go forward."
The red head swallowed soundlessly and nodded a moment later. "Awreet." He took a shuddering breath and cleared his throat. When he spoke again he began to sound like his old self, like before he'd been arrested. Hesitantly, Pickles was coming back. "Whet's forward?"
It was like a flame suddenly burst to life inside of him. Nathan felt slightly optimistic once more. Somehow this was all going to work out. He could feel it. Pickles wasn't just back in the flesh, his indomitable spirit was slowly reviving as well. His voice sounded feral and strong in his own ears. "We have a show. Saturday night."
Green eyes shot wide. "Dood! Theat's like-" He ticked off his fingers. "Five days from now."
"Yeah. We need to get down to the auditorium and practice." Pickles nodded and leaped down from his perch. Nathan watched as he took off. "Where are you going?"
"Ta git a shower! Then we gahtta go!"
Nathan felt himself smirk. Finally. They were back on track. The gears of the clock were turning.
***
"Murderface! He's sayin' ya sound like shit." Magnus rolled his eyes and looked to Nathan, who shrugged in response. Across the stage Murderface was spluttering and trying to pull his bass away from Skwisgaar, who was ranting in Swedish. "Watch what he does with his fingers! He's tryin' to show ya how-"
Nathan sighed heavily. So far practice had been going well but they'd hit a snag a moment ago. Murderface was having an issue with a line. He was off beat and they could all hear it. Skwisgaar had immediately gone over to try to correct the problem and Murderface had instantly dug his heels in and refused to be helped. Even now things were continuing to escalate.
"Fuck it." Magnus snorted and sat his guitar down before jogging across the stage. Nathan watched as he inserted himself in as a mediator, translating back and forth and slapping Murderface across the back of his head to get his attention.
"Hey. Nate." Pickles was leaning across his drum kit. "How many sahngs are we doin' fer the show?"
Nathan blinked and turned away from the cluster-fuck that was Murderface. "Not sure." He stomped over to stand beside his friend. "We have thirty minutes. Depends on what songs we do."
"Is theat whet we're decidin' now?"
"Yeah. See what we're good at." He picked absently at the polish on his thumbnail.
"Gaht any ideas?"
"Some. I was thinking Adremelech, Baphomet, Entombed... What do you think?"
Pickles nodded along and rubbed his beard as though he were thinking about something. After a moment he glanced at the other three, who were still too busy with their own problems to even realize the drummer and vocalist talking. He dropped his voice low. "Whet aboat yer sahng? The one we did fer Cornickleson?"
A cold jab in his gut made him flinch and he hated himself for it. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to be strong and confident but- "What if they don't like it?"
Pickles' eyes went blank. He seemed to take a second to catch up with what Nathan was saying. "Whet?"
"Our song. What if the crowd doesn't like it?"
His crooked smirk was aggravating in the moment while Nathan already felt exposed. "Don' start dis shit again. Dood, yer good enough. People are gonna like it, trust me-"
"Don't know. Still needs work." It was sort of true. He wasn't entirely happy with it yet and they didn't have a lot of time on their hands.
The drummer shook his head. "Nah, we should do it. Pahlish 'er up an' git 'er out there. People need ta hear us."
Nathan glared down at the floor. He knew Pickles was right it was just hard to grow the balls to put himself out there. He'd written songs before and he'd even performed them with his other bands with varying levels of success. He'd never totally bombed before. 'But that was Florida. L.A. is huge.' Expectations would be higher here. He wasn't so sure he could sell his own material in such a big place. What if their song tanked? "Maybe. If the crowd is good."
Pickles opened his mouth as if to say something but a different voice cut him off. "Nej!" Both guys turned to look at the tall Swede who had somehow managed to sneak up on them. Skwisgaar was frowning down at Nathan. "No goods crowds, no bads. Only goods music." He paused and seemed to think, possibly about what he was going to say next. "Play goods music, people likes."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "Yeah but how do I know if people will like my music?"
Skwisgaar's brow furrowed. He didn't understand what Nathan was saying, it was clear on his face. He turned to look at Magnus, who was a few feet away, putting his guitar strap over his shoulder. The older guy said something in Swedish, presumably a translation, and Skwisgaar spoke back to him. They went back and forth for a moment until a light went on behind the blond's icy eyes. His nose went up in the air. "Pffft." He snapped out something else in Swedish and waved Nathan off.
Despite the language barrier, the singer knew when he was being dismissed and he felt his temper flare. He was the leader here! Who in hell did Skwisgaar think he was to disregard him? The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Hey! Why the fuck don't you talk so I can understand you?"
"He says you worry too much." Magnus didn't flinch when the vocalist whirled on him and he didn't back down when Nathan advanced. It was his severe frown that actually brought Nathan back to a point where he could think clearly.
"I got a band to think about-"
"Which is why we should be doin' our own stuff, dood."
Shit. Now Pickles was going to harass him too? What if their song wasn't good enough? Didn't they realize that they could lose their chance if they bombed this show? "How do we know it's good enough? Our song?"
"Vad?" Skwisgaar was apparently still a part of this conversation even as he was fiddling with his guitar.
Murderface had come over and stuck his nose in as well. "What'sch goin' on? What are you guysch talkin' about?" No one answered him.
Magnus translated for Skwisgaar. Again came the 'pffft' that Nathan was seriously starting to hate and the Swede spoke back in a superior tone.
Hackles still raised, Nathan gritted his teeth. "What the fuck is he saying?"
"Are you fuckersch ignoring me?"
There was some sort of smirk pulling at the corner of Magnus' mouth as he put his hand over Murderface's face and pushed him out of the way. Ignoring the indignant spluttering, the older guitarist spoke directly to Nathan. "Uh... You said 'how do we know it's good enough' and Skwisgaar says 'because he doesn't play bad music'." He actually laughed a little. "He says if you write bad music he won't play it. If it's good enough that he'll play it then the crowd will like it."
The bassist seemed to choke on his own spittle. "What an asschole! Who died and made him king?"
Nathan needed a second to think that over. He was pretty sure he got it. Part of him agreed with Murderface, Skwisgaar was a stuck-up dick. But he wasn't taking cheap shots. In his own twisted way, he was sort of complimenting him, or his song anyway. He locked his eyes on Skwisgaar's. "So you think the song is good enough?"
Skwisgaar nodded once, dismissive again. "Ja. Ams worthy."
It was Pickles who laughed this time. His voice sounded incredulous. "Worthy? Worthy a' whet? You?"
Again came the furrowed brow. He didn't understand and so Magnus translated. A moment later recognition dawned and Skwisgaar reacted. Nathan had to do a double take to be sure that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. The Swedish guitarist actually smiled, the creepy fucker. "Ja. Ams wort'ies ofs me."
The bassist threw both of his hands up in the air. "Oh, whatever!"
If it had come from anyone else Nathan would have assumed it was a joke. However, coming from that smug bastard, he knew it was meant to be honest. Pickles and Magnus were both laughing. Murderface rolled his eyes as he stormed away and Nathan had no choice but to shake his head. "Alright. Let's practice then."
***
"So what's dis music 'e's been werkin' ahn?" Pickles was starting to get antsy as he took a long pull from his bottle of beer.
"Skwisgaar, få din kassettband!" Magnus had a voice that carried well even when he wasn't trying. It crossed Nathan's mind briefly that maybe the old dude could do back up vocals. Maybe.
Apparently Skwisgaar had been making some kind of notes for the band and he'd finally decided that Nathan and Pickles could be trusted with his genius. He'd gone off into the other room as soon as they'd gotten back to the hotel but twenty minutes later he still hadn't returned.
Nathan, Pickles and Magnus were all sitting at the table in their common room. Nathan was pouring over his notebook and wishing that he had his recorder. Murderface was on the phone with a local Thai place while they talked music. It was obvious that the bassist was never going to step up and be a part of the creative process but so long as he was willing to take directions Nathan supposed that it didn't matter.
"YESCH. I want to plache an order..." Murderface spoke into the phone like he was talking to a retard.
The Swede emerged from the door that must have led to his room. He was carrying a small knapsack and was muttering something under his breath. Nathan still didn't like it that the guy barely spoke English but he was getting used to it. He was even starting to like him a little.
Skwisgaar tossed his bag on the table and asked Magnus a question. They went back and forth for a minute before the older guy rolled his eyes and got up from the table. He disappeared through the same door that Skwisgaar had come from and came back a moment later with a tape player. Setting it on the table, he started pawing through the blond's knapsack. Skwisgaar was busy getting a beer from the fridge and didn't seem to care that his things were being gone through.
"Lady, do you schpeak Englisch?" Murderface didn't try to spare the others from his commentary.
A moment later Magnus pulled out three different cassette tapes and laid them on the table. "Alright, so Skwisgaar can't read music-"
"What?" Nathan snorted, almost choking on his own beer. A guitarist that couldn't read music?
"That's ridiculousch!" Murderface stormed back and forth while holding the phone to his ear. "Englisch! I need schomeone who schpeaksch Englisch!"
Magnus glanced at the bassist but held up his hands as if in surrender and spoke to Nathan. "Hey, don't ask me. I'm just tellin' ya what he told me."
Pickles also seemed to be at a loss. "So how are we gonna do dis if he can't speak English an' 'e can't read music-"
"I spicks da English!" The Swede flopped in his chair and gave Pickles a hard look before opening his beer and taking a drink.
"Barely!" Pickles laughed and tried to get his point across by waving his hands emphatically. "You only speak a little English. How're we gonna talk to ya?" Skwisgaar's brows furrowed and he turned to Magnus, who laughed and translated. "See?!" Pickles gestured wildly, as if to prove his point.
Skwisgaar snarled a response and Magnus grinned. "He says if you don't like his English then he'll communicate with sign language."
Nathan lifted his head. "He knows sign language?" What the fuck good did that do? He didn't know sign language-
The Swede nodded. "Ja." And he promptly flipped his middle finger into the air. "Dis ams means shuts da fucks offs." Pickles burst out laughing and Nathan smirked despite himself.
"Up," Magnus chuckled. "Shut up. Not shut off." He rested his elbows on the table top and covered his face with his hands while he laughed. "Jesus Christ."
Murderface groaned dramatically and swept through Nathan's bedroom door and slammed it behind himself. His voice could be made out through the wall. "Yesch! Can you hear me?!"
Skwisgaar shrugged and pulled the tape player closer to himself. He glanced over the tapes and picked one. He popped it in the player and hit the 'play' button. The part he'd been playing for Nathan's song started playing. It sounded okay but Nathan didn't get the point. He'd heard this before. Pickles, however, seemed to pick up on what Skwisgaar meant. "Oh... Ya can't read music but if ya record whet yer thinkin' den ya kin let us listen to it. I git it."
"Ja."
Nathan shrugged. He supposed that would work. He leaned closer to the tape player and listened harder, making sure he liked what he was hearing.
The front door swung open unceremoniously and Charles Offdensen walked in with his cell phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder. He was carrying a box of something and barely acknowledged the guys sitting at the table. It was the first time Nathan and Pickles had seen him since the night before.
Pickles froze for a second before glaring down at the table and muttering something about wondering what Murderface was ordering for everyone. Nathan kept an eye on the manager to make sure that nothing unexpected happened. It looked like Offdensen couldn't care less about the drummer though as he continued his conversation.
"Yes, of course... Saturday night, noted... No, no. The whole band is here... The drummer?" He glanced up and seemed to focus on the top of Pickles' head for a second. Nathan clenched his jaw and both of the guitarists seemed to tense as well. Charles looked away. "Yes, he's here. He was away on business... Their name? Well, that's still up in the air. You know how these new bands are... I know. Don't worry about it. I'll get on it... No. I'll get them to choose and I'll get the fliers... You've generously given us this opportunity, I'll take care of the details..." He set the box down on the kitchenette counter and kicked the door shut behind himself. "Shirts? I don't know. I hadn't thought about it. Do you think they'd sell? ... Well, I think they're good but I suppose I might be a bit biased." He strolled over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of brandy.
Nathan could have been mistaken but he was pretty sure he caught a hint of a smirk on the manager's lips as he went on into his phone. "Sure. I could do some shirts. How many do you think would be- One hundred? Sure, that sounds reasonable... No, they're not just a cover band. They're going to be going somewhere, but of course they will be doing mainly covers on Saturday... Original songs?" He glanced up at this point and skewered Nathan with his shrewd eyes. He cocked his head in silent question.
The vocalist glanced around at the table. Skwisgaar and Magnus were both nodding slowly, encouraging him. He looked over to see if Pickles was paying attention. The red head nodded even more enthusiastically than the guitarists. Nathan sighed and turned back to Offdensen. "Yeah. We got one original-"
"Yes. They could play an original if you'd like..." He turned back toward the counter and pulled out a cup to pour his brandy into. "Well, that would be appreciated..." There was a lull as he seemed to be listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Offdensen poured his drink, added ice, and took a sip all before he went on, "Yes. Thank you again for this opportunity. It's appreciated..." He smiled openly for just a second. "Yes. We'll see you on Saturday. Thanks again, Brendon. Bye." He hit the button on his phone and set it down before taking another generous drink.
"Was that about our gig?" Nathan couldn't wait any longer.
"Yes, Nathan, it was. Did you boys practice today?"
The vocalist rolled his eyes. "Yeah. They want us to do our own song?"
Offdensen nodded. "Yes. The gentleman I was on the phone with owns the club you'll be playing at. He's someone I met a while back. He was one of my first associates in the music industry, actually. He's made a very generous offer by giving you a half an hour of his time." He took another drink. "And he's going to give you boys a push, announce t-shirt sales."
Nathan frowned. "T-shirts? Who in hell would buy shirts from a band they've never heard of?"
"That's why we're only doing one hundred, but we have to start somewhere, Nathan." He set his glass down and clapped his hands together loudly. "Speaking of which. A name. You boys have to start with a name! Do you have one yet?"
A round of confused looks passed over the guys. Shit. That's right. Nathan hadn't told them yet that 'Death Clock' was taken. Pickles shrugged. "Yeah, Deat' Clahck."
Offdensen shook his head and discreetly neglected eye contact with the drummer. "Sorry. 'Death Clock' is already copyrighted. You'll have to pick something else. And you need to hurry. I have to do fliers for you guys. Tomorrow." He stopped and took a deep breath, as if he were processing his own words. "So, now. You guys need to choose. Now."
There was a sudden uproar. Four different voices cried out together about how unfair this was and picking out a good name took time. Skwisgaar threw his hands up in the air with a 'pfffft' and shook one of his tapes in the manager's face. Nathan yelled above the rest of them. "Come on! Stop bein' a dick. There's got to be something you can do. Death Clock is our name!"
The manager rolled his eyes and took another drink. "Guys. I can't copyright something that's already been claimed. Just think of something new."
"Pffft. Alreadies writeds it downs." Skwisgaar tossed his tape onto the table like it was now contaminated.
Offdensen squared his shoulders. "I'm sorry? You already wrote what down? The name?" He blinked like he was having a hard time processing Skwisgaar's complaint. "Do you want some White Out? Write over it. Death Clock is already taken."
"It's bad luck to change your band's name." Magnus folded his arms over his chest.
The manager tipped his head back in frustration. "Look, this isn't the dark ages. And superstition aside, there's nothing I can do-"
"But we like the name Death Clock," Nathan groaned. "It has the right sound for us. How are we gonna choose a different name now? We got used to it."
"Yeah!" Murderface chimed in as he re-emerged from Nathan's room. "How're we supposed to remember a new name now? It'sch like renaming a cat! We won't know who people are talking too!"
"Because your band's name was Death Clock for five minutes you won't be able to learn a new one?" Offdensen's voice sounded skeptical at best and Nathan didn't appreciate the tone.
"Ja! Writeds it downs." Skwisgaar chucked a tape at the manager.
Offdensen snatched the cassette out of mid air without disturbing the drink in his opposite hand. "Guys, really. My hands are tied-" He glanced down at the tape. "And look, you didn't even spell it right. You can still learn a new name-"
Nathan grabbed the other tape that was still on the table and examined it. Skwisgaar had terrible handwriting, all slanted and weird, and Offdensen was right. The Swede had scrawled something across the tape that looked like 'deths klocka'. What the fuck was that supposed to be? He snorted. "Still, we're used to how it sounds. We can't change it now."
"If it's a matter of how the name sounds then why don't you just change the spelling?" Offdensen had his arms folded across his chest now, every bit as stubborn as the band mates.
The guys all fell into silence. Five sets of eyes darted around the room, all looking to each other. No one said anything and finally Nathan broke down. "You- You can do that?"
"Change the spelling? Yes. Hell, you could spell it the way Skwisgaar wrote it down. D-E-T-H- drop the S, K-L-O-C-K- do you guys want the A?" He glanced at the Swede. "Klocka, that's how you spell clock in your language, isn't it?"
Nathan pulled out his notebook and wrote it down. He frowned. "I don't like the klocka part. Looks stupid."
Magnus leaned forward. "Lose the A."
Nathan scribbled out the A and looked at it again. It still looked off. He scribbled out the C as well. It looked better shorter.
Pickles was standing over his shoulder now. "Put 'em tagether. Make it one werd."
He put a line through the two separate words and wrote it all as one beneath that. D-E-T-H-K-L-O-K. Skwisgaar made his noise, 'pfffft', and took both the notebook and pen from Nathan then rewrote it in his weird slanted letters. Dethklok.
'Huh.'
He kind of liked it. The agreeable silence around the table suggested that the other guys didn't hate it either. It sort of looked foreign. He glanced around at the rest of them. "It still sounds the same."
"Ja."
Pickles shrugged. "It don't suck. I kinda like it."
"We don't schound like pusschiesch. Scho... That'sch good I guessch."
Magnus nodded. "It's okay. Better than starting over."
Nathan nodded and slapped his big paw down on the open notebook. "Alright. From now on, we're Dethklok."
The Klok just keeps ticking forward. Two weeks and counting before the guys find out if Pickles will have to go to trial or not. They have their first gig in less than a week, what the fuck are they going to call their band, seeing as Death Clock is already taken?
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I won't make money from this, I'm sure. (It would be nice!)
Warnings: Swearing, sex
Just so no one's unpleasantly surprised: This is a N/P slash. There may be some dark moments, violence and other non happy things, but hey, there will be some smut and laughs along the way as well! I will warn you at the start of each chapter.
Link to first chapter:
http://community.livejournal.com/capslokdethklok/1112715.html#cutid1
Link to the last chapter:
http://capslokdethklok.livejournal.com/1857818.html#cutid1
Cut to this chapter:
He didn't remember falling asleep or what time it had been exactly, but it must have still been light out when he'd laid down because the only light that was on now was the one in the bedroom. One glance toward the living room and kitchen confirmed that the rest of the apartment was doused in shadow. He glanced at the clock. 3:30. What had woken him up?
A warm hand slipping beneath his shirt and up his back suddenly reminded him that he hadn't been sleeping alone. Pickles' other hand curled in Nathan's long hair and held him tight. Without needing further coaxing, the younger guy leaned into the kiss. Neither of them tasted fresh but it didn't matter. Sunrise would bring them back to the hotel and, presumably, to the auditorium to practice. They had a gig in... five days? Four? Nathan couldn't even be sure what day it was anymore.
Pickles swung his leg over him and nothing else mattered. He watched as the little guy pulled his shirt up and over his head before discarding it. Nathan's hands moved of their own accord, sliding up Pickles' sides and then back down to his hips. He pushed him back until the smaller guy was straddling his pelvis rather than his waist. The pressure was nice, the solid weight of his friend on his already hard cock gave the impression of enclosure. It made him want his redhead even more.
Nathan put a hand on either pale hip and set a rhythm for Pickles to follow. The friction was just a taste of what was to come. Freckled hands moved quickly to unsnap the button on Nathan's jeans and moved to get them off. Sitting up, Nathan hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled both the pants and his underwear down in one motion. He kicked his boots off and let everything fall to the floor.
Pickles was on his knees beside Nathan, watching the younger guys' every movement. Nathan kept eye contact as he lifted his own shirt over and off as well. The instant he was naked Pickles was on him, kissing and biting, clawing at him like they'd been apart for ages. Nathan knew it wasn't true, a day was hardly 'ages' but it had felt like forever. He wrapped his arms around the other and pulled him along as he rolled them both over so that Pickles was on his back, looking up at him.
Green eyes went wide and Nathan was pulled into the emerald sea. There was nothing else in the world as he dove in without a second thought. Pickles embraced him, took him in as if they were two parts of one whole and they fell down together. Nathan was only vaguely aware that he was tearing the rest of Pickles' clothes off of him before the heat engulfed his body. The drummer was a tangle of fiery limbs that pulled him in and held him fast.
They melded into one and Nathan's mind sluggishly reached out in an attempt at coherency. Were they someplace safe? Were there others around? Could they be caught? He couldn't pull up even a single answer. His mind was too slow, drunk from being submerged in the burning green sea.
Pickles pushed and squirmed until he was out from under Nathan and went for his nightstand. Nathan sat up to catch the view as the smaller guy bent over to fish through the drawer. He dropped something and hastily dove to grab it from the floor. The temptation was too much. Nathan squeezed his twitching cock as he rose to his knees and came up behind Pickles. He managed to get one hand on that round, beautiful ass before Pickles straightened back up and turned on him.
With a shove, the smaller guy sent Nathan back. He smiled and waved a playful finger at him. Nathan blushed despite himself. It was almost like the old Pickles was back, kind of like it had been before the younger guy had known so much. He liked it. Maybe if all of the secrets had been bared and there was no more fear of rejection then things could go back to how it had been in the beginning.
Pickles came up to him and Nathan submitted. He laid back with the drummer standing on his knees over him. Pickles didn't say anything when he laid down as well and took the big guy's dick in his mouth.
Nathan startled and let his head fall back. He hadn't expected the other to descend on him so quickly. He let his hand wander and held tight to a fistful of dreadlocks when he found them. Pickles moaned around the cock in his mouth and Nathan felt his insides shiver. 'Jesus.'
He closed his eyes and focused simply on feeling what was happening to him until he heard something snap. He managed to sluggishly pull his eyelids open and glance around. Pickles had opened the top on a bottle of lube. It took a second for that to register. When Pickles started pushing on Nathan's leg, the younger guy realized what was going on. With a small sigh, he shifted to both expose his ass and hide his face. 'Fuck. Pickles. Why my ass?'
If this was how things were going to go then he wasn't going to let himself think about it too much. Thinking just made him embarrassed and uncomfortable. He grabbed Pickles' leg and pulled him around like he'd done in the motel room, back when they'd still been on the road. He sneered when he felt a calloused finger stroking his butt hole but refused to ponder just how gay he was. Instead, he busied himself with a dick. 'So fucking gay.'
Pickles chuckled and freed his mouth long enough to ask, "How ya doin', Chief?" Nathan put forth his best frown and tried to not think about having his ass fingered... while he was rubbing Pickles' cock... There was just no coming back from this.
The little guy seemed amused but didn't push the subject any further. He went back to work on Nathan's dick while making sweeping circles around his point of entrance.
Nathan let himself be pulled in again. So long as he didn't analyze himself, he could enjoy this. He liked the way Pickles' hands were rough and grated on his skin a little as they rubbed and massaged. He liked the smell of musk that was slowly filling the room. Ginger pubic hairs tickled his nose as he pressed his lips to Pickles' cock. He liked the way the little guy stiffened under his touches. He parted his lips and rubbed the tip of Pickles' dick across them. The little guy made some sort of choked noise and reciprocated.
The warmth formed a suction, pushed and pulled on his cock. Nathan relaxed and let himself be lost to the moment. As he continued his ministrations, Pickles picked up the pace. He pressed his lubricated fingers against the puckered ring of flesh that Nathan was currently trying not to focus on. It was difficult to ignore the increasing pressure and the tight feeling in his gut.
Pickles worked slowly and steadily toward his goal, neither pushing Nathan beyond his limit or relenting. Nathan squeezed his eyes shut and took Pickles' cock in his mouth as a means of distraction. He tried to keep his breathing steady and his muscles loose. Pickles worked his dick with his mouth and hand while continuing to apply pressure. Nathan grunted and rolled his hips to help ease the strain.
Pickles' hips bucked unexpectedly. Nathan jerked his head back to keep his teeth from making contact. He glanced down to see that Pickles was blushing like a fiend. His skin had gone so pink that his freckles were slowly disappearing. His hand kept moving and Nathan could feel the progress the little guy was making.
Gritting his teeth, he slammed his eyes shut and hid his face when he felt the first finger break through. It was just as uncomfortable as it had been the first time but it wasn't so foreign.
'Fuck. Getting used to having a finger in my ass.'
He panted as Pickles sunk himself in to his first knuckle, then his second, and then all the way down. His hand was still going, stroking Nathan's erection firmly but he used his mouth to nip at the bigger guy's thigh. "Ya okie, Nate?"
Eyes still closed, he managed to clear his throat. "Yeah." His face was on fire. Why did Pickles have to talk to him right now? Wasn't there a better time to shoot the shit? Like any time he didn't have a finger in his ass?
"Tell me if ya wanna stahp." His voice was hushed but not disappointed. He wasn't pulling a guilt trip. He dropped his mouth back down over Nathan's dick. He rolled the young guy's foreskin back and paid attention to his sensitive glans.
Nathan swallowed and rolled his hips again, grateful for the distraction. He dared to cup one hand around the base of Pickles' skull and press just a little. His friend opened up and Nathan flexed again. He built up a tentative rhythm and Pickles followed along. After a couple of moments he remembered that he really should be returning the favor and went back to work on Pickles' slightly wilted dick.
A few moments later he heard the lid on the lube bottle snap again and he felt more dampness. Cheeks burning, he tried to ignore the fact that he was being finger fucked. Slowly, gently, Pickles had been sliding his finger back and forth. He'd pull almost entirely out and then carefully slip back in until he was buried to his third knuckle. It didn't hurt and so long as Nathan could focus on fucking the red head's mouth he could deal with it. Now, however, he could feel himself being stretched again.
He glanced down and almost took the lube bottle to his face. Pickles had tossed it to him with his free hand. Nathan wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it and frankly he was a little more focused on the fact that Pickles seemed to be slipping him a second finger. The stretching was uncomfortable but not as much as he would have thought. His breathing was a little shallow but he was pretty sure it was more nerves than anything else. He was overreacting. Pickles was looking him in the eye, still blowing him, and still fucking him. With two fingers now. Like it was no big deal.
Nathan wanted to say something, to ask if two fingers was really necessary, but he couldn't find any words. It didn't hurt. It only bothered him because he felt like it should. Even as he debated with himself, he supposed that this was fair. He'd never dedicated much thought to the etiquette of sleeping with a guy. It seemed reasonable that he couldn't expect Pickles to simply take it all the time though, could he? Pickles wasn't a chick. Surely he'd want to be the one doing the fucking sometimes.
'Huh. He doesn't want to fuck me now does he?'
Pickles pulled Nathan's dick out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' and shifted. Keeping his fingers right the fuck where they were, he slid his lower half away from the younger guy and sat up. He crossed his legs and directed Nathan to lift his hips. The younger guy clenched his jaw but submitted. He lifted himself and felt Pickles put his folded knees under his ass, not a smooth operation considering where the little bastard's fingers were placed. Exposed like this with his bare ass propped in Pickles' naked lap, Nathan's chest suddenly felt tight. Christ. He wasn't ready for this. "Uh, Pickles?"
"Relax, dood."
"I don't think I can-"
"I'm naht gonna feck ya." He snorted. "Ya kin take it easy."
'Oh, thank God.' He lifted his head to look at his friend, though he could barely manage eye contact. "What are you doing then?"
Pickles smirked devilishly. "Finger feckin' ya."
He wished he could die right there. Just throw his body in a hole somewhere and let him forget this whole thing. He covered his face with both hands. "I know that."
His laugh would have been cute if not for the circumstances. Maybe. "Den why'd ya ask?"
Nathan opened his mouth to respond but stopped short when Pickles shifted. He was at a different angle now and when he curled his fingers something happened. It was like someone had grabbed Nathan's guts and yanked them up into his throat. It kind of felt like he'd missed the bottom step at the foot of the stairs and felt like he was falling only to realize a second later that he was in no real danger. It was that same wrenching feeling. He gasped.
Pickles did it again and Nathan choked. Like everything else, it didn't hurt. But it sent some sort of a shock through his body. It took his breath away, leaving him confused... and making his cock twitch. What the hell?
He looked up and caught Pickles' dark smile. The little guy tipped his head down and wrapped his free hand around the base of Nathan's straining cock. "Gaht ya." His voice was as dark as his smile.
Nathan sucked in a ragged breath as he was fucked from the inside out. He didn't know what was happening to him but he realized that he was at Pickles' mercy. Whatever nerve he was touching, it was doing something, sending some sort of current through his entire body. It neither hurt nor felt good. It was just... intense.
"P-Pickles... Ugh..." His head fell back on his limp neck. Every nerve ending on his dick was alive and absorbing each shock as Pickles fucked him. It was hard to focus on anything. He was vaguely aware that he was making some sort of noise and that his legs were tightening around his friends hips, pulling him closer.
His back was arching up and every time Pickles would stroke he'd buck into his tight fist. His insides shook and felt raw. He'd thrust and as he'd relax the next shock would come. It engulfed him. He was still lost in the burning emerald sea, being thrown on the chaotic waves. What the hell was happening to him? He tried to blink his bleary eyes but he couldn't focus. He was being burned up, spent too quickly. The all-consuming shock waves were drowning him. It was too much. He was going to explode.
"Pickles." He didn't sound like himself.
"Ya want more or need ta stahp?"
His ears were ringing and his heart was pounding. He tried to form a coherent sentence and realized that he was still making some kind of crazy grunting noise. "Gonna explode-" It was all he could manage before the next shock wave stole his words and he was reduced to animal sounds again.
Pickles nodded. "Okie." He pulled back slowly, released some of the pressure. Nathan sucked in a ragged breath. The little guy removed one finger gently. The buzzing in Nathan's head began to quiet and he managed to blink and look around. A moment later, Pickles removed his other finger too.
Nathan just laid there for a moment in an attempt to collect himself. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly but his thoughts were slowly coming back to him. What the hell had that been? He'd never felt anything like it. It hadn't been an orgasm. He didn't cum. In fact, his dick was still rock hard and laying heavily on his belly. It was the most extreme bodily reaction he'd ever had and he couldn't be sure that it had even felt good. He hadn't been in pain but the sensation was so overwhelming that he wasn't sure it was really pleasure either. He swallowed thickly.
"Pickles?" His voice shook but at least he sounded like himself again. "What the fuck was that?"
The drummer was leaning back on his hands and grinning lewdly at his companion. "Whet? Theat? Theat was yer prostate."
He lifted his head, still panting. "My what?"
Pickles laughed. "Magic ass button. Yers is sensitive, I'd say." He tossed a condom at the younger guy. "Here. Put theat ahn."
Nathan lifted the foil square and stared at it like he'd never seen one before. Pickles snorted. "Or don't. Don't wanna cum, eh? Maybe ya'd rather smile at my ceilin' all night."
"What?" Nathan tried to frown and realized it was true. Fuck. He was grinning like an idiot. And he couldn't stop. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Pickles laughed as Nathan flew into a sitting position. "I tol' ya. Magic ass button."
"Shut up."
"Put yer rubber ahn."
He fought with the wrapper. "Fuck! My face is, like, stuck this way or something."
"Ye-uh, theat's tha magic."
"Make it stop! I look like a pussy."
Still chuckling, Pickles rolled onto his stomach. "Here, I won' look at ya. Theat make ya feel better, Princess?"
His face was hot all over again. "Shut up. Asshole."
"Ass fag."
"Douche hole."
"Pansy ass."
"Dick fucker."
***
The late August sun felt kind of cool on his skin as he fumbled through the kitchen. He'd poured a bowl of cereal, discovered that the milk was bad, and settled on a beer instead. His mind was in a fog as he went through his regular morning ritual on autopilot. Faced with the realities of the day, he didn't know what to think or even if he should think. It was easier to just let it go and hope that everything would work itself out.
They had a job coming up in just a few days and they'd barely had a chance to play together as a whole. On top of that, there were only two weeks until Pickles' fate would be decided. If things went to shit for Pickles then that meant that things were shit for Death Clock.
He turned the shower on and waited for it to heat up. And there was Pickles. There was whatever he and Pickles were playing at. Nathan exhaled heavily and gripped the sides of his head. He didn't know what they were doing. They were fucking but it wasn't a relationship, it couldn't be. They were friends but this was more than a friendship. Wasn't it? Things were so tangled and confused now. They were friends, roommates, that didn't always get along but they slept together sometimes. That wasn't a normal friendship, was it?
Nathan blinked at himself in the mirror. He tried to think back to when he'd been a kid and had friendships but he'd never had many friends. Once, in third grade, there had been this boy with blond hair that had gone to remedial reading with Nathan. They had sort of hung out for a while. But when the teachers had discovered that Nathan could, in fact, read he'd been switched to a different class. He'd never said goodbye to the blond kid and that had never bothered him. So they weren't really friends then were they?
There had also been Troy, a guy from the football team. He'd been quiet and had played guitar. He'd been in Nathan's first band until he'd gotten his girlfriend pregnant and had to drop the band to get a real job. Nathan hadn't missed him when he was gone, though he'd been upset about having to find another guitarist. They hadn't been friends either.
The mirror was fogged. 'Water's hot.' Nathan climbed into the shower and set to getting clean. Pickles wasn't like Troy or the blond kid from remedial reading. He was way the fuck more than either of them but he wasn't like a girlfriend. Not that Nathan had ever had many of those either.
There had been Sheila. She'd been a cheerleader, the first girl to go all the way with him. They'd liked each other enough to sleep together throughout the school year but over the summer they hadn't hung out. The following year Nathan had dropped out of school and they hadn't kept in touch. He didn't miss her. Once in a while he'd bumped into her in town when he'd still lived at home. They had nodded to each other, recognized each other, but hadn't felt the need to talk. She'd had a kid by then. A baby. And a guy walking with her most of the time. A husband maybe, or a boyfriend. Nathan didn't know which and didn't care.
Pickles wasn't like Sheila. When he'd been gone Nathan had felt sick. He still felt sick when he thought about it. Especially now. Not knowing what was going to happen in two weeks was worse than knowing for sure that something bad was going to happen. He groaned and turned the water off.
He toweled dry and got dressed without allowing himself to think any more. When he came back down the hall a noise from the kitchen drew his attention and he turned to look. Pickles was sitting Indian style on his kitchen counter and picking through Nathan's forgotten cereal. They looked at each other from across the kitchen for a few moments before Nathan shuffled forward. He came up to the sink and put both of his hands on the counter top. He wished that he could find something to say but his mind was as blank as a clean sheet of paper. Memories of the night before kept haunting him, making him more afraid than ever to let the little guy out of his sight.
It was Pickles who finally broke the silence. "Whet now?" His voice seemed small and frail in the quiet around them. He put the still half full bowl down and picked up his pack of cigarettes.
Nathan blinked. "I don't know."
Pickles fidgeted with the cigarette wrapper but didn't actually open it. Nathan suspected that he was just using the package as a distraction, something to keep his hands busy. "Ya kin still go beack-"
"No." He looked Pickles in the eye. "No going back. We go forward."
The red head swallowed soundlessly and nodded a moment later. "Awreet." He took a shuddering breath and cleared his throat. When he spoke again he began to sound like his old self, like before he'd been arrested. Hesitantly, Pickles was coming back. "Whet's forward?"
It was like a flame suddenly burst to life inside of him. Nathan felt slightly optimistic once more. Somehow this was all going to work out. He could feel it. Pickles wasn't just back in the flesh, his indomitable spirit was slowly reviving as well. His voice sounded feral and strong in his own ears. "We have a show. Saturday night."
Green eyes shot wide. "Dood! Theat's like-" He ticked off his fingers. "Five days from now."
"Yeah. We need to get down to the auditorium and practice." Pickles nodded and leaped down from his perch. Nathan watched as he took off. "Where are you going?"
"Ta git a shower! Then we gahtta go!"
Nathan felt himself smirk. Finally. They were back on track. The gears of the clock were turning.
***
"Murderface! He's sayin' ya sound like shit." Magnus rolled his eyes and looked to Nathan, who shrugged in response. Across the stage Murderface was spluttering and trying to pull his bass away from Skwisgaar, who was ranting in Swedish. "Watch what he does with his fingers! He's tryin' to show ya how-"
Nathan sighed heavily. So far practice had been going well but they'd hit a snag a moment ago. Murderface was having an issue with a line. He was off beat and they could all hear it. Skwisgaar had immediately gone over to try to correct the problem and Murderface had instantly dug his heels in and refused to be helped. Even now things were continuing to escalate.
"Fuck it." Magnus snorted and sat his guitar down before jogging across the stage. Nathan watched as he inserted himself in as a mediator, translating back and forth and slapping Murderface across the back of his head to get his attention.
"Hey. Nate." Pickles was leaning across his drum kit. "How many sahngs are we doin' fer the show?"
Nathan blinked and turned away from the cluster-fuck that was Murderface. "Not sure." He stomped over to stand beside his friend. "We have thirty minutes. Depends on what songs we do."
"Is theat whet we're decidin' now?"
"Yeah. See what we're good at." He picked absently at the polish on his thumbnail.
"Gaht any ideas?"
"Some. I was thinking Adremelech, Baphomet, Entombed... What do you think?"
Pickles nodded along and rubbed his beard as though he were thinking about something. After a moment he glanced at the other three, who were still too busy with their own problems to even realize the drummer and vocalist talking. He dropped his voice low. "Whet aboat yer sahng? The one we did fer Cornickleson?"
A cold jab in his gut made him flinch and he hated himself for it. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to be strong and confident but- "What if they don't like it?"
Pickles' eyes went blank. He seemed to take a second to catch up with what Nathan was saying. "Whet?"
"Our song. What if the crowd doesn't like it?"
His crooked smirk was aggravating in the moment while Nathan already felt exposed. "Don' start dis shit again. Dood, yer good enough. People are gonna like it, trust me-"
"Don't know. Still needs work." It was sort of true. He wasn't entirely happy with it yet and they didn't have a lot of time on their hands.
The drummer shook his head. "Nah, we should do it. Pahlish 'er up an' git 'er out there. People need ta hear us."
Nathan glared down at the floor. He knew Pickles was right it was just hard to grow the balls to put himself out there. He'd written songs before and he'd even performed them with his other bands with varying levels of success. He'd never totally bombed before. 'But that was Florida. L.A. is huge.' Expectations would be higher here. He wasn't so sure he could sell his own material in such a big place. What if their song tanked? "Maybe. If the crowd is good."
Pickles opened his mouth as if to say something but a different voice cut him off. "Nej!" Both guys turned to look at the tall Swede who had somehow managed to sneak up on them. Skwisgaar was frowning down at Nathan. "No goods crowds, no bads. Only goods music." He paused and seemed to think, possibly about what he was going to say next. "Play goods music, people likes."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "Yeah but how do I know if people will like my music?"
Skwisgaar's brow furrowed. He didn't understand what Nathan was saying, it was clear on his face. He turned to look at Magnus, who was a few feet away, putting his guitar strap over his shoulder. The older guy said something in Swedish, presumably a translation, and Skwisgaar spoke back to him. They went back and forth for a moment until a light went on behind the blond's icy eyes. His nose went up in the air. "Pffft." He snapped out something else in Swedish and waved Nathan off.
Despite the language barrier, the singer knew when he was being dismissed and he felt his temper flare. He was the leader here! Who in hell did Skwisgaar think he was to disregard him? The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Hey! Why the fuck don't you talk so I can understand you?"
"He says you worry too much." Magnus didn't flinch when the vocalist whirled on him and he didn't back down when Nathan advanced. It was his severe frown that actually brought Nathan back to a point where he could think clearly.
"I got a band to think about-"
"Which is why we should be doin' our own stuff, dood."
Shit. Now Pickles was going to harass him too? What if their song wasn't good enough? Didn't they realize that they could lose their chance if they bombed this show? "How do we know it's good enough? Our song?"
"Vad?" Skwisgaar was apparently still a part of this conversation even as he was fiddling with his guitar.
Murderface had come over and stuck his nose in as well. "What'sch goin' on? What are you guysch talkin' about?" No one answered him.
Magnus translated for Skwisgaar. Again came the 'pffft' that Nathan was seriously starting to hate and the Swede spoke back in a superior tone.
Hackles still raised, Nathan gritted his teeth. "What the fuck is he saying?"
"Are you fuckersch ignoring me?"
There was some sort of smirk pulling at the corner of Magnus' mouth as he put his hand over Murderface's face and pushed him out of the way. Ignoring the indignant spluttering, the older guitarist spoke directly to Nathan. "Uh... You said 'how do we know it's good enough' and Skwisgaar says 'because he doesn't play bad music'." He actually laughed a little. "He says if you write bad music he won't play it. If it's good enough that he'll play it then the crowd will like it."
The bassist seemed to choke on his own spittle. "What an asschole! Who died and made him king?"
Nathan needed a second to think that over. He was pretty sure he got it. Part of him agreed with Murderface, Skwisgaar was a stuck-up dick. But he wasn't taking cheap shots. In his own twisted way, he was sort of complimenting him, or his song anyway. He locked his eyes on Skwisgaar's. "So you think the song is good enough?"
Skwisgaar nodded once, dismissive again. "Ja. Ams worthy."
It was Pickles who laughed this time. His voice sounded incredulous. "Worthy? Worthy a' whet? You?"
Again came the furrowed brow. He didn't understand and so Magnus translated. A moment later recognition dawned and Skwisgaar reacted. Nathan had to do a double take to be sure that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. The Swedish guitarist actually smiled, the creepy fucker. "Ja. Ams wort'ies ofs me."
The bassist threw both of his hands up in the air. "Oh, whatever!"
If it had come from anyone else Nathan would have assumed it was a joke. However, coming from that smug bastard, he knew it was meant to be honest. Pickles and Magnus were both laughing. Murderface rolled his eyes as he stormed away and Nathan had no choice but to shake his head. "Alright. Let's practice then."
***
"So what's dis music 'e's been werkin' ahn?" Pickles was starting to get antsy as he took a long pull from his bottle of beer.
"Skwisgaar, få din kassettband!" Magnus had a voice that carried well even when he wasn't trying. It crossed Nathan's mind briefly that maybe the old dude could do back up vocals. Maybe.
Apparently Skwisgaar had been making some kind of notes for the band and he'd finally decided that Nathan and Pickles could be trusted with his genius. He'd gone off into the other room as soon as they'd gotten back to the hotel but twenty minutes later he still hadn't returned.
Nathan, Pickles and Magnus were all sitting at the table in their common room. Nathan was pouring over his notebook and wishing that he had his recorder. Murderface was on the phone with a local Thai place while they talked music. It was obvious that the bassist was never going to step up and be a part of the creative process but so long as he was willing to take directions Nathan supposed that it didn't matter.
"YESCH. I want to plache an order..." Murderface spoke into the phone like he was talking to a retard.
The Swede emerged from the door that must have led to his room. He was carrying a small knapsack and was muttering something under his breath. Nathan still didn't like it that the guy barely spoke English but he was getting used to it. He was even starting to like him a little.
Skwisgaar tossed his bag on the table and asked Magnus a question. They went back and forth for a minute before the older guy rolled his eyes and got up from the table. He disappeared through the same door that Skwisgaar had come from and came back a moment later with a tape player. Setting it on the table, he started pawing through the blond's knapsack. Skwisgaar was busy getting a beer from the fridge and didn't seem to care that his things were being gone through.
"Lady, do you schpeak Englisch?" Murderface didn't try to spare the others from his commentary.
A moment later Magnus pulled out three different cassette tapes and laid them on the table. "Alright, so Skwisgaar can't read music-"
"What?" Nathan snorted, almost choking on his own beer. A guitarist that couldn't read music?
"That's ridiculousch!" Murderface stormed back and forth while holding the phone to his ear. "Englisch! I need schomeone who schpeaksch Englisch!"
Magnus glanced at the bassist but held up his hands as if in surrender and spoke to Nathan. "Hey, don't ask me. I'm just tellin' ya what he told me."
Pickles also seemed to be at a loss. "So how are we gonna do dis if he can't speak English an' 'e can't read music-"
"I spicks da English!" The Swede flopped in his chair and gave Pickles a hard look before opening his beer and taking a drink.
"Barely!" Pickles laughed and tried to get his point across by waving his hands emphatically. "You only speak a little English. How're we gonna talk to ya?" Skwisgaar's brows furrowed and he turned to Magnus, who laughed and translated. "See?!" Pickles gestured wildly, as if to prove his point.
Skwisgaar snarled a response and Magnus grinned. "He says if you don't like his English then he'll communicate with sign language."
Nathan lifted his head. "He knows sign language?" What the fuck good did that do? He didn't know sign language-
The Swede nodded. "Ja." And he promptly flipped his middle finger into the air. "Dis ams means shuts da fucks offs." Pickles burst out laughing and Nathan smirked despite himself.
"Up," Magnus chuckled. "Shut up. Not shut off." He rested his elbows on the table top and covered his face with his hands while he laughed. "Jesus Christ."
Murderface groaned dramatically and swept through Nathan's bedroom door and slammed it behind himself. His voice could be made out through the wall. "Yesch! Can you hear me?!"
Skwisgaar shrugged and pulled the tape player closer to himself. He glanced over the tapes and picked one. He popped it in the player and hit the 'play' button. The part he'd been playing for Nathan's song started playing. It sounded okay but Nathan didn't get the point. He'd heard this before. Pickles, however, seemed to pick up on what Skwisgaar meant. "Oh... Ya can't read music but if ya record whet yer thinkin' den ya kin let us listen to it. I git it."
"Ja."
Nathan shrugged. He supposed that would work. He leaned closer to the tape player and listened harder, making sure he liked what he was hearing.
The front door swung open unceremoniously and Charles Offdensen walked in with his cell phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder. He was carrying a box of something and barely acknowledged the guys sitting at the table. It was the first time Nathan and Pickles had seen him since the night before.
Pickles froze for a second before glaring down at the table and muttering something about wondering what Murderface was ordering for everyone. Nathan kept an eye on the manager to make sure that nothing unexpected happened. It looked like Offdensen couldn't care less about the drummer though as he continued his conversation.
"Yes, of course... Saturday night, noted... No, no. The whole band is here... The drummer?" He glanced up and seemed to focus on the top of Pickles' head for a second. Nathan clenched his jaw and both of the guitarists seemed to tense as well. Charles looked away. "Yes, he's here. He was away on business... Their name? Well, that's still up in the air. You know how these new bands are... I know. Don't worry about it. I'll get on it... No. I'll get them to choose and I'll get the fliers... You've generously given us this opportunity, I'll take care of the details..." He set the box down on the kitchenette counter and kicked the door shut behind himself. "Shirts? I don't know. I hadn't thought about it. Do you think they'd sell? ... Well, I think they're good but I suppose I might be a bit biased." He strolled over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of brandy.
Nathan could have been mistaken but he was pretty sure he caught a hint of a smirk on the manager's lips as he went on into his phone. "Sure. I could do some shirts. How many do you think would be- One hundred? Sure, that sounds reasonable... No, they're not just a cover band. They're going to be going somewhere, but of course they will be doing mainly covers on Saturday... Original songs?" He glanced up at this point and skewered Nathan with his shrewd eyes. He cocked his head in silent question.
The vocalist glanced around at the table. Skwisgaar and Magnus were both nodding slowly, encouraging him. He looked over to see if Pickles was paying attention. The red head nodded even more enthusiastically than the guitarists. Nathan sighed and turned back to Offdensen. "Yeah. We got one original-"
"Yes. They could play an original if you'd like..." He turned back toward the counter and pulled out a cup to pour his brandy into. "Well, that would be appreciated..." There was a lull as he seemed to be listening to whoever was on the other end of the phone. Offdensen poured his drink, added ice, and took a sip all before he went on, "Yes. Thank you again for this opportunity. It's appreciated..." He smiled openly for just a second. "Yes. We'll see you on Saturday. Thanks again, Brendon. Bye." He hit the button on his phone and set it down before taking another generous drink.
"Was that about our gig?" Nathan couldn't wait any longer.
"Yes, Nathan, it was. Did you boys practice today?"
The vocalist rolled his eyes. "Yeah. They want us to do our own song?"
Offdensen nodded. "Yes. The gentleman I was on the phone with owns the club you'll be playing at. He's someone I met a while back. He was one of my first associates in the music industry, actually. He's made a very generous offer by giving you a half an hour of his time." He took another drink. "And he's going to give you boys a push, announce t-shirt sales."
Nathan frowned. "T-shirts? Who in hell would buy shirts from a band they've never heard of?"
"That's why we're only doing one hundred, but we have to start somewhere, Nathan." He set his glass down and clapped his hands together loudly. "Speaking of which. A name. You boys have to start with a name! Do you have one yet?"
A round of confused looks passed over the guys. Shit. That's right. Nathan hadn't told them yet that 'Death Clock' was taken. Pickles shrugged. "Yeah, Deat' Clahck."
Offdensen shook his head and discreetly neglected eye contact with the drummer. "Sorry. 'Death Clock' is already copyrighted. You'll have to pick something else. And you need to hurry. I have to do fliers for you guys. Tomorrow." He stopped and took a deep breath, as if he were processing his own words. "So, now. You guys need to choose. Now."
There was a sudden uproar. Four different voices cried out together about how unfair this was and picking out a good name took time. Skwisgaar threw his hands up in the air with a 'pfffft' and shook one of his tapes in the manager's face. Nathan yelled above the rest of them. "Come on! Stop bein' a dick. There's got to be something you can do. Death Clock is our name!"
The manager rolled his eyes and took another drink. "Guys. I can't copyright something that's already been claimed. Just think of something new."
"Pffft. Alreadies writeds it downs." Skwisgaar tossed his tape onto the table like it was now contaminated.
Offdensen squared his shoulders. "I'm sorry? You already wrote what down? The name?" He blinked like he was having a hard time processing Skwisgaar's complaint. "Do you want some White Out? Write over it. Death Clock is already taken."
"It's bad luck to change your band's name." Magnus folded his arms over his chest.
The manager tipped his head back in frustration. "Look, this isn't the dark ages. And superstition aside, there's nothing I can do-"
"But we like the name Death Clock," Nathan groaned. "It has the right sound for us. How are we gonna choose a different name now? We got used to it."
"Yeah!" Murderface chimed in as he re-emerged from Nathan's room. "How're we supposed to remember a new name now? It'sch like renaming a cat! We won't know who people are talking too!"
"Because your band's name was Death Clock for five minutes you won't be able to learn a new one?" Offdensen's voice sounded skeptical at best and Nathan didn't appreciate the tone.
"Ja! Writeds it downs." Skwisgaar chucked a tape at the manager.
Offdensen snatched the cassette out of mid air without disturbing the drink in his opposite hand. "Guys, really. My hands are tied-" He glanced down at the tape. "And look, you didn't even spell it right. You can still learn a new name-"
Nathan grabbed the other tape that was still on the table and examined it. Skwisgaar had terrible handwriting, all slanted and weird, and Offdensen was right. The Swede had scrawled something across the tape that looked like 'deths klocka'. What the fuck was that supposed to be? He snorted. "Still, we're used to how it sounds. We can't change it now."
"If it's a matter of how the name sounds then why don't you just change the spelling?" Offdensen had his arms folded across his chest now, every bit as stubborn as the band mates.
The guys all fell into silence. Five sets of eyes darted around the room, all looking to each other. No one said anything and finally Nathan broke down. "You- You can do that?"
"Change the spelling? Yes. Hell, you could spell it the way Skwisgaar wrote it down. D-E-T-H- drop the S, K-L-O-C-K- do you guys want the A?" He glanced at the Swede. "Klocka, that's how you spell clock in your language, isn't it?"
Nathan pulled out his notebook and wrote it down. He frowned. "I don't like the klocka part. Looks stupid."
Magnus leaned forward. "Lose the A."
Nathan scribbled out the A and looked at it again. It still looked off. He scribbled out the C as well. It looked better shorter.
Pickles was standing over his shoulder now. "Put 'em tagether. Make it one werd."
He put a line through the two separate words and wrote it all as one beneath that. D-E-T-H-K-L-O-K. Skwisgaar made his noise, 'pfffft', and took both the notebook and pen from Nathan then rewrote it in his weird slanted letters. Dethklok.
'Huh.'
He kind of liked it. The agreeable silence around the table suggested that the other guys didn't hate it either. It sort of looked foreign. He glanced around at the rest of them. "It still sounds the same."
"Ja."
Pickles shrugged. "It don't suck. I kinda like it."
"We don't schound like pusschiesch. Scho... That'sch good I guessch."
Magnus nodded. "It's okay. Better than starting over."
Nathan nodded and slapped his big paw down on the open notebook. "Alright. From now on, we're Dethklok."