FIC: Negative One - Forty-Seven (Nathan/Pickles, Nathan/Pickles/Skwisgaar; NC-17)
TO: the_ginga
FROM: skwisguarded
Title: Negative One - Forty-Seven
Pairing: Nathan/Pickles, Nathan/Pickles/Skwisgaar
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: Occurs during and after Dethsiduals.
Warnings: Booze, drugs, sex.
Negative One
It was fucking hard to feel anything but anger around Murderface. Nathan lacked motivation when he was around, found his energy sapped by raging hate. He loved being motivated. (Charles said no more motivational speakers, the body count was six for six.) Record company deadlines were not motivating. Charles was not motivating. Fuck. He used to be more... Uh. Less something. Fuck. He used to have something. Something. Now he had nothing. Less than nothing. Hate. He ordered Murderface out of the car.
Zero
Was a good idea to kick them out when he was high, seemed like a better idea now he was sober. Pickles was high more often than he used to be, drunk more often, too. Gettin' old. But hey, he could remember some French, remember the time when the band was a few months new and he'd sat giggling on a sofa with Nathan and a bong and Nathan had taught him that French stuff and now they were kicking out almost half the band. Balls out or bust, balls out or bust. Motherfuckin' zero hour.
Six
Skwisgaar had surprised him by laughing. Laughing at... something that wasn't Toki being dumb, for once. After that Nathan kind of realised that things were creeping towards being fun. Five songs already, that was pretty cool, and Skwisgaar had this awesome high screaming riff and Pickles was making drum noises and he'd come up with this great idea about flesh eating zombie cats. It was starting to get back to how things were. Pickles winked at him, and Nathan wondered if they would end up the way they had been, when Dethklok was brand new and it was just the three of them.
Ten
Nathan pointed out that there had been practically no GMILFs in Skwisgaar's room lately, and Skwisgaar was hanging out with him and Nate a lot, which was cool. Maybe when they'd nailed the tenth song was when Pickles had power-slid across the floor, and Nathan had grabbed him and lifted him above his head like a trophy, because they were fucking winning, and Skwisgaar was grinning like that and Nate dropped him headfirst into that bony-ass lap. They all sat kinda close together after that.
Twenty-Two
The last time they'd done this was way before their first album together, when they'd been writing and shit. Everything was cool back then, Nathan must've been about twenty-two. Pickles was older and awesome, and they'd gone to get pierced together. Back then, the kisses tasted like pus because his tongue piercing had become infected. Now they tasted like French toast and beer. Odd combination, but familiar as fuck.
Twenty-Four
Pickles guessed him and Nathan had downed a couple too many beers when Skwisgaar had caught them shirtless and tongue tied. Nathan did that thing he'd always done where he froze and didn't let you go, but it was cool because Skwisgaar just raised an eyebrow and rubbed Pickles' ass. Probably too many beers, because it wasn't just songs they were blowing through after that.
Thirty-Eight
Sleepless nights had always been a part of Dethklok's writing and recording process, but never like this. Not with him and Skwisgaar and Pickles in bed together like this. Nathan had decided they'd celebrate once they'd hit track thirty, and the pace kinda slowed after that because God, it was hot watching Pickles fuck Skwisgaar's mouth like that while he plowed the guitarist from behind. It was totally his favourite position, now that they'd tried about eight different combinations and figured out that this one worked. Like they worked. Like they'd used to.
Forty-One
Pickles had a way of dealing when something didn't feel right, and something was definitely kinda off... He wasn't sure what though. He was having too much fun working to drink or smoke or shoot up or all three. There were forty-one substances he could get his hands on in less than five minutes, and all he wanted to do was hang out with Nate and hit that ass and his drums. And Skwisgaar. Yeah.
Forty-Six
Nathan was getting some every night, and it was cool that there were only two of them. He could totally get through forty-six sluts a night if he wanted. Skwisgaar would probably do all of them at once. He looked down at Skwisgaar, at those lips wrapped around his cock... Doing that meant he had to stop staring at Pickles.
Forty-Seven
It was Nate who called it, Pickles thought. Something was off, they were having too much fun. Things just came together so easily. The drums, the words, the guitar... The drummer, the wordsmith, the guitarist. He kinda missed the days before him and Nate had started playing blondie in the middle with Skwisgaar. It was easier to remember that shit without all the other shit getting in the way. Forty-seven songs, drowned in the hot tub. For once, none of them mentioned the obvious fact that they were all hard.
Back to Zero
Nathan had called it like he saw it. "Murderface, we're too good without you... it kinda sucks dick." It did suck dick. Well, usually Skwisgaar sucked their dicks. But Skwisgaar was back to banging a line of GMILFs, FBLs and whatever else he could get now that Murderface and Toki were back in the band. Pickles was back hitting whatever. Had he been drunk or had Pickles actually grinned at him when he'd said that, about sucking dick, at the conference table?
Minus One
Not the first time he'd played on a stage awash with blood, but it was cool to see Nathan hyped like this, coiled like a cinnamon bun and full of rage and excitement. It wasn't all that often you got to play a gig on a stage covered in the blood of the opening band who'd been massacred by your own fans. Pickles had a feeling Nathan was going to ask for more opening acts, and Charles was going to ban them for good. He swept off stage after the show, natural high from the performance crying to be augmented with whatever other high was available. Then there was a solid mass behind him, and Nathan was doing that thing where he kinda locked on and didn't let go. This was one of those moments where everything was really, really hard. "Hey, we can still do stuff, ya know, after shows, right?" Pickles asked. "Without Skwisgaar?" was the growled response.
"Yeah."
"...Cool."
"...Okay."
"Okay."