FIC: Immigrant Song (Toki/Skwisgaar, PG-13)

[supes_]

TO: puella_improba
FROM: ran_pants

Title: Immigrant Song
Rating: PG-13. Swearing, substances, sex-talk, a touch of gayness
Pairing: Skwisgaar/Toki
Timeline: Pre-canon, slightly AU interpretation
Other Notes: Thanks to wikdsushi and acroamatica for beta-ing!



Toki was no stranger to snow.  He had swept it, shoveled it, essentially lived in it all of his life. Leaving his home was hardly a change. Just now he had walked from a train station five blocks away in a tattered dark blue hoodie, mumbling to himself in his native tongue about the “pussies dressed like colorful puffy marshmallows” that stared at him.

For some reason, the wind blowing the snow across the glass skylight of the hotel lobby left Toki staring up, up further still until he was shuffling backwards and bumping into other frustrated visitors like an out-of-control child. Which, in a way, he was.

Skwisgaar often made it his business to tell him such.

“I has a suites room, under Skwisgaar Skwigelf.” He addressed the man at the front desk - Barry, as his white name tag proudly proclaimed - without looking at him, brushing melted snow off of the fur on his coat collar.

“Ahh, yes the standard suite, room 725. May I see your identification, Mr. Skwigelf?” the clerk asked, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses, magnified eyes staring expectantly. Skwisgaar rolled his eyes at Toki’s hypnotized expression once more before carefully setting down the brown shopping bag he was holding and fishing his passport out of his coat pocket.

“Ja, ja, I gots it right heres. That dildo goofball is wit’ me also,” he replied, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the still-bewildered youth behind him.

“The...dil...I’m sorry?”

Skwisgaar scoffed in annoyance and, barely turning around, grabbed Toki by the shoulder as he passed by and dragged him close to his side, towards the owl-eyed clerk. “This idiots here. Is my cousin, from back home. He’s never seen the New Yorks befores, I’s sorries he is such a news-sense.”

“” Toki spoke in a low voice, trying to squirm out of Skwisgaar’s grip on his shoulder.

“”

“Whens I stops you? Do’s it, den!” Toki snapped. The clerk jumped slightly, staring at the two foreigners in front of him, eyebrow raised.

Skwisgaar’s fingers dug into Toki’s shoulder, the warm, talented digits threatening to stretch the already damaged material. “He has the Durex syndromes, I t’inks, you knows? Can’t get him to shuts up nowheres!” he said, chuckling as amiably as he possibly could. It was far from warm, though. More like the rich laughter of a clever beast, one that knew it was going to gain the trust of and devour the one who was hearing it.

“...Right,” the clerk replied. “Do you, er, have proof of identification for him?”

Skwisgaar glanced over at Toki with a puzzled expression. He did have his own passport, but the way that the sweating, balding clerk was looking at them was beginning to make him antsy. “Does you really needs that?”

Toki, thankfully, had his occasional moments of wit. “He ams racist, is whats is it. T’inkings we nots relates-tives, we don’ts looks de sames.”

“Whats, you thinks all us in Sweden looks alikes? We are all blonde an’ talls an’ beautiful ladies?” Skwisgaar caught on, narrowing his eyes at Barry, the icy blues piercing and harsh.

“No, I didn’t mean to impl- never mind.” Barry wiped his flushed forehead. He didn’t need another debacle like this. He handed over two card keys. “Enjoy your stay, gentlemen.”

****

“Can you never just shuts your mouths an’ stay stills?!”

“Why does dey makes glass ceilings if dey don’ts want you to looks up it?! I just gets dizzy, all de floors makes it likes a spiral lookings up.”

The comforters on both of the Queen beds were an ugly blend of every color of a bruise, but Toki leapt onto the one closest to the television without hesitation. Skwisgaar, however, wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Pffft. Embassies. Is a baby room,” he said, delicately laying the worn guitar case slung across his shoulder (his carry-on, as he had explained to the baffled flight attendants at Stockholm-Bromma) onto the other bed and tossing his coat next to it. “You never sees half the hotels that I does. I expect more from New Yorks, really.” The shopping bag clinked and rattled when he brought it onto the bed, and Toki lifted his head from the pillow he was nestling his face into.

“So dat whats you picks up outside de station? T’oughts you needs some new dresses to goes wit’ your lady coat.”

“Firsts, fucks you, you don’t know a good coat when it hits you in the balls. Seconds, I know some guys that knows where to gets some fun stuff, I calls them before we got on the planes.”

As Skwisgaar began pulling bottles out by their necks and letting them roll around on the mattress, Toki crawled to the edge of his bed, perched on his hands and knees. “Fun stuffs?”

“Stuff what we can’ts take on the planes, you know. We needs to have a little party before the tryout wit’ this band.” Skwisgaar withdrew a wrinkled scrap of paper from his pocket, and then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 9:56. “Ahh, shit, forgots to call that manager guy.”

“Sos?” Toki stood on his bed and leapt towards Skwisgaar’s, barely sticking the landing and knocking the two bottles of vodka over loudly. He ignored Skwisgaar’s glare and ripped one of the beer cans out of the plastic ring. “He tells you what times de addition is, rights? No big deals, just shows up.”

“‘Auditions’, Toki.” Toki just smiled blithely, bounding towards the open bathroom door.

“WOWEE! Skwisgaar, de washing tubs is huge! I can sleeps in it!” he exclaimed, rushing in to prove his point.

“Maybe I makes you if you don’t shuts up!” Skwisgaar called over his shoulder, smirking to himself. He had known his companion for a fairly long time, finding him when he was barely fifteen. And he was privy to some parts of Toki’s rather horrific past; even Skwisgaar, the perpetually icy king who could intimidate an entire black metal crowd with a mere stare in their direction, felt a twinge of disgust and pain for him.

It seemed like Toki was discovering new fascinating things wherever they went. Sure, being with Skwisgaar had given him a crash course in real life experiences (and provided him with a decent vocabulary of Swedish and English curse words), but he could still be reduced to a curious kid.

Fishing around in the shopping bag, Skwisgaar’s fingers closed around a small plastic bag. He felt the contents: there was a large lump of something soft, and a few slips of thin paper. He grinned. “Toki gets out of the bathrooms! I has somet’ing else in here!”

Oh, but his friends knew how to spoil him.

****

Every time Skwisgaar offered him a hit, Toki compulsively glanced over at the door, wide eyed and suspicious. Maybe they should have put a towel or something in the space between the door and the floor. He had seen Skwisgaar do it once before, during a tour in Denmark (which had unfortunately not saved the band from nearly getting arrested).

“Odin, stops that! You are makings me nervous,” Skwisgaar snapped, shoving the joint into Toki’s calloused little fingers. “Why you keeps looking anyway?”

Toki stared at the joint in his hands, contemplating, watching the thin plume of smoke rise from the end. “The guy you talks to was real serious hearings. He mights kick you ass if we gets taken by de cops for smokings de pot.”

“Pffffffft!” Skwisgaar scoffed, more loudly than usual, practically sputtering into a laugh. “I gets a smoking rooms, so is okay for smokings! Oh little Toki, is not the worst thing what ever happens in hotel rooms. You know what happens wit’ Led Zeppelins an’ the sharks.”

“Ja...you tells it differents every times, though,” Toki replied, taking a light hit and passing it back. He leaned back on his hands, brushing up against the half-empty vodka bottle, rolling along the bedspread on its side. He grabbed up the bottle and swallowed a large gulp. It burned on the way down, setting his throat and his lungs aflame, drawing an exhilarated gasp from him.

“Whatever. I’m nots the only one what can’t keep it straights, nots my problem. An’ that guy, he ams a suit an’ tie stuffies dildo. What’s is he goings to do, sends the big lead singing guy to does it for him?” Skwisgaar tilted his head up, blowing a thin snake of smoke through tightly pursed lips.

The heady sensations of the high he was riding wreaked such havoc on Toki’s inhibitions, and he found himself staring at the column of his friend’s pale throat and trailing upward with heavy-lidded eyes. It was no new revelation to him, of course, but he never looked so openly. “...Maybe he sends us back to Swedens. Or calls you moms to pays de prison money,” he replied softly.

The vein that Toki could see in Skwisgaar’s neck throbbed as his jaw clenched. Fuck, in his haze he had forgotten their unspoken agreement to never use the M- or D-word around each other. “Don’t need my moms knowing that I comes here. So I doesn’t tell her. She woulds pay the bail, but never lets me live it downs. I don’t needs her here screwing everything what gots a cock.”

Toki had “met” Serveta Skwigelf once, when she had tracked down Skwisgaar playing at a small nightclub in Stockholm. She never did more than ask if he knew if her boy was there, but he had no reason to doubt Skwisgaar’s word on her reputation. She had still been sending letters to his apartment in Sweden before they left. They might have only been half a page long, but they always started with “Did you get my last letter?”

But who was he to judge? Skwisgaar had kept his mouth shut about Toki’s...situation. It was too much of a hassle to ask and pretend not to care.

Thirty minutes of smoking and drinking passed more or less in silence. Until Toki finally took off his hoodie and Skwisgaar snorted, quipping, “Nice button shirts, Toki. You shoulds know that the grunge music is dead. And fucking gays.”

Toki’s embarrassment was hidden underneath his already flushed cheeks. Thank Odin he was still a lightweight, something he never thought he’d be sending up a blessing for. “You is gays.”

“You are gays.” As Toki reached over, past Skwisgaar’s hips towards the lone beer can on the plastic rings, Skwisgaar suddenly noticed his companion’s hair. He’d become so accustomed to Toki keeping his hair short, almost like a pageboy. He never let it get below his neck before taking a pair of scissors to it, no matter how Skwisgaar and his bandmates mocked him. Now, with his attention span greatly shortened by the alcohol and the pot, Skwisgaar noticed how it spilled back over Toki’s shoulders freely. Without thinking, he grabbed some between his fingers, rubbing and feeling the odd texture of it. Not exactly soft like the heavily conditioned hair of the many women he’d known, but certainly thicker. “You grows it out?”

Toki nervously turned towards Skwisgaar, hand stalling over the now lukewarm can. Toki respected and admired him, but while he wasn’t tripping over himself, he wasn’t entirely in his right mind either. It was like being a plaything, dangled in front of a large Swedish cat. “Ja. I gets sick of cuttings it all de times. Is more easy dis way.”

“Pfffft, is about time. Haircuts amn’t metal, you knows.” He began absently drawing the hair apart into strands to braid them, something he remembered his mother asking him to do when he was younger, something that kept his hands occupied and tangled up. He snickered and tickled the side of Toki’s face with the end of the pathetically crafted braid, “We makes your hairs into the braidy buns, likes that lady in the space wars movie!”

Toki was not oblivious to the jab about his masculinity, but hell, the high was beginning to get to him as well. He chuckled, “Dat ams metals to you?”

That naïveté, it always shone through without fail. Skwisgaar couldn’t help but smirk. “Movie was totally metal, Toki. You reallies, reallies got to learn what is metal still, my little friend,” Skwisgaar huffed, waving his free hand dismissively while winding the small braid around the side of Toki’s head, just to entertain his own silly thought process that somehow compared his friend to a fictional alien princess.

Belatedly, both of them realized Toki was still leaning over, shoulder-to-shoulder with Skwisgaar, who was just as flushed in the face from the alcohol as he was. In fact, maybe even more so, with his paler skin. As Toki attempted to fall back to his original cross-legged position, Skwisgaar placed a slender hand on his chin and turned it towards him. Toki jerked around and had to grab onto Skwisgaar’s knees to avoid falling over.

“OW! What’s de fucks, Skwisgaar?!” He tried again to wriggle out of Skwisgaar’s grip, but only got his jaw squeezed tighter, pinching his cheeks. Skwisgaar did occasionally get grabby with him after drinking, but never like this. This wasn’t typical intoxicated disregard for personal space. No, this was far more intense, both in the pain of those distinctly bony fingers digging into his skin and being almost eye-to-eye with him.

“Stubbles now, too.” Ahh, so that was it. The way Skwisgaar’s palm was pressed against Toki’s chin he could definitely feel the thin hairs growing, neglected, on his chin.

“You just noticings?”

“Why would I looks at your face otherways?”

Toki furrowed his brow in aggravation, but no, the nosy Swede would not be deterred. Slowly, his lips turned upward, and parted in a toothy (but clearly disoriented) grin. There was that beast again, baring his fangs that were completely harmless unless you dared to cross him. “That’s is so precious, Toki. Trying to pretend you’s not a little babies.”

“Fucks you! I’s not a kid!” Toki’s face grew warm again under his friend’s scrutiny. He frowned petulantly and shoved Skwisgaar in the shoulder, jostling them both on the almost too-soft mattress.

“Oh you is too! See you pouts like a baby!”

“I doesn’t! You ams crazy, sees t’ings!”

“Oh, Toki,” Skwisgaar replied, pinching Toki’s cheek with a condescending grin, “you don’t needs to pretends like is not’ing. Everybody wants to impress Skwisgaar.”

“Likes is so hard to umpress you. I only needs lady bits for dat.”

Skwisgaar’s gaze went upward, and he finally released his grip on Toki’s face to tap his own chin. ...Was he seriously pondering Toki’s comeback? Maybe Toki could back away, crawl into his own bed and sleep off the rest of his high...maybe pray for a mercifully short hangover the next morning and for nothing else to happen...

“So what is you goings to do instead, then?”

Toki could blame it on the pot making him feel loose and fucking with his judgment later. He could say it was some demented, belated manner of showing gratitude for all that Skwisgaar had inexplicably done for him over the last two years. Whatever the reason, Skwisgaar’s question made Toki pause for all of ten seconds before pressing their lips clumsily together, squeezing his eyes shut tightly in preparation for the punch that the more rational part of his mind thought was coming as soon as he tried to explain himself.

Skwisgaar’s shoulders tensed, but while he certainly wasn’t an active participant in Toki’s awkward kissing, he didn’t seem entirely opposed to it. Sure, Skwisgaar had fucked dozens of women when they were in Sweden, but he did have a certain lax demeanor about sex. It was like he viewed it more as something he was naturally entitled to, no matter the source. Toki ended the kiss and pulled back, wincing when he heard Skwisgaar exhale loudly.

“...You is dildos at kissing.”

“....Huh?” Well, that was enough to make Toki finally open his eyes and stare.

“I mean I know you lives in the sad house wit’ no goils at school to practice on, but seriouslys, Toki. Pathetics,” Skwisgaar continued, shaking his head as if he were scolding a pet.

“You-! Wells, is de only t’ing I t’inks of!”

“Pfuh. You needs to try harder, then, if you wants to solves your problems wit’ kissings.” Skwisgaar’s hands went around his waist, pressing against his back and drawing him back in. Toki’s eyes darted from the hands back to Skwisgaar’s face, like a startled animal.

“Whats, you means...right nows?”

“Ja, rights now! You want to makes an appointments or somethings?”

Toki narrowed his eyes, staring, trying hard to hold the gaze to test Skwisgaar’s resolve. Skwisgaar only rolled his eyes in response and slid one hand up Toki’s back to the nape of his neck, jerking him forward and locking their lips again. His kiss was far from the hesitant, unplanned smashing of lips; if he was going to mock someone else’s kissing he had to prove that he was simply and truly better at it.

Toki’s knowledge of kissing came only from the movies he had been introduced to and from seeing Skwisgaar with the many women he had charmed. And, of course, his parents told him that the only parts that an unmarried man and woman should allow to touch were their hands, or else their souls would be condemned to Hell. Toki’s natural response to this new, very overwhelming kind of kiss was to try and wriggle out of Skwisgaar’s hold, even pushing against Skwisgaar’s shoulders when he felt teeth pricking at his lower lip. The sudden bite coerced a small noise of surprise from Toki, making Skwisgaar chuckle quietly into the kiss. Even through his blurred senses, Toki knew that the thing that was prying his lips open, skimming soft and wet over the front of his teeth, filling his mouth with the taste of the bitter kind of beer that only Skwisgaar would touch, was his friend’s tongue. It was...weird, undeniably. But the heat in his face threatening to reach his ears made him suspect he could get used to this particular brand of weirdness. Any reservations he might have still held for his soul could go fuck themselves.

Toki pulled away with a loud gasp, his need for oxygen overriding his libido. Skwisgaar’s face was hardly disturbed, but his breath had begun to match Toki’s in its frenetic pace. Oh God, he was actually getting a reaction from him. He was affecting Skwisgaar.

Still determined to prove his point - whatever that point was - Toki tucked aside long blond hair, finding an excellent target: Skwisgaar’s neck, the small area of skin beneath his earlobes that was within his reach but easy to hide. He had seen his friend kiss women there before, and it never failed to make them sigh and swoon. Skwisgaar was not, of course, the swooning type, but Toki went for it regardless, breath raising slight goosebumps on Skwisgaar’s neck as he hesitated.

“You leaves a mark, I swear I kills you,” Skwisgaar breathed, tilting his head as Toki finally pressed his lips against the skin, reluctant and not entirely sure what to do, but the substances had lowered his inhibitions. What he lacked in experience he made up in enthusiasm, teeth and tongue.  Skwisgaar, who could have gone to the lobby and easily picked up any experienced woman he wanted, was biting his lip and digging his heels into the bed as if trying to escape and encourage Toki’s ministrations. The hand that hadn’t made its way onto Toki’s thigh slipped underneath his shirt, fingernails running lightly up his spine, avoiding the deep marks and ridges he knew were there. Toki shivered and moaned, close to Skwisgaar’s ear and making him shudder in turn, his grip tightening as Toki shoved him onto his back against the mattress.

Unfortunately the two of them hadn’t quite calculated how much farther up they had accidentally scooted on the bed. What was intended to be a fall back onto the pillows missed its mark entirely, and Skwisgaar knocked his head against the wooden bedpost with a crack loud enough for Toki to let out a yell of shock and lift his head in panic.

“Sorries! I didn’ts mean to...shits, are you bleedings?!” Skwisgaar’s enlightened response was a string of Swedish curses, pushing Toki back so he was resting on his knees on top of him.

“No, but that really fuckings hurts!” Skwisgaar winced as he tentatively brushed his fingers against the spot where he’d hit. “Fuckings kills it much, Toki...”

“Is not like I wants you to hits you heads from kissings,” Toki protested, glaring half-heartedly and trying to look intimidating while still perched on Skwisgaar’s lap. As Skwisgaar started to sit up again, Toki bit his lip, the reddish marks from where Skwisgaar had bitten him still prominent. “...Why you lets me?”

“I wouldn’t if I knew you was goings to try to cracks my brain out-”

“I mean why you lets me kiss you agains?”

It was a good question. It should have required some introspection, and maybe a theatrical moment of silence. But Skwisgaar just shrugged and made a dismissive noise. “Seemed like a good ideas. If I can’t makes you better guitar player maybe I makes you a better kisser or somethings likes that.”

“I-wh...fucks you! I’s been getting better!” Toki lunged forward, grabbing up a pillow and hitting Skwisgaar in the face with it, struggling as Skwisgaar’s hands came up to push him away.

“Better likes if you gives a guitar to a stupid squirrel-OW!”

“I’s nots a squirrels! Fucks you!”

“Fucks you! Stops hittings me!”

The exchange probably could have continued for another half an hour, when suddenly there was a loud thud from down the hallway, followed by footsteps and the muffled sound of panicked voices. Toki paused, giving Skwisgaar opportunity to shove him off.

“The fucks was that?”

“I go looks,” Toki replied, crawling across the bed and towards the door, stumbling up and peeking around for just a few seconds. “Oh wowee, de doors to the elvelators is falls off! How...how’s dat even happens?”

“Maybe is because we press all the buttons before we get offs. I tells you, Toki. Hotel is dildos. Now gets back in, you lets the smell out an’ we really do gets in trouble.”

Toki skittered back into the room, slamming the door tight and launching himself back onto the bed.

“Turns on the TV. Maybe is something good on.”

Reaching across Skwisgaar’s legs to grab the remote that had somehow fallen onto the floor, Toki glanced up and looked at the clock again. The red numbers glared brightly, proclaiming 12:06. Had that much time really passed? How long had they even been kissing? A hand came down on his back and Toki turned his head as much as he could, straining to see. Skwisgaar was yanking him back up onto the bed by his shirt until he lay across Skwisgaar’s legs. “Fucking speeds it up, come on!”

“Fine, I’s gettings it!” he snapped, tossing the remote back towards the end of the bed. Skwisgaar sighed and pressed the “ON” button, watching as the large screen flickered to life. He stared blankly, listening to the amiable female voice talk about the amenities that their hotel offered, before starting to scroll through channels. “We leaves at 11 maybes tomorrow. Is not take too long to gets to the place where the tryouts is at.”

“Okays,” Toki replied, keeping himself prostrate against Skwisgaar’s legs. “...Hey Skwisgaar?”

“Ja.”

“You is goings to lets me stays wit’ you even if dese guys signs you up, right? I stays outs of de way, like I does in Sweden, yeah?”

Skwisgaar stopped on an infomercial for some kind of fancy cooking spatula, snickering at the overenthusiastic smiles of the two men trying to sell the thing. He glanced over at Toki, and let out a huff of breath at the expectant look in his eyes. “You finds someone gooders than me?”

“No, is not what-”

“You leaves to go an’ plays wit’ someone what amn’t as good as me I finds you and I kills you. Buts of course you don’t. So we’s fine. Now shuts up. I’s trying to finds the movie channels.”

Toki just smiled and obeyed, tugging at the part of his hair that was still loosely braided as Skwisgaar stopped on every channel to make a joke that they both knew was stupid, even for their typical brand of crude and dark humor, but laughed at anyway.

For all they knew, these guys that Skwisgaar was going to meet tomorrow wouldn’t be nearly as fun or as interesting, so they made the best of it.