FIC: Angelsitting (Mythklok/BDP crossover thingie) (Part 1 of 2)
Title: Angelsitting (Mythklok/BDP crossover thingie)
Author: tikistitch & wikdsushi, Fangirls At Large
Rating: R
Summary: Sariel and his crew watch the Ofdensen-Wartooth offspring whilst the dads get some much needed R&R. At a zombie-infested voodoo castle.
Warnings: Slash, AU, another AU, OCs, undead, undead OCs, swearing.
Notes: Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. After that, even I don’t understand what’s going on any more. (The BDP is rather more mundane, but only when the girls are asleep.)
Cross-posted from CLDK.
Angelsitting, Part 1 of 2
Charles held his stomach as The Other Pickles released the death grip on his elbow. He always found this jumping universes bullshit a bit disorienting. And he wasn’t a man who liked being disoriented, even for a moment. Toki, holding onto little Alexis and gripping Rigyn by her small hand, blinked fetchingly at him. Charles reminded himself this whole venture was aimed at getting into that sweet piece of ass’s pants and maybe staying there for a day or so.
“So I said to Isaac Mizrahi, I said, Isaac…”
A female voice in this gay angel dude’s office? OK, that was disorienting, too. Maybe it was 246? Possibly? With extensive brain damage?
“Oh, hello!” It was a little pasty brunette, not a deceptively curvy black woman with a body count notched on her knitting needles. She was sitting with HER ASS ON HIS FUCKING DESK!
Or Sariel’s fucking desk.
In any case, someplace there should have only been a laptop. Or maybe Alexis in her less drooly moments.
“Charles. Toki,” Sariel said, looking up, and seeming mildly pleased to be distracted from the travails of Isaac Mizrahi (who apparently existed in this universe, too, not that Charles could really give a shit).
“Hellos Sarielses!” Toki called. “Hellos Razielses!”
“What the fuck is she doing with her ass on your desk?” Charles demanded by way of greeting.
“Oh. She, uh, does that,” Sariel whispered, as if Raziel could not hear.
The small child dozing on Raziel’s lap awakened and yawned surprisingly loudly at the commotion. Her little blue eyes regarded Toki and the children with approval, and then slid over to Charles.
Suddenly, she was at full attention.
“SAAAAAR!” she exclaimed, gesturing frantically at Charles.
“No, that’s not your uncle, sweetie,” Raziel said, her voice coated in honey.
Charles glowered. Since his acquisition of Rigyn and Alexis (and Toki), people had come to the mistaken belief that he liked kids. No, he liked his kids. Other people's kids could fuck right back to the uteri that spawned them.
“Kid, I’m not- BLARRRRRRGH!” Charles found himself flat on the floor, the now-winged terrible child atop his chest. Despite her smallish size, she seemed to weigh the same as William Murderface, if he had been triplets.
“GET THIS THING OFFA ME!” Charles choked, feeling the crush of a four-artery-blockage heart attack.
“Now, Pumpkin,” Raziel babbled, seemingly unconcerned that Charles was soon to be dead of angelic suffocation. “Did this nice man ask you if you wanted to play Daddy Bowling Pins?” Then, taking her sweet fucking time, she hopped off the desk and said a funny sounding word, and suddenly the crushing pressure was off his chest, as was the monster kid, who was fluttering ghoulishly nearby. Charles kind of wished he had a sword, but Sariel might get pissed off over Kiddie Kabobs in his office. Not that anything else seemed to piss him off like it should.
The small woman held out a hand to Charles. “It’s OK, she just gets very possessive of her Unky Sariel sometimes.”
“Don’t call me Unky…” Sariel sighed.
"Daddy, du var en pannekake!" Rigyn giggled.
“Traitor,” muttered Charles to his child. He uncertainly reached up and grasped Raziel's little hand, and suddenly found himself yanked to vertical by a woman not much bigger than his toddler.
She began brushing him off. “Oh my gods, this ... suit ... thing! You don't let British people dress you, do you? Haven't you tried decent Italian tailoring?”
“I don’t think he wants to spend his vacation being dragged off to your tailor in Milano!” Sariel smiled.
“But good Italian tailoring-“
“Look! I’m not here to play with your monster kids or get fitted for a suit!” Charles protested. “I just wanna- BLAAAAARGGGGH!”
And Charles was back on the floor, although this time buried under a giggling blond monster child.
“HOW MANY OF THESE FREAKY BRATS DO YOU HAVE?” Charles wailed.
“Oh, it’s so cute how they’ve taken to you!” Raziel smiled. “My kids don’t like just anybody!”
“TOOKIIIII!” Charles called.
Toki grinned. “DOGS PILESES!” he shouted, and flopped onto Charles himself, holding Alexis above him for safety purposes (Charles assumed). A now wildly giggling Rigyn hopped on as well.
“Oh, isn’t this just darling!” cheered Raziel, snapping a cell phone camera picture of the melee.
“Cans you sends me the copies?” Toki asked. Charles headbutted him, and Toki got the point and moved both himself and their two laughing brats.
“Hey, sure, I’m spamming it out to absolutely everyone!” Raziel bragged.
"Litigowy acshun!" Alexis said, waving her hands in glee.
“You think Isaac Mizrahi is gonna be interested in your kids mugging my guests?” Sariel asked, putting a hand down to a still horizontal Charles.
‘Isaac is always very interested in my doings!”
Charles, now back on his feet, was if anything more upset than ever. Though there was an unmistakable resemblance between them, Sariel had always seemed smaller and, he had assumed, weaker. But he had once again been wrested to his feet as if he weighed absolutely nothing.
“Where’s Boon, anyway?” Raziel asked.
“YOU MEAN THERE’S ANOTHER ONE OUT THERE?” Charles cried, hitting the deck.
“He’s napping,” Sariel explained.
“Oh, I should get him so we can get pictures of all the kids together!” Raziel gushed, disappearing.
Charles cautiously rose again, and saw to his horror that Pickles had now taken Raziel’s place on Sariel’s desk, where he sat cross-legged, contentedly smoking a joint.
“You let the band sit on your desk, too?” Charles asked.
“If he’s not on my desk, he tries to sit in my chair with me, and there’s kids here,” Sariel explained, rubbing his own stubbly head. He bore an eerie resemblance to the time Charles's high school football team cornered him in the gymnastics locker room and Nair'ed his mohawk off. Charles was still a little convinced Mother and Dad had paid for it, though Dad denied any kind of prior knowledge no matter how many drinks Charles got in him.
“And what the fuck happened to your hair?” Charles said. "You didn't, uh, have a run-in with a bunch of jocks, did you?"
“Oh. That was my voodoo initiation a few weeks ago. It’s growing back, though.”
"Uh, yeah. You know, my universe has this disgusting spray-on hair crap, if you want me to get you a can---"
“All right, the gang’s all here, let’s get some ACTION SHOTS!” Raziel called as she appeared holding a yawning Elias. Kids and assorted band members were herded out of the office until only Charles and Sariel remained.
“Don’t you guys need to get going?” Sariel inquired pleasantly. “I can try to get Toki away from Raziel. But it’s usually best to wait a bit.”
“Sariel. Is this what things are always like around here?”
“Yes?” said the angel, frowning.
“Look, my friend. This is none of my fucking business. But don’t you feel like you need to assert more control? Over the band? And your kids? And that freaky girl?”
“Huh. I dunno. Things seem to be going OK," said Sariel, pushing up his glasses. "I mean, except for the ancient horror in Australia that’s now threatening the future of the universe.”
“I’m … OK. It’s just, speaking from me to me, aren’t you feeling a little … stepped on?”
“Not really. No.”
Charles sighed. They’d taken his balls! Castrated him like he was Fatty Ding-Dongs! It was inconceivable!
“Are you still … you know. With that Indian guy?”
“Ganesh?” Sariel’s whole face suddenly got a funny, wistful look.
“I mean, between you and me, you’re still having, y'know, relations?” Poor, poor bastard! Ganesh fucker probably had him padding around in an apron.
The wistful look got even more wistful. “Oh. Yeah. During my initiation the other week, we were together, you know, for 96 hours straight.”
Charles grabbed his lower jaw. Which someone had thoughtlessly dropped on the floor.
“You were…. What?”
“Ganesh and me. 96 hours. I mean, you know?”
“No, I don’t fucking know. But I wanna. What the fuck?”
“Orula’s castle. The Honeymoon Suite.” Sariel’s wistful look became a grin. “We actually sorta broke the Honeymoon Suite.”
“WHERE IS THIS PLACE?”
“So, we’ll see you in two days?” Sariel asked.
“Ja,” Toki assured them, giving last kisses to Rigyn and Alexis. And Elias and Liam and Abby, for good measure. Raziel preened, apparently vindicated in her belief that her kids were perfect special snowflakes and not bowling balls with wings.
“Yeah, sure,c’mon,” Charles urged, grabbing Toki by the collar. “Maybe it'll be four days. You know. You ready, uh, Pickles?”
“Anyt’ing yoo say, chief!” Pickles grinned, grabbing Charles by the elbow.
“Oh. And. Watch out for the leaky plumbing!” Sariel told him. “Orula’s third floor is bad for that.”
“Yeah, yeah, come the fuck on,” Charles grumbled as the three disappeared.
“And…” said Sariel. “Oh. Huh. Think I shoulda warned them about the zombie attacks?” he asked Raziel.
“Ah, they’ll be fine,” Raziel assured him. “It’s entertainment. It’s a feature! Now, who wants pie?”
Sariel shrugged, and the boisterous mob made its way to Mordhaus’s kitchen.
"Well, here yeh are, doods," Pickles declared, taking a rather extravagant puff on whatever the fuck it was he was ingesting.
"Where are we?" Charles demanded.
"Da castle," the drummer grinned.
"What, this shithole?"
"Ams romantisckal!" Toki gushed.
"Wait, do they even have indoor plumbing? Pickles? Where the fuck did he go?" Charles fumed. Abandoned! And Sariel was porking that irresponsible little fuckwit? What the fuck was the matter with the guy? Was this Pickles even human? Of course, was his own Pickles even human? Charles glowered. Maybe an alien autopsy was called for. When he returned. It might save him from, say, having to explain to his daughters what an overdose was before they were old enough to know to stay out of his and Toki's stash.
Lightning flashed.
A figure appeared. "I am ... Chango!" he declared as thunder cooperatively crashed in the background.
"Wowee!" declared Toki.
"Oi, do you like that, mate? Lightnin' is my speciality!"
"Ams impressgives!"
"Follow me!" ordered Chango. "To the dark and mysterious castle!"
Charles eyed the retreating back of this Chango person, who appeared slathered from head to toe in spandex and hairspray. "Did fucking Other Pickles lead us back to the Eighties? Because there fucking better be some primo blow here."
Chango led them through a series of dark and mysterious rooms (though not half as dark and mysterious as Mordhaus) to a dark and mysterious gentleman.
"Greetings, I am ORULA, the dark and mysterious proprietor of these environs!" said Orula, who thereupon sneezed, knocking his rather thick glasses from his nose. "Sorry. Cat allergies," he apologized, scrabbling for his eyeglasses.
"I ams Toki!" Toki announced.
"Charles," Charles muttered. He wondered if he should have brought his antihistamines. Or maybe a gun.
"So delightful to make your acquaintances," said Orula, repositioning his eyeglasses so they did not quite make it over one ear. "So, Charles. You must be here for the spa treatment!"
"What?" groused Charles. "The spa treatment?
"Packing in a bit round the middle I see," chuckled Orula, patting his own stomach.
"Me?" said Charles. "No. I, uh, kind of had other things in mind. You, uh, think I'm here for something else?"
"Tsk," tutted Orula. "No no no no no. Of course not."
"No," said Charles.
"Just looking a bit podgy," Orula counseled.
"Just a bit," agreed Chango.
"What the FUCK is podgy?" sputtered Charles.
"Happens when you get older. Bit of the roly poly."
"Bit of the chunky," echoed Chango.
"Bit of the zaftig."
"I AM NOT FAT!" declared Charles.
"He ams not fats," said Toki.
"Thank you, Toki," huffed Charles.
"And besides, there ams more of yous to loves!" the guitarist declared, putting an affectionate arm around a now fuming Charles.
"Bit of the love handles," muttered Chango.
"I am NOT HERE for the spa treatment!" Charles exploded. "We wanted to stay in the Honeymoon Suite."
"Oh, the Honeymoon Suite!" said Orula. "Lovebirds, eh?"
"Ja," cooed Toki, now squeezing a frowning Charles.
"Bit of the May-December! Or maybe the May-two years from January in your cases?"
Charles glowered. "We just want the, uh, Honeymoon Suite. My, uh, acquaintance, Sariel, recommended it."
"Oh, SARIEL!" said Orula.
"Sariel!" chimed in Chango.
"Capital fellow! Why didn't you mention him before?"
"Sariel!" said Chango.
"Made good use of our Honeymoon Suite, there a few weeks back. Him and that good lookin' fellow. What was that good lookin' fellow, Chango?"
"Ganesh."
"Oh, yes. Ganesh. Good lookin' fellow. Best lookin' fellow I've ever seen.
"Very good looking," said Chango agreeably. "Ganesh."
"They were going at it, what was it, three straight days?"
"Four days," supplied Chango.
"Four straight days! Sariel and Ganesh. Never seen the like! Never seen the like!"
"So. Can we. Have. The Honeymoon Suite?" Charles asked through terribly gritted teeth. He knew how good-looking Ganesh was. He had spent most of law school banging the son of a bitch. Or the son of a bitch's hairy double, anyway.
"Tsk. Oh, no, that will be impossible."
"... Why?"
"Well, they rather broke it! Never seen the like! Sariel and Ganesh. Going at it...."
"Four days straight," grumbled Charles. "Yes. I know."
"That Ganesh is a good looking fellow!" Orula reminded him.
"So we can't get a fucking room here?" sighed Charles, who was at this point casting a glance around the walls of the castle to see if there might be any nice, pointy swords mounted there.
"Wellllllll, there is one possibility," said Orula.
"What is that?" said Charles, who, sadly, had failed to located any satisfactory weaponry. Suddenly, he found himself yanked by the collar and pulled ... somewhere.
"The Imperial Suite!" said Orula, releasing them in some frankly rather grand rooms, as Chango did his very best spandex-clad Vanna White impression at the surroundings.
"Wowee!" whistled Toki.
Charles blinked, disoriented. He looked around.
It was fucking impressive.
And the bed.
Charles started to get many, many, many interesting ideas involving that bed. He wondered if they had any manacles on hand. It was a castle, after all.
"We'll take it," he said.
"Chango," said Orula.
'Yes, Mahster?"
"Do we have more decorative pillows?"
"Alas, no, Mahster. The zombies made short work of them."
"The.... Whats?" asked Toki.
"I am sorry, Charles," Orula apologized. "But ONE MUST HAVE STANDARDS. And I simply CANNOT allow you two to spend even a moment here without the requisite supply of DECORATIVE PILLOWS!"
Charles did not speak. He simply held the check he had just filled out under Orula's nose.
"Er," said Orula. He snatched the check from Charles's grip and held it up to the light. "On the other hand. One must be flexible! Yes, flexibility! A virtue!"
"That Ganesh fella, HE was flexible," agreed Chango.
"Four days...," began Orula.
"OK, the amount on that check?" asked Charles. He waited until he had the attention of both Orula and Chango. "You get another one for DOUBLE that amount when we leave if you two both just GO AWAY and don't say ANOTHER WORD."
Orula opened his mouth.
"NOT. ANOTHER. WORD."
Orula nodded to Chango, who raised an eyebrow.
And then they were no longer in the room.
"Wells," said Toki. "This seeming likes the nice places. You wants to play the cardses, Charles?"
"No," said Charles.
Toki blinked. "But I learns the Texie Holds Them. Who ams Texie?"
Charles simple stared at his husband as he shed his coat. Toki cocked his head as Charles loosened his tie and threw it to the side.
"Charles?"
Charles supposed their luggage was somewhere. It was just a change of clothes, a tub of lube, some vibrators, some beating implements, a collar and leash, a rawhide bone, and a couple of spreader bars, but Other Pickles had promised it would turn up with a minimum of fuss. If those Chango and Orula guys knew what was good for them, they'd just leave it in the hall.
Which, Charles felt, was all the excuse he needed to rip the rest of his clothes to pieces.
Toki's, too.
Ganesh looked up from his slice of pie, his godlike senses suddenly tingling.
"Oo gon' fin'sh 'at?" Sariel said with his tongue on the empty pie pan.
Ganesh hurried to fork up a bite of lemon custard. A horrible sensation washed over him, like a 700 thread count tailored shirt had suddenly cried out in terror, and been suddenly silenced. He felt something terrible was going to happen.
He noticed a silver utensil inching into his peripheral view, and yanked his pie plate to safety.
"Using the fork again, are you, jaanu?" Ganesh scolded. "Might I point out you have already eaten your own slice, plus two more slices, plus a great deal of young Alexis's slice?"
"Dude, you're a PIE GLUTTON," Nathan rumbled.
Ganesh sighed. "I'll ring Auntie Sarasvati, shall I?"
"Yes!" chorused Sariel, Raziel, Nathan, Toki, Skwisgaar, Murderface, and Rigyn (who actually said, "Ja!"). Ganesh glanced around the table, and hunched forward so he might protect his poor, lonely slice of pie until such time as Sariel would need a hose, a rag, and some chloroform to get it back.
Liam then let out a very satisfied angelic burp, which succeeded in rattling the empty pie plates. Elias, obviously in a competitive mood, gave his wings several preparatory flutters and followed with a somewhat louder table-rattling belch.
"Er, did you teach him that?" Ganesh asked.
"Naw, you don't gotta teach angels how to burp!" Sariel said, apparently bursting with fatherly pride.
Abby, now obviously intending to get in on the game, scrunched up her face and balled her little fists. She opened her mouth, and let out a tiny sigh.
Her eyes immediately teared up in disappointment. "Aw, dat ams OKs," Toki told her, dragging her into his lap. "I ams guesses da girls angelses has da delicates burps."
Sariel and Raziel exchanged an amused glance. Raziel then held her stomach for a moment, and let out an eructation that literally scattered some plates off the table, and registered as a small earthquake.
"Fuck," said Nathan, his hair blown back by the outburst.
"We used to win bets with that one," Sariel grinned.
"You just need to practice, Pumpkin!" Raziel told Abby, who stared in awe.
"But now alas the infants are fairly coated in pie filling," Ganesh sighed as he drew a hand along his son's now gooey wings.
"Well we just do what we always do," Raziel explained. "Into the washing machine."
"WHAT?" asked Nathan.
"We put 'em on delicate cycle!' Raziel told him. "Liam LOVES the dryer."
"YOU CAN'T PUT HUMAN CHILDREN IN THE WASHING MACHINE!" Nathan thundered.
"Why not?"
"Because THEY WRINKLE!"
"Everyone ams knows dats," Skwisgaar muttered, frowning as he smeared pie all over his Gibson strings.
"Aw, hell, I didn't know that." The little angel now had a giggling Alexis upside down and was peeking at her bottom. "Why doesn't she have a fabric tag? I bet that Charles cut it off! I always knew he was an idiot."
"So what do humans do with grubby infants?" Sariel inquired.
"They probably don't lick them off, as you are doing," Ganesh sighed as Sariel took one of Elias's silvery-brown feathers from his mouth.
"Dudesch, ischn't it obviousch?" Murderface asked, flourishing his car keys.
Sweaty and panting, Charles flopped onto his back next to the finest piece of ass in any reality.
"Ow, goddammit!" he cursed, picking out of his ass one of the few things he didn't want to find there this weekend. "Toki, why the FUCK did you bring your knitting crap? Why the hell did I let Doris get you started with this MacGyver sticks and string shit?"
"I wants to knitses the babies all little wingses cosies! Ganesh tellsed me it ams almost couture! Whatsever that is."
"You're knitting something for the FREAK BABIES instead of, you know, FREAKING ME?"
"Aw, comes down heres, daddies," Toki urged.
Charles raised an eyebrow and, tossing the needles aside, lay down beside his husband. No one human or mortal could resist that look. Sariel might be banging an immortal god with ten billion arms and eyes to masturbate over for days, but Charles? Had Toki. There was one hell of a lot to be said for robbing the cradle.
"Wowee, Charles." Toki snuggled against him and ran a hand over his chest. "Orulas ands Chango ams stupid. You gots the great bodies."
"Yes. Yes, I--Oh, what the ever-loving fuck? I told those morons to leave us alone!"
The door rattled. Toki sat halfway up at a moan like a gust of wind down a chimney. Charles pulled him back down to cuddle.
"Leave the luggage outside!" Charles called. "We'll get it when we're ready!"
The rattling at the door ceased. Charles grunted in satisfaction, and thumped his head against the bed's glorious mattress when the moans and rattling redoubled. It was probably some other guest with too much time on his hands. Yeah, Toki was a moaner (when he wasn't screaming), and the bed had done its share of rattling, but all Charles wanted now was a cuddle, a shower, a Viagra, and half an hour for it to kick in.
Something slammed against the door hard enough to make the hinges jump. Charles sighed, kissed Toki, and, without bothering with one of the suite's complimentary robes, dragged himself to his feet. If those assholes wanted to bother him in the middle of making sweet, sweet love to his Norwegian child bride, then dammit, he wasn't covering up the family jewels for them.
He threw the door open wide to find a couple dozen people in various states of dress and decay hovering outside in the hallway. One swiped at him. Charles flicked it on the nose hard enough to make it totter backwards, and he tried to shut the door behind him, but could not quite get the latch to click.
"Ah, Toki?" he said, all his weight against the door.
"Ams the lubes here? I likes the dry-holes, but my ass ams stingy."
Charles whacked at a rotting hand that was wiggling between the jamb and the door. "Actually, I was going to say we're leaving and I'm canceling my check. You know Zul'Jazzar?"
"The zombie cities where you always gets you ass hands to you?"
Charles grunted and butted the door (with his butt). The door butted back. For all the good Realm of Bloodcraft offered, he had never managed to figure out how to keep a goddamn mage alive in the midst of magic-sucking undead. "We, uh, kinda zoned in."
Toki sat up. "Huh?"
The rather heavy and well-constructed door chose that moment to burst from its hinges, and it and a pack of agitated zombies toppled over on top of a quite butt naked Charles Ofdensen.
"Workin' at the car warsch, baybee!" sang William Murderface, resplendent in his DethRaincoat as he piloted his open-top MurderCar to the Elephant Car Wash. This was actually his second favorite (the one with the bikini car wash girls was better), but they always seemed to end up at this one when Ganesh was in the car.
"Should we go for hot wax too?" asked Raziel, who was dressed in beachwear: a bikini, oversized sunglasses, and a stylish hat.
"Hot waxsch," muttered Murderface. He didn't know, it just sounded sexy.
"Naw, would make the damn kids too slippery," reasoned Sariel, who had outfitted himself with a snorkel and, just for good measure, flippers. It made Rigyn laugh, and the mere mention would either make Charles yank the stick out of his ass, or drown himself in the bath.
"Just a wash and a jolly blow dry!" said Ganesh, who looked terribly natty in his Burberry runway wear (which he had actually talked off a rather cute runway model). "This is a quite classy establishment for the United States!" he gushed.
"Are we ready?" asked Murderface, who didn't really wait for a response before he skidded into the facility, hopping the line, tires a-blazing.
"Wings," squealed Raziel in Common Angelic. She unfurled her wings as soon as they were under cover, and wrapped hers around baby Alexis on her lap, as Sariel did the same for Rigyn. The angel babies True Formed and flew, squealing, in the foamy water. Alexis laughed and smacked at the bubbles.
"Snow!" she shrieked.
"Pfft." Rigyn blew a handful of foam at Alexis, who waved her hands in the air until Elias and Liam tried to haul her up to play. Raziel grabbed her, though, and pushed up her shirt far enough to blurble her soapy tummy.
Sariel blinked and looked at Rigyn, who seemed content enough sitting on his lap. "You, uh, enjoying yourself?"
"Dis ams dildos!" She snuggled closer. "Cans we has more ofs de pie, Angel Daddy?"
Ganesh leaned back over the seat, his Burberry couture dry and pressed beneath a fluffy coat of foam. "You've created a monster, my dear."
"Daddy!"
"Yeah." Sariel smiled. "I think I had help---"
"Time for the hurricane!" Murderface shouted. "You kidsch ready for a good time?"
Everyone braced for a good gust. The kids seemed disappointed when there only came a gentle surge of warm air. (Raziel caught Abby by the flight feathers before she could flit more than a few inches toward the dryer control box.) Ganesh, however, leaned back and closed his beautiful eyes, and Sariel stretched his wings behind him to take in the breeze.
"Wings," Raziel ordered again, and all Court Formed as they once again hit sunlight, to the puzzlement of a gauntlet of persons holding detailing cloths.
Charles heaved at the heavy door on top of him to no avail. Given everything he had survived in his life, Death by Door seemed anticlimactic. "Toki! A little help here? Ah, fuck, there goes my spleen."
"You nots gonna fuckses with my mage this times, zombonis!" came the enraged cry from above. There were muffled grunts and Charles heard the thumps of falling bodies. And then finally the door was heaved off of him, and he was gathered into a great smooch. When the clench finally broke, he looked around at the bodies of many, many knitting-needle-studded zombies lying about.
"Ams you OKs, min elskede?" asked Toki.
"Uh, yeah. And what I said about your knitting crap-"
"We DO apologize terribly," said a suddenly appeared Orula.
"Terribly," echoed Chango, who was suddenly there, too fucking late, as well.
"I had forgotten the zombies on our 1-900-ZOMBIE line were about."
"Call 1-900-ZOMBIE, for all your undead needs!" declared Chango.
"Such an oversight! I am so terribly abashed!" explained Orula.
"An OVERSIGHT?" demanded Charles, turning to face Orula. "You call this a fucking OVERSIGHT?"
"Yes, it's always the LITTLE THINGS," grinned Orula, glancing significantly downwards and cocking an eyebrow.
Charles glowered and grabbed a decorative pillow to cover his nether regions. Damn it, there was no shame in being a grower!
"I, uh, am a lawyer, you understand," he said, looking Orula in the eye. Chango rolled his eyes and rested two fingers underneath his own chin.
"What would Erzulie Dantor say about this, Mahster?"
"Probably something in French." Orula smiled in a frankly horrifying way. "Miss Dantor is a lawyer as well. Lovely woman."
"Ams she here?" Toki said, looking around. "Charles, we needs to gets the lovely woman for a whiles!"
Orula and Chango stared--and burst out laughing. Orula clapped Toki on the shoulder, and Chango took his bloodstained elbow, which made Charles's blood heat in a way that unnerved even him.
"We ought keep this fella around, Mahster! Someone to keep the tourists entertained!"
"Wowee! You gonna gives Toki a job?"
"You have a job," Charles said before Orula or Chango could chime in. He waved a hand toward the scattered undead corpses. "Could, uh, you make this disappear? And find our goddamn luggage so we can get the hell out of this pit of damnation?"
"I didn't see any lug---"
Orula pressed a finger over Chango's lips, then drew him to the door. "Of course, gentlemen. Why don't you two enjoy a bath? We'll tidy this right up. Maybe some complimentary champagne would smooth things over?"
"Or a jar of petroleum jelly," Chango said.
"Oh, yes. That would smooth everything right over."
"It smooths everything. Even the very littlest things!” Chango commented, ignoring the steam that was now almost rising from Charles’ ears.
"Especially where two lovebirds are concerned. Though I suppose if you played your cards right, you might not need anything at---"
"OUT!"
Orula got a funny little smirk on his face, but he bowed to Charles and backed out of the room. Chango, despite wearing a lime green sequined catsuit and a monstrous feather boa, picked up the massive door and eased it almost back into its frame. Charles kicked one of the zombie corpses, and hopped on one foot when a knitting needle poked him under the toenail.
He sighed when Toki caught his foot, inspected the injury, and kissed it as though Charles were five years old and screaming for his mommy. He pulled Charles into a hug, which was especially nice, seeing that Charles kind of sort of needed it terribly (and they were both naked).
"Does you wants the bath?"
Charles nodded. Toki was covered in blood, which wasn't that bad in and of itself, but he had no idea how long said blood had been rotting inside the undead. Fucking zombies.
"Aren't I supposed to be the one who saves you?" he said under his breath.
Toki drew back and blinked. "Ams you says I ain't gots the balls to saves you?"
"No, I'm just saying it's, uh, my job to keep an eye on you---"
"Beings my husband ams the jobs??"
"No! Well, I mean, sometimes, yeah, it can be, but you feel the same way about me---"
"Don't tells me how I feels, Charles!" He grabbed Charles by the chest hair and squeezed. "If you ams gonna just treats me likes the... the chained balls---"
"Ah, Toki? You're, uh, ripping my hair out---"
"--Then you can has you romantic weekend to youself---"
"--I, uh, think I'm bleeding. Really, this hurts---"
"--And I gonna goes back and plays the cards and stares at the hot nakeds models with Ganesh!" Toki let go and stormed toward the bathroom. Charles might have tried to stop him, but was too busy making sure his nipples were still attached. He sank to his knees just as Toki shut the bathroom door behind him.
"Ow," Charles said to no-one in particular. One of the zombies moaned.
Out of nothing better to do, Charles found a stray knitting needle and made a Zombie Brain Kabob.
Rigyn squealed with joy and went straight back to gibbering in Norwegian. Sariel shook his head to clear his ringing ear but didn't let go.
After all, he was pretty sure Charles would be wing-ripping mad if someone dropped his little girl from the middle of the Mordhaus living room ceiling.
"What the fuck's she saying?" he said to Raziel, who stood next to him, also upside-down, clutching Alexis, who waved her arms and struggled to work free (again). Fortunately, Liam, Abby, and Elias flitted around them, ready to catch any non-bouncing playmates.
"I believe she's asking you to come live with her, jaanu," Ganesh said from the couch, where he lounged with a martini and a copy of Vogue India. "I do hope she understands you're part of a package deal."
Sariel looked at Rigyn, whose hair hung down and made her look like a tiny, blonde Bride of Frankenstein. "You, uh, mind if Ganesh comes, too? And Boon?"
"UNKY G'NESH!" Rigyn reached out for Elias, who (with Liam's help) snatched her free of Sariel's grip and whizzed her around the room while she shrieked something in elated Norwegian.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Sariel clapped his hands. "This one goes splat, kids, not boing! Bring her back!"
As usual, the boys ignored him. Sariel had a feeling Rigyn was going to take after Skwisgaar and Raziel, at least where the opposite (and possibly same) sex was concerned.
Suddenly there were squeals of “Papa!” and the angel babies, having set down Rigyn safely on the floor, were all now buzzing around a shortish, dark-skinned man who stood, hands on hips, surveying the scene. “How’s my little cocksuckers?” he asked. Elias alit in his arms, and Jacque hefted him. “Sen Michel, you’re big as a fucking house! They been feedin’ you steaks and cigars? Gonna make a fine motherfucking Ogoun of you!”
“He is gaining weight at an appropriate rate on a modified lactovegetarian diet, as you know, Jacque,” Ganesh told him, still lolling on the couch surrounded by many, many empty martini glasses. “And your son has forbade him any more cigars until he reaches the advanced age of 847 years.”
“Oh, so, you won’t be wanting a smoke?” Jacque asked, holding out an especially fragrant stogie at the Hindu god.
“Er. Well. Now. Wouldn’t wish to be RUDE,” Ganesh allowed, snaking an extra arm over to take the proffered cigar.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Jacque,” said Sariel as he and Raziel walked down the wall with the still squirming Alexis.
"Quid pwo quo!" Alexis screeched, flapping her arms at the ceiling.
“Here for machete practice!” Jacque announced, pulling out a shiny blade and giving it a twirl. Rigyn, who had thought to crawl into Unky Ganesh’s lap (and perhaps sample a martini or two) stood instead transfixed at the newcomer and his amazing object of death and dismemberment. “But I didn’t expect this many cocksucking brats. Who might you be, my fine little wench?” he asked of the tiny blonde, who decided that whatever the fuck it meant, she rather liked being termed a wench.
“Cocksucka!” she repeated, batting her eyes at him.
“Aw, shit, I’m sorry, Jacque, I totally forgot,” Sariel told him. “We’re sort of babysitting for some friends.”
“No problem, boy, your motherfucking father is ALWAYS PREPARED,” Jacque told him, and so saying, flourished his hand, and the machete he was holding turned into five child-sized blades.
“Mothafucka!” said Rigyn.
“Indemmity!” cooed Alexis.
End of Part 1
Onward to Part 2!
Author: tikistitch & wikdsushi, Fangirls At Large
Rating: R
Summary: Sariel and his crew watch the Ofdensen-Wartooth offspring whilst the dads get some much needed R&R. At a zombie-infested voodoo castle.
Warnings: Slash, AU, another AU, OCs, undead, undead OCs, swearing.
Notes: Mythklok is a Metalocalypse AU. After that, even I don’t understand what’s going on any more. (The BDP is rather more mundane, but only when the girls are asleep.)
Cross-posted from CLDK.
Angelsitting, Part 1 of 2
Charles held his stomach as The Other Pickles released the death grip on his elbow. He always found this jumping universes bullshit a bit disorienting. And he wasn’t a man who liked being disoriented, even for a moment. Toki, holding onto little Alexis and gripping Rigyn by her small hand, blinked fetchingly at him. Charles reminded himself this whole venture was aimed at getting into that sweet piece of ass’s pants and maybe staying there for a day or so.
“So I said to Isaac Mizrahi, I said, Isaac…”
A female voice in this gay angel dude’s office? OK, that was disorienting, too. Maybe it was 246? Possibly? With extensive brain damage?
“Oh, hello!” It was a little pasty brunette, not a deceptively curvy black woman with a body count notched on her knitting needles. She was sitting with HER ASS ON HIS FUCKING DESK!
Or Sariel’s fucking desk.
In any case, someplace there should have only been a laptop. Or maybe Alexis in her less drooly moments.
“Charles. Toki,” Sariel said, looking up, and seeming mildly pleased to be distracted from the travails of Isaac Mizrahi (who apparently existed in this universe, too, not that Charles could really give a shit).
“Hellos Sarielses!” Toki called. “Hellos Razielses!”
“What the fuck is she doing with her ass on your desk?” Charles demanded by way of greeting.
“Oh. She, uh, does that,” Sariel whispered, as if Raziel could not hear.
The small child dozing on Raziel’s lap awakened and yawned surprisingly loudly at the commotion. Her little blue eyes regarded Toki and the children with approval, and then slid over to Charles.
Suddenly, she was at full attention.
“SAAAAAR!” she exclaimed, gesturing frantically at Charles.
“No, that’s not your uncle, sweetie,” Raziel said, her voice coated in honey.
Charles glowered. Since his acquisition of Rigyn and Alexis (and Toki), people had come to the mistaken belief that he liked kids. No, he liked his kids. Other people's kids could fuck right back to the uteri that spawned them.
“Kid, I’m not- BLARRRRRRGH!” Charles found himself flat on the floor, the now-winged terrible child atop his chest. Despite her smallish size, she seemed to weigh the same as William Murderface, if he had been triplets.
“GET THIS THING OFFA ME!” Charles choked, feeling the crush of a four-artery-blockage heart attack.
“Now, Pumpkin,” Raziel babbled, seemingly unconcerned that Charles was soon to be dead of angelic suffocation. “Did this nice man ask you if you wanted to play Daddy Bowling Pins?” Then, taking her sweet fucking time, she hopped off the desk and said a funny sounding word, and suddenly the crushing pressure was off his chest, as was the monster kid, who was fluttering ghoulishly nearby. Charles kind of wished he had a sword, but Sariel might get pissed off over Kiddie Kabobs in his office. Not that anything else seemed to piss him off like it should.
The small woman held out a hand to Charles. “It’s OK, she just gets very possessive of her Unky Sariel sometimes.”
“Don’t call me Unky…” Sariel sighed.
"Daddy, du var en pannekake!" Rigyn giggled.
“Traitor,” muttered Charles to his child. He uncertainly reached up and grasped Raziel's little hand, and suddenly found himself yanked to vertical by a woman not much bigger than his toddler.
She began brushing him off. “Oh my gods, this ... suit ... thing! You don't let British people dress you, do you? Haven't you tried decent Italian tailoring?”
“I don’t think he wants to spend his vacation being dragged off to your tailor in Milano!” Sariel smiled.
“But good Italian tailoring-“
“Look! I’m not here to play with your monster kids or get fitted for a suit!” Charles protested. “I just wanna- BLAAAAARGGGGH!”
And Charles was back on the floor, although this time buried under a giggling blond monster child.
“HOW MANY OF THESE FREAKY BRATS DO YOU HAVE?” Charles wailed.
“Oh, it’s so cute how they’ve taken to you!” Raziel smiled. “My kids don’t like just anybody!”
“TOOKIIIII!” Charles called.
Toki grinned. “DOGS PILESES!” he shouted, and flopped onto Charles himself, holding Alexis above him for safety purposes (Charles assumed). A now wildly giggling Rigyn hopped on as well.
“Oh, isn’t this just darling!” cheered Raziel, snapping a cell phone camera picture of the melee.
“Cans you sends me the copies?” Toki asked. Charles headbutted him, and Toki got the point and moved both himself and their two laughing brats.
“Hey, sure, I’m spamming it out to absolutely everyone!” Raziel bragged.
"Litigowy acshun!" Alexis said, waving her hands in glee.
“You think Isaac Mizrahi is gonna be interested in your kids mugging my guests?” Sariel asked, putting a hand down to a still horizontal Charles.
‘Isaac is always very interested in my doings!”
Charles, now back on his feet, was if anything more upset than ever. Though there was an unmistakable resemblance between them, Sariel had always seemed smaller and, he had assumed, weaker. But he had once again been wrested to his feet as if he weighed absolutely nothing.
“Where’s Boon, anyway?” Raziel asked.
“YOU MEAN THERE’S ANOTHER ONE OUT THERE?” Charles cried, hitting the deck.
“He’s napping,” Sariel explained.
“Oh, I should get him so we can get pictures of all the kids together!” Raziel gushed, disappearing.
Charles cautiously rose again, and saw to his horror that Pickles had now taken Raziel’s place on Sariel’s desk, where he sat cross-legged, contentedly smoking a joint.
“You let the band sit on your desk, too?” Charles asked.
“If he’s not on my desk, he tries to sit in my chair with me, and there’s kids here,” Sariel explained, rubbing his own stubbly head. He bore an eerie resemblance to the time Charles's high school football team cornered him in the gymnastics locker room and Nair'ed his mohawk off. Charles was still a little convinced Mother and Dad had paid for it, though Dad denied any kind of prior knowledge no matter how many drinks Charles got in him.
“And what the fuck happened to your hair?” Charles said. "You didn't, uh, have a run-in with a bunch of jocks, did you?"
“Oh. That was my voodoo initiation a few weeks ago. It’s growing back, though.”
"Uh, yeah. You know, my universe has this disgusting spray-on hair crap, if you want me to get you a can---"
“All right, the gang’s all here, let’s get some ACTION SHOTS!” Raziel called as she appeared holding a yawning Elias. Kids and assorted band members were herded out of the office until only Charles and Sariel remained.
“Don’t you guys need to get going?” Sariel inquired pleasantly. “I can try to get Toki away from Raziel. But it’s usually best to wait a bit.”
“Sariel. Is this what things are always like around here?”
“Yes?” said the angel, frowning.
“Look, my friend. This is none of my fucking business. But don’t you feel like you need to assert more control? Over the band? And your kids? And that freaky girl?”
“Huh. I dunno. Things seem to be going OK," said Sariel, pushing up his glasses. "I mean, except for the ancient horror in Australia that’s now threatening the future of the universe.”
“I’m … OK. It’s just, speaking from me to me, aren’t you feeling a little … stepped on?”
“Not really. No.”
Charles sighed. They’d taken his balls! Castrated him like he was Fatty Ding-Dongs! It was inconceivable!
“Are you still … you know. With that Indian guy?”
“Ganesh?” Sariel’s whole face suddenly got a funny, wistful look.
“I mean, between you and me, you’re still having, y'know, relations?” Poor, poor bastard! Ganesh fucker probably had him padding around in an apron.
The wistful look got even more wistful. “Oh. Yeah. During my initiation the other week, we were together, you know, for 96 hours straight.”
Charles grabbed his lower jaw. Which someone had thoughtlessly dropped on the floor.
“You were…. What?”
“Ganesh and me. 96 hours. I mean, you know?”
“No, I don’t fucking know. But I wanna. What the fuck?”
“Orula’s castle. The Honeymoon Suite.” Sariel’s wistful look became a grin. “We actually sorta broke the Honeymoon Suite.”
“WHERE IS THIS PLACE?”
“So, we’ll see you in two days?” Sariel asked.
“Ja,” Toki assured them, giving last kisses to Rigyn and Alexis. And Elias and Liam and Abby, for good measure. Raziel preened, apparently vindicated in her belief that her kids were perfect special snowflakes and not bowling balls with wings.
“Yeah, sure,c’mon,” Charles urged, grabbing Toki by the collar. “Maybe it'll be four days. You know. You ready, uh, Pickles?”
“Anyt’ing yoo say, chief!” Pickles grinned, grabbing Charles by the elbow.
“Oh. And. Watch out for the leaky plumbing!” Sariel told him. “Orula’s third floor is bad for that.”
“Yeah, yeah, come the fuck on,” Charles grumbled as the three disappeared.
“And…” said Sariel. “Oh. Huh. Think I shoulda warned them about the zombie attacks?” he asked Raziel.
“Ah, they’ll be fine,” Raziel assured him. “It’s entertainment. It’s a feature! Now, who wants pie?”
Sariel shrugged, and the boisterous mob made its way to Mordhaus’s kitchen.
"Well, here yeh are, doods," Pickles declared, taking a rather extravagant puff on whatever the fuck it was he was ingesting.
"Where are we?" Charles demanded.
"Da castle," the drummer grinned.
"What, this shithole?"
"Ams romantisckal!" Toki gushed.
"Wait, do they even have indoor plumbing? Pickles? Where the fuck did he go?" Charles fumed. Abandoned! And Sariel was porking that irresponsible little fuckwit? What the fuck was the matter with the guy? Was this Pickles even human? Of course, was his own Pickles even human? Charles glowered. Maybe an alien autopsy was called for. When he returned. It might save him from, say, having to explain to his daughters what an overdose was before they were old enough to know to stay out of his and Toki's stash.
Lightning flashed.
A figure appeared. "I am ... Chango!" he declared as thunder cooperatively crashed in the background.
"Wowee!" declared Toki.
"Oi, do you like that, mate? Lightnin' is my speciality!"
"Ams impressgives!"
"Follow me!" ordered Chango. "To the dark and mysterious castle!"
Charles eyed the retreating back of this Chango person, who appeared slathered from head to toe in spandex and hairspray. "Did fucking Other Pickles lead us back to the Eighties? Because there fucking better be some primo blow here."
Chango led them through a series of dark and mysterious rooms (though not half as dark and mysterious as Mordhaus) to a dark and mysterious gentleman.
"Greetings, I am ORULA, the dark and mysterious proprietor of these environs!" said Orula, who thereupon sneezed, knocking his rather thick glasses from his nose. "Sorry. Cat allergies," he apologized, scrabbling for his eyeglasses.
"I ams Toki!" Toki announced.
"Charles," Charles muttered. He wondered if he should have brought his antihistamines. Or maybe a gun.
"So delightful to make your acquaintances," said Orula, repositioning his eyeglasses so they did not quite make it over one ear. "So, Charles. You must be here for the spa treatment!"
"What?" groused Charles. "The spa treatment?
"Packing in a bit round the middle I see," chuckled Orula, patting his own stomach.
"Me?" said Charles. "No. I, uh, kind of had other things in mind. You, uh, think I'm here for something else?"
"Tsk," tutted Orula. "No no no no no. Of course not."
"No," said Charles.
"Just looking a bit podgy," Orula counseled.
"Just a bit," agreed Chango.
"What the FUCK is podgy?" sputtered Charles.
"Happens when you get older. Bit of the roly poly."
"Bit of the chunky," echoed Chango.
"Bit of the zaftig."
"I AM NOT FAT!" declared Charles.
"He ams not fats," said Toki.
"Thank you, Toki," huffed Charles.
"And besides, there ams more of yous to loves!" the guitarist declared, putting an affectionate arm around a now fuming Charles.
"Bit of the love handles," muttered Chango.
"I am NOT HERE for the spa treatment!" Charles exploded. "We wanted to stay in the Honeymoon Suite."
"Oh, the Honeymoon Suite!" said Orula. "Lovebirds, eh?"
"Ja," cooed Toki, now squeezing a frowning Charles.
"Bit of the May-December! Or maybe the May-two years from January in your cases?"
Charles glowered. "We just want the, uh, Honeymoon Suite. My, uh, acquaintance, Sariel, recommended it."
"Oh, SARIEL!" said Orula.
"Sariel!" chimed in Chango.
"Capital fellow! Why didn't you mention him before?"
"Sariel!" said Chango.
"Made good use of our Honeymoon Suite, there a few weeks back. Him and that good lookin' fellow. What was that good lookin' fellow, Chango?"
"Ganesh."
"Oh, yes. Ganesh. Good lookin' fellow. Best lookin' fellow I've ever seen.
"Very good looking," said Chango agreeably. "Ganesh."
"They were going at it, what was it, three straight days?"
"Four days," supplied Chango.
"Four straight days! Sariel and Ganesh. Never seen the like! Never seen the like!"
"So. Can we. Have. The Honeymoon Suite?" Charles asked through terribly gritted teeth. He knew how good-looking Ganesh was. He had spent most of law school banging the son of a bitch. Or the son of a bitch's hairy double, anyway.
"Tsk. Oh, no, that will be impossible."
"... Why?"
"Well, they rather broke it! Never seen the like! Sariel and Ganesh. Going at it...."
"Four days straight," grumbled Charles. "Yes. I know."
"That Ganesh is a good looking fellow!" Orula reminded him.
"So we can't get a fucking room here?" sighed Charles, who was at this point casting a glance around the walls of the castle to see if there might be any nice, pointy swords mounted there.
"Wellllllll, there is one possibility," said Orula.
"What is that?" said Charles, who, sadly, had failed to located any satisfactory weaponry. Suddenly, he found himself yanked by the collar and pulled ... somewhere.
"The Imperial Suite!" said Orula, releasing them in some frankly rather grand rooms, as Chango did his very best spandex-clad Vanna White impression at the surroundings.
"Wowee!" whistled Toki.
Charles blinked, disoriented. He looked around.
It was fucking impressive.
And the bed.
Charles started to get many, many, many interesting ideas involving that bed. He wondered if they had any manacles on hand. It was a castle, after all.
"We'll take it," he said.
"Chango," said Orula.
'Yes, Mahster?"
"Do we have more decorative pillows?"
"Alas, no, Mahster. The zombies made short work of them."
"The.... Whats?" asked Toki.
"I am sorry, Charles," Orula apologized. "But ONE MUST HAVE STANDARDS. And I simply CANNOT allow you two to spend even a moment here without the requisite supply of DECORATIVE PILLOWS!"
Charles did not speak. He simply held the check he had just filled out under Orula's nose.
"Er," said Orula. He snatched the check from Charles's grip and held it up to the light. "On the other hand. One must be flexible! Yes, flexibility! A virtue!"
"That Ganesh fella, HE was flexible," agreed Chango.
"Four days...," began Orula.
"OK, the amount on that check?" asked Charles. He waited until he had the attention of both Orula and Chango. "You get another one for DOUBLE that amount when we leave if you two both just GO AWAY and don't say ANOTHER WORD."
Orula opened his mouth.
"NOT. ANOTHER. WORD."
Orula nodded to Chango, who raised an eyebrow.
And then they were no longer in the room.
"Wells," said Toki. "This seeming likes the nice places. You wants to play the cardses, Charles?"
"No," said Charles.
Toki blinked. "But I learns the Texie Holds Them. Who ams Texie?"
Charles simple stared at his husband as he shed his coat. Toki cocked his head as Charles loosened his tie and threw it to the side.
"Charles?"
Charles supposed their luggage was somewhere. It was just a change of clothes, a tub of lube, some vibrators, some beating implements, a collar and leash, a rawhide bone, and a couple of spreader bars, but Other Pickles had promised it would turn up with a minimum of fuss. If those Chango and Orula guys knew what was good for them, they'd just leave it in the hall.
Which, Charles felt, was all the excuse he needed to rip the rest of his clothes to pieces.
Toki's, too.
Ganesh looked up from his slice of pie, his godlike senses suddenly tingling.
"Oo gon' fin'sh 'at?" Sariel said with his tongue on the empty pie pan.
Ganesh hurried to fork up a bite of lemon custard. A horrible sensation washed over him, like a 700 thread count tailored shirt had suddenly cried out in terror, and been suddenly silenced. He felt something terrible was going to happen.
He noticed a silver utensil inching into his peripheral view, and yanked his pie plate to safety.
"Using the fork again, are you, jaanu?" Ganesh scolded. "Might I point out you have already eaten your own slice, plus two more slices, plus a great deal of young Alexis's slice?"
"Dude, you're a PIE GLUTTON," Nathan rumbled.
Ganesh sighed. "I'll ring Auntie Sarasvati, shall I?"
"Yes!" chorused Sariel, Raziel, Nathan, Toki, Skwisgaar, Murderface, and Rigyn (who actually said, "Ja!"). Ganesh glanced around the table, and hunched forward so he might protect his poor, lonely slice of pie until such time as Sariel would need a hose, a rag, and some chloroform to get it back.
Liam then let out a very satisfied angelic burp, which succeeded in rattling the empty pie plates. Elias, obviously in a competitive mood, gave his wings several preparatory flutters and followed with a somewhat louder table-rattling belch.
"Er, did you teach him that?" Ganesh asked.
"Naw, you don't gotta teach angels how to burp!" Sariel said, apparently bursting with fatherly pride.
Abby, now obviously intending to get in on the game, scrunched up her face and balled her little fists. She opened her mouth, and let out a tiny sigh.
Her eyes immediately teared up in disappointment. "Aw, dat ams OKs," Toki told her, dragging her into his lap. "I ams guesses da girls angelses has da delicates burps."
Sariel and Raziel exchanged an amused glance. Raziel then held her stomach for a moment, and let out an eructation that literally scattered some plates off the table, and registered as a small earthquake.
"Fuck," said Nathan, his hair blown back by the outburst.
"We used to win bets with that one," Sariel grinned.
"You just need to practice, Pumpkin!" Raziel told Abby, who stared in awe.
"But now alas the infants are fairly coated in pie filling," Ganesh sighed as he drew a hand along his son's now gooey wings.
"Well we just do what we always do," Raziel explained. "Into the washing machine."
"WHAT?" asked Nathan.
"We put 'em on delicate cycle!' Raziel told him. "Liam LOVES the dryer."
"YOU CAN'T PUT HUMAN CHILDREN IN THE WASHING MACHINE!" Nathan thundered.
"Why not?"
"Because THEY WRINKLE!"
"Everyone ams knows dats," Skwisgaar muttered, frowning as he smeared pie all over his Gibson strings.
"Aw, hell, I didn't know that." The little angel now had a giggling Alexis upside down and was peeking at her bottom. "Why doesn't she have a fabric tag? I bet that Charles cut it off! I always knew he was an idiot."
"So what do humans do with grubby infants?" Sariel inquired.
"They probably don't lick them off, as you are doing," Ganesh sighed as Sariel took one of Elias's silvery-brown feathers from his mouth.
"Dudesch, ischn't it obviousch?" Murderface asked, flourishing his car keys.
Sweaty and panting, Charles flopped onto his back next to the finest piece of ass in any reality.
"Ow, goddammit!" he cursed, picking out of his ass one of the few things he didn't want to find there this weekend. "Toki, why the FUCK did you bring your knitting crap? Why the hell did I let Doris get you started with this MacGyver sticks and string shit?"
"I wants to knitses the babies all little wingses cosies! Ganesh tellsed me it ams almost couture! Whatsever that is."
"You're knitting something for the FREAK BABIES instead of, you know, FREAKING ME?"
"Aw, comes down heres, daddies," Toki urged.
Charles raised an eyebrow and, tossing the needles aside, lay down beside his husband. No one human or mortal could resist that look. Sariel might be banging an immortal god with ten billion arms and eyes to masturbate over for days, but Charles? Had Toki. There was one hell of a lot to be said for robbing the cradle.
"Wowee, Charles." Toki snuggled against him and ran a hand over his chest. "Orulas ands Chango ams stupid. You gots the great bodies."
"Yes. Yes, I--Oh, what the ever-loving fuck? I told those morons to leave us alone!"
The door rattled. Toki sat halfway up at a moan like a gust of wind down a chimney. Charles pulled him back down to cuddle.
"Leave the luggage outside!" Charles called. "We'll get it when we're ready!"
The rattling at the door ceased. Charles grunted in satisfaction, and thumped his head against the bed's glorious mattress when the moans and rattling redoubled. It was probably some other guest with too much time on his hands. Yeah, Toki was a moaner (when he wasn't screaming), and the bed had done its share of rattling, but all Charles wanted now was a cuddle, a shower, a Viagra, and half an hour for it to kick in.
Something slammed against the door hard enough to make the hinges jump. Charles sighed, kissed Toki, and, without bothering with one of the suite's complimentary robes, dragged himself to his feet. If those assholes wanted to bother him in the middle of making sweet, sweet love to his Norwegian child bride, then dammit, he wasn't covering up the family jewels for them.
He threw the door open wide to find a couple dozen people in various states of dress and decay hovering outside in the hallway. One swiped at him. Charles flicked it on the nose hard enough to make it totter backwards, and he tried to shut the door behind him, but could not quite get the latch to click.
"Ah, Toki?" he said, all his weight against the door.
"Ams the lubes here? I likes the dry-holes, but my ass ams stingy."
Charles whacked at a rotting hand that was wiggling between the jamb and the door. "Actually, I was going to say we're leaving and I'm canceling my check. You know Zul'Jazzar?"
"The zombie cities where you always gets you ass hands to you?"
Charles grunted and butted the door (with his butt). The door butted back. For all the good Realm of Bloodcraft offered, he had never managed to figure out how to keep a goddamn mage alive in the midst of magic-sucking undead. "We, uh, kinda zoned in."
Toki sat up. "Huh?"
The rather heavy and well-constructed door chose that moment to burst from its hinges, and it and a pack of agitated zombies toppled over on top of a quite butt naked Charles Ofdensen.
"Workin' at the car warsch, baybee!" sang William Murderface, resplendent in his DethRaincoat as he piloted his open-top MurderCar to the Elephant Car Wash. This was actually his second favorite (the one with the bikini car wash girls was better), but they always seemed to end up at this one when Ganesh was in the car.
"Should we go for hot wax too?" asked Raziel, who was dressed in beachwear: a bikini, oversized sunglasses, and a stylish hat.
"Hot waxsch," muttered Murderface. He didn't know, it just sounded sexy.
"Naw, would make the damn kids too slippery," reasoned Sariel, who had outfitted himself with a snorkel and, just for good measure, flippers. It made Rigyn laugh, and the mere mention would either make Charles yank the stick out of his ass, or drown himself in the bath.
"Just a wash and a jolly blow dry!" said Ganesh, who looked terribly natty in his Burberry runway wear (which he had actually talked off a rather cute runway model). "This is a quite classy establishment for the United States!" he gushed.
"Are we ready?" asked Murderface, who didn't really wait for a response before he skidded into the facility, hopping the line, tires a-blazing.
"Wings," squealed Raziel in Common Angelic. She unfurled her wings as soon as they were under cover, and wrapped hers around baby Alexis on her lap, as Sariel did the same for Rigyn. The angel babies True Formed and flew, squealing, in the foamy water. Alexis laughed and smacked at the bubbles.
"Snow!" she shrieked.
"Pfft." Rigyn blew a handful of foam at Alexis, who waved her hands in the air until Elias and Liam tried to haul her up to play. Raziel grabbed her, though, and pushed up her shirt far enough to blurble her soapy tummy.
Sariel blinked and looked at Rigyn, who seemed content enough sitting on his lap. "You, uh, enjoying yourself?"
"Dis ams dildos!" She snuggled closer. "Cans we has more ofs de pie, Angel Daddy?"
Ganesh leaned back over the seat, his Burberry couture dry and pressed beneath a fluffy coat of foam. "You've created a monster, my dear."
"Daddy!"
"Yeah." Sariel smiled. "I think I had help---"
"Time for the hurricane!" Murderface shouted. "You kidsch ready for a good time?"
Everyone braced for a good gust. The kids seemed disappointed when there only came a gentle surge of warm air. (Raziel caught Abby by the flight feathers before she could flit more than a few inches toward the dryer control box.) Ganesh, however, leaned back and closed his beautiful eyes, and Sariel stretched his wings behind him to take in the breeze.
"Wings," Raziel ordered again, and all Court Formed as they once again hit sunlight, to the puzzlement of a gauntlet of persons holding detailing cloths.
Charles heaved at the heavy door on top of him to no avail. Given everything he had survived in his life, Death by Door seemed anticlimactic. "Toki! A little help here? Ah, fuck, there goes my spleen."
"You nots gonna fuckses with my mage this times, zombonis!" came the enraged cry from above. There were muffled grunts and Charles heard the thumps of falling bodies. And then finally the door was heaved off of him, and he was gathered into a great smooch. When the clench finally broke, he looked around at the bodies of many, many knitting-needle-studded zombies lying about.
"Ams you OKs, min elskede?" asked Toki.
"Uh, yeah. And what I said about your knitting crap-"
"We DO apologize terribly," said a suddenly appeared Orula.
"Terribly," echoed Chango, who was suddenly there, too fucking late, as well.
"I had forgotten the zombies on our 1-900-ZOMBIE line were about."
"Call 1-900-ZOMBIE, for all your undead needs!" declared Chango.
"Such an oversight! I am so terribly abashed!" explained Orula.
"An OVERSIGHT?" demanded Charles, turning to face Orula. "You call this a fucking OVERSIGHT?"
"Yes, it's always the LITTLE THINGS," grinned Orula, glancing significantly downwards and cocking an eyebrow.
Charles glowered and grabbed a decorative pillow to cover his nether regions. Damn it, there was no shame in being a grower!
"I, uh, am a lawyer, you understand," he said, looking Orula in the eye. Chango rolled his eyes and rested two fingers underneath his own chin.
"What would Erzulie Dantor say about this, Mahster?"
"Probably something in French." Orula smiled in a frankly horrifying way. "Miss Dantor is a lawyer as well. Lovely woman."
"Ams she here?" Toki said, looking around. "Charles, we needs to gets the lovely woman for a whiles!"
Orula and Chango stared--and burst out laughing. Orula clapped Toki on the shoulder, and Chango took his bloodstained elbow, which made Charles's blood heat in a way that unnerved even him.
"We ought keep this fella around, Mahster! Someone to keep the tourists entertained!"
"Wowee! You gonna gives Toki a job?"
"You have a job," Charles said before Orula or Chango could chime in. He waved a hand toward the scattered undead corpses. "Could, uh, you make this disappear? And find our goddamn luggage so we can get the hell out of this pit of damnation?"
"I didn't see any lug---"
Orula pressed a finger over Chango's lips, then drew him to the door. "Of course, gentlemen. Why don't you two enjoy a bath? We'll tidy this right up. Maybe some complimentary champagne would smooth things over?"
"Or a jar of petroleum jelly," Chango said.
"Oh, yes. That would smooth everything right over."
"It smooths everything. Even the very littlest things!” Chango commented, ignoring the steam that was now almost rising from Charles’ ears.
"Especially where two lovebirds are concerned. Though I suppose if you played your cards right, you might not need anything at---"
"OUT!"
Orula got a funny little smirk on his face, but he bowed to Charles and backed out of the room. Chango, despite wearing a lime green sequined catsuit and a monstrous feather boa, picked up the massive door and eased it almost back into its frame. Charles kicked one of the zombie corpses, and hopped on one foot when a knitting needle poked him under the toenail.
He sighed when Toki caught his foot, inspected the injury, and kissed it as though Charles were five years old and screaming for his mommy. He pulled Charles into a hug, which was especially nice, seeing that Charles kind of sort of needed it terribly (and they were both naked).
"Does you wants the bath?"
Charles nodded. Toki was covered in blood, which wasn't that bad in and of itself, but he had no idea how long said blood had been rotting inside the undead. Fucking zombies.
"Aren't I supposed to be the one who saves you?" he said under his breath.
Toki drew back and blinked. "Ams you says I ain't gots the balls to saves you?"
"No, I'm just saying it's, uh, my job to keep an eye on you---"
"Beings my husband ams the jobs??"
"No! Well, I mean, sometimes, yeah, it can be, but you feel the same way about me---"
"Don't tells me how I feels, Charles!" He grabbed Charles by the chest hair and squeezed. "If you ams gonna just treats me likes the... the chained balls---"
"Ah, Toki? You're, uh, ripping my hair out---"
"--Then you can has you romantic weekend to youself---"
"--I, uh, think I'm bleeding. Really, this hurts---"
"--And I gonna goes back and plays the cards and stares at the hot nakeds models with Ganesh!" Toki let go and stormed toward the bathroom. Charles might have tried to stop him, but was too busy making sure his nipples were still attached. He sank to his knees just as Toki shut the bathroom door behind him.
"Ow," Charles said to no-one in particular. One of the zombies moaned.
Out of nothing better to do, Charles found a stray knitting needle and made a Zombie Brain Kabob.
Rigyn squealed with joy and went straight back to gibbering in Norwegian. Sariel shook his head to clear his ringing ear but didn't let go.
After all, he was pretty sure Charles would be wing-ripping mad if someone dropped his little girl from the middle of the Mordhaus living room ceiling.
"What the fuck's she saying?" he said to Raziel, who stood next to him, also upside-down, clutching Alexis, who waved her arms and struggled to work free (again). Fortunately, Liam, Abby, and Elias flitted around them, ready to catch any non-bouncing playmates.
"I believe she's asking you to come live with her, jaanu," Ganesh said from the couch, where he lounged with a martini and a copy of Vogue India. "I do hope she understands you're part of a package deal."
Sariel looked at Rigyn, whose hair hung down and made her look like a tiny, blonde Bride of Frankenstein. "You, uh, mind if Ganesh comes, too? And Boon?"
"UNKY G'NESH!" Rigyn reached out for Elias, who (with Liam's help) snatched her free of Sariel's grip and whizzed her around the room while she shrieked something in elated Norwegian.
"Hey, hey, hey!" Sariel clapped his hands. "This one goes splat, kids, not boing! Bring her back!"
As usual, the boys ignored him. Sariel had a feeling Rigyn was going to take after Skwisgaar and Raziel, at least where the opposite (and possibly same) sex was concerned.
Suddenly there were squeals of “Papa!” and the angel babies, having set down Rigyn safely on the floor, were all now buzzing around a shortish, dark-skinned man who stood, hands on hips, surveying the scene. “How’s my little cocksuckers?” he asked. Elias alit in his arms, and Jacque hefted him. “Sen Michel, you’re big as a fucking house! They been feedin’ you steaks and cigars? Gonna make a fine motherfucking Ogoun of you!”
“He is gaining weight at an appropriate rate on a modified lactovegetarian diet, as you know, Jacque,” Ganesh told him, still lolling on the couch surrounded by many, many empty martini glasses. “And your son has forbade him any more cigars until he reaches the advanced age of 847 years.”
“Oh, so, you won’t be wanting a smoke?” Jacque asked, holding out an especially fragrant stogie at the Hindu god.
“Er. Well. Now. Wouldn’t wish to be RUDE,” Ganesh allowed, snaking an extra arm over to take the proffered cigar.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Jacque,” said Sariel as he and Raziel walked down the wall with the still squirming Alexis.
"Quid pwo quo!" Alexis screeched, flapping her arms at the ceiling.
“Here for machete practice!” Jacque announced, pulling out a shiny blade and giving it a twirl. Rigyn, who had thought to crawl into Unky Ganesh’s lap (and perhaps sample a martini or two) stood instead transfixed at the newcomer and his amazing object of death and dismemberment. “But I didn’t expect this many cocksucking brats. Who might you be, my fine little wench?” he asked of the tiny blonde, who decided that whatever the fuck it meant, she rather liked being termed a wench.
“Cocksucka!” she repeated, batting her eyes at him.
“Aw, shit, I’m sorry, Jacque, I totally forgot,” Sariel told him. “We’re sort of babysitting for some friends.”
“No problem, boy, your motherfucking father is ALWAYS PREPARED,” Jacque told him, and so saying, flourished his hand, and the machete he was holding turned into five child-sized blades.
“Mothafucka!” said Rigyn.
“Indemmity!” cooed Alexis.
End of Part 1
Onward to Part 2!