Historical Figures and Ancient Heads
Chapter Two

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles, Toki/Skwisgaar, Murderface/Knubbler, Pickles/OC.
Warnings: None
Summary: Pickles is in pain, Charles is uncertain, and Murderface gets the boot.
Notes: For Nathan/Charles month at brutalbusiness. I’m trying to win a sketch book. Why? Because I’m silly.

Erick Fisher belongs to Rei.

To learn more about The Celebration of the Lizard, go here

Toki lay on his back, eyes closed, basking in the afterglow of sex. He gently held Skwisgaar as he lay over top of him, panting quietly, their lean bodies still linked and gleaming with sweat. Toki stroked Skwisgaar’s long golden hair, then kissed him.

“Was awesome.”

Saying nothing, Skwisgaar slowly moved off of him, settling close to Toki and resting his head on his chest. Toki slipped an arm around him, holding and kissing him.

“Wish you woulds talk to me.”

Skwisgaar just closed his eyes. He didn’t want to talk. He almost never said a word anymore, but Toki didn’t think that was because there was anything wrong with his mind. Toki thought Skwisgaar’s silence was due to depression, anger, and possibly some sense of personal shame. His accident had started this long period of inactivity, and Skwisgaar’s self-induced isolation. Toki still remembered the accident. In fact he still had nightmares about it, and he was sure Skwisgaar did as well.

Their regular pyro-technician had quit. Toki wasn’t sure why, but at the time it hadn’t mattered. All they knew was they needed someone new, and they had hired a guy whose résumé included doing shows for Pink Floyd, the Who, and Led Zeppelin. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, and not even Charles was suspicious of him. The man was left to do his job in peace. Sadly he didn’t have any idea what he was doing. He had done the shows he had claimed, but as an apprentice, and had been dismissed from the job for making fireworks on his own and passing them off as being the work of the master pyro-technician. He set up his shoddy fireworks for Dethklok, and, despite having clear directions on where to place the devices, he put them where he thought they would “look better”.

The first device to be set off was far too close to the band. Toki had been startled and a bit singed by the sudden blast of red fire, but Skwisgaar had caught minute particles of the gunpowder and mineral flakes in the face. It was the screaming that Toki heard in his dreams; that mad high-pitched shrieking of unspeakable pain, and saw the tears of blood Skwisgaar wept as he further damaged his eyes by trying to claw out the tiny burning sparks. The scars from the accident were insignificant; if a person didn’t know what to look for they would likely never see them. But the damage to his eyes had left Skwisgaar all but blind. It had also left him morose and silent.

“You has to starts talking again,” said Toki. “Dey startings to t’ink you losing you mind.”

Skwisgaar just nestled closer and closed his eyes. Toki began to wonder if it wasn’t time to maybe give his beloved husband a slow, gentle kick in the butt.

“You is knowing dat blindness an’ insanity is signs of syphilis. Dat is what Jakob was hintings you had.”

There came a small derisive snort.

“Skwisgaar? You going to has to starts talking.”

There was another little snort. Then a long quiet exhalation as Skwisgaar slipped into sleep. Toki just sighed and kissed his forehead.

“Okies. Maybes some other day. You rest. We gots big meeting to decide whats we is goings to do on tour.”

***---***

Knubbler sneezed. It wasn’t much of a sneeze, just a little “’Choo!”, but it was enough to have Murderface in hysterics. He was off like a tin knight in rusty armour on a hobby horse made of hay to find anti-histamines for his totally-not-life-partner, while Knubbler sat at the huge boardroom table, saying nothing.

“You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you?” asked Nathan.

“When he gets off his ass and comes out of the closet, I’ll stop fucking with his mind.”

“Dood how can you fuck with a dried walnut?” said Pickles.

“Hammer woulds fucks wit’ a walnut pretty good,” said Toki.

“Yeah but then we’d have to clean it up and hide the body.”

Charles seated himself at his usual place at the head of the table, and waited for someone to notice he was there…. other than Nathan who was already nuzzling up. What on earth was it with that man and boardrooms? Charles was glad he would never have children; it spared him the embarrassment of explaining to them that they were all conceived during a meeting. Charles defended his virtue with a rolled-up contract.

“Sit!”

“Aw Charlie!”

“Don’t ‘aw Charlie’ me, you big oaf. There will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Yeah nobody needs to see that again,” said Pickles.

There was a long pause.

“Why are we here again?” asked Pickles.

Charles sighed. The more things changed, the more they didn’t. “The uh… album?”

“Ooh, right, right. Uh… me an’ Skwisgaar wanna do a cover.”

Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow. Clearly this was the first he had heard of it.

“What cover?” asked Nathan.

“Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin.”

“Pickles I can’t sing that.”

“No I wana sing it!” said Pickles. “Skwisgaar can do the cool shit with the violin bow on the guitar.”

Charles glanced at Skwisgaar. “Does that sound all right with you?” he asked quietly.

“Dood,” said Pickles in a comforting tone to Skwisgaar. “It’s totally naht a commentary on your mental state.”

“Smooth, Pickles,” said Nathan. “But yeah that would be awesome to see Skwisgaar do that thing with the violin bow, that would be amazing.”

Murderface showed up with a veritable doctor’s satchel of cold meds, allergy meds, Kleenexes, and assorted vitamins.

“Have Skwisgaar do what thing with a violin bow?” asked Murderface as he gave the satchel to Knubbler. Knubbler reached in and pulled out a bottle of vitamins specially formulated for pregnant women. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Play Dazed and Confused,” said Nathan.

“Oh yeah, that’sh a good shong,” said Murderface. “But I’m not sure it’sh nische to make fun of him like that.”

“We uh… were not making fun of him,” said Nathan.

“Oh come on, Dazed and Confused? That’sh not cool. And anyway how do you know he’sh capable of learning schomething complicated like that?”

“How complicated can it be?” said Pickles.

“Well for a normal pershon it would be okay, but come on! He’sh…. retarded now.”

“I’LL RETARDEDS YOU!”

The group watched in open mouthed astonishment as Skwisgaar cleared the table to pounce on Murderface and slam his fist into his face.

“Skwisgaar!” said Pickles. “You talked!”

“Nat’an catches him before he is breakings his hand!” said Toki.

Nathan wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar’s lean body and picked him up. “Come on, skinny, you can kill Murderface after the tour. How about it? You wanna do Dazed and Confused with Pickles?”

Skwisgaar thought, then slowly nodded.

“Ja. I shows dem who useds up an’ olds.”

“Don’t forget blind and retarded too,” said Murderface.

Skwisgaar managed to put his boot in Murderface’s face. Nathan pulled him further away from Murderface.

“So are we in agreement about doing the cover, hm?” said Charles.

“Yup,” said Nathan. “Hey Murderface. You just got your ass kicked by a blind guy.”

“Did not, he’sh not totally blind.”

Charles sighed heavily. “All right I’ll…. Get hold of the people responsible for okaying the cover and talk to them. Anything else?”

“I vote Nathan writesh a schong called ‘Blind and Retarded’!” said Murderface, holding his bloody nose.

“How about Nathan lets the pissed off guitar player go?” said Nathan.

“Gentlemen…” said Charles.

“Let him go!” said Murderface. “He couldn’t even FIND me!”

“I can locates you by smell!” said Skwisgaar.

Charles pulled an air horn out of his briefcase and pressed the trigger. The effect was dramatic and instant. Within seconds he had the whole unruly mob subdued. He should have got one of them years ago.

“Any other business?” Charles asked.

“Yeah,” said Nathan. “Make sure the new pyrotechnics guy is screened this time, and kill whoever hired the last guy.”

“Uh… that would be you,” said Charles.

“Well then uh…. let’s not let me hire any more pyrotechnics guys.”

“Noted.”

“Yeah I got something to bring up,” said Pickles. “My back. I’m gonna need something to take the strain off of it while playing.”

“Oh I’ve got just the thing,” said Charles. “It’s a back brace.”

“Pass!” said Pickles. “I ain’t wearing anything that looks like ladies underwear!”

“You didn’t mind wearing ladies’ underwear in the eighties,” said Nathan.

“How about if I make sure it’s something… metal?” said Charles. “A brace will help, Pickles.”

“Yeah okay, but nothing gay!”

“Puts bigs teddy bears on it!” said Toki.

“Yeah and fluffy lace,” said Murderface.

“I am not going to put fluffy lace on Pickles’ back brace,” said Charles. “Now is there anything else before I go to my office, take two aspirin and beat my head against my desk?”

“I wanna do something different this tour,” said Nathan. “Something with like… different instruments. Not just the same old shit. This is our last tour. It’s gotta be the most amazing tour ever! We need to show we are still the biggest, baddest, and most brutal death metal band to ever exist. We got to be that by not being afraid to try things, by not being scared to have a signature sound. Toki and Skwisgaar are the sound of Dethklok, so we gotta showcase them some how.” Nathan pointed at Skwisgaar. “You’re learning how to do that Jimmy Page thing with the violin bow.” He then pointed at Toki. “You’re learning how to play the hammered dulcimer. You got a week.”

***---***

Getting back into shape musically was not as hard as they feared. Toki was still in prime form, as was Skwisgaar. The near-constant guitar playing had not diminished with his sight, and when he was awake he played as he always had; hard and fast.

Murderface was, for one of the few times in his life, making an actual effort to surpass his own mediocrity, and he was delighted to find out he actually could. Revenge was one of his favourite pastimes, and hearing the improvement in his playing only encouraged him to play harder and better, until finally he would toss the bass aside, sling Knubbler over his shoulder and vanish into a back room for thirty minutes.

Knubbler had no complaints about Murderface’s bass playing either.

Likewise Charles had no complaints about Nathan’s boxing lessons. Nathan had taken himself off his usual diet of chips, beer, and fried chicken and begun eating healthy foods. The results of the diet change alone were astonishing; the weight began to fall off, and his skin took on a healthy colour. Combined with the boxing it was not long before Nathan was losing an amazing amount of weight.

All right, maybe he did have one small complaint.

“I like the belly,” said Charles, staring at his husband’s notably leaner body as he sat in bed one night, resting against the headboard, a book in his hands.

“The belly is leaving,” said Nathan, examining his new body in a full length mirror.

“But I like it!”

Nathan studied himself a while longer, then turned as he tossed aside his shirt, and then climbed onto the bed. He took Charles’ book and chucked it aside, then kissed him hard.

“There will be no belly on this tour.”

Charles allowed himself to be pushed down to the bed. “What about the hair?” He trailed his hand through the long black tresses, now liberally streaked with silver.

“What about the hair?” asked Nathan.

“Are you going to dye it?”

“Yup.”

“I like the hair too.”

“This is not the Charlie Offdensen Fetish Tour. This is the Dethklok Farewell Tour.”

Charles pouted. “Well maybe there should be a Charlie Offdensen Fetish Tour.”

“That tour starts with retirement. Then I’ll get as fat old and ugly as you like.” Nathan kissed him again. “Mmmmm… you’ve been eating pie.”

Charles laughed quietly. “Is that a problem? I know pie is currently off your diet.”

“Yeah well I can combine pie-eating with exercise.” Nathan kissed him softly, then nudged him onto his stomach.

Charles just smiled. “Oh can you? Well you are talented, aren’t you? And just what do you think you’re going to do back there, hmm?”

“I dunno. Depends on you. Are you in the mood for just plain sex, orrrrrr….. would you like to play with this heated water-filled vibrating jobbie I got on line?”

“Nathan don’t order sex toys on line, it makes me uncomfortable that people might find out about our bedroom habits.”

“Ah it’s cool babe. I used Murderface’s card.”

Charles sighed. “You’re terrible.”

“I know. Sex toy or me?”

“Sex toy. Then you.”

“I love a man who knows what he likes.”

Charles just smiled. “You know using someone’s card to make a purchase without their permission is a crime.”

“Uh huh,” said Nathan. “So is faking your death.”

“I’ll be good,” said Charles.

***---***

Pickles sat behind his drums for the first time in ages, just staring at them. He was alone in the studio, except for a Gear, which was what he wanted. He didn’t want anyone watching him as he tentatively tried out the set after such a long absence, especially not with him securely strapped into a back brace to relieve the pressure on his deteriorating vertebrae. The original brace he had been given when he first went into the hospital had looked like a fucking corset, made with depressingly ugly fabric in a pathetic attempt to make it look more masculine. His current back brace that Charles had made for him was black, with the ribs and spine depicted on it in luminous white detail. Each bone was clearly labelled in Latin. Also clearly depicted was the damage being done to the bones.

Pickles loved it.

He tried a few experimental thumps and taps. Well the set sounded good. Maybe he could… try to play a bit.

He started off slow, checking to see if he remembered the moves, the beats, and the kit. It all came back with surprising ease. He was amazed at how quickly it all came back to him, and with the back brace and the pain pills… maybe he could do it…

A half hour into playing, Pickles knew he had to stop. He glanced over to the Gear who had been permanently assigned to him.

“Take me to my room,” he said quietly.

He was carefully helped off the stool and supported all the way to his room. He should have been in a wheelchair but Pickles refused to use one until he had absolutely no choice.

The Gear took him to his room and got him into his nice supported bed, then gave him his pills to help him relax and dull the agony. In the privacy of the room, the Gear took off his hood and dropped with the formalities. He was quite a bit younger than Pickles, with long dark hair and a lean, tall frame, and dark eyes filled with concern as he seated himself in the chair beside the bed.

“Pickles you have to tell them you can’t do it.”

Pickles shook his head. “I’m gonna do it. I’m naht gonna be left behind in this.”

The man reached out to take his hand. “Babe, you can barely sit up.”

“And if I could I’d yank you down on top of me. Look…. Erick… I gotta do this. You know I do. I’m not gonna be left behind. I’ll fucking die if they go on tour without me.”

“Pickles, Charles hired me to look after you.”

“No he hired you because I threw a massive fucking tantrum about leaving my boy-toy behind.”

“Whatever. It’s still my job to take care of you.”

“And you do it really well. And I love you. But I have to do this, Erick.”

“Well fine. Don’t come running to me when your back breaks.”

Pickles closed his eyes and smiled. “Will you love me anyway?”

“You know I will. Now get some rest.” Erick prepared a shot of morphine and gave it to him. Pickles felt the agony in his back melt away, and he closed his eyes, drifting into strange dreams.

***---***

The entire bed bounced. Charles woke up in mid air, and fell back to the bed, brown eyes wide. Gradually he realized there was a huge form poised on all fours perched over him.

“I have it,” growled Nathan.

“Well for crying out loud don’t give it to me,” said Charles.

“The Celebration of the Lizard.”

Charles rubbed his eyes. “Nathan… why do I permit you to wake me up at all hours and babble nonsense?”

“Because I got you pregnant.” Nathan deposited a tiny black kitten on Charles’ chest. The irreverent beast stomped over Charles’ face on its way to other things.

“Yes, well, that’s just swell. What may I ask is the Celebration of the Lizard?”

“It’s a performance piece by the Doors.”

Charles felt his heart sink. “Oh Nathan, much as I love Art Rock it’s a music form whose time has passed.”

“I know! But we can do it! We can do a totally metal version of it!”

“Nathan… Jim Morrison was very protective of his art, and Ray Manzarek is still to this day very protective of Jim’s memory. I’m not sure there is any way in hell he would let us near that song if he has any say in it.”

“Give him anything. Promise him anything. We can do it, I know we can. Okay there’s no way in hell I’m gonna pass for Morrison but Dethklok could perform the fuck out of Celebration.”

“Yes I’m sure that’s exactly what the holders of the esteemed Lizard King’s estate will want to hear.” said Charles as the kitten launched a surprise attack on his nose. He caught the tiny assailant and moved it. “Are you sure you can do it?”

Nathan grinned, and growled softly in his low, gravelly voice;

“Some outlaws lived by the side of a lake.
The minister’s daughter's in love with the snake
Who lives in a well by the side of the road.
Wake up, girl, we’re almost home…”

Charles felt his stomach do something odd, and he felt his heart catch. “Okay, that’s…. hot, but… that’s ‘Not to Touch the Earth’.”

“Yeah I know. That was a portion of the entire poem. Sucker is like a hundred and forty four lines long. Or was it a hundred and seventy seven? Long, anyway. Takes around twenty minutes to perform. I’ll have to time it all out.”

“And you want to do this as….?”

“Final fucking encore. Blow everybody the hell away.”

“Nathan baby, are you sure you’re not getting a touch carried away?”

“Charles we can’t just roll over and die. We gotta go out with a show they’ll be writing up for decades. Then we can call it quits. After Extinction have gone straight to hell.”

Charles sighed quietly. He always gave in too damned easily.

“All right. But don’t get your hopes up. We still have to get the rights to perform that piece, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Jim Morrison personally climbed out of the grave to tell you ‘no’.”

“Awesome. We can have a drink together.”

“Nathan….”

Nathan settled over Charles, kissing him softly, touching the greying hair. “Just trust me, Charlie. Please? Just this once.”

“But Pickles is in pain and Skwisgaar…”

Nathan kissed him again. “Trust me, Charlie. Please.”

Charles closed his eyes, and moaned quietly as a large hand slipped under the covers to caress him. He said nothing further, giving himself to Nathan willingly, linking his arms around his lover’s neck as he felt himself being penetrated by a massive penis. All he could do was let them run with the idea, and hope they lost interest or changed their minds. The last thing he wanted was for Dethklok’s final show to be a joke.