Girls' Night Out

Rating: R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Toki/OFC
Warnings: Het Sex (OMG who are you and what have you done with the Rat????? --pebt)
Summary: A Dethklok groupie has a rough night out.
Notes: Recently a dear friend of mine pointed out a wank to me, where someone was bawing about how all us nasty slash writers are haters who label any female OC a sue. Well I’m willing to argue that, in handful of cases, the character *IS* a sue, but frankly I have seen many really good female OCs in this fandom, and I’m sick of being branded a hater just because I prefer to think about hot male flesh instead of figuring out a way to make my tart the center of attention. So I present to you Hazel, and a het fic, just to prove my point. A female OC doesn’t have to fart sparkling rainbows, have a twagic past, a three foot name, a debilitating ailment that somehow magically never affects her, and eyes that change colour. She just needs to be human.

Hazel Porter was named after her grandmother; a quiet, dull woman who had never done anything of note and died not long after turning 83. Hazel Porter the younger had likewise done little of note. She worked at the same bookstore where she had been hired at age 18, and at age 21 married her high school sweet heart and had four children with him; all girls. Now, at age 46, her children were grown and three of them had moved out, save for her youngest, who was 17. She was divorced and alone and working at a book store, wondering where the time had gone, while the man who once swore to love her for all time was in Montreal with a woman two years younger than his eldest daughter.

Hazel looked up as the bell above the shop door rang, and her co-worker Patty came in, bearing coffee and a newspaper. She was damp from the light spring rain falling outside, and her green eyes were bright and excited.

“Have you seen?” Patty asked, grinning widely.

“Seen what?”

“Dethklok are coming!” Patty tossed the newspaper onto the desk. Hazel just stared at the five men in the photo beneath the banner proclaiming “DETHKLOK ARE COMING!” At best the band members looked bored and annoyed. Hazel raised at eyebrow.

“I care… why, exactly?”

Patty rolled her eyes. “Oh good grief woman! Come on! We’re going, you and me. I got tickets. We’re gonna dress like tramps and show our boobies and get drunk and stupid! I know I could use a night of idiocy, and you could too!”

“Patty… Nathan Explosion does not want to see my 46 year old saggy-after-four-kids titties.”

“You’re going out,” said Patty firmly, tearing the plastic lid off her coffee to add cream. “You need to have some fun. Especially after what Peter the Prick did to you…”

Yeah there was no arguing that. Catching her pasty, balding, overweight husband pounding one of his daughter’s friends had been an incredible shock; one she wasn’t certain she would ever get over.

“All right. I’m in. I’ll go to the concert with you.”

“Great! We go shopping at lunch!”

So Hazel went out with Patty and bought a short leather and lace mini skirt, lace top, stockings, a halter, and a pair of killer fuck-me stilettos. Then she had her hair done, and let her daughter do her make up. When all was ready she felt like a fool and personally thought she looked like a low-end crack-whore, but Patty and her daughter Alison assured her she looked fabulous.

“Just get me an autograph or something,” said Alison.

“I doubt we’ll get anywhere near them, sweetie,” said Hazel. She paused as her daughter took a picture. “What are you doing?”

Alison was studying her phone. “Showing Dad what a hot babe he threw away.”

Hazel didn’t think Peter would care, or if he did he would just say “If she dressed like that all the time I wouldn’t have been forced to fuck Andrea!” Yeah poor sad Peter, forced by his cruel evil wife to bang a twenty-year-old with colossal rubber hooters whose career goals all included shiny poles.

So Hazel went to her first rock concert ever at age 46, following Patty as she dove and weaved through the crowd to get close to the stage. It was all frightening; the crowd of metal heads leaping and pounding and bashing into each other in the mosh pit were far more intimidating than she liked. She watched as someone tried to climb onto the stage, and the bass player kicked him in the teeth without a thought. There were women leaping about bare-breasted, screaming to the guitar players who just focused on their music, whipping their hair in unison. The lead vocalist, with his huge size and guttural voice, terrified her. The drummer she simply couldn’t see other than flailing arms and waving dreads. She’d heard Pickles was short, but damn!

The evening was something of a blur; Hazel just allowing herself to be pulled along by Patty until suddenly she was face-to-face with Toki Wartooth. He was hot and panting, and his make-up was melting, and he smelled of heat and sweat, but he greeted them almost as if he knew them. Somehow Patty had got them back stage, and Hazel found herself in the midst of a crowd of partly-clad women and smelly rock stars. She was frightened and almost left, but… she didn’t get the feeling she was unwelcome here. Quite the opposite. Somehow she had a drink in her hand, and a woman was hugging her, and… this was very odd. To the rock stars and groupies it was an old and familiar dance, and anyone who wanted to sit it out was free to do so. But to Hazel it was new, and her wide-eyed fascination made her interesting to the jaded partiers.

She talked to Pickles first, and drank with him for a while. He was happy and lively and funny, but then he disappeared into another room with some other people, probably to get high. She briefly talked to Nathan, but he was just plain exhausted, and she was pretty sure he actually managed to fall asleep on a couch despite the noise and crowd.

She ended up talking to Toki again, as well as Skwisgaar, and decided that if she was going to make a move, she’d like to make it with Toki. She flirted, and was rather surprised with how fast he responded. He didn’t seem to care that she was a tad past her prime and not as pretty as the other girls. She liked him and that seemed to be good enough. They spent the evening drinking, laughing, talking, and at one point he tried to teach her to say something filthy in Norwegian and was reprimanded by Skwisgaar. They were both surprisingly easy to talk to, and at one point she even caught herself talking about what her husband had done before abruptly changing the subject. Then when Toki suggested they go to his hotel room, she saw no reason to say no.

She wished to High Heaven she’d said no.

It wasn’t that he turned mean. It wasn’t that he became disrespectful and nasty. He remained sweet as pie, even though she could tell he was starting to flag. This was nearing the end of a rather long tour for him, and he was clearly tired. But he seemed up for whatever she was, and it wasn’t long before she was in bed underneath one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. She couldn’t believe how beautiful he was, with his head flung back and his long silken hair hanging down. He was simply glorious. She clawed his back and screamed, and for a little while she forgot about being 46 and going nowhere, with a husband in Montreal and nothing to look forward to. For a little while, she was somebody beautiful and special, and happy, and she laughed when he bit her shoulder as he came, thinking she was going to get Patty to photograph the mark before it faded. Gradually his shudders slowed, and he nuzzled her ear. Then he seemed to physically deflate, exhaustion catching up with him, and Toki Wartooth fell asleep.

This was when the evening began to go south for Hazel.

He was a large man; well over six feet, and solid muscle. She read somewhere that muscle weighed more than fat, and dead asleep on top of her it felt like about 240 pounds crushing on her diaphragm. Panicking, she managed to wiggle far enough out from under him that her lungs had room to work, but that was as far as she got. He was just too big and heavy and she couldn’t move him.

Maybe he’d wake up….

Toki did not wake up. He did not so much as move. He did snore briefly, so at least one of them was getting some rest, but Hazel was cramped and crushed and hot and urgently needed to pee, especially with two hundred plus pounds of guitar player pressing on her bladder.

Then, much to her absolute horror, she heard the door to the hotel room open, and the sound of someone entering. There was the clatter of a key landing on the table.

“Hey Toki you is forgettings to leaves da lights on for mes. You forgettings we sharings da room? Dildo.”

Hazel groaned and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, praying that she was dreaming and Skwisgaar Skwigelf did not just walk… yes he did.

The bedroom light snapped on, and Skwisgaar stopped, pondering the sight that greeted him; Toki Wartooth, dead asleep on top of a groupie. Well, he’d seen weirder shit.

“Hi dere.”

“Hello,” she said weakly. “Um… could you please… move him?”

Skwisgaar seemed to ponder this, then shrugged. “Ja I gets roadie.”

Hazel stared in horror as he left, calling to someone in the hall. “Hey you guys, I is needings help…”

No God please not the fucking roadies! Nooooooo! Oh shit…

Two big Gears came into the room and heaved Toki off of her, and there she was in all her glory; naked in front of Skwisgaar and two guys in hoods. Oh this just got better and better. And Toki didn’t even flinch. Humiliated and on the verge of tears, she threw on her top and skirt and shoes, not bothering with her undergarments, choosing just to hastily bundle them up and stuff them into her hand bag. Someone offered her a ride, but she just shook her head and fled, wishing she had stayed home.

She hurried down the long hall and pressed the button for the elevator. The elevator doors opened, and she stepped inside, the only other occupant a small man in a grey suit. She pressed the button for the lobby, weeping quietly.

“Are you all right?” he inquired.

Hazel shook her head. “No, I’m… fine, just… humiliated.”

“I think I saw you talking to Toki earlier… is everything all right?”

She glanced at the man, knowing she had seen him briefly at the party. She had been introduced, now who was he…? Oh, right, their manager. Crap. He was probably worried he had a law suit on his hands.

“Look… I’m just an aging shop keeper with a failed marriage who never did anything worth mentioning in her life. Tonight my friend Patty managed to get me back stage at a concert, and I ended up going to bed with a man easily ten years younger than I am, who fell asleep on top of me, where I remained trapped for three hours until his guitar-playing friend arrived and got a couple of roadies to move him. I am tired, I am humiliated, and I just want to call a cab, go home, and cry.”

“Well I’d… really rather not see you go off in such a state… I was just going to breakfast, perhaps you would care to join me?”

“I’m not going to sue,” she said grimly.

He made a sort of amused sound, almost a laugh. “That’s… really not why I asked, Miss…?”

“Porter. Hazel Porter.”

“Charles Offdensen. Are you sure you wouldn’t care for some breakfast first?”

Hazel looked at him almost warily. She knew he must have some sort of agenda, even if it was just to make certain that his boys hadn’t done something so horrible it would cost them millions of dollars. But… what the heck.

“I would need to… go to the washroom and clean up first…”

He escorted her to a hotel room that may have been his, where she was able to finally pee, then clean herself up, dress properly, and wash her face. She brushed out her hair, and felt a little better once she began to look like herself. The bite on her shoulder was deep and noticeable; she’d have to get that cleaned. Funny, she could have sworn he didn’t bite that hard.

They had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, discussing books over their eggs Benedict and coffee. He was charming and well-read, and despite the situation Hazel relaxed enough to enjoy his company and subtle, rather shy, humour. Then he offered to drive her home, and she readily agreed. Hazel and Charles were just leaving as Toki and Skwisgaar entered the restaurant, and the two guitar players paused as they watched Charles escorting Hazel to his car. Then Skwisgaar elbowed Toki.

“Hey Toki, you know how’s dey say lowest t’ing rock star can do is takes groupie from his manager?”

“Ja?”

Skwisgaar grinned smugly. “Manager takes groupie from you.”

“Shuts up, Skwisgaar.”

***---***

It was a little over a week since the concert. The bandage was off the bite, and Hazel was more or less recovered from her disastrous night out on the town. She would have frankly liked to have forgotten the whole thing, but she was greeted by Alison at the door waving an envelope when she came home that evening.

“OH MY GOD MOM YOU GOT A PACKAGE….!”

The teenager’s voice could have cut glass. Hazel motioned for her to be quiet.

“That’s great, just put it on the table where I…”

“No, Mom, you gotta open it now, I can’t wait anymore, I’m gonna totally die if you don’t.”

Hazel sighed and took the small parcel. The moment she saw the word “Mordland” in the address she knew what her daughter was so excited about. Frankly she was surprised the kid hadn’t just ripped it open in a violent fit of curiosity. Hazel seated herself on the couch and tore it open, her daughter lurking near her shoulder like a deranged parrot. Hazel pulled out a letter and read.

"Dear Ms. Porter;

We extend our deepest apologies for any hurts you received during your visit. Normally, we make certain new guests are attended to by same-sex Gears. Unfortunately, the Gear responsible for scheduling such matters was occupied with the emergency task of removing bubble gum from Lord Pickles' moustache.

We apologize again for our lapse in service. Enclosed is a box of imported chocolates, a backstage pass for our next show, a $5 gift card for Hot Topic, and an apology card that Lord Wartooth himself selected from the local Hallmark. We hope you will accept our apology and visit us again soon.

Sincerely,

The Skank Patrol"

“Who on earth are the Skank Patrol?” asked Hazel.

“Female Gears whose job is keeping out like the really crazy bitches,” said Alison.

“It scares me that you know that.”

Hazel drew out the card, unable to hold back a smile at the photo of a small baby chicken perched on the head of a very large Newfoundland dog. As she opened it, she saw the note in his hand writing. Toki certainly wrote English better than he spoke it.

“Next time, you get on top.”

“Very classy, Mr. Wartooth,” she said. There was an email address at the bottom of the card, and she went to her computer to respond, setting the card on her desk.

“Oh no. You owe me dinner and an apology. You and your buddy Skwisgaar made me cry!”

She closed her email and left the computer, heading into the kitchen to check the cupboards to plan what she wanted to make for supper. Well there wasn’t much there, but she did find two cans of chilli, some bread, butter, and garlic. So, fine. She and Alison would have chilli with garlic bread for supper, and maybe watch a movie.

The phone rang, and Alison pounced on it. “Hello? Oh, hi Dad.”

Hazel groaned. It wasn’t bad enough he had left her, he had to phone every other damned day to make sure she wasn’t having a life? The least he could do was talk to his daughter.

“Mom, Dad wants to talk to you.”

Hazel left the kitchen and walked into the living room, and accepted the phone from her daughter.

“What do you want?”

“Well that’s a nice way to greet the father of your children.”

“Just tell me what you want so I can get on with my life.”

The doorbell rang. Alison scooted to see who was there. Hazel wondered if she had ever been that young, and if phone calls and door bells had ever excited her so much? The child acted like they were Christmas presents. All Hazel could think was it was probably either Peter calling to be an asshole or a Jehovah’s Witness.

“Well I just wanted to see what you were doing,” Peter said casually. Translation; just because I moved on doesn’t mean you’re allowed to.

Alison suddenly darted in and grabbed the phone from her mother, eyes glinting. “Mom can’t talk to you, she has a date with a rock star.”

The child then shoved the phone to a seven foot Swedish blonde, who took it. “Ja so you is be goings away now, she has real mens. Can’t be bot’ers wit’ fats dildos likes you. I t’ink you knows it.”

Skwisgaar handed the phone to Toki, who just said “Ja goes away, no one likes you.”

Alison took the phone and hung up, giggling like a mad thing. Hazel just stared at Toki and Skwisgaar.

“So… you… got my message,” she said.

“Ja we was just in area,” said Skwisgaar casually.

He took her left arm, and Toki took her right. Hazel found herself being escorted out the door. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Alison as she was taken away.

“Do your homework!”

“As if! I have to tell my friends that…”

Alison stopped talking as a well-muscled female Gear with a long black ponytail appeared, a part of a tattoo visible across her chest, the rest covered by her shirt. Clearly Hazel would not be home any time soon, and Toki and Skwisgaar had taken her daughter into consideration.

“Do your homework,” the Gear said, an Uzi across her back.

Alison did her homework.