Outklok
Chapter/Sub Title

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles, Toki/Skwisgaar. (Sorta)
Warnings: Just the usual potty-mouths.
Summary: Stupid is as stupid does.
Notes: I get these stupid plotbunnies in the bath. I guess that makes them bathbunnies.

So far as Toki Wartooth was concerned, the best place in the world to be when you didn’t feel well was…

Murderface’s tummy.

Why Murderface tolerated this behaviour was anyone’s guess; he was not exactly a bastion of warm fuzziness, and he did not especially care to be touched. He had been known to literally bite pieces off fans who dared to come too close. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t fight his way out of wet paper; he had other ways of inflicting damage. Besides, if he broke his hands he couldn’t play. At least that was his excuse.

But any time they had to take the limo, as opposed to their tour bus or the Hatredcopter, Toki would get sick and curl up against Murderface with his head on his paunch, and Murderface would let him. It was a nice limo; perfectly acceptable as a luxury vehicle, but something about it upset Toki’s system. He would go pale, become lethargic, and just quietly lie down and wait for the ride to be over, as he was doing right now.

“It won’t be much longer, Toki,” said Offdensen.

Toki nodded, settled against Murderface as Charles Offdensen observed the dynamics within the limo. Toki asleep on William, William looking smug, and Skwisgaar breathing Scandinavian hate and rage and jealousy at William. Great. It was a typical night out. He smiled as Nathan lowered his head to nuzzle at him.

“Don’t get all messed up now,” said Charles. “We want you looking pretty for the cameras.”

Nathan snorted. “Fuck the cameras,” he muttered, but he backed off because he knew what this night meant to Charles.

They had done the soundtrack for a horror movie, and had been nominated for nothing less than an Academy Award, which everyone who was anyone in the industry was insisting Dethklok had earned. For Dethklok the soundtrack had been a cakewalk; how could they not get excited about the most brutal and terrifying horror movie ever made? They had been enthused about the project, and it came through in their music. The soundtrack blew every other away, and now they were being rewarded at a prestigious event. Dethklok could care less, but Charles was thrilled, and for once they decided to make their long-suffering manager happy.

That didn’t mean they were wearing just any old tux some jack-off actor would have on. They had spent a fortune commissioning the most drop-dead gorgeous and brutal black leather tuxedos ever seen, decorated with strange spines along the shoulders and cuffs, and high collars that made them look like the formal uniform of some strange and violent army in the days of Dracula. The outfits somehow managed to remain appropriate for a formal function, but no one other than Dethklok could make them look good. Charles had been having nightmares about what they were going to wear, but when he saw the outfits, he was absolutely delighted.

“You’re beautiful!” he said, and laughed.

Skwisgaar just tossed his hair. “Ja, we knows.”

So they had climbed into the limo and set off for the Academy Awards, and now here they all were, driving along, drinking champagne, Toki dozing on Murderface and Skwisgaar seething with possessive jealousy. It was Pickles who broke the silence.

“Hey Toki. What’s with uh… crashing on Murderface all the time?”

“Yeah what gives?” asked Nathan. “Why on him?”

Toki didn’t move. “Why nots on him? Best place to be when you nots feel good is someone’s tummy.”

“Well why that tummy?” asked Pickles. “Why not, say… Skwisgaar’s?”

Toki reached out and gently poked Skwisgaar’s middle. “Skwisgaar gots no tummy. You feel. Is all flats and hard.”

“Can I helps it I not saggy balls of flab?” said Skwisgaar.

Murderface narrowed his eyes. Pickles was clearly enjoying himself.

“Well what about Nathan’s tummy?”

“Nat’an too big! Angle all wrongs, gives me stiff neck. And you gots not enough tummy, Pickle.” Toki nestled against Murderface. “Dis tummy perfects tummy. Is right size and nots too soft. Murderface gots best tummy. Oughts to be insured, like Skwisgaar’s hands.”

Toki meant it as an innocent compliment of course, but to Skwisgaar the idea of comparing Murderface’s paunch to his fingers was an insult of the highest order. Murderface gazed back at the outraged Swede, who had all his wrath and jealousy fixed dead on him. Gazing into those orbs of burning ice, it wasn’t so hard for Murderface to picture Skwisgaar tearing across the ice dressed in furs and waving a war hammer as generations of Viking ancestors screamed in his head for vengeance. Charles, who was slightly tipsy on champagne, spoke softly into Nathan’s ear.

“Does Toki know Skwisgaar is sweet on him?”

Nathan shook his head grinning. Charles fought back a giggle as another idea occurred to him.

“Does Skwisgaar know he’s sweet on Toki?”

Nathan and Charles snorted and chuckled like a couple of kids while Toki napped, Pickles drank, and Skwisgaar seethed. It was going to be an epic night. The limo slowly and gracefully pulled up to the red carpet, right on time. Toki blinked and sat up.

“We’s here?”

“Yes, we’re here, Toki,” said Charles.

Toki nodded, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, then stretched, straightening out his long hair as Nathan, Charles and Pickles left the vehicle, Murderface close behind them. Skwisgaar took out a brush and fussed with Toki’s hair.

“Shouldn’ts sleeps on Murderface. Nots look good.”

Toki made a face, but tolerated the brushing. “What’s wrong wit’ dat?”

“I told you. Nots looks good. Peoples gets wrong impression.”

“But I has to lies down or I t’rows ups everywheres.”

“Finds ot’er place to sleep.”

Toki sighed, in no mood for a classic Skwisgaar snit. “You’s beings dildos.” He moved towards the door to exit the limo. “I has to sleeps or I’s t’row ups! No one wants t’row up everywheres.”

Toki stepped out of the vehicle, and Skwisgaar shot out behind him, heedless of the crowd, the photographers, and the cameras. He took Toki by the arm turned him to face him, looming over him as he shouted into his face.

“I DON’TS WANTS YOU SLEEPINGS WIT’ MURDERFACE! I WANTS YOU IS SLEEPINGS WIT’ ME!”

“Whoops,” said Nathan.

He put an arm around Charles and another around Pickles, and together the three beat a refined and hasty retreat the hell away from the seven foot blonde with both feet in his big mouth. Toki just blinked at Skwisgaar as slowly he turned red, bringing one hand up to his face as he realized what he had just shouted in front of most of North America. Murderface gazed at him, enjoying watching Skwisgaar’s self-inflicted humiliation. Then, to make matters worse, Toki pounced on Skwisgaar and hugged him.

“Is okay Skwisgaar, I just sleeps wit’ Murderface on ways here. I sleeps wit’ you alls da way back. I promise. Hey! Look, is Knubbler! Hi Knubbler!”

Toki bounded off to greet their music producer, leaving Skwisgaar and Murderface staring at each other on the red carpet at the Academy Awards. Then, for some reason that would forever remain a mystery, Murderface just had to open his mouth.

“You got shloppy sheconds.”

It took ten security guards to stop the fight.