Pandaklok

Rating: R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles, Skwisgaar/Toki (implied).
Warnings: Mention of animal cruelty.
Summary: Dethklok gets a new band member.
Notes: Belated birthday fic for lazra. Hope you like it, hon!

Nathan stared down at the little beast, watching as Toki and Pickles diligently worked at staining the fur a solid black from its distinctive two-toned pattern. The small furry bear-like animal did not seem to be enjoying its makeover.

“Charles is never gonna buy this in a million years,” said Nathan.

“Well why not?” said Murderface.

“Uh… maybe because… unlike us…. he has more than four functioning braincells.”

“Pfft,” said Skwisgaar. “He nots so smarts. If he so brilliants why he stills here wit’ us?”

“I don’ts cares!” said Toki. “We nots takings dis guy back to dose nasty peoples!”

The baby panda complained loudly as Pickles finished staining his fur solid black in the bathroom of a lavish Beverly Hills mansion. Dethklok had been invited to a party by the lead singer of another death metal band while in LA, and of course they had agreed to come. However when they arrived, they quickly found they were very much out of their league. Ragnar Anthrax, lead vocalist of one of the darkest death metal bands of all time, Seepage, was very much into real-life violence, to a degree that had Dethklok ready to leave three minutes after they arrived. It was one thing to listen to his CDs, and another thing to walk into his house and realize he was every bit as dark and depraved as his music. There were real life S&M games going on all over the house, and the boys were not entirely certain that all the people involved were consenting. Further more there were dead bodies, preserved in wax and posed, in the main room, and animal fights going on in the back yard; cock fights, dog fights, and even two stallions tearing each other bloody over a nearby chained mare. Nathan glanced at his band mates and saw they were as horrified as he was.

“Let’s all just go back the way we came…” said Nathan. Then Ragnar hauled out a terrified baby panda, about the size of a large raccoon, and announced the highlight of the evening would be throwing the tiny beast to his pit bulls. That was the last straw.

“Okay,” said Nathan, “this bitch is going down.”

Stealing the panda hadn’t been hard; it had been left on the floor to fend for itself in a house full of diehard sadists who clearly didn’t give a damn about laws anymore than they did lives. Toki snapped it up, took it into the bathroom, and they began using ground black pigment from a makeup kit to change the appearance of the creature so they could smuggle it out. Once the little animal had been given his makeover, Skwisgaar just scooped it up, put it under his arm and walked it out to the tour bus in Ragnar’s driveway. Charles was inside, reading a newspaper and enjoying a brandy. He hadn’t been invited, and wasn’t deeply bothered by it. He looked up as Skwisgaar walked in less than forty minutes after he had donned his corpse paint and went to the party.

“Calls de cops,” said Skwisgaar.

“What? Why?”

“Animal torture, possibles rapes, not sure, an’ probablies bunch of others shit we nots wantings to findings outs about. Ragnar Anthrax sick fuck an’ we gots no business assocy-skatings wit’ him.”

Charles dropped his paper and scrambled for the phone, leaving the matter aside of what exactly Skwisgaar was carrying with him for the moment. He glanced up as the other four members of the band came in, with Pickles bringing up the rear carrying a once-magnificent fighting cock; now battered and bleeding and in shock.

“Are you talking to the cops?” Pickles asked Charles. “Tell them the son of a bitch needs to spend an hour naked and covered in bear grease in a very small prison cell with about a dozen Hell’s Angels. No, wait a minute, I’ll tell them.”

Pickles set the battered chicken down on a sofa pillow and pulled out his lap top. Within moments every Dethklok fan on the planet knew what a bastard Ragnar was. Animal torture was not metal.

The police, a SWAT team, the DEA and several animal rights groups were showing up just as Dethklok were pulling away in their tour bus, leaving Ragnar to his fate. They stopped at an emergency veterinary to get the chicken checked, then kept on into the night, heading for their last stop on a long tour. Pickles’ chicken sat in a shallow box, wrapped in gauze and picking at a piece of corn on the cob.

Charles didn’t ask Pickles what the difference was between the chicken he had saved and the one they had just picked up in a bucket from KFC.

“Well I’m very proud of you boys,” said Charles. “You did the right thing.”

Nathan grunted in agreement. “That guy was sick. I mean I been to some wild parties where there was some bondage happening, but I dunno, that shit looked a little too real. And throwing animals together just to watch them bleed… yeah fuck the bastard.”

“Well it was admirable of you to call the authorities,” said Charles, “especially with the amount of narcotics I know you boys are packing.”

“Aw it was fine,” said Nathan.

“Yeah,” said Murderface. “We schtuck all our dope in placesh all over Ragnar’s house.”

“Which reminds me,” said Pickles. “We’re outta dope.”

Charles sighed heavily. “Well I’m still proud of you.” He looked down at the black fluffy thing Toki was playing with on the floor. “And… what is this little guy?”

“Oh is just bear,” said Toki. “Totallies nots interestings baby black bear.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “A black bear.”

“Ja. Black bear, an’ not’ings else.”

Charles stared at the little animal. He was no zoologist, but he would stake a very large sum of money indeed that this was no common black bear. He reached out to pet it, and then looked at the great quantity of sooty black on his hand that smelled an awful lot like corpse paint.

“Well he’s filthy, you should give him a bath.”

“Oh… ja. Maybes. Maybes I do it later, he alreadies been t’rough a lot.”

“No I’ll help you Toki, it’ll be okay,” said Pickles. “We can’t leave him all dirty like that.”

An hour later, Charles was staring at a small wet furry animal that smelled of dye and was eating canned bamboo shoots. If that was a black bear, then he was a quart of motor oil.

“Boys if that is a black bear then I am a quart of motor oil.”

“Well it’s sure as hell black now,” said Nathan as Toki pulled the little beast protectively close.

“We keepings him!” said Toki.

Well that should make the gears happy. Nothing like having to dodge predators in one’s workplace. Yard wolves and groupies and bears, oh my!

“Toki we cannot keep a bear. Any kind of a bear.”

“Yes we can! People keeps all sorts of dildos pets.”

Well there was no arguing that; Charles had personally known a couple with a pet bull moose. It had made visiting very exciting indeed. Just getting to the front door was sometimes an adventure.

“All right, Toki, but it will require a proper environment. Black bears need pine trees because they feed on pine nuts, and it will need access to berries and fruit and grains and fish….”

“I don’t t’inks our black bear eats dose t’ings.”

“Well what does your bear eat?” asked Charles.

“Prettys sure he eats bamboo shoots.”

“Toki,” said Charles wearily, “is that a panda?”

“No! We paints him so now he’s black bear.”

Charles felt that headache coming on – the one he’d had since he first signed these boys on as clients.

“Toki it is still a panda bear. It doesn’t matter what colour he is.”

“Buts if he’s a panda bear he can’t live wit’ us!”

That was probably true enough. It was unlikely they would be allowed to keep something so precious and highly endangered. He wondered where Ragnar managed to get it.

“Toki… you don’t think he would be happier with other pandas to play with?”

“No. I tinks he be happiers wit’ us.”

“Toki I really think he would be better off in a conservation programme.”

“Why?” said Murderface.

“What do you mean why?” said Nathan. “So they don’t go extinct.”

“Pandash are retarded,” Murderface announced. “They won’t fuck unless you show them panda porn, not likely to find that out in the wildsh of China. If the female hears a noise she mish-carriesh, so nobody better fart or that’sh all the babiesh gone for that year, and even if she hash it she’sh too schtupid to look after it anyway. What the fuck doesh it matter if we keep one retarded raccoon masking as a bear that’sh too schtupid to fuck to save itsh own schpecies?”

“As compelling as your argument is, William, we will still have to sort this the proper way,” said Charles.

Five sets of eyes blinked at Charles. Six if one counted a juvenile giant panda with a bad dye job. He sighed heavily.

“Okay, I’ll make some calls.”

***---***

Three hours later, all was underway. Gears were setting up an indoor panda compound, proper papers were being faxed to Charles giving Dethklok the right to keep giant pandas, and a complete dietary list as well as a keeper were arriving from the Wolong giant panda breeding compound in China. Toki was thrilled. The panda was thrilled. Murderface was annoyed, the other three members of the band were indifferent, and Charles had a headache.

“I goings to names him George!” Toki announced.

“At least pandas come with their own corpse paint,” said Nathan.

“Ja dat’s why I namings him afters George Fisher,” said Toki. “What’s you goings to name you chicken, Pickle?”

“Charles,” said Pickles. “They both have similar expressions.”

“You are not naming your chicken Charles,” said Nathan.

“Why naht?” said Pickles. “They’re both stuck with a group of idiots and they both recently got their asses kicked. Lemme hear you cluck, Chuck.”

“No. And don’t call me Chuck.”

“Please?”

“You don’t pay me enough to behave like a chicken.”

“I bet he’d do it if Nathan asked,” said Murderface.

“He might but Nathan’s not gonna ask,” said Nathan.

“I’m still gonna call my bird Charlie,” said Pickles. “Charlie Chicken! It’s cute!”

“Don’t be chokings him,” said Skwisgaar.

“Or taking him outside,” said Nathan. “You shouldn’t pull your cock out in public.”

“Yeah!” said Murderface. “An’ don’ get him too many toysh becauseh you should never play with your pecker too often.”

“Oh hah hah, you guys are hilarious.” Pickles stood up and stretched. “Well I’m done, I’m going to bed. G’night, chicken.”

He covered the bird over with a cardboard box to give it some peace and privacy for the night, then ascended the stairs to the deathbed. Murderface went up after him, then Toki, carrying his bear, and Skwisgaar trailing after Toki. Nathan yawned and stretched, putting an arm around Charles’ shoulders.

“Hey handsome, wanna make out on the sofa?”

Charles thought about that. “Okay.” Then he pounced on Nathan, knocking him onto his back and kissing him.

In the deathbed, Toki settled under the covers, one arm around his fluffy companion, listening to the sound of Skwisgaar getting comfortable.

“Dumb dildos kid. Now you gots two deddy bears to sleeps wit’.”

“You just jealous I gots cute bear an’ all you gots nasty wrinkles old ladies.”

“At least I nots die a virgin.”

“No you be first man in world to dies because he wears his ding-dong down likes old pencil.”

Skwisgaar just snorted and fussed around in the darkness, trying to get his sleeping space just so. Toki raised his head.

“Skwisgaar?”

“Ja?”

“You wants cuddles my bear wit’ me?”

Skwisgaar sighed dramatically. “You can’t do anyt’ings wit’outs me, can you?”

“No. I’s a screw-up.”

“At least you is admittings you has problem.”

Toki smiled as he felt Skwisgaar settle close against his back and drape an arm around him. His hand briefly met Skwisgaar’s as they both caressed the little bear, and he took hold of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. Skwisgaar nibbled the back of his neck.

“Dildo,” Skwisgaar said affectionately into Toki’s ear.

Toki just smiled, his hand linked through Skwisgaar’s and resting on the furry back of the baby panda. All became still and calm as the mighty tour bus rolled through the night.

Charles screamed his head off when the rooster suddenly crowed a mere eighteen inches from his ear at five in the morning.