There and Back Again

Rating: R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles, Toki/Skwisgaar, Murderface/Knubbler.
Warnings: None I can think of. Okay other than pairing Murderface with Knubbler.
Summary: Dethklok are on the road.
Notes: For the brutalbusiness ‘Touring is Brutal’ fic competition.

First part of the tour: North America.

Dethklok were in complete and universal agreement about one thing – this was all Charles’ fault. And, for once, Charles had to agree. This was his fault. But, as Murderface pointed out, they really couldn’t blame the poor guy – he did recently have a head injury.

Charles conceded that yes, he had suffered a rather serious head injury. Yes, he was perhaps still a little addled. However, they wouldn’t be on tour right now if certain people hadn’t spent over a hundred billion dollars decorating Mordhaus with platinum rehearsal spaces, scream-activated lighting and a California condor bottle opener for twist-top beer bottles.

A truce was called. It was their fault they were broke and on tour, and it was Charles’ fault the entire band had the flu – a flu they could not help but notice had reduced them to fevered puke factories but had failed to affect Charles at all.

“I wish I was dead,” grumbled Nathan, face down on the gigantic expanse of the aptly-named dethbed.

“Poor baby,” soothed Charles, rubbing his back sympathetically.

“Leave me alone. You’re mean. Booking us an appearance at a children’s hospital…”

Charles leaned forward to kiss his back. “I’m sorry. But it was great PR. It raised enough money that they can now afford a burn unit. You boys should be proud.”

“Oh ja, we’s regulars Mothers Theresa,” grumbled Skwisgaar. He was sitting up, his long hair lank, his face flushed, eyes glazed, and his guitar no where in sight. “We goes to sees da kiddies in da hospitals an’ dey is rewards us wit’ all da snots an’ germs we is can carry.”

“Hey guys,” said Murderface. “I schtill have that book of medieval cures…”

He was pelted with small objects and used tissues. Pickles coughed wetly into a hankie.

“Gahd I haven’t had a chest cold like this since I lived at home.”

“Psychosomatic?” asked Charles, still rubbing Nathan’s back.

“Nah I think it was bronchitis.”

Toki sneezed, then suddenly fled. Everybody made sure they averted their eyes. Toki’s sneezes were becoming the stuff that horror movies were made of. He came back in a few minutes, all cleaned up with fresh supplies and climbed back into the dethbed.

“Boy I sure likes to shares dis cold wit’ t’ose groupies was hanging around last week’s show,” said Toki. “Maybe dey goes away.”

“Yeah they were a little creepy,” said Nathan, eyes closed, enjoying the attention he was getting.

“What groupiesh?” asked Murderface. “Were they hot?”

“Ja one was,” said Toki. “Ones real tall wit’s HUGE boobies, an’ blacks hair, and kinda dark skin. Likes Nat’an. Others one shorts an’ acts likes she wants to bes my mommy. Buts wit’ sex. Was creepy!” He shivered.

“Yeah I talked to the tall one,” said Pickles. “She was hot but then she started talking about where I was taking her for her birthday.”

“Hot ones are always crazy,” said Nathan.

“Da ugly ones too,” said Toki.

“Well Vicki showed up so we booked,” said Pickles. “And she had her friend Lisa. I like them.”

“Yeah Vickie and Lisa are good kids,” said Nathan. He sneezed explosively, and was forced to sit up and blow his nose. “Fuck I feel like shit.”

“Well I said I’m sorry,” said Charles. “I just thought since we could use the money that booking a few side appearances between shows would help….” He paused, forgetting what he was about to say. That happened a lot lately, and he was sick of it. His memory was like a faulty computer; not everything saved to his hard drive anymore.

Toki coughed wetly. “Oh an’ we has bigs appearance at da dildos factory tomorrow. I lookings forwards to dat.”

Charles gave Toki a sidelong look. “I'm not that brain damaged, Toki, there is no way I...”

Charles stopped speaking as Pickles produced a contract that confirmed yes, they had an appearance at a dildo factory. He read it, then looked at Nathan helplessly.

“Did I okay this before or after the big bruise on my brain?”

“After. Yeah you were sitting up and the lights were on but uh... yeah I'm pretty sure you weren't home.” He grinned.

“You guys are mean,” said Charles.

“Aw come on, it's gonna be fun!!” said Pickles.

“You has to watch Charlies dis times, Nat'ans,” said Skwisgaar. “Nots lets him wanders off agains likes Moiderface dids.”

“He told me he wash going to the john!” Murderface declared defensively. “I don't know how he ended up in the service elevator!”

Charles stared in surprise. “Excuse me… what…?”

“Aw is okies Charlies, is happens to alls of us!” said Toki. “We's all pee-peed ins da elevator at some point.”

“I what?!”

“You was supposed to goes wit' hims and waits outsides de doors!” said Skwisgaar to Murderface.

“I wash talking to chicksh!”

“Dood, you were fucking Knubbler in the janitor's closet,” said Pickles.

“Well, the chicksh left!” said Murderface.

“Because you was fuckings Knubbler!” said Skwisgaar. “Whats lady wants to see dat?”

Charles winced. Dear god they were arguing about who had to watch him. It was official; he had become Toki. He was gently drawn down and held against a broad, fevered chest.

“Look at it this way,” said Nathan, stroking Charles hair. “We were born this stupid. You had to have a serious head injury to get only mostly as stupid as us.”

Second leg of the tour: Norway.

“Dood,” whispered Pickles. “It’s naht cool to spy.”

“Then why are you doing it with us?” whispered Nathan.

“Sheen anything yet?” asked Murderface, trying to find a spot at the window.

“No,” said Nathan. “Nothing yet.”

“I think I see them over there,” said Charles.

Four faces peeked out the tour bus window, watching. They were seated on the dethbed, all in various stages of undress, all watching the lone form make his way across the snowy field towards the bus. Toki was picking his way carefully, hardly recognizable save for the dim light shining out of a few of the bus’ lower windows – just enough to enable him to find his way back from the ancient Sacred Grove where he had been with Skwisgaar for the better part of the night. The four in the tour bus could just barely make out the copse from where they were; a cluster of ash trees of unguessable age, surrounding a place that was rumoured to have been favoured by Freyja. There, it was said, she would work her magicks, and it was said those who came there could still speak with her.

Toki and Skwisgaar had gone there to seal their bond as a couple the way their ancestors had, far away from press and idiots and fans. It was just the two of them, together, in the ancient grove, speaking their vows to the Old Gods, and consummating their union.

“Where’s Skwisgaar?” asked Pickles.

As if on cue, Toki paused in the snow, looking back towards the grove, waiting. After a few minutes Skwisgaar appeared. There was much snorting and snickering in the darkness of the tour bus.

“Gawd he looks like a baby horse,” said Pickles. “All wobbly legs and no idea how to use them.”

“Man,” said Nathan. “Wonder what Toki did to him?”

“I think we know what Toki did to him,” said Charles, grinning.

“You people really have no reschpect for the schank-tity of marriage, you know,” said Murderface.

“Dood we’re naht dissing them getting married,” said Pickles. “We’re just worried about Skwisgaar, he looks like he’s lost use of his leg tendons.”

“Well it’s damned near sunrise,” said Nathan. “I mean how many times could they have…?”

“That’s just great, Nathan, I really needed to think about that,” said Pickles.

“Well how many times could they have?” he asked.

There was a silence.

“Well enough to turn Skwisgaar from the world’s fastest guitar player into the world’s oldest,” said Charles.

“Toki looksh fine,” said Murderface.

They watched the pair approach. Toki did indeed seem fine. He seemed better than fine. He was acting like he could run a marathon. He bounced up to Skwisgaar, who actually snapped at him. Pickles clamped his hands over his face in a desperate attempt to contain his laughter.

“Good gawd.” said Murderface. “It’sh worshe than we thought.”

“Go Toki!” said Nathan.

“So what was Freyja the goddess of?” asked Pickles.

“Many things,” said Charles. “Love, beauty, fertility, as well as war, battle, death and magic. Half of the dead killed in battle went to her hall, the other half to Odin’s. She was a very powerful deity.”

Toki nuzzled up to Skwisgaar, who seemed wholly unimpressed. Pickles snorted with amusement.

“Looks like she squeezed all the fertility outta Skwisgaar she could get.”

“Nah,” said Nathan. “I’m sure Toki had a hand in there as well.”

Three pairs of eyes shifted to the large man, who stared back.

“Shut up,” he finally said.

The door to the bus opened, and bodies dove for their places in the huge bed. Giggles were stifled with a few whacks of a pillow, and by the time Toki and Skwisgaar came upstairs, it seemed as if their companions had slept through the whole thing.

Third part of the tour: Last Show.

They were exhausted. They were sick. They had nothing left. Charles was deeply concerned about how the show would go. Skwisgaar was his biggest worry. He hadn’t recovered from the flu or his night in the grove with Toki, and he was a complete wreck. He shook, he had a cough that he was refusing to let the doctors look at, and a constant low-grade fever. He shouldn’t have been playing, and Charles nearly had a fit when he found out that Pickles had “given him something to keep him on his feet”. He watched as Skwisgaar stood in a corner, shaking, twitching, and coughing. Toki was flat out pissed about the matter. Toki rarely got pissed, or at least rarely let it out, but right now his rage filled the dressing room and seeped into the hallway.

Pickles had opted to do his makeup in the room across the hall.

“This show is gonna suck,” mumbled Nathan. He was sunk low in his chair, letting the artist apply his stage makeup.

“No it won’t,” said Charles quietly, rubbing his broad shoulders, then dipping his head to kiss his neck. “And it’s the last show. Soon we’ll be home, we can rest…” He kissed his neck again. “Lie in bed…” He kissed his ear…

There was a sudden violent outburst of Norwegian and the sound of a guitar hitting a wall.

“…And speculate on what’s wrong with Toki these days.”

“He is a little aggressive,” said Nathan.

“You’d think after what he did to Schkwisgaar out in the woods he’d be a little more relaxed,” said Murderface, tuning his bass just the way he liked it.

“That was seven weeks ago,” said Charles. “That’s time enough to build up a little tension if Skwisgaar is too tired to… well…”

Nathan tipped his head back to look up at Charles, grinning. “Well I’m not.”

Charles kissed the end of his nose, coming away with corpse paint on his lips. “Neither am I. Let’s just hope I remember what to do with you.”

“No problem. I’ll remember for you.”

Murderface rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair. “GAWD! The schap! It’s KILLING me!”

“So go die,” said Nathan.

“Hey man that’sh not nische.”

Pickles scooted into the room, glancing around for Toki.

“Guys, something is up with Toki. Seriously.”

“Could it be because you drugged his husband?” asked Nathan.

“Besides that. He’s… nuts! He just flipped out on the catering guy! Made him cry!”

“He’s tired,” said Charles. “Let’s do the show and get him home.”

“He’s naht tired! He’s mental! He’s pissed off then he’s crying then he’s forgotten about it then…”

Toki walked into the room. Pickles shrieked and fled. Toki ignored him, walking over to his miserable lover, touching his face. Skwisgaar flinched and shook his head.

“Poor Skwisgaar. We do last show, den takes you home an’ I looks after you. Okies? You in dere, Skwisgaar?”

Skwisgaar nodded, and responded to the nuzzling and touching. They spoke softly to each other, kissing each other lightly.

“Get a room,” said Murderface.

Toki gave him a stare that would make a badger back up. Murderface decided that he had to go help Pickles do… something…

“Toki are you all right?” asked Charles as Murderface left.

Toki shrugged. “Just tireds, I t’ink. Was too much, all da travelling, da shows, da wedding in da grove, da prayers to Freyja, da prayers to Loki…”

“Loki? Why would you pray to Loki?” asked Charles

Pickles poked his head in. “We should get out there, guys, c’mon.”

“What lit the fire under your butt?” said Nathan.

“Wanna go home, I’m sick of this shit! My mom just called and I was actually happy to hear from her.”

Nathan rose from his chair and turned to face Charles, drawing him close and kissing him. Then he left the room, followed by the rest of the band. Charles stepped into the hall to watch him head to the stage, and realized belatedly there was a small handful of fans who had somehow found their way to the dressing rooms – scruffy young males with matted hair, black clothes, and wearing Viking jewellery. Charles had feared metal-heads when he was a teenager, and their predatory look. Some of that fear had followed him into his adulthood. However watching Toki and George Fisher of Cannibal Corpse play World of Warcraft for nine hours one night convinced him metal heads were nothing more than nerds with attitudes.

“Hello Mr. Offdensen!” said a scruffy blonde kid holding a video cell phone.

Charles smiled politely. “Hello boys. Enjoy the show.”

He stepped back into the dressing room, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. On each shoulder was a ghost-white handprint, and smeared across his nose and lips was corpse paint.

Well that should be on YouTube in five minutes…

The show went off without a hitch, though how Skwisgaar managed to perform was anyone’s guess. He was clearly sick, but he didn’t miss a note. Toki however was in prime form; nothing but energy and aggression, playing his heart out while the crowd screamed and Skwisgaar felt too crappy to complain about it. The final show of the tour was arguably the best, and Toki’s performance was the stuff of which rock legends were made.

“I sick,” muttered Skwisgaar as he staggered off stage.

“Awww… poor Skwisgaar,” said Toki. “I tucks you in an’ looks afters you, okay?”

“Oh sure,” said Murderface. “You’re all peaches and cream with him, and with ush you’re a total douche!”

“I sorry. I haven’ts been feelings well,” said Toki.

“Well what’s wrong?” asked Nathan.

“I don’ts know! I wakes up sick, an’ everyt’ing bothers me. An’ I keeps wantings to eats really dumb t’ings, likes…green apples wit’ cheese.”

“Well what’s so odd about that?” asked Nathan. “Sounds pretty good.”

“I hates green apples! Dey makes my tooths hurt. An’ I mads den I sads den I mads again den I happy… I just wants goes home.”

Pickles put an arm around him. “It’s okay Toki, we’re all really tired. All you need is a rest.”

Nathan noticed something in the hallway, and paused. “Aw great. How did they get in here?”

“Who?” asked Murderface, then noticed what Nathan had seen. “Aw great.”

“How do they keep getting back where we are?” asked Pickles.

“Oh I nots in da moods for dis,” groaned Toki. “Why don’ts dey go bothers some others metals band?”

The annoyance in question was nothing less than the pair of groupies that had been dogging them for the better part of the tour, and they clearly expected the band, or at least Toki, to be glad to see them. The shorter of the pair approached, while the taller stood in the background and gave Pickles a “come hither” smile. Pickles ignored her. He preferred his groupies to be less stalkerish. He did however smile when he saw a girl he had made friends with a few tours back appear, none other than Lisa.

“You’re a mess,” she said, amused.

“Yeah I’m damp and I smell too. Kiss me.”

“No!” she shrieked, giggling. She fled. Pickles chased.

“Hey we’re gonna want that back at some point!” Nathan called after the pair.

“I’ll stick him in a bath first!”

“Don’t wash him in hot water and shrink him! He’s short enough.”

Pickles chased Lisa down the hall to parts unknown. He would be back in a few hours, showered, drunk, happy, and exhausted. The tall girl with the long black hair and enormous breasts looked pissed. Her shorter companion was unfazed, and she ran up to the object of her obsession. Toki was definitely not in the mood.

“Toki! I waited for you!”

“Ja dat’s nice.”

“Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“No nots really.”

She laughed. “You’re so cute. I thought since it was the last night of the tour we could do something! We could go have a picnic on the beach! Doesn’t that sound like fun? We could stare at the moon…”

“I really nots in da mood…”

“Oh, poor baby, you’re tired. Well we could just go to your hotel room and…”

“No I don’ts wants to.”

“Well it would be nice, I could rub your shoulders and we could have a late dinner, and then maybe take a nice bubble bath together…”

“No t’anks, I gots someones for dat.”

“Well maybe you will change your mind after I…”

“Look lady, he’s tired, all right?” said Nathan. “We’re all tired. Just find someone else to bug.”

She ignored Nathan, and reached out to take Toki’s hand. “Well we could just… maybe go for a coffee or something and get to know each other. Oh you’re a mess, aren’t you? You really could use someone to look after you and make you look after yourself.”

“Hey Toki,” said Skwisgaar softly. “I just t’inkings we coulds…”

The short chick made a huff of annoyance. Curling her lip and planting one hand on her hip, she sneered at Skwisgaar. “We’re talking, do you mind?”

The silence was profound and deafening. People in the hallway vanished. Charles opened the green room door to let the scruffy boys, still lurking in hopes of an autograph, flee inside for safety. Nathan picked up Skwisgaar, knowing he wasn’t well enough to run on his own.

“I’m outta here,” said Nathan.

“Yeah me too,” said Murderface.

Nathan and Murderface beat it out of there just before the nuclear shockwave rolled in and Toki hit the roof, levelling his rage dead at the short chick.

“YOU DON’TS TALKS TO HIM DATS WAY! YOU NEVERS TALKS TO HIM DATS WAY! YOU NEVER SAYS ANOTHERS WORDS TO HIM EVER! YOU HEARS ME?! YOU NEVERS TALKS TO HIM, OR LOOKS AT HIM, OR EVENS BES IN DA SAME ROOM AS HIM - EVER!!”

The girl was clearly stunned, and backed up. “But I thought…”

“I DON’TS CARES WHATS YOU T’OUGHTS! WHATSEVER IS WAS IS DELUSIONALS BULLSHIT! YOU NOTS FITS TO LETS HIM WIPES HIS BOOTS ON YOU! NOW GETS DA FUCKS OUT OF HERE!!!”

She didn’t move. She was clearly too shocked to react. The tall woman opened her mouth to speak, but something about the way Toki adjusted the guitar over his shoulder made her rethink the confrontation. He walked into the green room, and over to Skwisgaar. He sat beside him on the couch and drew him close.

“You don’ts worries abouts crazies shorts ladies. I only evers love you. Okies? Come on. Let’s clean up den gets on da bus. We goings home.”

Fourth part of the tour: Homeward Bound.

Pickles was in bed when Charles and the rest of the band arrived; a little bundle buried up to his nose in black velvet blankets patterned with spiders and webs. Lisa was sitting on the bed reading a magazine, cup of tea in one hand.

“Crapped out on you, did he?” said Nathan.

“Let’s just say having a rock star fall asleep on top of you does nothing for your ego as a woman.” She finished her tea and stood up, setting the magazine aside. “Well it was fun. See you next tour, guys. Charles I owe you a cigar.”

He smiled. “Bring me a bottle of your home made plum brandy when next we meet.”

“Okay. Night guys.”

Lisa left. Murderface undressed and climbed into bed, then called Knubbler to find out when he would be done with the sound equipment.

“An hour. Okay. Shee you then. Okay.” He ended the call, then set aside the phone and snuggled into his own spot on the gigantic bed. Skwisgaar managed a snort.

“Hey Tokis. For someones who nots gay he awfully friends-ly wit’s Knubbler.”

“Aw is perfectsly naturals for two straights guys sleeps in same beds,” said Toki.

“Woulds be ifs dey slept,” said Skwisgaar.

“I reject your reality an’ shubstitute my own,” mumbled Murderface.

Toki undressed and climbed into bed, raising an arm for Skwisgaar to cuddle close, putting his head on his chest. Toki put the arm around him, and kissed the top of his head.

“We goings home now,” Toki said quietly.

Nathan and Charles went to their own place on the huge bed, settling together. Charles rested his head on Nathan’s back, slipping an arm around him, smiling as he heard the quiet rush of air into Nathan’s lungs, and felt the gentle rise and fall of his breathing.

Knubbler came upstairs to take his place beside Murderface, and there was a soft vibration as the bus started up. Charles pressed closer to Nathan, fighting sleep for just a few more minutes, enjoying the safe, comfortable feel of this room, this bed, and this strange little family. He gave Nathan a kiss, then closed his eyes.

They were going home.