Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pickles phones starts buzzing. Charles sighs. Pickles slaps the counter looking for it in the dark.

“Nyello?”
“Pickles, we’re doing a world tour. You’re legally obligated to come out of retirement now.”
Charles laughed.
Pickles sighed. “Guys, you gotta start checking what time it is in Denmark. It's like 1 in the morning.”
“And you’re asleep? What happened to you man?”
Charles is still thoroughly amused by this conversation.

Pickles covers his face. “Okay. What’s the tour details.”
“2 days between each state, then through Europe, onto the parts of Asia where we’re not banned, the main cities of Africa and finally anywhere in South America we can cram in before we die of exhaustion.”
Charles sat up like a zombie. “I’m sorry, what?”
Nathan continued. “It’s gonna be the most brutal tour ever.”

Pickles blinks. “Guys, that’s not a plan.”
“Have you booked security? Who’s in charge of merch? Did you plan each venue with backstage access and insurance?” Charles pleads to the phone.
Nathan brushes it off. “We did all that stuff. We just used all the stuff you left behind when you quit.”
Charles pulls the same tired face as Pickles. “We’ll think it over.” Charles pressed hang up for him.

Both of them laid back down. “Deal with it later?”
“Obviously.”

*

The next morning, Charles flicks through the details they sent as a PDF on his laptop. Pickles doesn’t like the sound of being away from home for 12 months. Charles is more concerned with the logistics.

“Well?”
Charles sighs. “They have stitched every document relating to each place they want to play at into one mega tour. As long as the roadies and Klokateers follow the path I set, you should be good to go.”
“I meant .. I mean, are you sure I HAVE to go?”

Charles gave him a look over his shoulder. “Don’t you want to go?”
“I wanna do the tour, I just don’t want to leave for 12 months.”
“You can take anything you need on the road with you.”
Pickles held his eye contact.
Charles caught on. “Ah.”
“We’ve not been out of the same room as each other since we moved in together. We literally stay in the bathroom while the other one pees.”
Charles isn’t sure how that routine started, but he doesn’t mind it. “I think I see your point.”

Pickles grit his teeth. “Can you p l e a s e come with?”
“For which part?”
“All of it? Or at least, can you visit? I really don’t wanna go back to how things were.”
Charles appreciates the sentiment. “Compromise. You do each set with the boys, but we do our own thing after the show?”
Pickles nods. “I’m okay with that. Are we playin’ or what?”
Charles thought about it. “I can bring Claire for a couple of the nights.”
“I’d like that.”
“You want me to tell them.”
“I think they already know.”

*

Pickles and Charles land at Mordhaus by helicopter which immediately chops some random Klokateer up. Charles notices. Pickles raises an eyebrow at him.
“Curse?”
“Curse.”

The klokateers carry their bags and Charles makes no eye contact. He likes being back on his home turf. He built the place. He ran it. He hired all these people. He runs the religion. He likes the power that comes with being Charles at Mordhaus.

Pickles is mostly just happy to have Charles back at Mordhaus. It’s not like old times. It’s better.

Skwiss finds him first. “Pickle, you back?”
“Yeah. Legally obligated to play for Dethklok.”
“And Charles?”
“Moral support.”

Toki hears the voices and runs from around the corner. “You ams back?”
“Yeah, we’re back.”
Pickles was forcefully hugged by Toki. “It ams not the same without you.”
Pickles struggled to breathe. “Sorry to be a buzzkill, but I’m only here for the shows.”
“What?!” The man dropped him. “You not gots your free pass?”
“What? No. Charles is here this time”
Skwiss joined back in. “So? If he ams not here, you can does stupid stuffs with us.”
Pickles held his boyfriend’s hand. “We’re just gonna do our own thing. No free pass. Don’t need it.”

Skwiss and Toki look offended at Pickles. “What happen to you, man?”
Charles smiled. “Nothing happened. He was always like this.”
Pickles appreciates the support. “Oh, hey, where’s Nathan?”
“Hims and Murderface gettin’ into arguments.”

Elsewhere in Mordhaus, Murderface follows Nathan while he ticks things off a list and directs Klokateers to their new positions.
“And that's why Planet Piss needs to open for you.”
“Murderface, you haven’t even recorded 1 song for Planet Piss. Even if I said yes-”
“-And that's another thing. We might get a new producer or draw some attention to other avenues for Planet Piss.”

The rest of the group stand 10 feet away.
“Dick dies,” Toki yells while smiling.
Murderface scrunches his face up. “Fuck you, Toki. You’re not even in Planet Piss anymore.”
“I has my fun.”

Pickles hadn’t let go of Charles’ hand. “Don’t help them or you’ll end up managing Planet Piss.”
“God help me.”

Skwiss yells to Nathan, “How goes it?”
“I feel like Charles. No offense.”
“None taken.”

Pickles hisses. “So, what are we doing now?”
Toki smiles. “Pre show drinks?”
“Awesome. We’ll leave ya to it.” Pickles starts walking them away from the group.
Charles yells over his shoulder. “Make sure the Klokateers know to wake you up before your transport is supposed to set off.”

The other 4 watch Pickles and Charles walk away hand in hand.

Pickles leads them to an elevator. Charles hits the right button. “You got everything you need?”
“It's all down there.”
“You excited?”
“Can’t contain myself.”

The doors open and Charles breaths in calmly. “Fuck, I’ve missed my dungeon.”

Chapter Text

The morning after, the rest of the gang look like death. Pickles and Charles travel alongside them in the bus. Charles is trying very hard to keep his mouth shut about the organisation of this tour, but he’s not their manager any more and it's best just to let this play out.

“What you guys doing after the show?” Pickles asks.
“Same as we always do.” Nathan answers.
Murderface smiles at Skwiss. “We teamin’ up?”
“Fucks yes.” He high fives the man.
Toki flicks through his phone. “I think I might avoids the girls. Kinda wants to do my own thing.”

“What about you two?” Nathan asks. “Or don’t I wanna know.”
“Nah, we got it out of our system,” Pickles says.
“We plan on doing some sightseeing.” Charles adds.
“God, that’s gay,” Murderface hisses.
“You’re gay.” Pickles bites back.
“Guys-” Charles said to break it up.
“Dick ams dead.” Toki yells, smiling.
“Fuck you, Toki.” Murderface yelled back.
Toki laughed at Murderface’s distress.
“There’s something wrong with this guy,” Pickles said to the room.
Everyone agreed, but no one dared say anything.

*

Charles kissed Pickles goodbye.
“See ya after the show.”
“Break a leg.”

Pickles was dragged through the stage doors backwards by Nathan.

In the green room, the boys applied paint the way they always have and Pickles played with his drumstick, but he was mostly thinking about writing some tunes down to practice when he’s home and got his own guitar on hand.

The boys made it onto the stage and followed the same routine they always have.

The crowd cheered. People died. Dethklok finished the set and made their way off the custom stage.

The crowd were still going crazy.
“You think we need an encore or …?” Nathan asked.
“Ams down.” Toki said.
“Sure.” Skwiss agreed.
“Whatever.” Murderface said.
“I can go for that.” Pickles agreed.

Backstage, the boys went through the door and stopped dead in their tracks.
“Never mind,” Pickles said smiling.
Claire waits for them. The band looks conflicted is the best possible word for it.
“I thought he wasn’t coming backstage,” Nathan pointed out.
Pickles walked backwards toward the lady. “No, guys, this is Claire. She’s my …”
“Piece on the side.” Claire added, playing with Pickles’ locks.

Skwiss looked tired. “Welp, ams going back on stage before dis gets any gayer.”
Toki followed Skwiss away from the room. “If she a lady, how cans that be gay?”
Murderface squints. “So … does it count if-”
Nathan cut him off. “I thought you two said you were doing your own thing?”
Claire smiled. “Who?”
Nathan growled and walked back onto the stage.

“You should get back out there.” Claire whispered.
Pickles buckled at the knees. “But I really wanna stay here with you.”
“Murderface?” she looked at the other man.
Murderface did as asked and picked Pickles up to drag him back to the stage.

Claire heard the crowd go crazy from here.

Pickles was dropped at the drums. He grumbles to himself. Just one song, then he and his significant other can go do regular jack off stuff.

*

As soon as the song ended, Pickles threw his drumsticks into the audience and then bolted from his place at the back of the stage.

Nathan turns to the others. They simply shrug.

Backstage, Pickles runs directly into Claire who waits with open arms.
“So, where we going tonight?” Claire whispers.
Pickles shrugs. “You wanna just walk the streets until we find somewhere?”
“I like that.”

*

“You ever visited Seattle before?” Claire asks, holding his arm as they walk through the tourist ridden streets.
“Ur.. not really. I mean, I been here, but I didn’t do a whole lot.”
“You want me to see what’s going on in the area?”
“Sure.”

Claire pulls up her phone and hums. “Wouldn’t ya believe it.”
“What?”
“Dethklok are playing tonight.”
Pickles sniggers.

Claire keeps their walk going. “You wanna get something to eat?”
“Sure. You thinkin’ fancy or ..?”
“I could do something cheap.”
Pickles can’t remember the last time he went to some diner or fast food place and actually sat down like a normal person. It was probably that burger place he and the boys like to go to. Sounds familiar.

He looks at Claire. “You eat out often or ..?”
Claire smiles at him. “Are you suggesting I don’t cook?”
“No!” Pickles said defensively. “I just know you said you do a lot of travelling.”
“Oh, good memory. Yes, I do eat out often.”
Pickles smiles. “You know anywhere good?”
“I think I have a few suggestions.”

The restaurant was a late night fast food place called Good-Host. They order milkshakes and fries while continuing their chat.
“It's .. good to see you again.” Pickles starts.
“And you. Good to see you’re keeping busy.”
Pickles looks proud of himself. “Yeah, a lot has changed since we went on our last date. Urm. I moved outta Mordhaus. That was kinda a big deal.”
Claire cocked her head. “I thought you liked living with your bandmates?”
“Oh, I do, don’t get me wrong, but the guy I moved in with can’t live at Mordhaus, so I left with him.”
Claire huffed a laugh out. “You make it sound like you made some grave sacrifice.”
Pickles played with the fries. “I want to have both. I wanna have my partner, and my best friends.”

Claire suddenly looked a lot more like Charles for a moment. “Do you regret moving?”
“What? No, oh god no. I’m super happy with my decision, I’m just trynna have my cake and eat it too.”
“Are you scared you’d lose one by choosing the other?”
Pickles looked at her confidently. “Yeah, so I picked the one that doesn’t need me, just wants me. Because I want it too.”
Claire lightened up. “That’s .. kinda cute.”
“Cute wasn’t the word I was thinkin’ of.”
“Clingy?”
“No.”
“Desperate?”
“No.”
“Attached?”
“I was thinking more .. loyal, or meaningful?”
Claire lowered her eyelids. “That’s what’s cute.”
Pickles rolled his eyes.

Claire picked at her fries. “What do you think they’re doing now?”
Pickles shrugged. “Probably screwing sluts and doing meth.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be there?”
Pickles scoffed. “Fuck that. I’ll take this any day over that.”
Claire rests on her elbows. “Even if this is all you get tonight?”
“I’m totally okay with that.”
Claire smiled. “You wanna come back to my hotel room?”
“Fuck yeah.”

*

As is tradition with Claire, Pickles was pinned to a hotel bed and kissed red raw.

Pickles held her hips. “You know we don’t have to go any further.”
Claire sat up and threw her hair over her shoulder. “I’m happy to go further if you are.”
“Aways.”
Claire fell back down for a kiss while resting along Pickles’ front. Pickles appreciates Claire’s form. Kissing her is different from Charles. What they do together is different. Even though he knows they’re the same person, he can easily convince himself that they’re not.

Claire sits on Pickles’ hips. “What did you wanna do with me?”
Hopefully Claire didn’t feel that. “Wanna just ride it?”
“I can do that.”

Pickles is always amazed at the speed that this happens. Pants off, rubber on, Claire drops onto it. Pickles arches and struggles to find somewhere for his hands. Claire put his hands on her hips and encouraged him to hold her while she did the work. Pickles’ mind blanked out. He can feel it, he can see it, he can hear it, but his mouth doesn't work and he can’t even breathe properly.

Claire tips her head back and lets a moan go. Pickles tenses up. He doesn’t want this to be over, but Claire is actually enjoying herself. She’s using him, and he likes it.
“Fuck!”
Claire came to a polite stop. “Done?”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
Claire smiled at him. “That was fast.”
Pickles covered his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

Claire climbed off and laid next to him. “You wanna end the scene or …?”
Pickles let a breath go. “I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” She gave him a quick kiss. “What else did you want to do with our evening?”
Pickles dropped his arms. “Is there anything I can do in return?”
Claire thought about it. “Not if the aim is orgasm, no.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m fussy about that stuff. Charles will go over it-”
“-Why can’t you tell me about it?”
“Because you’ll wanna try and I don’t wanna ruin what we’re already doing.”
Pickles huffed through his nose. “I feel like I’m not doing it right.”
“You’re doing what I want you to do. That’s why this works so perfectly.”
Pickles looks her up and down. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to end the scene.”

Claire stopped smiling and suddenly became Charles. “You okay?”
Pickles looked equally unsure. “Why did Claire meet me today?”
“Because it's your first show in a long tour and I don’t want you in any suspense waiting for me.”
Pickles looked down. “Do you do it because you like it too, or is it just for my benefit?”
Charles looked at the ceiling. “Mostly your benefit, but I still get a kick out of it.”
“Even though you never finish?”
“Yeah.”

Pickles laid back, avoiding looking at them while he thought about it.

Charles laid next to him still dressed as Claire. “Are you more attracted to Claire than Charles?”
“What?” Pickles said, confused.
Charles won’t look at him. “You tell Claire she’s hot every time you see her. Do you prefer Claire?”
Pickles sat up to look at his other half. “I don’t prefer Claire to Charles. I love that Claire is a treat. I love the consistency of Charles. They both just give me something different.”

Charles hummed.
Pickles sat over his hips and looked down at him. “Are you jealous of yourself?”
Charles gave him a serious look. “I worry I’m not exciting enough to keep this relationship stable.”
Pickles looked really confused. “Charles, did you even hear what I said? I’d have this no other way. I love that you go above and beyond to keep me happy without pushing your own boundaries. I love that we go home and just pretend to be husband and wife. I love that we have friends, that we’re on tour, that you’re still here. I love you and want you to be happy with me.”
“Love you too.”

Pickles and Charles pulled the same wide eyed face.
“Oh my god, you said it.”
“I said it. Wow.”
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
“You feel any different?”
“No, not really.”
Pickles bobbed down for a kiss. “Love you.”
Charles pecked him back. “I’m not saying it again.”

Pickles climbed off. “So, anyway, in short, no, I don’t think Claire is more attractive than Charles.”
Charles smiled to himself. “And if I had a problem being Claire, I’d tell you.”
Pickles gave him a side glance. “But can I do better for Claire?”
“Probably not.”

Chapter Text

The coming weeks were the same routine that Dethklok had come to expect. Pickles plays the songs then runs off backstage to go do boring married couple stuff with Charles.

On this particular day, Pickles lays along Charles on the bus while he reads. Pickles may or may not be asleep. The rest are quietly watching them.
“And … why are we allowing this?” Murderface says gesturing to the couple.
“Allowing what?” Charles says without looking up.
“We were on the bus first,” Pickles blurts out. “You don’t like it, sit somewhere else.”

Toki asked. “You guys not wants to join the after party this time?”
“Ur … We got anything planned?”
Charles hummed. “Not at the minute.”
“You wanna come with?” Pickles asked.
“No.”
“Can I go?”
“Sure.”
Pickles looks at Toki. “Where you guys going?”
“We hasn’t thought that far ahead.”

Pickles kicked himself to his feet and walked away. Nearly everyone watched him go, the red marks on his back showing very visibly under his tank top.

As soon as Pickles was out of the room Nathan said it. “Charles, what the fuck did you do to him?”
Charles smiles into his book and shrugs. “Will he need a free pass tonight?”
Skwiss and Murderface yelled “YES!”
Charles blinked. “Alright. He’s all yours.”
The boys high fived.

*

Just like the last several weeks, Dethklok plays the show then Pickles runs off, only to be pulled back by Skwiss and Nathan.
“Where you going?”
“Urm .. to my boyfriend?”
“You got a free pass. You’re coming with us tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” Pickles said, unenthusiastically.

The lads walk him backstage, and even check that Claire’s not here waiting for him again.

The coast is clear.

The boys start drinking and Pickles is already texting.

The party moves to a club. A very expensive club. They are allowed to skip the line and head straight into the flashing lights and loud music.

Usually this would be the part of the night where Pickles drinks absinthe and accidentally falls into someones boobs, but tonight he really doesn’t want it. Just like last time, he can see everyone having fun and laughing, but he would rather be at home with Charles. He would tell Claire to come meet them, but after their last discussion, he doesn’t want Charles to think he’s over using her.

What he really needs is Charles to just show up.

Nathan bumps into him. “Pickles, those ladies are trying to talk to you.”
Pickles sighs. “Yeah, I kinda don’t want it.”
“Then go home.”
Pickles frowned at him.
Nathan stood his ground. “If you don’t want to be here, don’t.”
Pickles almost took the out, then realised he’s cutting himself off from his friends.

Pickles pulled his phone out and texted Charles. “You wanna meet us out here?”
Nathan growled at him. “Even now? You’re still talking to him?”
“Yeah. If he’s here, I won’t have to go home.” Then he gives Nathan a serious look. “Unless you want that?”
“No.”
“Good.”

Charles replied. “Not my scene.”
Pickles sighed. “Not a sex thing. I just miss you.”
“It’s been 4 hours.”
“And I can’t remember the last time we weren’t in the same building. Please.”

Nathan huffed. “What’s he said?”
“He’s thinkin’ about it.”

Charles replied. “Charles or Claire?”
“Charles, obviously.”
“Okay.”

“I think he’s coming.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He put okay.”
Nathan looked surprised to hear that.
Pickles raised his eyebrows. “Awesome. Whatcha wanna do first?”
Nathan shrugged. “Mix high end alcohol directly into my mouth?”
“Fuck yeah.”

Meanwhile, Charles had a small crisis over what he’s supposed to wear.

Having decided on suit shirt and jacket, no tie, he set off to meet Pickles and the gang.

Charles found their location and simply walked up the bouncer. The bouncer looked him up and down once before stepping aside to let him in.

This place was loud and busy. He didn’t appreciate it. Now to find his boyfriend.

He found Skwiss in a cage attached to the ceiling with a woman over his hips. He found Toki hanging off another cage upside down while he drank from a keg. He found Murderface smoking in a lounge with more women. Unusual.

Then he found Pickles and Nathan raiding the bar. Nathan was mixing a pitcher and Pickles was smoking a bong while sat on the bar.

Pickles noticed Charles watching and froze with a guilty look on his face. He let the smoke go and sank into his shoulders. “It’s not addictive.”
Nathan just noticed who he was looking at and also tried to cover his back. “He said it was okay.”
Charles joined the boys. “Did you get this from Mordhaus?”
Nathan nodded. “Yeah?”
“Then it’s okay.”

Pickles put the bong down.
“Pickles, I said it’s okay.”
“I feel weird doing drugs when you’re here.”
Charles’ eyebrows fell and he picked it up himself.

Pickles and Nathan couldn’t physically look away as he took a drag on it and then coughed. “Oh god, don’t like that.”
Pickles looked traumatised. “Dude,”
Nathan slid his colourful drink over. “You want some of this too?”
Charles shrugged and poured himself a glass.

Pickles is still wildly uncomfortable.

Charles took a shot. “I was expecting that to be worse actually.”
Pickles blinked. “Who are you and what did you do with Charles?”
“Pickles, you’re slowly turning into me and I don’t like it. Oh god, my head hurts. Is that what weed does to you?”
Pickles looked even more scared. “Have you never smoked weed before?”
“No.”
Pickles’ bloodshot eyes nearly burst from his head. “Charles, what the fuck?!”
Nathan stepped back. “I think you guys need a minute.”

Pickles was left with Charles who did not look so swell after that. “Charles, you really don’t have to do this.”
“Already done it. What’s next?”
Pickles held the side of his own head. “There’s not a time table. You just do stuff ‘cus it looks fun. This isn’t like you!”
Charles looks him up and down once. “There’s paparazzi everywhere. Don’t kiss me.”
Pickles looks him up and down. “Well that’s gonna be difficult.”
Charles smiled. “Do I get a free pass too?”
Pickles leaned forward. “You always did.” Now he knows what he meant when he said ‘don’t kiss me’.

Charles smiled at him. “My head hurts.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen. You wanna go talk to some girls?”
“I’d be okay with that.”

*

Pickles is a little fucked up. He’s wobbly, but he has been much more drunk than this before. He and Toki have gotten into a fun conversation about their games, but Pickles’ eyes keep wandering to Charles.
“I can’t say elemtrickity has ever beens my thing. Pickle?”
Pickles pulls his eyes to meet Toki’s. “Hm?”
“Whats you want him to do?”
Pickles shrugged. “He’s been talking to that lady all night. Kinda scared, honestly.”

Toki looks over his shoulder. Charles has been talking to this same woman for a while. “Huh? Does you give him free pass?”
“I told him it’d be really hot if he played with someone else. I am so tense right now, it hurts.”
Toki turned back to Pickles. “Why can’ts you play now?”
“‘Cus tabloid bullshit,” he spat while almost falling over. “I’m too drunk anyway.”

Meanwhile, Charles stumbles to his feet and falls into Nathan. “Nathan. Nathan, did you get anyone in this building to sign a privacy agreement?”
Nathan also looked worse for wear. “What? No. How do I-”
“-Gimme the walkie talkie.” Charles beckoned his hand with his own.
Nathan pulled out a walkie talkie that Charles happily took, still hanging off Nathan.

“This is Charles making communication to the security Klokateer’s involved in Dethkloks’ night out. Do you read?”
Nathan looks shocked by all that came out of Charle’s mouth.
“Security team reads you loud and clear, sir.”
Charles pushes his glasses up his nose. “Do me a favour and get those privacy agreements. I ur … need anyone who refuses to sign removing from the building and any who does traced and located. I want addresses, people. Get to it.” Charles handed Nathan the device back. “That’s how you do it.”

Meanwhile, Murderface and Skwiss have noticed Klokateers slowly making their way around the room. “Oh .. looks like Charles back on his bullshit.”
Skwiss hit him. “Whats you talking about? That's how we gets away with more like this.”

Charles stumbled over to Pickles and leaned against the bar casually as Pickles and Toki watched the bar get emptier.
“Charles, what did you do?”
Charles shrugged. “You wanna do weird stuff or not?”
“What happened to no drugs or alcohol?”
“I didn’t say we’re gonna have sex.”

Nathan’s radio chirps. “The building is clear, sir.”
Nathan looks confused. “Ur .. Thanks.”

Charles drags Pickles over by the collar and kisses him square on the mouth.

Toki can’t stop staring. “So we ams consequence free again?”
Nathan answered. “Looks like it.”

Skwiss nudged Murderface. “You wants to get weird?”
“Yeah, I want that.”

Toki loudly clapped. “Then ams gonna go talk to some girls.”

Charles pushed Pickles into a circle of seats below the main ground floor. The rest of the band go on with going about the activities Charles’ absence has left them vulnerable to. Murderface and Skwisgaar end up behind the bar, naked from the waist down while drinking and doing weird stuff to the bottles.

Nathan is once again on his own. He wasn’t thrilled about Charles coming back, but now he’s really pissed about it. Toki finds him and offers him another bottle of something which he blindly drinks. “Toki, what the fuck is this?”
“Norwegian vodka. I can’t play ‘cus I’m too drunk. You wants to play drinking games?”
Nathan can’t think of anything else he can do. “Sure.”

Meanwhile, Charles pulls himself off Pickles. “I needed that.”
“I need more of that. Gimme your mouth back.”
Charles fell back into a kiss.

Chapter Text

Charles woke up after 4 hours of sleep, but he felt awful.

The room was empty and dark. He can see Pickles asleep over the edge of the couch. He’s found Toki and Nathan covered in paint and the wall they painted. He’s going to assume Skwiss and Murderface are either still awake and partying or asleep behind the bar.

Charles peels himself up and walks over to Nathan where he steals the walkie talkie again. “Security team, come in.”
“Security here, sir.”
“I need you on look out for speculation of tonight’s activities. One breath of this place or what happened here, and I want all involved parties scaring within an inch of their lives.”
“On it.”
Charles hung up and put the walkie talkie back on Nathan. He promised he wasn’t going to be their manager, but this case is personal.

Charles drags Pickles up and over his shoulder. He needs to get this man home.

*

Pickles woke up in a bed. “Where-”
“I brought you back to the bus. Klokateers are on clean up duty and you need carbohydrates.”
Pickles can’t even see straight. “Huh?”
Charles put a bagel in front of him. “Just eat.”
Pickles blindly put the food in his mouth. “So.. alot happened last night.”
Charles’ head still hurts. “You think Claire would have been more suited or…?”
“Ya know, I was gonna ask for Claire, and then decided against it.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire goes out more than you do. It’s not right.”

Charles sits next to Pickles with a cup of coffee. “It was nice to be on the other side of the fence.”
Pickles leans on his shoulder. “Guess it coulda gone worse.”
“You don’t wanna do it again.”
“No.”
Charles thinks he gets it. A lot has changed. He’s healthier now.

Pickles sighs. “How’re you holdin’ up?”
“I feel awful.”
Pickles smiles. “Don’t take anything else that’s meant for us.”
“Pickles, Mordhaus makes the drugs.”
“Yeah?”
“I run Mordhaus.”
Pickles put the pieces together. “You’re our dealer?”
Charles closes his eyes. “For the past 15 years, yeah.”
Pickles’ eyes widened fully. “All of it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Remember when Skwiss got that infection?”
“From that needle- OH!”
“Or when Murderface first got into spice and we thought he died?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Or when you decided to take ketamine?”
“Boy, that was a while ago.”
Charles doesn’t move. “It was safer to build it in house and just distribute it as and when you needed it.”

Pickles sat up. “So when we were supposed to be detoxing-”
“Yeah, that whole island was set up. You had the opportunity to do the healthy stuff, and none of you took it.”
Pickles remembers Nathan drinking bleach after that. “I promise, we did plan on doing the healthy stuff, but the party didn’t stop for the full week and then we had to come home.”
Charles smiles. “Yeah, I got the Klokateers reports.”

Pickles got up. “We should tell the guys to hurry up. We gotta go.”
Charles held his head. “It's Wisconsin next.”
“Argh, fuck.”
“You wanna visit a dungeon after the show?”
“I can’t think of anywhere better to avoid my parents.”
Charles got up. “I got that ladies number too.”
“Fuck yeah.”

Chapter Text

“We don’t fuck every night,” Pickles yells while applying corpse paint.
Skwiss helps Toki. “Yah, buts doesn’t you think dis ams too much?”
Pickles rolls his eyes. “You guys have been fine without either of us for almost a year. Now I’m here, you want him to fuck off. It should be the other way around.”

Nathan grumbles. “You guys have literally changed the band dynamic.”
Toki frowns. “Yeah. Hows come I can’t goes with you?”
Skwiss put his hand on Toki’s shoulder. “Toki, no.”

Pickles spins in his chair. “We have this argument every couple of days, and you guys keep bringin’ it up. We’re a couple. We’re gonna go do our own thing.”
“But when I was with Becca, you beat me up because I was doing my own thing.”
“No. We kicked your ass because she stopped us from going to the porn awards. Charles hasn’t stopped me or you guys doing ANYTHING.”

Murderface interjects. “Ya know, I never cared, but this thing where you get mad at him for bringing Charles is getting old, Nathan.”
Toki smiled. “You wishes Dick was stills here?”
“Fuck you, Toki,” Murderface yells.

Skwiss carries the point on. “I thinks we just misses you without Charles.”
“No, you miss how things were. I’m not going back to how things were. I don’t want it,” Pickles reminded everyone. “Things can only go forward from here.”
Nathan sits back. “What if one day you don’t come back?”
“I’m legally obligated to come back. The only way out is if I quit, or you guys vote to fire me.”

The room goes quiet. At this point Pickles almost wants to be fired. He doesn't need Dethklok anymore. He doesn’t like the fame or the drugs anymore. He likes playing shows. He likes hanging out with the guys. How long will it be before he doesn’t even want that.

Pickles spins his sticks. “I am so ready.”
“For the show or the dungeon?”
“Both.”

*

Pickles wiped his face clean as he ran through backstage. The show was great, but just like every time, he doesn’t even want to be here.

He slipped out the back door and into a taxi where Charles waits for him.
“Had a good day?”
“Better now.”
Charles kisses him just once. “We don’t have to play if you wanna just take it easy. We’re on the road tomorrow-”
“Charles, don’t ever tell me we don’t have to do something I really want to do.”

The taxi pulled up outside the venue, miles away from any regular businesses. It sits between open farmland and an industrial estate.

Charles paid the man and the pair signed in.

Through the doors, Pickles was sat by the bar and Charles started texting next to him.
“What we doing today?”
“Thought you might wanna use your free pass.”
Pickles frowned. “But you don’t like it.”
“Seeing you happy makes me happy.”
Pickles waited for more.
Charles caved. “And I’m setting a new bar.”
Pickles smiled. That’s what he needed to hear.

Charles’ mouth straightened. “Yeah, she’s not coming.” He looked directly at Pickles. “You wanna see me with literally anyone else?”
“Kinda wanna see what you do with women, yeah.”
Charles cocked his head. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

Pickles raised his eyebrows. “But you don’t like-”
“Yeah, I get jealous, but it's just sex. I can deal with it.”
Pickles only got more excited. “So I can’t play, but I can bone some random lady I’m never gonna see again?”
“Yes.”
Pickles grinned. “How’d you get hold of groupies again?”
Charles caught on and pulled his phone back out. “Gimme less than an hour.”

Pickles went wandering. As it would happen, most swingers clubs are very similar. Lots of plastic beds, a dungeon, porn on screen and sometimes a hot tub or stripper pole. This ones got a swing bed. He wants to try that, but not right now.

Charles waits by the doors for this random woman he’s just summoned. It would have been easier to find a hotel or something, but Pickles’ worst fear is seeing either of his parents (or anyone he knows from his old life) while he’s out with Charles. The safest place would be the one place no one wants to see someone they know.

A woman wearing a Dethklok shirt shows up. “CFO?”
“That’s me. Did you sign the waiver?”
“Yeah.”
“Perfect.”

Pickles comes back upstairs to find Charles casually having a conversation with some random person at the bar. He walks up and waits by Charles' side. The conversation continues without him, but quickly ends.
“Talkin’ about me?”
Charles looks over his shoulder at him. “Yes, actually. The world thinks you died, remember.”
Pickles looks mildly annoyed. “Well, here I am. After being on stage. Where everyone can see I’m alive.”
The lady looks at him. “You were replaced by a drum machine and Toki was a hologram. You can’t blame people for wondering where you are.”

Pickles looks her up and down. “You know what you just signed up for, right?”
“Yeah, your ..” The lady didn’t have the word.
“Partner.”
“Pickles has a boyfriend?”
“The contract states that information isn’t to leave this discussion,” Charles reminds her.

The lady swallowed her surprise and tried to pick up where he left off. “Right. Your .. boyfriend was just telling me … I’m sorry, who are you?”
Pickles draped himself over Charles’ shoulders. “That's my boyfriend. We need a third party. Are you in or out?”
Charles looked up to meet Pickles. “Very concise.”
“I learn from the best.”
The quick kiss put the lady on edge.

Charles started again. “If you were still interested, the arrangement would be on your terms-”
“Ugh, Charles, you’re the most boring person to talk to about sex. Watch this. You wanna go find a room and have it or nah?”
The lady points. “Is he coming too or..?”
“That would be your choice,” Charles says bluntly.
Pickles sniggers. “He’s really good at it.”
She looks confused. “Then why’d you need me?”
Pickles and Charles give each other a look, then look back to her. “We’re testing something.”

The lady awkwardly nods. “Yeah, I guess I’m okay with that.”

Pickles jumped up. “Then let's go.”
As he ran past the lady, she asked Charles, “Are you switches or..?”
“No,” he says as they walk toward the rooms in the back.
She’s still confused. Charles can see it.
“So how …”
“Did this start?”
“Yeah.”
“Typical love story. He let me do weird stuff at Mordhaus, then I got ribs broken and he moved in with me. Now he won’t use his free pass. Really need to break that habit.”

She lit up. “How longs it been?”
Charles made an exasperated noise. “2 years. Maybe.”
“And he’s not been with any groupies in-”
Pickles answered from the door. “Yeah, it's been a while. Are we doing this or what?”

Charles playfully rolled his eyes and kissed him back onto the bed. The lady followed and closed the door behind them.
“You got the thing?” Pickles whispered.
“Things, multiple,” Charles replied.

The lady sat next to them. “So what exactly are you testing?”
Pickles looked at her by exposing his neck to Charles. “You wanna take your top off and find out?”
Charles pulled himself up. “Maybe we should talk about what works first?”
Pickles started pulling his own top off. “Usually Charles doing Charles things would fire me up to no end, but you hired a groupie. Can we just get on with it?”
Charles sat sideways. “No,” he smiled before addressing the lady. “Any limitations we should know about?”
Pickles groaned loudly. Charles ignored him.

The lady looked between them both. “Is this some weird BDSM thing?”
Charles blinked.”What makes you say that?”
Pickles rolled over to get up, but Charles put him back down by kneeling on his thigh. Pickles yelled and hid his face in his elbow crease. Charles only looks more satisfied.

He addresses the woman again. “Sorry about that. Any boundaries or turn off’s we should know about?”
Pickles hissed through his teeth. “I thought you said you wanted to see how I do it?”
Charles sighed and let him go. “Fine.”

Pickles basically threw himself at the lady who happily fell onto the bed mouth to mouth with him.

Charles made himself comfortable against the wall. It won’t be a turn on, but knowing Pickles is just going to rush it and then give up won’t upset him either.

Pickles stripped the woman himself and then started kicking free of his jeans. She looks between his legs while she’s separated from him. “You got a piercing?”
“Blame him,” Pickles says, pointing at Charles.
Charles waves.

She turns back to Pickles. “Is this gonna hurt?”
“It hurt me, but he ain’t complained about it.”
Charles rolled his eyes.

The lady accepted it and let Pickles go back to kissing her.
“Hey, you wanna know what I learned to do since him,” Pickles said, running his hand down her thigh.
“What?”
Charles rolled his eyes again.
Pickles kissed her badly once more before sticking his face between his legs.

Charles covered his eyes out of second hand embarrassment. The lady doesn’t sound too disappointed, but without any sort of restraint, this man is just bulldozing his way through sex.

Pickles does what he did last time. She appreciated him working his way up and being consistent in his method.

Charles however was biting his own hand.

The lady once again doesn't seem to mind, just laying there with her legs open and joyfully moaning every now and then.

Charles couldn’t stop himself trying to get a better look. Pickles is just rubbing the good bit over and over and over again. The lady hasn’t told him if he’s doing it right, or if that was the right bit, or if she even wanted it. Aw well. It’s not for him.

Pickles pulls his face back up. “That good foreplay?”
“Can’t say I was expecting it,” she said breathlessly.
Pickles crawled over her. “You want the main event?”
She raised her arms over her head. “Sure.”

Pickles looked up, but Charles was one step ahead with the wrapper already held out. Pickles sighed and took it.

The woman looked confused but Pickles answered. “It’s for his sake.”

Charles watched as Pickles lined himself up and jammed himself in. The lady didn’t seem to be in any pain, but she did grip his shoulder and yelp before he started moving. She relaxed considerably and pulled him down for a kiss while he bumped into her. Charles is happy he got what he wanted. Pickles is still capable of having sex with women. He’s not good at it, but he is doing it.

Pickles stops kissing her and grabs one of her breasts while pushing himself as deep as he can get. She moans with her mouth completely open and Pickles crumbles, cussing and drifting away as he goes.

Charles stays quiet while the pair catch their breath.

“How was that?” Pickles asks.
Charles makes a mental bet with himself that she says ‘fine’.
She nods. “It was good.”
Charles squints. Liar.
Pickles smiles at Charles. “See. I can use my free pass, thank you.”
Charles looked disappointed. “That looked bad.”
“No, it was great.”
“You can tell him the truth. Was it bad?” he asks the lady.
She gets up and puts her top back on. “It coulda been better.”
“What?” Pickles whines. “What’d I do wrong?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You just didn’t do anything well. I’m sorry. Was that mean?” she said, covering her mouth.

Charles went back to looking pleased with himself. “He’s not usually that bad, I promise.”
Pickles folded his arms. “Well you wanted to know what I do with women. There you go. I do badly apparently.”
Charles crawled over. “Someone’s pouty…”
Pickles leaned away. “Someone’s frisky.”
Charles pulled him over by his chin and kissed him. “I like your failure.”

The lady cleared her throat. “So.. was that it or..?”
Pickles looked over Charles’ shoulder. “Not unless you wanna go again for comparisons’ sake?”
Charles turned to face her properly. “He’ll still need to be involved, but I’ll be the one … interacting with you.”

She looked between the two of them. “What do you normally do?”
“Talk.” Pickles answered, only to get hit on the thigh. “Ow!”
“Don’t mind him. But yes, I would prefer to ask your preferences, then work around those until either of the parties are satisfied.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Lets .. just take it slow.”
Charles took his jacket off. “Any physical boundaries or limitations?”
“No?”
Charles pulled his tie off. “Any emotional or wellbeing practices I should consider?”
She watched him start unbuttoning his shirt. “Not that I know of?”

Pickles is once again fascinated by this man and his method. Looks like she’s also staring at his chest while he strips.

Charles ignores the two of them watching his abs. “You got any turn ons?”
She hasn’t stopped looking at his chest. “I’d really like to know what you two get up to.”
Charles gives him a look. Pickles looks less enthusiastic. Charles isn’t giving way.
Pickles answers the lady. “So what? We have gay sex. What do you want?”
“Pickles,” Charles answers. “I think that is what she wants.”
Pickles looks at the lady to find she isn’t arguing with him. “Really?”
Charles pulls the other wrapper out of his pocket. “Give the lady what she wants.”
Pickles takes it while looking annoyed. “I hate you, ya know that.”
Charles lays back. “Then get it somewhere else.”

The lady is considerably more invested now. Charles’ head falls back onto his arm and Pickles unzips him to wrap him up and use his mouth. Charles lets a breath go and pushes his head down further. Pickles makes an annoyed noise at him, but he doesn’t stop.

Charles tips his head back to look at the lady. “This working for you?”
The lady nods without looking away from the scene.
Charles takes her by the hand and walks her closer. While her eyes are still glued to the scene he lifts her leg and sits her over his face. She tries to make herself comfortable, but he’s guiding her to the right spot and then drags his tongue along the whole underside.

Pickles stopped upon hearing the woman’s much more enthusiastic moan. “Told you he was good at it.” Then Charles dragged him back down to carry on while he flicked his tongue against her clit and listened to her moan. He can’t remember the last time he did this. He just holds her in place and works his tongue into her folds, following the sound of her voice.

Pickles keeps looking up, and he hates that Charles is actually doing it better. He hates that he’s keeping his mouth busy. He hates that this woman is getting off by watching him keep his mouth busy while Charles forces noises out of her that she doesn’t know she’s making.

The woman starts grinding on his tongue which still flicks and holds its position. He can feel her heat from here. He can feel her throbbing. He can imagine Pickles’ frustration.

The lady clutches the sheets and drags herself into him slowly and heavy, riding out the feeling to the end.

Charles puts his tongue back and pushes Pickles away.

She climbs off. She’s sweaty and bright red, but she’s off and tired.

Charles sits up on his elbows to smile at Pickles. “That’s how you do it.”
Pickles mimics him. “Meh, meh, meh. I’m Charles, I have self control and gorgeous abs, meh, meh, meh.”

Charles puts his arms behind his head. “How was that for you?”
“Better,” she says, still panting.
“Awesome.” He looks at the ceiling. “Pickles, you need to see the rest?”
She laughs at Pickles’ frustrated face.
Pickles sneers. “No. We already know you’re good at it. Show off.”

Charles drags Pickles over him and holds his face. “You feelin’ left out?”
“No,” Pickles says, still pouting. “Didn’t even prep anyway.”
“Then go prep and we’ll do it right.” He hit his ass. “Go.”

Pickles sulked away.

Charles sat up to talk to the woman properly. “If you have places you want to be, we’re just gonna do regular sex stuff.”
She looked him up and down. “Will he be mad if I want to see the rest of it?”
“See it or be part of it?”
“Either or.”
Charles looks her up and down. “How would you feel about taking both?”

Pickles is so annoyed that Charles managed to make a lesson out of this. He got excited and rushed it, that’s all. Luckily they can just carry on doing normal sex stuff now.

Back in their room, Pickles finds the two of them doing foreplay things. “What’re we doing?”
Charles answered. “That depends what you want to do.”
Pickles folded his arms. “Isn’t it your job to decide that?”
Charles rolled his eyes. “She’s down for everything. What part did you want?”
Pickles thought about it. Charles is top, so either him or her has to be in the middle somewhere. “Can we just fuck while she uses her mouth?”
Charles looks at the lady. “How would you feel about that?”
“I can do that.”

Pickles was subsequently pushed over and fingered.
The lady made a noise. “That’s kinda hot.”
“Isn’t he,” Charles said to the lady.
Pickles covered his face with his arm, almost embarrassed to be here.
Charles spat more on his fingers and went in again. “When you’re ready, I need you on your knees, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
Charles likes it when Pickles goes red like that. He likes it when he can see him twitching and throbbing. Which reminds him. “Was the piercing too much?”
“No, honestly, I liked it.”
“You hear that, Pickles. It was a good investment.”
Pickles whines and turns his head away.
Charles is enjoying his torment.

Pickles eventually moved his arm from his face and took a steady breath. “Ready.” He was rolled over and pulled up onto his knees. He likes when he can feel Charle’s pressed against him. He likes it when he pushes in and holds him still. He likes it when he just uses him. Charles pulls him upright on his knees and slides them together as close and Pickles will allow.
“There’s a rubber in his pocket,” Charles whispers while wrapping himself around Pickles’ body.

The lady reaches for their discarded clothes and finds the square packet.

Charles keeps hold of Pickles, displaying him for the lady while she opens the protection. He shushes him. “Just a little longer.”
The lady lays down in front of him.
“Oh roll over, please,” Charles instructs.
She does so and Charles let’s go, half bending him back over while fucking this lady’s mouth. It takes no work to thrust forward and force a reaction out of Pickles. He’s really sloppy, and Charles appreciates it.

Pickles is struggling. He’s hanging over this woman, gently sliding his tools in and out of her mouth while Charles hits his g-spot from behind. He’s not even holding him anymore, just showing off again.

Charles bumps into him, with no force or speed, but he can already hear Pickles gasping and moaning. He lets a breath go and savours the feeling bringing him closer to the edge. He focuses on his own build up and leaves Pickles struggling to keep it together on his hands and knees.

Pickles grits his teeth through the gentle increase in speed. The warmth around his cock, the light friction and the familiar beating of his prostate and Pickles can only clench into himself and jolt through climax. Charles slows down while it happens and falls away.

Pickles turns around, moving his cock away from the lady. “Where’d you think you’re going?”
Charles rolled his eyes and pushed him over onto his back.
The lady wiped her mouth and happily watched as Charles simply climbed back over and pushed himself back in. Pickles laid there and let him, blushing to himself with a happy afterglow.

It didn’t take long to be over, and when it was, Charles was the first to say it. “That killed an hour. What do we do until tomorrow morning?”

Pickles and the lady gave each other a mildly annoyed look.

Chapter Text

The half of the tour dedicated the USA was over. The rest of the tour was dotted throughout Europe, Asia and some of Africa. Charles asked that they avoid Denmark. Skwiss asked that they avoid Sweden and Denmark. Toki begged that they start with Norway.

The stop in Norway got violent quickly and Skwiss had to hold Toki back from actively getting involved in the mosh pit that was spraying blood back onto the stage.

After the show, Charles took Pickles away and left the rest of them arguing and getting drunk without him.

“Where we going?”
“I’m going to try and do romance.”
“Not a scene?”
Charles shook his head. “No.”

Pickles was thrown some warm clothes. Heavier coat, gloves, hat and scarf.

Through the dark, the Klokateers dropped them off at an airfield. A man with a hot air balloon waited in the middle.

Charles hopped in first and offered his hand to Pickles as the man lit the fire that started to fill the balloon. Pickles smiles and takes the hand. “Tak.”
Charles’ face suddenly looks offended. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“I started picking up a few Danish words. Thought it might come in-”
“-no, no, no. Bad. You are banned from learning my native language.”
Pickles moped. “What? Why?”
“I like teaching you things. I like when I have something you don’t. Stop learning this particular language.”
Pickles sank even further as the balloon filled up. “That feels unfair. What if I need to talk to people?”
Charles took his hand. “You can talk to whoever you want. Almost everyone speaks English. If they don't, someone else will translate or you can use your phone. But I forbid you from having this one.”
Pickles huffed. “This feels like a weird place to set a boundary.”

Charles gave him a deadly serious face. “Pickles, you can learn any other language. I just don’t want you to have this one.”
He sank. “Okay. Sometimes I feel like you have more cool stuff on your side. You’re bilingual, you got some weird army training, survivalist, combat bullshit and I don’t have anything.”
Charles leaned on the basket. “You can drive.”
Pickles gave him a weird look. “You can’t drive?”
“I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”
“Wait. What about the hovering things at Mordhaus?”
“I designed those. No licence required.”
“Why didn’t you learn?”
“Never needed it.”
Pickles stares a hole into him. What kind of life has this man led where he will either be driven or can take public transport to his requested destination. “Is that normal for Danish people, or are you just weird?”
“I’ve lived in America most of my life. I’m just weird.”

The balloon was about ready to go.

The man stepped up. “This ones for going up. This ones for coming down.”
“Thank you.”
The man stepped back and waved them off.

Pickles continued to look baffled at Charles. “You can’t drive a car, but you can operate a hot air balloon?”
“We’ll soon find out.” The balloon starts rising from the ground. “Never mind, this is awesome. Pickles, come pull this lever.”
Pickles rolled his eyes. He took Charles’ place and controlled the balloon for him. “Never mind, you were right. This is fucking awesome.”

Charles leans over the edge of the basket. “I heard somewhere that Norway has some beautiful aerial sights. I thought you would appreciate a different form of transportation.”
Pickles held the lever. “Why are we doing this at night, when it’s fucking freezing?”
Charles shrugged. “I thought you would appreciate the darkness better than waking up at day break.”
It’s freaking Pickles out that he can’t see how high they are. “I guess so. It’s a nice change from the usual stuff.”

Charles took the pulley from him and walked him to the edge. The town below them was just little lights dotted against the silhouetted mountains blocking the stars behind them. “Woah,” Pickles said, staring out into the darkness.
Charles smiled. “You ever been stargazing?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Awesome.”

Pickles stood in awe of the world below them. It feels like a dream, just floating above towns and cities, unseen by the average person while travelling to a final destination. Charles really knows how to put a date together.
“Hey Charles? You getting anything out of this?”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “Sexually?”
“No. Just in general.”
Charles cocked his head at the scene below them. “I get a kick out of showing you things or teaching you things. It makes me feel good to know you are impressed or happy with a situation.”
Pickles smiled while looking over the edge. “Consider this a job well done. This is beautiful.” Then he stopped smiling. “That sounded really gay. I’m sorry. It’s really cool.”

Charles laughed. He always finds it funny that Pickles still hates ‘gay behaviour’ even while dating another man.
Pickles rolls his eyes. He’s spent his entire life laughing at Murderface that the thought of his identity becoming a joke hurts. He’s happy with his sexuality, he’s not okay being laughed at. “Okay, okay, the hypocrisy of the statement isn’t lost on me.”
Charles puts his hand over Pickles’. “I feel like we need to talk about what counts as ‘gay’ at some point.”
Pickles rolls his eyes. “Ya know, those guys that watch romcoms and go to pride events in leather and call their female friends to complain about some bullshit some bitch at work said. That’s fuckin’ gay.”

Charles smiles. “Am I banned from romcoms now?”
Pickles almost bit back, but then realised he’s smiling. “You wanna go to a pride event too?”
“No.”
Pickles is still smiling. “You wanna wear leather, daddy?”
Charles backed up. “Don’t love that.”
Pickles kept it up. “Nah, if you think those things are totally okay in our lives-”
“I never said that-”
“-I think it’s about time we started listening to female pop singers and sitting with one leg over the other.”
Charles’ mouth contorted. “Those things don’t make you gay.”
“But you’d be okay if I started getting extra feminine?”
Charles frowns. “Drag is my thing. You can’t have that one either.”
Pickles shrugs. “I heard gay guys can’t drive so I guess you’re covered there too.”

Charles knows he’s being toyed with, but he still chooses to take the bait and drag Pickles over by the hips. “You got anything sexual we need to avoid while we’re making a list?”
Pickles’ leg shook. “Not sure that one’s possible.”
“Considering all your favourites include a top and a bottom, I could easily remove the “gay” ones.”
Pickles’ face scrunched up. “Fine. The sex can be gay. How’s that?”
Charles rocked his head while thinking about it. “I think I can handle that.” He let the man go.

Pickles stepped away, still mildly annoyed. “I just don’t want this to become my personality, ya know? Remember that first night and I was surprised at myself for telling you about my bisexuality?”
“Why do you say it like it's a disability?”
Pickles groans. “Because you tell a guy that you like both, and then they start acting weird, like you’re trying it on with them, or they start pointing at random guys and sayin’ ‘is that one your type?’ or they think it’s hilarious and start making everything about dicks. The only reason anyone has needed to know what I’m into is if they were showing me interest, like some sort of open secret. I don’t want what I like to be the main takeaway about who I am.”

Charles thinks he gets it. “You’re describing your band’s behaviours.”
Pickles fell into his forearms on the edge of the basket. “And you were right. You wanted to keep it quiet and now everyone’s acting weird.”
Charles stood next to him. “I don’t think that’s got anything to do with your sexuality, more to do with you moving out and settling down.”
Pickles sighs. “I just want Nathan to stop makin’ me feel bad for it.” He stands up and takes a deep breath. “He’s complained every night about you, and me and us and I don’t know what else he wants from me.”

Charles starts looking for the right words. “I think it’s just something he’ll get over when he’s ready. Just like you, he might have some underlying issues he’s dealing with.”
Pickles rolled his eyes. “Pft. I don’t have underlying issues.”
“You literally just got mad at yourself for being too gay when you’re actually mad at Nathan for treating you differently regardless of it.”
Pickles gave him a look. “I don’t wanna go back to how things were, but I want him to talk to me how we talked after Snakes N Barrels. How he talked to me after our first record. After our first tour. After Mordland. After Abigail. Why can’t he talk to me like I’m his friend?”

“What do you want to be associated with?” Charles asks.
“Well I- I’m Pickles the drummer.”
“Right, but you’re only there when legally obligated.”
“I was a dangerous alcoholic.”
“Was,” Charles reminds him.
“I’m of Snakes N Barrels fame.”
“Before Nathan even knew you.”
Pickles sighs.
Charles holds his hand. “You’ve changed. For the better I might add but you can’t blame him for struggling with that change.”
“I know,” Pickles admits.

Charles has some to the conclusion that Pickles doesn’t even know what he wants. He wants to live out his domestic life with him, but he doesn’t want to let go of Nathan who only exists in a world that can’t coincide with the life Pickles wants to live in.

Charles looks away while he says it. “I know you just said you don’t want your entire identity to be that we have sex, but I did plan a scene if you wanted it.”
Pickles gives him an offended look. “What kinda question is that? Yes, I want it.”
Charles smiles and wraps his arms around him back to front. Pickles holds his arms around his midriff. The moment is almost romantic, but Pickles knows something horrible is coming that will be rewarded with sex.
“What’s the scene?”
Charles’ hands drift down while he whispers, “I’m not wearing gloves.”
Pickles gasps as ice cold hands land on his bare skin under the jackets he’s wearing. It makes him stand straight, but fails to break out of Charles’ grip. “Fuck, that’s cold.”

Charles hands slide lower, digging under his waistband.
“No no no no no,” Pickles laughs with buckled knees. “Stop it,” he laughed, knowing full well Charles is only going lower.
Charles held him back to front into the wall of the basket. He works his way under Pickles' briefs and takes hold of his cock while his hands are still cold. The man is twisting and tensing in his arms and he likes it. Pickles’ struggling is always motivation to carry on.

Pickles hisses through his teeth. He’s hard, but the cold hands stroking his length are a new sensation he’s not sure he was ready for. He loves to hate the suspense. What is Charles’ plan? Does he want him to finish like this? Is it just sensory play? Is there something else coming? He grips the edge of the basket and laughs to himself.

Charles quietly smiles behind him. He does have a plan. It’s something new so Pickles will hopefully appreciate it, but that's not guaranteed. He continues to hold and stroke Pickles back to front, the cold air only kept at bay by their warm clothes. It’s all intentional, just part of the game. “How are you feeling?”
“Cold,” Pickles says abruptly. “I’m losing feelin’ in my dick,” he sniggers.
Charles rests his head over Pickles’ shoulder. “You want me to warm it back up?”
Pickles’ change in expression could be felt with his sudden change in tone. “Oh. I mean- If- We ur … haven’t done that.. This way around.”
Charles lets go, but keeps his hands under Pickles’ clothes. “If you don’t want that-”
“Oh, no, I do, I just …don’t know how this is gonna feel?”
“Me neither, honestly.”
Pickles went back to smiling. “Well, okay.”

Pickles has many conflicting feelings while turning around to Charles on his knees. Like a parallel universe where something went horribly wrong. He bottled the feeling up and let Charles get his cold cock out with his cold hands and rip a rubber open. Now things felt a little more normal. If he was laid down or tied up, this could be the start of any scene, and that normalises it a bit.

Charles has no idea what he’s doing. The last time he tried this was before Dethklok was Dethklok. It went bad. Not that Pickles needs to know that.

Pickles gasped and gripped the basket while trying not to look at Charles. “Teeth, Charles.”
The other man didn’t realise his teeth had touched him.

Pickles cocks his head while trying to picture what Charles is currently doing. His breathing isn’t right. The back and forth movement isn’t consistent. Even the pressure Charles is putting on him is throwing him off. Sure, he’s got his cock in his mouth, and the warmth is nice, there's too many things that aren’t, and leaving him to just keep going is only making it worse.

“Charles, I’m sorry, can we stop?”
Charles sat further back. “I’m sorry about that.”
Pickles couldn’t bear staring down at him, so he sat down too and covered himself up while he was at it. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not hurt of anything-”
“No, I get it. I’m not-” Charles’ eyes shot to the sky. “-experienced or anything.”

Pickles feels awful for the guy. Why didn’t he tell him?

Charles has no idea how to move this forward.

Pickles held his arm. “I mean, you didn’t do anything wrong exactly.”
“You don’t have to try and make me feel better. I just hope I’ve not dashed any of your expectations,” Charles said, staring at the floor.
Pickles cocked his head while holding his knees. “No, not exactly.” He paused. “Did you wanna talk about it?”

Charles only holds himself tighter. “What is there to talk about?”
Pickles held back anger. He’s going to be compassionate because Charles is only salty because he can’t handle failure. He tries a more gentle method. “Maybe you shoulda told me you needed some guidance.”
Charles looks like a pouty child getting told off.
Pickles doubles down. “You said it yourself. Don’t act like you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not,” Charles said abruptly before taking a breath and trying again with a calmer voice. “I just wasn’t exacting to still be this bad at it.”

Pickles loosened up. “Still? What do you mean ‘still’?”
“Like I said, very little experience, and I’m sorry I didn’t say something.” Charles still won’t look at him. “I really wanted to be better without asking for help. There are a lot of factors out of my control here, and I think I embarrassed myself.”
Pickles relaxed further. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve had worse.”
Charles broke into awkward laughter.
Pickles joined in. “I’m being serious. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings and made up an emergency so I could get out of it.”
Charles finally smiled at him. “But you didn’t mind hurting my feelings?”
“We stop scenes all the time. Usually you’re okay with it.”
Charles starts sinking again. “Yeah, sorry. I think my ego got in the way.”

Pickles rolled his eyes and shuffled closer to his boyfriend. The man nervously looked up and was pulled into a reassuring kiss.

“We’ll figure it out.”
Charles nods. “We’ll figure it out.”

Pickles tapped his fingers on the base of the basket. “Not that I’m trynna rush anything, but how long we gonna be up here?”
Charles checked his watch. “I booked it for an hour. We should probably start trying to land.”
Pickles picked himself up and offered Charles a hand, but Charles ignored it and got up himself. “I know your ego’s a little bruised, but you don’t have to be a dick.”
Charles went back to the pulleys. “I’m not being a dick. I just want to do some things by myself.”
Pickles rolled his eyes and looked over the edge by himself. “You don’t like asking for help, even when it’s something you want too.”
Charles didn’t look at him either. “Maybe I’d like to struggle by myself.”
“Fine. But you don’t get drag me down when you’re struggling by yourself.”

Charles sighed. “I said I was sorry.”
“I’m not mad the scene ended. I’m mad that you’re taking it out on me.”
“I’m not taking it out on you.”
Pickles turned around to meet him looking over his shoulder. “You’re mad at yourself. Just admit it!”
Charles’ mouth straightened to a line and turned away again. “I- I’m not in control of my feelings right now and I don’t know what to do about it. Gimme a minute.”

Pickles cocked his head, confused. “Huh?”
“I’m trying to work out what I need. Gimme a minute.”
Pickles is still confused, but he supposes they’ve never had an argument, so he has no idea how he deals with things that throw him off. The best he can do for him is turn away and give him that space he needs.

The air is cold. The silence is painful. The world below is still beautiful, but his appreciation of it has been dimmed by the moment.

“How-” Charles starts only to quietly cut himself off. “Never mind.”
Pickles waits again for him to decide how he wants to handle this.

Charles does eventually try again. “Did I do any of it right?”
Pickles can hear that Charles still isn’t okay, but at least he’s making some sort of effort. “Urm … No, not really.”
“Oh,” Charles says, sounding disappointed. “What ur .. Should I have done?”
Pickles holds his arm, still looking over the edge. “Urm, maybe gone a little slower, or like -- used your hand first. I’m sorry, I feel so stupid telling you this stuff. I feel like it’s something you figure out as you go, not something you plan… exactly.”

The balloon went quiet again.

Pickles looked over his shoulder to see Charles still looking away with his head down. Maybe he’s thinking.

Charles raised his head and spoke to the void in front of him as if Pickles was there. “Maybe I should have talked to you while it was happening?”
Pickles was still looking over his shoulder at him. “If I’m being honest, it felt really weird looking down at you.”
Charles was still talking in the wrong direction. “So maybe the location was wrong?”
“More… the position?”
Charles nodded. “If we tried again, is there anything else I should take into consideration.”

Pickles had fully turned to talk to the back of his head. “There’s lots o’ things, Charles. Maybe a practice run. Maybe watchin’ your teeth. Maybe telling me what I can do with my hands. I don’t fuckin’ know. What do you want from me here?”
Charles shrugs. “Closure, I guess?”
“Closure, huh? Okay, well maybe you tell me the next time you’re gonna do something that you’re not very confident performing?”
“We do new stuff like once a week. You never ask for a heads up.”
“Because you do your research. And you ask me how I’m doing. You don’t get mad about your failure and then sulk in a corner.”
“I’m not in a corner.”
“Charles, can you please just talk to me.”

The space between them was quiet, but Charles hesitantly turned, as if he was fighting with himself.

Pickles waited, but he stayed quiet while looking right through him.

Charles waited.

Pickles broke. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to get it right, but you’re mad at me, and I’m mad at me, and I can’t fix it without trying again to get it right, which I can’t because you’re mad, and I’m mad-”
“Charles, calm the fuck down. Just tell me what you want from me.”

Charles needed another minute looking at the floor before opening his mouth. “I want to get it right next time.”
Pickles tried to smile. “For your sake, not mine.”
Charles lowered his head. “Yeah.”
Pickles playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I kinda guessed.” Pickles stepped closer. “You know if you need to get it right to be okay again, I’m okay with that.” He took his hand, but Charles didn’t hold it back.
“I think I fucked the mood up. This should have been a learning experience, not a scene.”

Pickles interlocked their fingers. “Had you told me-”
“I know, I know. I should have said something.”
“But I get why you didn’t.” Pickles pecked him on the cheek.
Charles took a deep breath and finally looked at him. “I’m very sorry I took out my frustrations on you. Usually I can go somewhere else, or talk about something else, or change tactics, but we’re kinda trapped up here. Thank you for being patient with me.”

Pickles looked over the edge and back to Charles. “I know we’ve had this conversation about your response to emotions, but I honestly didn’t know this was one of them.”
Charles shrugs. “I built a world around myself where I wouldn’t ever be trapped. I lived in a world where no one could make a decision for me. What happens around me has been decided for me, by me. I didn’t mean to remove you from it.”
Pickles sits down. “It hurt a little bit when you asked me to give you some space, but I know you needed it.”
Charles sat down with him. “I’m sorry about that. We’ve never had an argument before, and I’ve never --” Charles stopped himself. “I don’t want the first and last time we try that to be associated with an argument. Honestly, I have no idea how to move forward from here.”

Pickles smiles. Charles sounds like he’s back to normal. “We shoulda just done what we always do when we stop.”
“Talk?”
“Well I’d like to talk about it, but you obviously need something else.”
Charles looked down and then back up. “Action?”
“You like reassurance that we’ll get it right next time.”
“Yeah.”
“So next time you need space, we can talk about what we need to make it work, whenever that is, okay?”
Charles nods. “Okay.”
“You ur … feelin’ better?”
Charles raises his eyebrows. “Yes, I feel better. Thank you.”

Pickles takes a relieved breath. “I think we handled that well.”
Charles looks around. “I still wish it hadn’t happened though.”
“I’m kinda glad it did. I mean, it was gonna happen at some point. Kinda glad we know what to expect now.”
“I promise, when I ask for space it’s not because I’m mad at you-”
“I know,” Pickles says, desperately trying to reassure him. “And even if you were, I know you’d let me know what I’d done.”
“Thank you.” Charles held his knees. “My .. temper has been the breaking point of previous relationships.”
Pickles sniggered. “What temper? Your version of angry is looking mildly frustrated.”
“I know very few people who can deal with another person being in full control of everything they do.”

Pickles can picture a young Charles making decisions on a woman’s behalf that would piss her off. What she wears, how she eats, where she spends money. All those things he likes Charles controlling might be removing another person’s autonomy.

Charles throws his head back against the basket. “We should be landing soon.”
Pickles gets on his knees to peek over the edge, but he can’t see shit. “How’d you work that out?”
“Based on altitude and rate of decent-” The balloon hit the ground and both of them jumped and screamed.

“Where the fuck are are?”
“The ground.”
Pickles gave Charles the most annoyed face.
Charles smiled back at him.

Chapter Text

Another day, another country.

The boys leave the stage and Pickles runs into Charles’ arms.

The rest of the band just watch the two of them, all with the same quiet and bored expression. Except Toki, who finally breaks. “What ams you two ups to tonight?”
Nathan hit him. “Toki, I seriously don’t want to know.”
Charles was wiping the make up from Pickles’ face. “Actually we screwed up a scene yesterday so we’re going to karaoke.”

Everyone went quiet again.

“You’re doing what?” Nathan said bluntly.
Pickles answered while scraping his arms clean. “We’re gonna have a few drinks and sing badly for other drunk people. Gonna be awesome.”

Murderface said it first. “I want that.”
Charles threw the towel and started backing them out of the room. “Kinda gay. Not the sort of thing you guys would be into.”
Pickles smiles, he knows what Charles is doing.

The rest of the band goes quiet while the other two leave.

As soon as the door closes, Toki folds his arms. “I wants to do regular jack off activities.”
Skwiss joins in. “They says we can’ts, and now I wants it more. What ams this black magic?”
Murderface leans forward. “It’s called reverse psychology. It’s when someone says you can’t, so you want to have it even more than when you weren’t thinkin’ about it.”
Nathan growled. “This is bullshit. We’re a band. We’re supposed to do stuff as a band!”

Murderface raises his head. “Well, just because we weren’t invited, doesn’t mean we CAN’T go.”
Toki and Skwiss start nodding.
Nathan catches on. “Right. What if we also wanted to hit up a few bars and just …”
“Meets them by acskident.” Skwiss finished his point.

Toki points. “Whats about the girls? Whats if they ams really goings to a gay bar?”
Skwiss answers. “Hows would anyone knows if you ams straight?”
Murderface nods along. “Right. We could p r e t e n d to be gay.”
Nathan winced. “Oh, Murderface, no.”
“I don’ts mind. It just pretend.” Toki responded.
Skwiss offered his hand to Toki who put his hand over the other man’s, taking the lead. “Okay, let’s go.”
Toki led the way.

Nathan was left behind with Murderface.

Murderface opened his mouth, but Nathan beat him to it. “You fuckin’ touch me, I’ll kill you.”

Meanwhile, Pickles and Charles had made it to the bar and had already put their names down. This was part of the game. Charles had a bad habit of picking Snakes n Barrels songs, and Pickles purposefully picked the sappiest love songs available. The aim is simply to embarrass the other with a high dose of cringe until one of them concedes. Pickles likes to pick 80’s love ballads while Charles’ favourite falls under alternative rock and rap of all things.

Pickles fell into the bar while Charles has worked his way into a table with a bunch of strangers. Pickles’ isn’t sure how he does it, but left to his own devices, Charles is very good at making friends.

The bar man spots Pickles. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, brandy and like 5 shots. Whatever’s quickest to make.”
The bar man nodded and got to it.

Then a blonde lady taps Pickles on the shoulder. “Oh my god, you’re Pickles the drummer.”
Pickles quickly looked around for paparazzi or security. Looks like Charles hasn’t secured the area. “Not tonight I’m not.”
“This is so cool. Can I get an autograph?”
“Dude, I appreciate, but seriously, kinda tryna lay low.”

Then the moment was interrupted by the loud and distinct voices of Nathan Murderface, Skwisgaar and Toki.
“Oh dear god, no,” Pickles hissed through his teeth.
The lady gasped. “Oh my gosh, it’s Dethklok!”
Pickles is about to punch his band mates. “Excuse me.”

Nathan stopped smiling as Pickles ran up to him and stopped the group in their tracks. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”
Nathan shrugged. “We wanted to come too.”
“But we didn’t want you guys here. Go screw sluts or something. Pick ANY other bar!”
Murderface intervened. “Pickles, we’re your band. We’re like family-”
Pickles punched Murderface. “You’re a bunch of babies that think you’re missing out. I want a life outside of you guys!”

Charles joined Pickles’ side. “Guys, what are you doing here?”
“We wants to join in.”
Charles sighed.
Pickles was still seething.
Charles snapped his fingers at Nathan’s walkie talkie. “Nathan, do the thing.”

Nathan almost forgot the procedure for this. He pulled up the walkie talkie. “Ur … Security?”
“Reading you loud and clear, sir.”
“Ur…” Nathan scratched the back of his head. “I need you to do that thing with the contracts.”
“Non Disclosure agreements?”
“Ur.. yeah. I think.”
“Yes sir.”

Charles rolls his head toward Pickles. “Not ideal, but not impossible.”
Pickles growled to himself and turned away from the group to go calm down.

“I know we’re kinda gate crashing, but doesn't this seem kinda extreme?” Nathan asked.
Charles looked mildly annoyed. “You tell him off for doing his own thing, then you join him trying to do his own thing, and you’re confused as to why that pissed him off?”
Toki held his arm. “Maybe we should have asked first?”
Charles covers his face.

Pickles hid in the bathroom and splashed his face with water. He just needs a minute to get used to Dethklok intruding on his regular person lifestyle. Hopefully they can all just do normal people stuff, have a few drinks, sing some songs and go home when they’re tired.

But then the thought crosses his mind. What if they brought hard drugs? What if they get stupid and curse stuff happens? What if he loses Charles because he’s got to pick between them? He punches the mirror. Why do they have to ruin totally normal activities?

He decided he’s just going to set some boundaries and they can leave if Dethklok ruins it. Easy.

Back in the bar, Dethklok have split up. Murderface and Toki have paired up to duet a song, Nathan and Skwiss have found a bunch of girls on a night out and Charles is back at the table with the other couples. Pickles calms back down. The room is normal. Comparatively normal.

Charles moves so Pickles can sit down. “Pickles, did you wanna order some food or …?”
Pickles tried to remember what he was doing before his little outburst. “Ur .. I think I was ordering shots actually?”
The table goes ‘oohh.’

Charles puts his hand over Pickles’ under the table. “The time zone shift makes meal planning difficult.”
One of the ladies at the table waves it off. “You know, we have exactly the same problem when we get back from vacation.”
Pickles relaxes considerably as the group around the table talk about civilian problems and listen to their minor complaints of some middle aged woman enjoying her weekend.

The random guy singing on stage draws to a close and the crowd claps.
“Pickles?” The man on stage asks through the microphone.

Pickles confidently stands up. Charles sinks into his shoulders and braces for impact.

Pickles takes the stage and Frank Sinatra starts playing while Pickles smuggly stands onstage for an audience of drunk nobody’s who don’t care who he is.
“Strangers in the night exchanging glances
Wondering in the night-”
Charles tries to hide in his shoulder but he knows for a fact that Pickles is staring straight at him and making a complete ass of himself on that stage.

Nathan looks over the small group of women between himself and Skwisgaar to watch Pickles being a dramatic showman on stage, twirling around with the microphone and making goo-goo eyes at Charles. Charles looks wildly uncomfortable. Nathan isn’t sure he’ll ever understand, but Pickles looks like he’s back in his element.

Pickles enjoys singing. He enjoys the lack of pressure at the bar. Even though the setting is familiar with a stage, lights, microphone and crowd, it’s not the same feeling as a show. This feels way more personal. This is for Charles. A public display of affection.

The song draws to a close and the crowd half heartedly claps. He gives the mic back knowing Charles is next.

Pickles runs to the bar where Nathan is waiting for him.
“So… That was weird.”
Pickles takes his tray of drinks he forgot about earlier. “It’s about to get weirder.”

Dethklok starts playing as Charles’ song.

Every member of the band freezes upon hearing it and slowly turns to see a very smug Charles waiting for the lyrics.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Nathan says without moving his dropped jaw.
Skwiss points. “He can’ts do that!”
Pickles turns away and takes one of his shots. “He can, he will and he’s about to.”

The song starts and everyone winces, but Charles does know the words and he is giving it all, just without the gravel that usually comes with Nathan’s voice.

Not a single member of the band looks okay. Pickles tries not to look at him. Skwiss is listening for his own guitar which struggles through the crappy karaoke recording. Toki looks at Murderface who is just stunned that Pickles is allowing this. Nathan looks the most upset. It’s not that he’s singing badly. It’s just the fact Charles is singing one of their songs. In front of them. Well.

“He ur… he’s got pipes.”
Pickles scoffs. “Imagine this in Facebone’s voice.”
Nathan shuddered.

Charles continues to simply stare at the back of Pickles while blasting through the song and smiling at it. The whole scene is eerie and uncomfortable. That’s the aim.

The song ends and Charles simply hands the mic back while the crowd claps considerably louder.

Charles runs to Pickles who dares to look over his shoulder at him. The man leaned over him and picked a shot from the tray up and downed it, scaring Nathan and Skwiss even further.
“Oh! Good lord, I didn’t like that. What is it?”
Pickles hands him his brandy. “I think it’s Russian Cocaine.”
Charles takes a swig of his brandy to wash it out.

Pickles takes the tray. “What are we doing for the rest of the night?”
Charles follows him back to the table. “We getting drunk or are we having sex?”
Pickles mentally fights with himself as they walk as a pair through the crowd. “Honestly, I could go either way.”
Charles sighed while trying to make the decision. “You wanna get drunk?”
Pickles offers the tray to their new friends. “Gonna be an expensive night.”
Charles sits down. “I think we can afford it.”
Pickles sits down next to him and receives a peck on the cheek.

Murderface and Toki get the stage next. Murderface stands with his legs really far apart and Toki bounces by his side. The music starts, and it's far too upbeat for the rest of the band, but they watch as the first line is yelled by Murderace. “YO, tell ya what I want, what I really want.”
Followed by Toki. “So tell me whats you want, whats you really really wants.”

Charles cringed. “Oh god, they’re singing Spice Girls.”
Pickles sank into his seat. “Nah, yours was still harder to listen to.”

Toki and Murderface sing badly and bounce off each other, getting increasingly louder and more aggressive through the song.

Nathan started re-reading the song selection. “I suddenly feel safer picking a female song.”
Skwiss covertly starts reading with him. “Does they have ABBA?”

Murderface fell to his knees at one point while Toki danced around behind him.

Pickles covered his face. Charles almost looked scared.

But the song ended and Pickles yelled through the crowd without moving his head “GAY,”
Murderface started looking for the voice but he couldn’t tell where it came from, just that people were laughing as Toki tried to drag him from the tiny stage.

Nathan hummed. “You think I can get away with Livin La Vida Loca?”
Skwiss takes the menu from him. “Only if I gets to join you.”

Toki was already writing his name down again. His song was Hollaback Girl.

Murderface fell toward the bar but was still looking for their heckler.

Pickles promises he’s not going to shout it again, but Charles didn’t say stop.

The night went on with drinks while the boys picked their singing partners and Pickles tried desperately to sing songs that would annoy Charles and Charles would return the favour. Can't Touch This was attempted. Far too much Britney Spears was played. I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing and Wake Me Up Before You Go Go were Pickles and Charles’ final attempts at humiliation before giving up.

By the time Murderface was drunk enough to sing Get the Party Started by Pink the others were struggling to get onto the stage. Nathan spent half the night trying to remember the words to American Pie. Toki had a bash at Girlfriend. Skwiss forgot how to speak English and started singing songs in the wrong language.

Charles held Pickles in a booth, cuddled up to his front while he held his phone and filmed the carnage. Pickles stays quiet between sets, but eventually asks, “We’re gonna show them this footage, right?”
“Oh yeah.”
Pickles snuggles in further. “Good.”

Chapter Text

The boys have still not forgiven Pickles or Charles for playing their drunken escapades back to them.

Another show, another country and they’re pretty sure they’ve made it to the UK. It’s been a rough few weeks.

Nathan is getting sick of being woken up with a hang over to be asked questions about show preparation. The only thing worse than his daily wake up call is finding Pickles and Charles not only made it home safely and less fucked up than the rest of them, but also more awake and ready the next morning.

Charles happily sits by the fire while filing Pickles’ nails down. “What’s today's gimmick, Nathan?”
“No gimmick. We just play the songs and get drunk afterwards.”
Charles nods along. “I think you’re bored.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
Charles accepts. “Anyway, we’re abiding by UK laws. Might go sightseeing.”
Nathan rolls his eyes and falls into a seat on the bus.

Murderface finally joins them. “I am never going to do regular jack off activities ever again.”
Pickles sniggers. “The point of regular jack off activities is the regular part. If you’re overdoing it, you’re doing it wrong.”
Charles finishes Pickle’s left hand. “I think they forgot how to be regular people.”
Murderface covers his face. “I remember it fucking sucking.”
“Oh, that reminds me. What’s England got going on in that department?” Pickles asks.
“They’re pretty casual about it,” Charles responds.
Pickles raises his eyebrows. “How casual?”

Nathan groans to himself. Tonight’s going to be a long night.

Charles finishes up and Pickles sits up to see his own nails. “See boys, that’s what boyfriends are for.”
“You want me to get your toenails next?”
Murderface and Nathan goan very loudly. “Can you please leave the room if you’re gonna do that?”
Pickles stood up. “I think we need to leave the room regardless.”
Charles followed Pickles out of the main lounge.

Murderface waits until they leave the room. “I’m so sick of seeing them acting like that. It’s sickening.”
Nathan grumbled after him.

Somewhere down the corridor, Pickles and Charles have made it to their room. After he left, Charles’ room was converted into a closet, but since they came back for the tour, everything they left in place for Pickles has been modified for Charles’ use too.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Pickles asked.
Charles hummed. “We could enjoy the sights England has to offer.”
“Or?”
“Or we could pick somewhere a little more underground, if that’s what you were interested in?”
“Is this a Claire type situation?”
“Hm. I don’t think so.”

The pair reach the room, now much cleaner and with more Charles friendly equipment and lighting.
“What ur .. what are we doing until the show?”
Charles smiles at him. “I was hoping we could pick up where I fucked up a few days ago?” Charles walks the man backwards into a wall and kisses him there, letting his hands roam and letting Pickles touch back.
“Well you know I don’t got a problem with it,” he says nose to nose with his boyfriend.

Charles holds his face and kisses him one last time before falling to his knees.
Pickles basically screamed and pulled his shirt over his crotch. “No, no, no, no, I got a problem with it.”
Charles sighed and sat more comfortably. “I didn’t even do anything this time.”
Pickles quickly came to the floor with him. “I can’t- I just-” He sighs and gives up. “You’re supposed to be on top.”
Charles just worked it out. “Oh…..”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ve derailed it before it even got going.”
Charles held his hand. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

Pickles hit the back of his head on the wall. “I don’t like looking down at you,” he said with his eyes closed.
Charles remembered their conversation from the last attempt. “Where would you prefer to be?”
“Urm… Laid down works.”
Charles climbed over him for a kiss which helped ground them both, but neither moved from the floor.

“Can I do this from here, or would you prefer the bed-”
“Oh, here.” Pickles started pulling his own jeans out of the way. “Why’d you even have to ask?”
Charles quietly laughs. “You told me to ask.”
“And you know I got a thing about fuckin’ in weird places. C’mon man, you know me better than this,” Pickles excitedly says pushing the trousers past his knees.
Charles rolled his eyes and retrieved a square packet from his pocket. “I’m still underneath you though.”

The wrapper was put in Pickles’ teeth. “Nuh, I’m kinda trapped here.”
Charles used his mouth to rip the wrapper open. “Oh, see now I know what you’re doing.”
Pickles only slid further down the wall. “What do I do with my hands? I know you don’t like .. touching-”
“No, I don’t like stroking or petting.”
Pickles nods. “Oh okay.”
Charles looks stuck. “What do I do exactly, when .. ya know?”
“Ur …” Pickles actually had to think about it. “Start with your hands.”
Charles nods and follows that instruction, dragging the rubber over his cock and warming up the old fashioned way.

Pickles sank into his shoulders and laughed. “I’m so sorry. This is surreal.”
“But you want me to keep going?” Charles said hopefully.
Pickles nodded vigorously. “Oh fuck yeah. And keep going when you use your mouth.”
Charles looks confused. “But you don’t do that.”
Pickles really needs him to stop talking, or stop touching him. “There's not one way of doing it,” Pickles desperately blurts out. “Fuck, you’re good at that.”
“You mentioned teeth last time.”
“Charles, are you delaying this on purpose, or are you fucking with me?”

Charles smiled and eased his hands motions. “Little bit of both.”
Pickles laughed to himself. “This is surreal. Okay. Ur … Maybe try covering your teeth..? You want the lips to do the work.”
Charles raised an eyebrow. “You don’t do that either.”
“Charles, for the love o’ god.”
Charles rolled his eyes and fell forward, taking Pickles’ cock in his mouth as instructed.

Pickles’ nails dug into the floor while his back pushed into the wall. He didn’t mean to gasp, or jolt, but he’s already slowly building just from Charle’s hand.

Charles can’t say he’s enjoying this, but Pickles’ uncoordinated breathing and short kicks under his torso are bringing him joy.

Pickles kept his hands out of the way. His body was too hot. His clothes were becoming a restraint. He can’t take a full breath. The feeling is tearing through him but not building beyond where Charles brings him.
“Charles- wait- hold- hold on.”
Charles pulls himself up, but his hand doesn’t let go. “Please give me good news.”
“You’re doing great-” Pickles rushes out, “but I really need you to use your tongue, just above the piercing. Please.”

Charles appreciates the impatience in his voice, and the blush on his face. It’s only just occurred to him that the last time he got to do this was the last time he had a woman in his bed (or wherever she just so happened to be at the time.) “Okay.”

Pickles shuddered into his shoulders as Charles bobbed back down and started again, closing his mouth around the tip and letting his hand do most of the work.
“Oh .. Fuck….”
Charles just carried on. He’s not moving much. He assumes the tongue thing is working for him, because now his cock is twitching and Pickles’ hand has just found the back of his head. He’s not pushing or grabbing. He’s just holding his head and moaning through an open mouth.

Pickles’ whole body falls into a sweet tension. His toes curl and his breathing is hard, but he’s so very at peace in himself. “Charles, do not stop what you’re doing.”
Charles isn’t sure whether he should look at him, or try to communicate back. He’s glad to be doing it right, and the extra contact is making him feel better. Pickles’ moaning and tummy tightening every few seconds definitely works for him.

Pickles’ has lost control of his face. The moment is happening whether he likes it or not and the fact his boyfriend has taken him on the floor, fully dressed and is hitting every good spot he can possibly can-

The moment is ruined by someone banging on the door.

Pickles and Charles freeze.

“Pickles!”

Pickles and Charles look angry at the door.

Nathan tries again. “Pickles. I need to talk to Charles.”

Charles and Pickles give each other the same unsure face.

Nathan goes quiet.

Pickles nods in the direction of the door. Charles shakes his head and looks at Pickles’ cock. In retaliation, Pickles rips the rubber off and starts dressing himself. Charles sighs with annoyance and looks away.

“What’d ya need Nathan?” Pickles asks.
Nathan pauses. “Are you guys doing sex stuff?”
“No,” “Yes,” they said at the same time. Then they both look annoyed at each other.

Nathan half gives up. “The fucking venue cancelled and I don’t know how to handle it.”
Charles suddenly gives the door his full attention. “This late notice? Were any refunds given?”
Pickles quietly mocks him only for Charles smack his leg which he quietly yelped about.

Nathan keeps going. “I don’t know. The Klokateers keep asking me stupid questions and I don’t know how to answer them.”

Charles gives Pickles one more look, asking for permission to answer. Pickles looks away but nods him in the direction of the door. Charles drags the man in for one last kiss before responding to Nathan. “We need to talk to the venue and go over the contract you sent them.”
“It was the same one you sent them the last time we were here.”
Charles got up and helped Pickles up. “What year?”
“How the fuck should I know?”

Nathan jumped back as Charles opened the door and Pickles sat with his arms folded on the edge of the bed scowling at him. He just knows he interrupted something, but Charles is much more invested in the band's finances than Pickles right now.
“I need the phone number and a copy of the contract.”
“Ur….” Nathan trailed off.
Charles pinches his brow. “Let me get my laptop.”

*

The bus pulled up badly somewhere in England. Charles stood before the group in a familiar display Pickles would have been happy to never see again, yet here they are, the band waiting on an announcement from their manager.

“I’m sorry I have to be the one to deliver this news, but due to ..ur, recent developments, you have a choice to make. 2 days off and you lose money, or we rush a booking at another arena and carry on with the tour. I’m sure you all have a lot to consider-”
“DAYS OFF!” Toki screamed.
“I wants time off!” Skwiss yelled.
“Stops copies me.”
“You stops copies me.”
“Stops copies me!”

Charles turned to the other 3. “Anyone else?”
Pickles sneered at Nathan. “No comment.”
Nathan frowned. “It’s not my fault.”
Charles frowned. “It totally is. You didn’t answer a single call from this venue.”
“What is there to ask? We’re just reliving stuff we already did here!”
Pickles yelled over the other 2 copying each other. “Stuff changes, Nathan!”
Nathan looks offended. “And what do they want me to do about it?”
“Respond, maybe?”

Murderface raises his hand. “I vote for time off .. if anyone was interested.”
Charles pointed at Murderface. “3 votes out of 5. Days off it is.”

Pickles threw himself down into his seat and pouted. “Fuckin’ awesome. Get called out on a tour ‘n’ we get an extra weekend while we travel through fuckin’ Europe.”
Nathan groaned. “Why are you mad about a few days off?”
“Ur, I dunno, maybe because I’m stuck with you assholes in a foreign country and I can’t even do my job!”
Skwiss suddenly rejoins the conversation. “We could always practice?”
Pickles got to his feet and stormed off.

“What’s gotten to him?” Toki asks.
Charles knows what’s really wrong, but he’s not going to tell his band he’s just frustrated. Pickles’ little outbursts are usually Dethklok related, so he’s just going to leave the group assuming it’s because of them.

Meanwhile, Pickles goes back to their room and paces. He knows he’s frustrated, but he’s entirely waiting on Charles to build a scene or give him permission to deal with it. He’s not sure how this keeps happening, but he’s going to kill the next intrusion.

Pickles throws himself on the bed and screams into a pillow.

He supposes it's not that bad. He does get a few days off. Maybe Charles will reward his patience.

Then Charles knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”
“It’s your room too,” Pickles responds.
“I’d like to know my presence isn’t a disturbance.”

The door opens and Pickles stands on the other side smiling. “Oh no, my boyfriend. I’m so disturbed.”
Charles enters and closes the door behind him while Pickles sits on the edge of the bed. “So I know you’re pissed because Nathan interrupted us-”
“Yes, I’m fuckin’ pissed. Then not only did he fuck up our moment, he fucked up the venue.”
“Granted, he fucked up the venue, but now I need to know how you’d like to make best use of the time we’re here.”
Pickles shrugged. “I dunno man. We got 2 more days to fill. I just thought we could go on a date night or see the sights or go on a little excursion. I have no idea how to fill 2 days.”

Charles sat next to him. “We could do a few things. Maybe plan some day and night time activities.”
“Like what?” Pickles said, hopelessly.
Charles thought about it. “You want me to break Claire out?”
“You know I love Claire, but I still have no idea what to do with her.”
Charles’ eyes flicked down. “We could … make some friends.”
Pickles smiles. “Uh huh. And these friends would be .. of the female persuasion?”
Charles nods. “If you’re into that.”
“Huh. Okay. That should keep us busy for a little while.”
Charles smiled. “A while? I could have us hooked up in less than 6 hours.”
Pickles senses a challenge. “Bet. No contacts. No contracts. No kink scene. First to find a woman willing wins.”
Charles’ eyes flash bright for a second. “You’re on.”

*

Pickles had a whole plan in his head. He and Charles love a good competition, and with no stakes, Charles was bound to agree. The rules are simple. The aim is simply to get a woman to agree to have sex with them. No drugs, no alcohol, no status involved.

Pickles leaned against the door with his arms folded. All he’s got to do is talk to women like people and be funny. It worked before he got famous. But he was nearly always drunk before he got famous. He was always drunk afterwards too.

Then Charles walks down the corridor wearing a Dethklok t-shirt.
“What the fuck is that?”
Charles smirks. “A conversation starter.”
Pickles looks down at his own collared shirt and leather jacket. “There’s no fuckin’ way that’s gonna work.”
Charles raised his eyebrows. “I did think about bringing Claire out, then decided against it. I can win this as myself just fine.”
Pickles nods. “Okay smart guy. I pick the bar.”
“Be my guest.”

Pickles is very sure he’s been set up to fail.

Charles is suddenly not sure his method is as fool proof as he thought.

*

Pickles couldn’t have picked a worse bar. It had a very long line full of men and women on very expensive nights out. High heels and hair gel seemed to be the current trend. Charles did put some work into his hair, but now he feels underdressed. Pickles however is feeling very left behind by the times. Leather’s just not in fashion and the skinny jeans are just not helping his case. He’ll be amazed if they're let in at all.
“Hey Charles,”
“Yes Pickles.”
“I know we said no status-”
“-I’ll allow it for entry.”
“Awesome.” Pickles dragged Charles to the front of the queue and stared the bouncer down.

The much larger man looked confused until Pickles folded his arms and spoke. “Are you gonna let us in, or are ya gonna stand there lookin’ like a total dildo?”
The man figured out who he was and stepped aside.

“Thank you.”
“No problem.”

The boys quickly parted and walked straight through the club to their designated area. Pickles had one plan. And only one plan. He bought a drink from the bar and walked straight through to the smoker section outside.

Charles however, fell into character and walked backward through the dance floor, purposely bumping into a random woman who turned with her drink to see Charles surprised and awkwardly trying to defend himself over the loud music.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t usually come to these places,” he says, faux desperately.
The woman looks at his t-shirt and smiles. “You like Dethklok?”
“They’re my fave.”

Meanwhile, Pickles puts his drink down and leans on a wall next to some random goth girl taking a drag by her lonesome in chains and ripped net leggings.
“Hey, I couldn’t bum a cigarette from ya, could I?”
The woman looks him up and down. “Cool dreads.” She reached into her jacket and broke open a packet for him to take one.
He pinched one and lit it himself. “Thanks.” He took a very heavy drag. “Fuck, I needed that.”
The woman cocks her head in his direction. “What’s that accent?”
“I’m from Wisconsin.”
“The states?”
“Yeah.”

Meanwhile, back inside, Charles has gotten very close to the woman and her friend from the dance floor.
“And that’s when the stage fell apart.”
The girls nodded and drank. “I can’t believe you actually got into one of their shows.”
Charles waved it off. “Oh, I know some people.” The other one handed Charles a drink but he kept talking and just put it down. “Are you girls here by yourselves? I assume you don’t come here regularly.”
The girls laugh. “Actually we live like .. around the corner.”
Charles’ face changed. The facade slowly fell off. “Really?”

Pickles had now accumulated a small army of punk and goth outcasts.
“I literally punched him in the face. Not seen him since.”
A dude with a mohawk nods at him. “That’s fuckin’metal.”
“You’re tellin’ me.”
The lady sighs. “I wish I coulda punched my dad. That would be awesome.”
“My boyfriend- ur… at the time- organised it actually.”
The group go “OooOooooo….”
Pickles rolls his eyes and takes a swig of his drink.

The lady rests on her fist. “What happened between you two? He sounds like a good guy.”
Pickles could feel his face going red. “We ur … We’re on a break.”
The other men scoff at him. “Go get him back. I don’t even know the guy but I already like him.”
The lady waves it off for him. “Let the man have his break. I want the drama.”
Pickles’ heart almost stops. “You like stories huh?”
She leans further in. “Yeah.”
He gulps. “I got plenty.”

Charles has easily moved things along with one of the girls. The blonde one was much more forward, taking the lead regularly while Charles slowly drops the pathetic act he’s got going. She has separated from`the other lady to talk to him more privately, but Charles knows he can’t keep this going forever.

She lifts his face to meet hers. “What’d you look so nervous for?” she says reassuringly.
“Urm, listen, I’ve been very disingenuous with you tonight. I can’t let this go any further without telling you the truth.”
She nervously smiles. “Charles, are you trying to tell me you’ve been lying to me all night?”
“Yes, actually, I have.” He holds his arm nervously. “You see, I’m actually in a relationship already.”
She steps back, slightly heart broken. “Oh.”
He steps forward. “Not that that’s what I was looking for. You should know because my boyfriend has challenged me to a game. If you were still interested in playing, I’d be happy to see this through. If not, I completely understand.”

The woman now looks confused. “I’m sorry, what?”
Charles doubles down. “My boyfriend is also trying to seduce women somewhere. I win if I do it first.”
She giggles. “That’s insane.”
“It’s fun,” he smiles.
She laughs even harder. “I’ve never heard of this game.” She takes a calming breath. “Okay. What do you need from me?”
“Either confirmation that we’re going to have sex, or more female connections.”
The young woman nods. “Can you keep being …” she tailed off. “Pathetic?”
He nods. “Unassuming and non-threatening? Happily.”

Meanwhile, Pickles has accumulated a small crowd of people who are invested in hearing the stories about his backstage adventures and his unbelievable stories of Charles.
“I told him we should go detox somewhere, ya know, get away from all the temptation. We landed, we saw a bar, we decided we need a final drink, ya know, cus we’re gonna spend the next week sober and doing yoga and shit, and then my buddy says that it wasn’t a very good last drink. So we order another one. And that just didn’t hit the spot either. Anyway, 20 shots, a bottle of vodka, jack, rum, beer and some coke later, we have completely forgotten why we were there.”
The group laughed.

Pickles continues. “We got back looking worse than when we got there. I don't think I ate any food the whole time I was supposed to be getting healthy, and that’s just the time I was tryna detox. You wanna know what happened when I tried to lose weight?”
The lady pokes his belly. “You look fine to me.”
“This is post Charles. I was not this well defined a few years ago.”
She grinned at him. “Sounds like he was good for you.”
“Boy was he.” Pickles instinctively reached for his collar.

Meanwhile, Charles has been introduced to many women over the last hour. The t-shirt is doing most of the work. Everyone has asked about his favourite album, or if he heard that rumour Pickles is dead. Charles has kept the conversation neutral and easily digestible, giving vague answers that give space for his partner to talk more about their own opinions.
“Did you hear their tour is on hold?”
Charles kept his posture tight and awkward. “I didn’t. What happened?”
The lady dancing before him closed her eyes. “I heard they got tired and gave up.”
“Where were they supposed to be playing?”
“Ur.. I dunno. Wonder what they’re up to now?”
Charles stepped closer. “What do you think they’re doing? Ya know Dethklok have a bad habit of getting into trouble.”
The lady laughs and leans in his direction. “Probably crashing cars and holding back Planet Piss.”
That took Charles by surprise. “You think they’re holding back Planet Piss?”
The lady sips her drink. “Mhmn. I think they gotta give the ugly one some screen time.”
Charles nods. “Is he your favourite by chance?”
The lady laughs. “Oh god no. I like Toki.”
“Why?”
“I got a thing for a sensitive guy who can hold his own.”
Charles smiled. “Is that what you’re looking for tonight?”
The woman looked him up and down while sipping her cocktail.

Pickles’ gang has gotten significantly smaller, leaving him and the goth girl alone in a corner of the smoker section.
“So.. you’re probably going back to him then,” she asks while they share another cigarette.
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
“Then what you doing all the way out here?” She took a drag while leaning on him but facing away.
Pickles took the cigarette back. “We’re ur … experimenting.”
She sniggered. “So you swing in both directions, huh?”
Pickles thinks he understands the phrase. “That's one way of wording it.”
She leans her head back on him. “Rebound or just for comparison's sake?”
“Ur …” He really has to think about it. “It’s just for fun. I know I’m going back to him. He knows I’m going back to him.”
She contentedly smiles. “Ya know, I’m gonna be really disappointed if you’re just makin’ this guy up.”
Pickles smiles. “You wanna meet him?”

Charles however was already at 2nd base with the woman he was introduced to last. She sat over his hips sideways while his hands roamed her body and she returned the favour. Charles can’t say he’s getting much out of this, but the excitement of winning Pickles’ little wager is putting fuel on the fire.

Then Pickles shows up with a woman who stinks of cigarettes and looks like Trindle’s older sister.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Charles and his blonde stare back. “Can I help you?”

Pickles nudges his female friend while they both stand over Charles with judgement in their eyes. “So what, you down for this or nah?”
The woman hums. “I wanna see where this is going first.”

The lady sat on Charles smiles with hope, but her eyes tell a different story. “Charles, do you know these people?”
“I know one of them.” He turns to Pickles. “What did you tell her?”
“That we’re … on a break.” Pickles raises his eyebrows, knowing Charles has to play along.
Charles quickly looks at the goth lady, and returns his attention to Pickles. “And she needs to meet me?”
“Yup.” Pickles smiles smuggly.

The other woman slowly removes herself from Charles’ grip. “I feel like I’m in the middle of something-”
Charles lets her go. “The situation is complicated, yes.”
She stands up and brushes herself down. “I ur … think I’m gonna go talk to my friend for a little while.”

The rest of the group watch Charles’ lady friend walk away.

Charles stands nose to nose with Pickles, who still hasn’t flinched, backed down or stopped smiling. “You did that on purpose.”
Pickles smiles. “So do I win?”
“Like hell you do.” Charles turns to the goth lady with much more understanding eyes. “Were you actually going to let this man take you home?”
“Depends on where he stands with you?”
“Did he tell you we’re competing for female attention?”
“No, he did not,” the lady said slowly, turning to Pickles.
Pickles raised his hands. “I.. was gonna tell ya.”

Charles stood by the lady’s side. “So what did you need from me?”
The lady shrugs. “He talks you up to impossible standards.”
Charles makes hard eye contact with Pickles. “Is that so?”
“Look c’mon-”
“Be quiet.”
“Yes sir.” Pickles concedes.
“What’s your name?” Charles asks the woman.
“Melissa.”
“Hi, I’m Charles,” he says, offering his hand. She takes it but he keeps talking over the music. “He’s in trouble for sabotaging the competition. What did you need from me to decide if he won?”
Melissa looks unsure. “He told us some stories about what you do together. I was looking for drama to be completely honest.”
Charles pulls the man over by the collar. Pickles falls into him and stays quiet. “No drama here, I’m afraid.” He looks down at Pickles who won’t look at him even though he’s facing the right way. “Looks like you lost too.”

Melissa looks concerned. “What the fuck is going on here exactly?”
“We’re trying to deal with some pent up frustration.”
“Because o’ you-” Pickles was cut off by a smack on his backside.
Charles keeps talking. “You can have him if you want, but he’s still in trouble.”
She shakes her head. “I’m curious, but not that curious.”
Charles smiles calmly. “Thank you for your time.” Pickles was dragged out by the collar.

“Charles, c’mon.” Pickles whines as they leave the bar. “You cannot blame me for that one.”
“I can, I will, I am. Had you not promised drama, we could have both won. All you had to do was tell her you want to take her home. Why didn’t you just tell her what you wanted?”
Pickles sighed as they walked. “Felt weird without involving you somehow.”
“If we were inviting a third into the equation, we should have planned for that. The bet was to split off, not regroup.”
“Why are you even mad? I know you wouldn’t have followed through.”
Charles gave him an annoyed look. “Winning was the aim, not getting laid.”
Pickles rolled his eyes. “Fine. We try another bar, or are we calling it quits?”

Charles had a few things to consider. Those girls lived near here. He could still pull this off if they stay in the area, but then he could easily take Pickles back to the bus and finish what they started, or even start a new scene punishing Pickles’ silly behaviour tonight.

Charles decides against it. Pickles has suffered enough. He did get his own back. Tonight should be about learning and having fun, not punishment.

Then a familiar face makes itself present through the darkness. Charles squints and the lady walks past him on the other side of the street studying him back.

“Edith?”
“Charles?”

Pickles has no idea what’s happening here.

Charles freezes as the woman looks between him and Pickles. She shakes her head with a confused expression. He looks equally lost, but nods instead.

Pickles is now slightly scared, as she marches over and Charles stands to attention for her.
“Ofdensen,” she begins. “What in gods name are you going here?”
“Would you believe me if I said work?”
“No. Not at all.”
Pickles interrupted. “I’m sorry, Edith, was it-”
“Be quiet. You were not invited into the conversation.”
Pickles shuts up but that kind of hurt.

Charles quickly comes to the rescue. “Edith, this is my boyfriend; Pickles.” He takes him by the hand.
Edith looks at him again. “Now you can introduce yourself.”
Pickles tries to offer her a handshake, but he’s scared of her. “Hi … nice to meet you.”
Edith takes it and shakes it really hard. “Nice to meet you.”

Pickles takes his hand back, but he’s sure she moved some bones around.
“What are you doing here?” Charles asks her.
“Starting fights with men.”
“Of course.”
Pickles looks the woman up and down. She’s dressed for a night out, but now he’s concerned about what’s in her handbag.

“Well, it was lovely seeing you again-”
Pickles stopped Charles. “Woah, woah, woah. No explanation or anything? Edith, who are you?”
She stares at him. “Vice Admiral Edith Larsen of the Royal Danish Navy. You are?”
“Pickles the drummer. Of Dethklok?”
Charles covered his face with an audible slap.
The woman cocks her head at him. “You were responsible for the apocalypse.”
“Yeah, that was us. Sorry about that.”
She looks even angrier. “Charles, did you know this?”
“Yeah, I was there.”
Now she’s confused again. “I thought you got that job?”
“I did. I got bored. Got into finance. Managed the biggest band on Earth. I’m retired now.”

Pickles curiously leans in. “What was the job?”
Both of them replied. “Classified.”
Pickles sinks.

Charles put his arms behind his back innocently. “Would you be interested in going for a drink with us tonight?”
She checks her watch. “I have time, but you are aware I’m on a personal mission.”
Charles smiles. “As were we until about 15 minutes ago.”
“Affirmative. Onwards.” She barges past and takes the two of them for a walk.

Charles and Pickles follow the woman but whisper about the situation. Charles already knows she can hear them, but he also knows Pickles won’t say anything that will upset her.
“Charles, who the fuck is this woman?”
“Do you remember you once asked me about my first girlfriend .. from school…”
Pickles’ eyes bulged. “HER?”
Charles quickly checked that Edith is still 4 steps ahead and still facing forward. “Yeah. She was my first. Not sure what she’s doing in England though.”
Pickles is still in shock. “Oh my god, she’s an ex. Charles, we’re hanging out with one of your exes!”
“Yes, I’m fully aware of that.”
“Doesn’t this feel weird for you?”
“No. Should it?”
Pickles doesn’t have an answer. He did say they stopped talking, not that they broke up. But that has got to have been about 20 years ago. Maybe more.

Charles was genuinely asking if this is some sort of social cue he’s missed, but Pickles has simply accepted that they’re spending their evening with Edith who is definitely here to get into fights with men.

Edith walks them into a bar, straight past the bouncers and finds them a table away from the speakers. She stands by the side of it and starts looking around the room. “I’ll ask for details of your mission in a moment. Can I get you boys anything?”
Pickles is scared of this woman.
“Get him a mocktail and I’ll have orange juice,” Charles says without asking.
“Very well.” She bows her head, turns on her heel and walks away.

Pickles grabs Charles’ Dethklok shirt to make him face the right direction. “A fuckin’ mocktail? Really?”
“Trust me, she won’t appreciate your taste in alcohol.”
“And why should I give a shit?”
Charles points over his shoulder to show Pickles Edith barging past the men at the bar and making herself a barrier between her and the other women at the bar. “Let’s just say she has a very high bar for a man's behaviour. No excuses. You are a gentleman or you are a thug.”

Edith is challenging a group of young men hollering at some women dressed in much shorter dresses. She simply hands her purse to one of the girls and speaks to her with her hand on her shoulder, then spins at the speed of light and breaks the closest guy's nose, splattering blood on herself as he goes down.

Pickles suddenly feel much more tense.
“Go get her a napkin or something.”
Pickles nods and gets up to do exactly that. He suddenly gets why Charles needs them on their best behaviour.

Edith joins the table again, but this time with a tray of colourful drinks. “Apologies. Those girls at the front clearly have no mother figure.”
Pickles hands the napkin over, making Edith smile.
“Why thank you.”
“So do you do this often?” Pickles asks as the woman tidy’s herself up.
“Oh, not often, but when we land in certain parts of the world, I do like to teach the civilians a jolly good lesson.”
Charles smiles. “Playing vigilante again?”
“Always,” she smiles back.

Pickles isn’t sure if he likes how he’s looking at her. They have some history that clearly hasn’t changed over the years they’ve been apart.

She clears her throat and takes her drink. “So, you became Dethklok’s manager. Must have been exciting?”
Charles nods. “I decided I wanted to settle. It ur .. was a very good investment.”
She turns to Pickles. “Sit up straight.”
Pickles didn’t even realise he was slouching.
She turns back to Charles. “You’ve got him trained well, haven’t you?”
Pickles looks even more scared.
Charles looks away. “He did most of the work himself.”
“Hm. So, what was the assignment this evening?”
“We have a wager regarding our ability to talk to women.”
Pickles can’t believe they just watched this woman punch a fully grown and then told her that they are here to be the guy she just punched.

She nods. “With what success?”
“Collectively we’re doing poorly.”
“Ah, yes, solo missions do come with less risk than team operations.”
Pickles raises his hand. “I’m sorry. How deep does this military thing go?”
Charles raises an eyebrow. “Where do you think we met?”
“School?”
Edith stirs her drink. “Well I suppose that’s true.”
“So … both of you worked in the military? Funny that it happened to you both.”
“That's what happens when the orphanage is funded by the government.”
“The fucking what?” Pickles has just been handed a little bit more of Charles’ secret history.

Edith and Charles give each other a knowing look.

Pickles looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Charles, why’d you miss that piece of information?”
“I thought you’d have just guessed.”
“Guessed that your private school orphanage was also some sort of military training facility?”
Edith giggles. “He is very cute.”
Charles smiles.
Pickles looks offended.

Edith leans toward Charles. “How much did you tell him?”
“About you?”
She nods.
“He didn’t know your name until today.”
“Ah,” she says, finally addressing Pickles. “I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be his type I’m afraid.”
Pickles blushes. “Yeah. Well. Ur…”
Charles and Edith go back to patronisingly smiling at him.
Pickles starts looking grumpy about the dynamic shift.

Edith breaks the silence. “So how did you meet?”
Pickles folds his arms and keeps quiet.
Charles answers on his behalf. “We .. discovered a mutual interest and things .. developed on their own.”
She frowns. “Mind if I ask about this mutual interest?”
He smiles. “Would you believe me if I said bondage?”
Pickles falls back to being nervous. How can Charles know if this woman he hasn’t seen for 30 years is going to approve of his actions.

Edith giggles. “No, I can’t say I would believe you.” Then she looks at Pickles. “But I would believe you.”
Charles sniggers, but Pickles is back to offended. “What?”
“Don’t dwell on it.” Charles tells him, but Pickles is already over-thinking it.
Edith catches on and leans over the table to take his hand. “It’s nothing personal. The Charles I remember was cold and calculated. If he chooses to be anything more interesting for anyone else, I would consider it an honour.”
Pickles’ intrusive thoughts look between Charles and Edith with the word “Mommy and Daddy” and then he takes his hand back and tries to pretend he didn’t think that.

Charles pushes Pickles’ drink over to him. The man hasn’t actually tasted it yet.

Pickles can see Charles’ facial expression, begging him to have a drink and stop looking so distressed.

Both Charles and Edith look concerned as Pickles tips the whole glass back and chugs it without breathing.

The glass hits the table empty and Pickles still looks traumatised.

Charles slowly stands up. “I think I’m going to get him another.” Then slowly leaves the table.

Pickles looks at Edith with just his eyes. He’s not ready to be left alone with just this woman.

Edith waits until Charles has made it to the bar before addressing Pickles. “Have you been together long?”
“Ur … couple o’ years.”
“And do you often go separately in bars?”
“No…?” Pickles has no idea what she wants from him.
“But your relationship is sexual?”
“Wh- I mean- Yeah.”
She nods. “I would like further details, but that conversation will be broached in due course.”
“Huh?”

Then Charles put a drink on the table and scared the life out of Pickles.

Pickles goes to tip it back, but Edith stops him at the last minute. “Slowly…”
Pickles literally shakes as he sips the glass and holds her eye contact.

Charles sat down and waited for Pickles to put the glass back down. “So what are you doing in England?”
“Shore leave.”
Charles raises his eyebrows. “Still serving then?”
“With honours.”

Pickles cocked his head. “So if you do boats, what was his thing?”
Edith checks with Charles first. “What does he know?”
“He’s seen me in action.”
Pickles’ eyes widen.
Edith answers his question. “Mixed martial arts, ranged weaponry and general artillery.”
“What kind of school was this?”
Edith doesn't answer.
Charles ignores it and picks up his drink instead.

Pickles is mildly annoyed that this is the closest to Charles’ life before Dethklok he’s ever come, but having said that, he still knows nothing.

Edith looks between them. “This .. wager… of yours?”
This was not the conversation Pickles wanted to come back up.
Charles was happy to answer for some reason. “Our relationship isn’t very traditional, I’m sure you’ve noticed. We play games and set tasks to keep things interesting. Tonight’s was a bet to introduce women to the equation.”
Pickles hid his face from the conversation.

Edith however is becoming invested in the conversation. “What was the intention?”
“To humiliate the other.”
Edith broke into laughter. “Oh that’s horrible. And you allowed this?” she said to Pickles.
“I let him do a lot worse.”
She leaned curiously onto the table. “Now you have my attention. Do go on. What has my betrothed been participating in during my absence.”

Pickles blinked. “Betrothed?”
Charles sniggered. “We made an agreement that should both of us fail to hold down a relationship, we’ll marry each other. Of course, we were 15 and-”
“You were 15?!”
Edith loudly whispers to Charles. “Don’t you love how slowly Americans age?”
Charles smiles while staring at Pickles.

Edith sat back, but sat straight. “Details, gentlemen. We don’t have all evening.”
Pickles thinks he knows why she needs details, but he kind of hopes he’s wrong.
Charles responds. “We have a D/s relationship. Pickles taking the role of the submissive. To put it shortly, I use our games to frustrate, punish, reward and teach certain behaviours-”
“I know what BDSM is, Charles. What exactly do you two do?”
Pickles once again taken back.

Charles again just accepts it. “Most of it to be honest. Not found anything either of us are adverse to.”
She nods. “Had your mission this evening been successful..?”
Charles makes quick eye contact with Pickles before answering. “I don’t like watching. He does.”
She raises her hands and drops them onto the table. “Finally, yes, that is what I needed to hear. Where would this event be taking place?”
Pickles’ eyes widen. He’s not sure whether to be excited, terrified or curious. “Charles?”

Charles pulls his phone up and starts texting.

Edith looks confused. “Excuse me. What are you doing?”
“Discussing the details with Pickles.”
Pickles’ phone buzzed. He reads the text and starts texting back.
Edith raised her head. “I can’t help feeling excluded.”
Charles put the phone down and waited for Pickles’ response. “Trust me, this is a much faster and more direct approach.” Then his phone buzzed again.

Charles read the text and looked at Pickles. His face did not match the words.

Edith tapped her fingers. “What are the conditions?”
“We’re deciding the dynamic. I struggle with conventional sex and we’re not sure where you stand in the game.” He starts texting back.

Pickles’ internal conflict rages on. Edith seems nice, but these guys have some history he’s not aware of. He doesn't want leaving out, but he doubts Charles would let that happen.

The last text read “I’m thinking we use the cuck chair. Otherwise Edith will be invited into a game she might not know how to play, or worse, a game you don’t know how to play. Safest option.”

Pickles sighed and texted back. “As long as that works for you. Do I get a reward afterwards?”
Edith saw Charles smile as he read the last text.
Charles responded verbally. “Obviously.”
Pickles nods. “Then I’m okay with that.”
Charles stood up. “We’re currently staying in the band's tour bus if that works for you?”
Edith stood up. “My quarters might not be what you’re looking for, so yes, I agree to these terms.”
Charles agrees and summons Pickles to follow them.

Pickles is almost scared to see how this plays out, but knowing Charles, he’ll make it fun. And maybe he’s quietly hoping to see a different side of Charles.

*

On the bus, Pickles was sent first, just to see if anyone is home. The last thing Charles needs is Edith meeting Nathan, Murderface or Skwisgaar. Toki might be okay with her.

After a quick scout around, Pickles returns to tell them the coast is clear and the group walk the halls to the bedroom. Edith walks with her hands behind her back and her shoulder straight. Her eyes had drifted to the decor and the carpets, but she says nothing.

In the room, she finally breaks. “Who is incharge of room maintenance?”
Charles is opening the rope draw. “We hire people for that.”
She takes a seat on the bed. “Ah, yes. These famous Klokateers.”
Charles pulls his phone back up. “You guessed it.” After texting, he puts the phone away and Pickles’ doesn’t buzz.
“Who were you communicating with?”
“The Klokateers. We need a chair.”
She laughs. “And you just summon everything you need as and when you need it?”
Pickles smiles. “Even if you don’t need it. Longest they’ll take is an hour.”
Charles takes a seat on the bed. “That time you asked for leeches was a difficult explanation on the expenses review.”
“Yeah, but they brought ‘em in like 15 minutes.”

Then there's a knock at the door.

Pickles answers it.

Edith looks over to see a man in an executioner's hood holding a large wooden arm chair.

“Thanks,” Pickles says, taking the chair and closing the door.

Edith turns to Charles. “Is that not a security risk?”
“I have several procedures in place to avoid such a breach in security.”
Pickles drops the chair by the bed and throws himself into it, slouching comfortably. “We … have a religion.”
Edith nods. “Yes, it was considered a threat for a while by NATO.”
Pickles blinks. “I keep forgetting where you work.”

Charles unravels a bundle of rope.
“Naw, Charles, you really don’t have to,” Pickles complains.
The man wraps the rope around Pickles’ arm, tethering him to the chair. “Just a precaution.”
Edith watches over Charles’ shoulder. “The knot you’ve chosen is quite interesting.”
Charles works his way up Pickles’ arm. “Shibari avoids slipknots and pressure points. It’s the ur .. recommended method.” He ties it off and opens the next ball of rope for the other arm. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
Edith shrugs and peels her shirt off, taking Pickles’ attention very quickly.

Edith sits sideways shirtless while Charles starts the other arm. “I couldn’t help but notice the Dethklok merchandise…”
Pickles sniggers. “It was his conversion starter.”
“It was my successful conversation starter.”
Edith smiles. “And what does Charles usually wear?”
Pickles looks away. “Too much. OW!”
Charles hit him. “Charles wears a suit unless we’re playing.”
“How fitting,” she says, unzipping her summer trousers.
Pickles is once again more interested in Edith.

Charles sits back. “Fingers.”
Pickles wiggles his fingers, but he’s not looking at Charles.

Charles is dragged backwards and hits the bed flat on his back. “Oh hello,” he says smiling up at Edith looking down at him.
“It would have been nice to see you dressed more formally this evening.”
Charles blinks. “It was nice to see you dressed so casually.”
Edith cocks her head. “I’m glad to see you’ve not changed too much since our last encounter.”
“Improved is the word I think you’re looking for.”

Pickles’ face slowly drops. He doesn't like how Charles is looking at her. The way he’s dropped all defences, the soft facial expression, the quiet knowing conversation while they both reminisce on a time long since passed. Pickles is awestruck.

Edith falls down to his level for a kiss. Even this felt rehearsed. The direction of the turn, the way they closed their eyes, the fact they kept their hands still, resisting touching back and the duration of it. Both of them pulled away looking more at peace with themselves. The moment is tense as both of them know what they want. One of them just needs to say it.
“How .. much do you remember?” Edith asks.
Charles barely moves. “Your method is tried and tested regularly.”
She smiles. “You still follow my advice.”
“For .. specific activities.”
“Care to demonstrate?”
“Gladly.”

Pickles brightens up as Charles rolls to his knees where Edith swiftly pulls his shirt off. She doesn’t comment on the scars, or the branded gear, she just pulls the shirt off and willingly allows him to pin her to the bed, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before.

Charles is happy to see who this woman turned into. When he remembers who they were, he remembers well trained soldiers standing side by side in a line, sparring, loading ammo, completing marathons and finally the most unromantic sleepover a teenager could ask for. He doesn’t remember her smiling. He doesn't remember smiling back. He remembers their hard late night conversations about their parents. He remembers their dreams of serving the role they’ve been programmed to. He remembers the very formal proposal to consume the relationship and the much more difficult task of performing the act without the drive to do so.

Right now, Charles looks down to see an accomplished, happy woman who leaned on him while grieving, who he leaned on for social structure and security. He likes that their movements are still in sync. He likes that he can still meet her needs. He likes that he can still read her. That she still trusts him, even though they’ve had whole new lives without the other. He likes that she’s here to see who he became and who he’s with.

Which reminds him. Charles looks up to see Pickles in rope, wearing his punk clothes, watching him back. “You doing okay?”
Pickle's face doesn’t match his tone. “Fine.”
Charles looks down at Edith. “The safeword’s time out by the way.”
Edith lowered her eyelids. “Will we be needing it?”
“Just a precaution. Speaking of-” Charles opened the draw with the magic pencil case in it.

Edith sat up on her elbows. “A new development?”
“No,” he says smiling.
She laughs and falls back onto the bed. “Makes me wonder where you’ve been.”
He hooks a finger under her panties and pulls them off for her. “Less places than you I bet.”
She gasped faux offendedly. “How dare you, Ofdensen. I have half a mind to make this difficult for you.”
Charles is already putting gloves on. “Please, be my guest.”

Pickles is feeling uneasy, in the strangest way. He wants to see this, but he doesn't like being on the outside of it. If Charles was punishing him, he’s doing it right.

Edith pushes Charles’ head down, and he does fall further down her body, but then stops.
“Hold on, we’re facing the wrong way.”

Pickles frowns. Edith is turned to face away from him when she’s sat up, but as she lays further down, Pickles can see Charles front and centre. The sudden eye contact runs through him. Charles is watching him back as he falls between her legs and does something that makes her breathing slow down.
“I can’t believe you remembered that,” she moans through a relaxed breath.

Pickles almost wishes he could see what he’s doing to her. Is it something he should know? Is it something he already does? Is it personal to this woman? He has to know.

She smiles and throws her head even further back, cracking an eye open to see Pickles going red and trying not to look at her directly. She knows this game. This is Charles showing off to mess with Pickles’ emotions. She likes that Charles has found someone who lets him be the person she knew he would be. She remembers a very submissive young man who needed clear instructions and heavy guidance. It feels good to have a familiar body repeating enjoyable actions, but it feels even better knowing it’s not only being done for her pleasure. This is as much for Pickles as it is for Charles.

Charles never thought he’d ever be back here. Her body has changed, but her reactions haven’t. He knows when to use his hands, when to use his mouth, what action gets what reaction and what he’s listening for, how long to prolong it, how to control her body to get what he wants. He follows her instructions from all those years ago, instructions he blindly accepted and now relies on. He flicks his tongue here and thrusts his fingers now knowing how and why because of her. Really she did him a great favour all those years ago.

Pickles tenses up and swallows hard as she grips the sheets and arches her back. Charles doesn’t come up straight away, choosing to finish something off while hiding behind the bed.

She shudders and moans heavily while trying to catch her breath. “Charles, I think you’ve made your point.”
Charles sits on the floor while he removes the dental dam and gloves. “Notes?”
“No notes, as usual.”
Charles rests on the bed on his forearms and looks directly at Pickles. “Someone disagrees.”

As Edith turns to look expectantly at Pickles, he feels the wash of embarrassment and looks away before the blush glows even brighter.

Edith giggles. “Mind if I ask what caused such a disagreement?”
Charles threw himself back onto the bed casually. “It was my own fault, granted, but falacio is not my expertise according to some sources.”
She playfully shoved Charles, not that he moved much. “Shame on you, letting him down so hard after setting his expectations so high.”

Pickles thinks he likes this woman slightly more now.

Charles rolled his eyes while smiling about the banter. “I made up for my mistakes, thank you.” He pulled the arm supporting Edith from under her and held onto it until it was raised above her head and pinning her back to the bed. She willingly matched the other one for him to take, leaving her stretched out under him. “But if all other expectations are surpassed …”

Pickles scoffs.

Then immediately regrets it as Charles and Edith both look directly at him.
“What was that?” Charles asks, confidently smiling.
Pickles back tracks. “Nothing,” he blurts out.
Edith lets Charles go, and the man crawls over her to get to Pickles.

“Is someone feeling left out?” Charles says picking Pickles up by the chin.
Pickles sneers at him. “Don’t fuckin’ kiss me.”
Charles holds him still. “Why?”
Pickles doesn't say anything. They both know he wants a kiss more than he wants to be mad at him.

Edith lays flat on her front, comfortably watching the scene in front of her. She likes this dynamic. It suits him. She always just assumed Charles was with her because it was the ‘normal’ thing to do. Now he’s locking lips with another man who just so happens to be tied to a chair. He looks so much more comfortable than when they parted ways. Pickles doesn’t even look too unhappy with the current arrangement.

Pickles took the kiss with a bittersweet feeling swelling through him. Charles kept his chin raised while encouraging the kiss to go further. Although the contact and attention felt good, knowing Charles is only doing it because he’s pouting and embarrassed is a pleasant kind of pain.

Charles slowly pulls away, but keeps Pickles’ face leaned forward for him. “Better?”
Pickles huffs through his nose. “Hate you.”
“Love you too, but I need a number please.”
Pickles huffs while his eyes fall back to the corners of his sockets. “Like, a 6. Maybe a 7.”
Charles let him go but stayed face to face with him. “Tell me if the number goes down, okay?”
“It’d get higher if I could play too.”
“You are so impatient, do you know that?”
Pickles smiles. “So I get to join in later?”
“I didn’t say that.” Charles lets him go and returns to Edith who smiles and waits for Charles’ attention. “Was the lady looking forward to anything in particular tonight?”

Edith sat up to meet him resting on her hip. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
He leans in to kiss her neck. “You know I don’t get anything out of sex.”
Edith tipped her head back, leaving her neck exposed for him. “I remember you quite enjoying it.” She ran her fingers through the back of his head.
“Never said it didn’t feel good,” Charles said, tipping her back onto her back.

Edith was the one who pulled his trousers down, but as is Charles’ tradition, he doesn’t look very comfortable getting naked. She took his attention back by pulling him for a kiss. The moment took a wholesomely awkward turn as he stepped out of his clothes and followed her along the bed while stripping. Her hand drifts below the belt and the kiss abruptly stops.
“Is that a piercing?”
“Ah! Don’t pull that.”
She looks down smiling at it. Charles only looks more embarrassed. Pickles smiles about the situation, but keeps his mouth shut.

“I .. can take it out-”
“I assume it’s meant to stay in during the act?”
Charles lowers his head. “Yes.”
“Then let's see how this goes.”
“Okay.”

Pickles instinctively tried to move his arm to his lap, but was quickly reminded that he can’t. Then Charles held the serrated edge of a square packet to his mouth.
“Teeth please.”
Pickles grunted but held the packet with his teeth and let Charles use him to open it.
“Thank you.”

Edith giggled while the intermission was happening. “I assume this is regular procedure?”
Pickles scoffed. “Every fuckin’ time.”
“Be quiet, or the gag goes in.” Charles threatens.
Pickles raised the palms of his hands and kept quiet.

Charles turned back to her and said something in Danish. She laughed and said something equally amusing for Charles in Danish.

Pickles could only be confused and annoyed that not only is he invited, the subtitles just turned off.

Edith splayed herself along the bed and said something encouraging which apparently Charles agreed with, pushing himself into her.

Pickles tensed up, almost feeling it with her. Now the frustration lies in knowing exactly what he’s not getting when it’s right there, and being enjoyed just to toy with him. He can’t touch himself, he can’t talk, he can’t understand what they’re saying. While the scene is familiar, the barrier between them is hard to handle.

Charles is quietly praying Pickles is frustrated by seeing him with another person. It’s nice to see Edith again, but none of this was going to happen without Pickles playing along. He thrusts above her, remembering how stern she was about pace all those years ago, and how much more relaxed she looks now they’re older. He dares to look up, but Pickles’ face is torn somewhere between angry and curious. The look sends a hot shudder through him, a dangerous feeling he needs to keep this game going.

Edith quietly enjoys the sensation, but Charles paying her so much affection and attention for his boyfriend’s sake is much more interesting. She’s so glad he’s so careful with her, that he remembers to start slow, not to push too hard, to watch where he puts his hands, what angle his hips need to be and finally to talk to her.
“You like that?” he asks in their native tongue.
She puts her arms behind her head. “You’re doing so well.”
“Fuck yeah,” he breathes out excitedly while gently speeding up. He really is a sight when his emotions start showing through.

Pickles grits his teeth. He’s hard and he doesn’t like it. He’s twitchy and he doesn't like it. He’s becoming impatient while becoming engrossed in the scene and he doesn’t like it. The urge to tell Charles to just get in with it is on the tip of his tongue. Does he usually take this long? He sounds like he’s close, but what’s he waiting for?

They keep looking at each other and Pickles is only getting more frustrated. Charles however uses the desperation in his eyes to imagine that Pickles is patiently waiting through the torment, even after the several failed attempts at oral these past few days, he’s desperate enough to watch him rub himself off in someone else if it comes with a reward. Charles’ mind fills in the blanks, pushing himself closer and closer while imagining Pickles’ frustration with him.

Edith wasn’t sure how she expected this to end, but exactly the same as 30 years ago wasn’t it. The man just shook and froze up while his breath hitched. He just stopped smiling and looked down, almost like he was trying to hide his face.

Pickles shuddered with him. He’s seen that face, felt that pose, heard that breath too many times.

“I’m very sorry about that,” Charles says, so Pickles can't understand him.
She begins sitting up encouraging him off his wrists. “Honestly, that was nice.”
He sits back on his feet and brushes his hair back. “I have very mixed feelings on the matter.”
“Maybe you should finish what you started,” she said, nodding him in Pickles’ direction.
He smiled. “Thank you for playing along with this.” He kissed her once on the cheek.
“The game’s not over from what I can see.”
“Doesn't mean you have to play if-.”
Pickles hissed through his teeth. “Guys, I can’t understand a fuckin’ word you’re saying. Please. Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!”

Charles and Edith just laughed at him.

That was not the reaction Pickles wanted, but he has got both their attention.

Charles tutted while rushing the half assed clean up. “Pickles, you know we’re not going to forget about you.”
“But I still feel left out. C’mon man, how much longer you gonna leave me just sittin’ here?”
Charles pulled his pyjama bottoms on and slid to that end of the bed where Pickles waits. “Not much longer, I promise.” Charles starts unravelling his arms, much to Pickles’ relief.

Edith crawls over, still completely naked and watches Charles untie the man. “I think he’s been very patient this evening.”
Charles looked at Pickles over his glasses. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Yeah, I’ve been a good boy.”
Edith and Charles smile at each other while freeing Pickles of his bindings.

Pickles pulls his arms free and stretches out. He’s stuck to his clothes with sweat.
Edith cleared her throat. “Charles, I’m not sure of the rules of this arrangement, but would he be adverse to my own ministrations?”
“Yes, mommy,” Pickles covered his mouth, shocked to hear the words coming out. “I’m so sorry, that wasn't meant to come out.”

Charles held back a laugh. “I was going to tell you to ask him, but I think you just got your answer.”
“Excellent,” she declares, smiling.

Pickles was dragged onto the bed by his collar and dropped flat on his back with her staring down at him threateningly.
“You do as I say or it doesn't get done. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am.” Pickles blurts out with fear in his eyes.
“Get it out and don’t move.”
Pickles holds her eye contact while he unzips his jeans and shuffles everything down.

Charles puts his hand on Edith’s shoulder. “Maybe .. go easy on him. I have left him hanging twice and-”
“-Oh, he’s got a piercing too. But my dear boy, why’s it on the wrong side?”
Pickles smirks. “I think you mean the right side.”
Charles sniggers. “A decision on my part, I can assure you.”
“Well I do trust your judgement on these matters,” she admits.
Charles hands her another square packet, but she rips the top off herself.

Pickles looks scared of her again, so Charles kneels above his head and looks down on him upside down, taking his attention and distracting him from the woman on her personal mission for dominance. “How’re you doing?”
Pickles nods while desperately trying not to look down. “Doing fine.” His breathing is absolutely not fine. He feels like he’s at the doctors or something. Charles is pretty sure he’s shaking. He even flinched when she pulled his cock straight to pull the rubber down it.

Charles blinked, but he couldn’t stop the smile creeping onto his face. “Is it wrong that this is working for me?”
Pickles frowned at him. “But you said you don’t like it when- OH……….. Good lord.” Pickles saw stars and sank into his shoulders. Charles quickly took his hands and pinned them to the bed, so as not to let him touch her back by accident, but the extra restraint was just another turn on for both of them.

“Fuck… Edith’s good at it.”
Charles sniggered. “No need to rub it in, Pickles.”
Pickles jolted against Charle’s hands weighing him down. “I wasn’t even-- oooh…” Pickles’ eyes are stuck elsewhere in the middle distance.
Charles is legitimately enjoying watching this. Edith seems to have no problem with it and Pickles is clearly enjoying it. “Hey Edith, how long can you drag this out for?”
Pickles frowned at him. “Charles, for fuck sake-”
Edith angrily said something at him in Danish that made Charles laugh, but she clearly didn’t find it funny.

Pickles took a deep breath as she started over. “What’d she say?” he whispered.
Charles remained over him, still keeping the back of Pickles’ hands flat to the bed. “She told me off for being too mean.”
Pickles appreciates the gentleness of Edith’s mouth, considering all she’s done is humiliate him and throw demands, this softer side is much appreciated.

Charles is appreciating the quieter moment too. It’s nice to see Pickles enjoying something he isn’t doing for once. The man refuses to interact with groupies, and he’s not allowed to play with girls from the play events. He hopes tonight has been worth it for him. That’s what gets him going; knowing Pickles is having fun.

Pickles’ hands are slowly released, and Charles’ migrates to his face instead. Pickles still holds onto him like he’s going to float away if he lets go. Charles bobs down and kisses Pickles, upside down. Pickles holds him too, but the sudden overwhelming sensation of hot wet friction and calm affectionate care swells through him and cuts the whole moment short.

“Bit of warning would have been nice,” Edith says, pulling herself from Pickles’ body.
Pickles shudders while still staring directly at Charles. “Usually there would be.”
Charles smiles down at him. “Someone just got a little excited.”
“Pft.. yeah, you,” Pickles says, mildly annoyed by Charles’ demeaning attitude.
“Not gonna lie, I could easily go again.”
Edith cut in. “Gentlemen, this has been fun-” she kicked herself off the bed and picked her shirt up.
Charles looked genuinely upset. “Where’re you going?”
“To my quarters?”
Charles frowned. Then he said something almost aggressively in Danish.
Pickles sighs and stares at the ceiling while they talk about something in a language he can’t understand.

Charles finished his point in English. “Please.”
Edith sighed and took her top back off. “Alright, I concede.”
Pickles sits up. “What’s happening?”
“She’s going to sleep here with us.”
Pickles’ eyebrows shot up, but his face remained neutral. “Oh?”
Edith folded her clothes with her back to the pair. “I assume you’re agreeable to this arrangement?”
Pickles didn’t even look at Charles. “Well, duh. If Charles says it’s okay, I’m okay with it.”
Charles dragged the man back down. “I love you.”
Pickles smiled back at him. “Love you too.”
“Very sweet sentiment, but I’d like to refresh myself if we’re at an accord.”

Charles basically dropped Pickles and hopped over him to lead the lady in the right direction. “Every room has an ensuite as standard..”
Pickles can hear him giving her a tour and finding her a towel. He just sighs and decides to tidy up, starting with throwing the rubber and putting his clothes in the hamper before Facebones tells him off.

Charles returns and silently helps him change the covers. Years ago, this part was tedious and frustrating. Now it’s more like a ritual. Just part of the routine to make sure everyone is comfortable, each of them fulfilling their role in the process. It goes like clockwork, and both of them are happy to work as a team to clean up as they do make the mess.

“Hey Charles, what did she say earlier?”
“Which one?”
“Just before the sex.”
“Oh. She said she fucks sailors now.”
Pickles smiles to himself. “Did she say those exact words?”
“Yes.”
Pickles laughs. He can’t imagine her being so vulgar. “You guys got some weird chemistry.”
Charles shrugged while straightening the sheets. “You shoulda met us back when we were at school.”
“Dude, I think you still love her, man.”
Charles frowned at him. “I think you might be exaggerating, Pickles. We knew we were going to go in different directions eventually.”
Pickles gave him a look. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t love her.”
“I beg to differ. That kind of attachment doesn’t match what we had.”

Pickles threw himself on the bed and looked at Charles with a smug smile. “Think back for a second. What criteria are you using to identify love? And did she match it?”
Charles looked into the middle distance while thinking about it. Was he sad to see her go? Yes. Would he have continued with her long term? Yes. Were they sexually compatible? Yes. Would he have done everything he’s done for Pickles …

Pickles watched his face as he thought about it. He likes Charles’ thinking face. It usually means he’s plan building or problem solving. He’s frowning now.
“Pickles, I think you’re right.”
“Fuckin’ told ya so.”
Charles sat down. “Huh.”
“You ur .. ya okay there?”
Charles looked very stuck. “I think I need a minute.” The man laid down and put his hands over his belly while he stared at the ceiling.

Pickles is scared now. He broke Charles. So he decides to go lay down next to him.
Charles said nothing.
“You wanna talk me through it?”
Charles’ face didn’t change. “Nothing really to go through. We’re happy as we are. Honestly amazed that I ever got to see her again.”

Pickles smiled while staring at the ceiling. “When you described the relationship, you didn’t sound happy to relive it.”
“That last time we did that, she’d dissociate from what was happening and yell instructions while moving me to where she wants me. Like I said, not very loving.”
“But what about everything else?”
“We lived in a boarding school. What else is there?”
“I dunno. When I think about school, the people were the best part.”
Charles smiles. “I think our schools might have been different.”
Pickles smiles. “Tell me about it?”
Charles relaxes. “Well I lived there for a start. We were taught all the domestic stuff and expected to follow it. School was intense. We had a lot of subjects and very little spare time.”
“So how’d you meet?”
“We lived together,” Charles said, like it was obvious.
Pickles rolled his eyes. “No, I meant like .. how’d you get together.”
Edith answered. “I told him I’d like to initiate a personal relationship.”
Pickles watched Charles' face creep into a smile.

Edith joined them on the bed and they all sat up and got comfy.
“Ya know, typically when people couple up, it’s because they’re attracted to each other …?” Pickles points out.
Charles and Edith give each other a confused look, then return it to Pickles. “You know this place was more like a military base. We literally blew stuff up and showered together.”
Edith kept continued. “Not sure what there is to be attracted to when you’re used to seeing your comrades as housemates and sparring partners.”
“So why’d you pick him then?” Pickles said, getting annoyed with the blank answers.

Edith and Charles gave each other another look before turning back to Pickles. “We talked a lot at lunch.”
“He was a good listener.”
Pickles waited for the rest of it.

There was nothing else.

Pickles sighed and gave up, laying defeated in his pyjamas.

Edith leaned on Charles. “Do you still wake up in 4 hours?”
“Yeah.”
“Excellent. I should like to be returned to base before day break.”
“What time would that be in the UK?”
“6 AM.”
“I can do that.”

Pickles watches the other 2 while waiting for instruction, but it looks like they’ve decided they’re going to bed. “Are- Are we not talking anymore?”
Edit put herself under the sheets and started checking the bedding for creases. “Only until 2 AM at the latest.”
Charles didn’t get under the sheet, instead waiting for the other man. “What else did you want to talk about?”
Pickles awkwardly crawled past and got in the middle where they’d left him a space. “This feels very formal.”
“Yes,” both of them respond.

Edith lays him between them and lays next to him. “I for one am very happy with tonight’s activities, although the dynamic isn’t something I’d like to take part in regularly.”
Charles took his glasses off and laid on the opposite side of Pickles. “I thought you were a fantastic domme.”
Pickles rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that Charles is smiling to himself.
“Does he also have unresolved familial disputes?”
Pickles’ eyes widened. “And just like that, I think I’m ready to go to sleep.”
Charles laughed.
Edith smiled.

“Lights out,” Pickles said, and the lights turned off.
“Ohh… That is an interesting feature,” Edith pointed out.
“Thanks,” Pickles said.
Edith wasn’t expecting Pickles to be the one taking credit for the idea.

Pickles wasn’t expecting Edith to roll over and cuddle up to him. Then it only got weirder when Charles did it back, like they were reaching for each other but he was in the way.
“Did- I - can move if-”
“Don’t even think about it,” Edith said sternly.
Pickles froze up. “Okay.”
Charles smiled to himself.
“Love you.” Pickles said.
“Love you too,” Charles responded, reaching up to peck him.
“Where’s mine?” Edith said, scaring Pickles again.

Charles sat up and leaned over Pickles, not that either of them could see, but Pickles is very sure he just kissed her good night. Then she pulls his face in the right direction and kisses him good night too. Besides the weirdly wholesome set up, Pickles is still processing that anything tonight was even real.
“Is that my toothpaste?” Pickles points out.
“Good night,” Edith says over him.
Charles sniggers but keeps quiet.
Pickles accepts that this is how tonight ends. Tomorrow, she won’t be here, and that will make remembering tonight even harder.

*

The next morning, Pickles woke up to the sound of indistinct chatter. He turns his head, and sat together in the corner of the room, the two of them share a pot of something and drink their cups while talking like an old married couple in Danish.

Pickles breathes out a laugh and rolls over. He’s not worried. They can have their moment.

Chapter Text

The tour continues. Pickles hates how quickly Charles forgot about Edith, not because Edith is probably thinking about them, or that he got attached to Edith, but now Pickles is worried about how quickly Charles would move on from him. The guy went crazy when Toki went missing, but that was when the world was at stake. Charles has no reason to give a shit about any of them, but he’s still here.

Charles is playing tennis by himself while Pickles sits on the sidelines.
“You guys were like .. made for each other and you just .. fucked off.”
Charles hit the ball and remained focused on the game. “She left school. We lost contact. What else do you wanna hear?”
Pickles threw his head back. “I dunno. Maybe that you missed her, or that you weren’t as perfect as the other night.”

Charles half ignored the man. He gets like this, all emotional, building these fake scenarios. He knows he’s guilty of it too, but they always pass. Bringing Edith up every day just seems like he’s looking for a fight. “Do you miss your first girlfriends?”
“Pft, no.”
“So why’s Edith such a big deal to you?” Charles asks, watching the ball, not Pickles.
Pickles folds his arms. “What if we fall apart? Will you just .. forget about me? Disappear and move on?”
Charles shrugs. “Probably.”
“What the fuck do you mean probably?” he asks, legitimately shocked by that.

Charles finally looks at him. “I literally forget I had parents sometimes. I don’t get attached to people like that. People die, and go missing, or move away, or just stop responding.”
Pickles looks horrified. “So you’re telling me you wouldn’t go looking, or feel bad that I’m not here anymore?”
Charles thought about it while the ball bounced past him. “Hm. Maybe? Had you left of your own accord, I’m not going to bring you back. I can’t see a scenario in which I would be the one avoiding you. Without empathy, I guess yeah, I would just move on.”

Pickles can’t believe what he’s hearing after all they’ve been through, Charles still sees him as a potential ex, or dead person. He’s just existing in his space until they’re separated.

Charles can see Pickles is upset, but can’t understand why he’s mad about his answer. He asked, so he answered. What else is there? “I feel like you’re mad at me.”
“Charles, fuck off.”
Charles blinked. “For real?”
“Yeah. Just fuck off.”
Charles raised his eyebrows. “Okay.” Then dropped his tennis racquet and walked off.

Pickles’ heart hurts, but he’s angrier than he’s ever been before in his life.

Charles walks away from the bus and decides to go for a walk. If Pickles calms down, he might remember that he’s always been like this. It’s really not his fault.

The rest of the band watch Pickles come back into the bus and growl in the doorway. “Murderface, you brought knives with you?”
“Ur …” Murderface looked scared of him. “Yeah…”
“Gimme.”

The rest of the ban held their breath. He looks ready to kill someone, and Charles isn’t here.

Murderface walks Pickles to his room where he offers the display cabinet to him.
“Can I take the sword?”
“Ur .. yeah?”
Pickles load up with daggers, knives and a sword. “Thanks,” then just walks away.

Murderface watches him walk away, but chooses to go back to the group for back up before following him. They’ve not seen him this mad for years. He’s not an angry drunk, or the type to start a fight on drugs. It’s rare they see him kicking off beyond punching the problem and walking away.

Nathan, Skwiss and Toki follow Murderface to Pickles’ room where they can already hear the loud smashing, crashing and cursing from the corridor.

Each of them quietly passes the responsibility to knock and ask, but eventually, the group push Nathan forward and step back.

Nathan flexes his fingers. The last time Pickles was remotely close to being this pissed off was when he went down on Abigail. He wasn't this angry when they sent him to rehab. He wasn't this angry when Snakes n Barrels got taken over. He wasn't this angry when his parents were invited to Mordhaus.

Nathan knocks. “Hey… Pickles. You alright?”
“DOIN’ FUCKIN’ AWESOME!”
Nathan turns to the group who keep waving him in the direction of the door. Nathan shrugs, having no idea how to handle this. He might be the worst person to try and ask him what’s wrong.
“You knows him the longest,” Toki hisses.
“It’s probably a Charles thing. What the fuck do I say?” Nathan whispers badly.
The rest shrug and shake their heads.

The smashing stops, but now they can smell smoke.

Nathan knocks again. “Hey … so, maybe you’re not feelin’ so great..?”

The group step back again as the door opens and Pickles stands without his collar on in the doorway. “I need to get fucking wasted right fucking now.” Behind him is a small fire.

They all stay quiet, but Pickles’ tantrum is far from over.

“Urm. I’m guessing you guys-”
“-If that loveless bastard thinks he can just move the fuck on-”
“-Oh boy-”
“-Even after EVERYTHING-”
“-Pickles calm down.”
“-Everything! He put me through, he can just fuckin’ move on without me!”

The band watch him storm off, screaming ‘fuck’ to himself.

“I think we need to just ride this one out,” Nathan suggests.

Elsewhere, Charles has found a park. He sits by himself while thinking about the problem. It’s okay if Pickles wants some space, but when does he go back? Does he wait for Pickles to say something first? Does Pickles want him to make the first move?

Charles sighs to himself. He’s got no evidence that he won’t simply move on. He can’t lie and tell him that if they break up, he’ll miss him. He was sad when they parted ways the first time, but they ended up in the same space several times before moving in together. If Pickles moved on, he probably would too.

He wonders why Pickles is thinking about Edith so much. Is he jealous? Does he think he’s going to go back to her? Maybe it's the opposite. Maybe he wishes they’d have stayed in contact. Did he just miss a social cue again?

Charles pulls his phone up and sends a text.

Elsewhere, Pickles is tying his arm off.
“Pickles, you know we have a show .. in a few hours,” Nathan says as gently as he can, trying not to fuel the fire burning in his system. The man has already drunk half the supply of booze on the bus, and then started raiding the Klokateer’s drug supply, claiming he knows Charles pays them to keep whatever they need on hand.

Pickles flicked the needle. “Nah, I’ll be sober enough to play.”
“Then … why are you getting fucked up so early?”
“Duh, this is just what I do. The opposite of what other people tell me to do.”
Toki steps forward. “You doesn’t have to hurt yourself like this, Pickle.”
Skwiss nods, frantically trying to stop him overdosing. “Yah. You cans rebel another way. Maybe we does something fun?”

Pickles slows down. He supposes the rebellion against Charles’ rules doesn’t have to start with hard drugs. Maybe his glorious return to addiction should come later, when he definitely knows he’s not coming back.

Then his phone buzzes, and the band prays it’s Charles.

Pickles reads it, hits a button and injects the heroine anyway.

Nathan looks over at the dropped phone. The last text before the number was blocked said “Should I have asked for her number?”

Meanwhile, Charles is surprised. His number was just blocked.

Well, that cements it. Pickles doesn’t want him around anymore. He gets up and starts texting the Klokateers to take him home. He sighs. It’s a shame really. He thought they were doing really well.

Meanwhile, the band are looking for alternative outlets. Sometimes they forget the reason Pickles turned to music and drugs is because deep down, he was unhappy with his life. Now he’s unhappy again and he’s relapsing.

Nathan really thought he’d look forward to the day Pickles came running back to Dethklok, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe he was expecting a slow dissolve of the new Pickles until the old one came crawling back, but he really should know Pickles better than that.

Skwiss has tried to offer a rehearsal, but he’s too angry to keep the beat, and now he’s stabbed the drum, Skwiss is out of ideas.

Toki keeps quiet. When he’s angry he takes it on other people and that is the opposite of what he needs. Doubts he wants a teddy bear or a colouring book.

Murderface offers the man a bass to smash up, but that calms him none, especially now he’s coked up.

Nathan gives way and offers him the one thing he does when he’s tense; The gym.

Pickles gives it a shot, but his high is dying and the show starts tonight. He wants to be numb before going on, because afterwards, he knows he’s supposed to be seeing a certain someone who probably went home and forgot about him, like a baby with no object permanence for the people in his life.

Nathan stands next to his weights and Pickles stumbles over to join him, picking up a much lighter weight but at least focusing on counting the reps and watching himself in the mirror. The fact Pickles is breathing straight and isn’t drinking from a large bottle of vodka makes him feel better.

Pickles can’t stand seeing himself in the mirror. He hates that he feels naked without his collar. He hates that the wrong person is stood next to him. He hates how much time and energy he put into himself for it to mean nothing.

Nathan can see Pickles’ angry expression slipping to sadness. He takes the opportunity now he’s got it. “You .. wanna talk about -”
“THAT FUCKIN’ DICK JUST WALKED OFF!” Pickles screamed before dropping the weights and exploding into tears.
Nathan tensed up hard. He’s never seen Pickles deal with a break up. He’s never seen Pickles in a relationship before Charles. He’s never seen him lose anything or anyone precious. “Ur … He might come back?”

Pickles threw himself at the larger man, pulling himself in for a hug. Nathan hugged him back, but the loud ugly tears just kept coming.

Pickles hyperventilated the words, Nathan could barely understand. “He-He-He- doesn't - care!”
Nathan is confused, but Pickles is clearly hurt by the assumption that Charles doesn't care for some reason. “That’s not true.”
“Yeah, it is!” Pickles steps back and wipes his face. “I’m just some nobody in his fuckin space, to be forgotten just like the others. He’s not coming back. He’s not going to apologise. He’s gonna just move on, like I never happened!”

Nathan thinks he just figured out what their argument was about. “Huh. Fuck Charles then.”
Pickles nodded. “Fuck Charles. I don’t need him. I was happy without him. I will be happy without him again.” Pickles picked up his booze and started chugging again.
Nathan watches in astonishment. He’s not sure where the liquid goes in such a small man. He’s got to have consumed his own weight in liquid ounces. More astonishing is that Pickles found a boundary not in Charles’ games or lifestyle, but his lack of empathy.

Elsewhere, Charles sits in a plane. It feels weird that Pickles isn’t also on the plane, but he’s accepted that Pickles doesn't want to be here.

Longest relationship either of them have ever been in. Now he’s got to worry about getting his stuff back to Mordhaus and whether he should move again or not. He doubts Pickles will come back to the house. He’ll just regress into old habits.

Charles does consider that he’s in the wrong here, but he really can’t see how. Maybe he needs an outsider's perspective.

Meanwhile, Pickles is struggling to put his own makeup on. The band isn't sure how to help. Skwiss isn’t sure he’s ever broken up with someone. Murderface can’t remember his last relationship. Toki’s only point of reference is his time in the kink community, and that's the last thing Pickles needs right now. Nathan knows what Pickles is going through, but after the Abigail disaster, it’s best if he just left Pickles to get it out of his system.

Pickles holds himself up on the mirror while trying to apply the paint. He’s not as numb as he planned on being, but fubared is close enough.

“Pickles, you sure you can play?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Nathan shut his mouth. The rest of the band kept quiet.

Pickles pushed off the mirror and fell over.

No one moved to help him, but when he did get back up, he picked the bottle back up and stumbled toward the stage door. “We doing this or what?”
The rest slowly got up and followed their band mate to the stage.

Elsewhere, Charles unlocks the door. The whole house is dark and cold. He’s not been home for months. Maybe a quick tidy up will make it feel more homely. Like coming back from vacation. Once he’s settled back in, hopefully, it’ll be like he never left.

“I think we need-” Charles stopped himself. “I think I need groceries.” He corrected himself.

Then he realised he’s talking to no one.

He sighs and pulls out his laptop, landing in front of his desk and begins searching for information that he’d usually need Mordhaus to look for. Any ships that docked around England in the last few days. Any submarines even. Then a quick personnel search …

He finally finds a secure line and hits call.

Edith answers in a mad rush. “How the fuck did you find me?”
Charles raises an eyebrow at her.
Edith gives in and puts the screen down. “You know this is a serious breach of security?”
“I’ve done worse, but this seemed important enough to take that risk.”
Edith sat down, in full uniform in a small office. “Considering we only spoke a few days ago, I assume it's a recent development.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “Pickles is upset that I forgot about you. He thinks we had a very strong connection and doesn’t think we should have broken it.”
Edith looks confused. “So he let you go?”
“No. He thinks I’m going to forget about him or move on too quickly if we break up. So I told him I might. Then he told me to fuck off.”

Edith needed a moment to process that. “Hm.”
Charles sits more casually in his chair. “How should I have handled it?”
“Honestly, I’d have said the same thing. I married my career after you, using men as I want them before they get transferred.”
Charles nods. “That makes sense. Why isn’t Pickles making any sense?”
Edith shook her head. “Is he jealous?”
“I don’t think so. I did ask if I should have stayed in contact with you after the other day, but he blocked me.”
Edith is once again at a loss. “I would have said ask him what he wants from you, but I think you burned that bridge.”
“I didn’t burn it. He did.”

Edith sank. “Then maybe he’s trying to move on also?”
Charles hummed. “Not sure about that. He has a habit of holding grudges.”
“Then I am at a loss. I think you need to figure out what he wants from you and whether you can provide it.”
“I thought I was providing it, but now I’m not sure.”
Edith was saddened for him. “Perhaps some space will decide for you.”
Charles sighs. “I don’t want to lose him, but I’m not going to lie to him to get him back.”
She nods. “For the best. I hope you are reunited.”
“Me too.” He smiles. “It’s nice to see you in uniform.”
She stops smiling. “Don’t patronise me.”
“Not aesthetically. From a professional standpoint, your rank is remarkable.”
She smiles. “Thank you.”

Elsewhere, Pickles is fucking the show up. The world watches as Pickles gets more and more drunk without the support of the rest of the band. Sometime some of them going nuts and ruining the show is good for business, but the whole world can see the rest of them genuinely concerned for Pickles and his behaviour.

The song ends and the crowd cheers, but Skwiss and Nathan give each other a nod that signals a procedure only they would know.

Nathan takes the mic and says “Ur … We’re gonna take a short intermission…” Meanwhile, Skwiss forces Toki to help drag Pickles backstage and out of public view.
“In the meantime, enjoy … Planet Piss? I don’t fuckin’ know.”
Murderface looked surprised but took it. “I … don’t think ya’ll are ready for this.”
The crowd screams and Murderface laps it up.
“Well, if you say so.”

Backstage, Toki and Skwiss hold Pickles in a cold shower while he fights back and slips around.
“Guys, what the fuck do we do?!”
Skwiss and Toki continue to try and restrain Pickles until he starts to calm down. “We can’ts do this without you, Pickle.”
Toki nervously smiles. “Maybe we gets it fixed? We coulds find you a different-” Toki is kicked in the face. Nathan jumps in to pull Toki away from him before he lashes out.

“Pickles, you gotta snap out of it!” Nathan yells while holding Toki back.

Pickles fights with the shower and Skwiss badly. “Whats the fuckin’ point in any of this?! What was the point? In any of it!”

Toki growls. “Well we ams sorry Ofdensen so fuckin’ perfect-”
Pickles clawed like a feral animal to try and get past Skwissgar.

Nathan gave up. “Skwisgaar, we gotta cancel this thing. Take him home. I’ll figure this out.”

Skwiss gave a half hearted nod before dragging Pickles out of the room, praying he runs out of energy at some point.

Toki flopped out on the floor. The fight is over and he’s coming back down. Nathan lets him go and pants on the floor with him.

Toki takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I thinks I needs to appogasex.”
“We’ll tell him tomorrow. Start over.”
“Whats about Charles?”
Nathan shakes his head. “If Pickles is sure it’s over, we gotta let him ride it out. Never thought I’d say this, but I need the better Pickles to come back.”

Elsewhere, Charles flicks through the TV with a glass of wine in the dark. He has no idea what to do with himself. He keeps looking to the side of him but Pickles isn’t there. He’s sure he’ll get used to the silence, the lack of presence. It’s been a while since he lived alone, but it can’t be too hard to adjust to.

Then the news comes on.

“Outrage across Spain today as Dethklok cancelled a show mid performance. The front man, Nathan Explosion, was quoted as saying “backstage issues” were the cause for the disruption. Footage from earlier in the show reveals the presumed culprit.” The camera zooms in, losing focus then gains it again, revealing Pickles behind the drum set, half assing it while drinking from a very large bottle of something.

Charles’ heart sinks. “Oh.. Pickles, no.”

“Is this the beginning of the end for Dethklok, or has-” Charles turns the TV off.

Meanwhile, Toki, Nathan and Murderface sit on the one side of the door while Pickles hides in Skwisgaar’s bed since his room is out of operation, while Skwiss sits next to him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Pickle. I wants to say ams sorry. I didn’ts mean what I said. I didn’ts know you was mads at him for that reason. I wouldn’ts have said nothing otherwise,” Toki said. “You likes him as more than a play person. I gets that now.”

The room is still quiet.

Murderface goes next. “So, the people on TV are really worried about you. We’re worried too. Ya know the tabloids don’t give a shit usually, so … What I’m trying to say is we wanna help. We just don’t know how. And that's on us.”

The room is still quiet.

Nathan gives up. “We’re trying to be nice, but we can’t do this if you're not gonna talk to us.”

Skwiss eventually answers. “He ams cryin’. Whats do I do?”

“Hug him?”
“Hit him?”
“Sedate him?”

Skwiss looks down at the pile that is Pickles. “I know you ams sad,” he tries to say gently, “But we needs to know what this means for the rests of us. Whats do you wants?”
Pickles shakes. “I just don’t wanna be alone.”
“Okay. We can stays together.”
“You guys missed me, right?”
“We still misses you,” Skwiss admits. “We leaves your room. We leaves you space at breakfast. We practice with yous recordings, just in case you comes back.” He cocks his head at the sheets. “You ams parts of Dethklok, even ifs you nots here.”

Pickles pulls the sheets off, but he looks like a mess. “Thank you.” His face scrunches up. “I don’t want to go back to how things were, but I can’t go back where I’m not wanted.”
Skwiss nods. “I gets it. Maybe we talks about options in the morning?”
Pickles nods and reaches for his bottle only for Skwiss to beat him to it and remove it from him.
“Whens you sober.”
Pickles is watching the drink. “After we talk tomorrow, can I black out?”
Skwiss looks at the bottle, then back to Pickles. “You can blacks out after shows, okay?”
“Okay.”

The rest of the band heard half the conversation from the otherside of the door and decide to give this room some space.

Meanwhile, Charles has showered off, there's no other person in his room when he’s done. He’s cleaned his teeth, his ears, brushed his hair and listened to music before bed.

He turns the music off and lays alone in bed, staring at the ceiling attachments.

Glasses off, he closes his eyes. “Good n-” He stops himself. “Never mind.”

*

The next morning, Charles wakes up and looks over. There's no other person in his bed. He lays there for a while and thinks about those first weeks of living together. He loved how fast Pickles just became part of the furniture. He loved sharing a bed with him. He loved building games. He even loved the boring parts. That's why he’s got a piercing now.

Charles sits up. It’s been 4 hours. He drags himself up and starts his morning routine.

Elsewhere, Pickles is shocked awake by the unfamiliar bed. It’s early, and he knows because Skwiss is still asleep, but not 4 hours kind of early because he’s not tired. Charles’ sleep schedule is still part of his body clock. Very annoying.

Pickles gets up and ignores his routine. He knows he’s going backwards, but he’s got no reason to keep going forward. Maybe it's time to change himself again. If Charles is moving on, it might be time he does too. Maybe he needs to reinvent himself. He stands before the mirror and thinks very carefully about shaving. But then he’d remember that he only got rid of his beard because of Charles, and that is not what he wants.

Maybe he needs to grow it out.

Maybe it's time to cut the dreads.

“Pickle?” Skwiss calls out.
“Yeah?” His thoughts were stopped dead in their tracks.
“Ams going for breakfast. You wants it?”
Pickles watches the mirror as he turns away, trying to work out how he’d look with short hair. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

Meanwhile, Charles has checked the time a hundred times this morning. His breakfast was uncomfortable. His morning run was painful. His hobbies are boring.

Charles looks around the room for something that isn’t here.

There's no voice. No reason to build plans. No stimuli.

Maybe he’s just bored.

He sinks. He’s got nothing to bounce off. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.

Housework?

He growls to himself. Moving out of Mordhaus alone was so easy because the world was ending.

Why was that easier to handle than Pickles not being here?

Charles folds his arms. If only Pickles knew this is not like his other break ups. Of course he misses him. They’ve been partners for years. The others were short term agreements that weren’t meant to last, even if they were strong and healthy bonds. Pickles thinks he’s going to move on, but actually…

Charles just realised he’s not moving on. “Oh shit.”

Elsewhere, Nathan throws the newspaper down. “People are pissed.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Pickles mumbles. “I probably coulda done better.”
Nathan sits at the table with the others. The scene is familiar, and normal with Pickles slouched in his seat and the others just waiting for him to speak. “We’ll rebook the venue and play a do over with different dates. Shouldn’t be too hard to fix.”

Skwiss fiddles with his guitar. “We has done worse and beens forgiven.”
Toki smiles. “We literally saves the world. Whats more they want?”
Murderface stabs the table. “Planet Piss didn’t make the front page again I see.”
Nathan picks the paper back up. “Hm…. No. You weren’t even mentioned.”
Pickles tried to join in, but his heart just wasn’t in it. “Maybe you shoulda got your cock out. Usually they love that.”

The table goes quiet and Pickles only sinks further. He’s just lost the will to give a shit.

Nathan tried to lift his spirits. “Hey, it’s Germany next.”
Pickles gives him a side eye. “Huh?”
Skwiss pulls up the map they’ve been using. It’s Europe, but all their gigs are dotted with red and the flight pattern drawn on as red arrows.

Pickles’ eyes flick to Denmark. It’s literally attached to Germany.

The group knows what he’s looking at.

Pickles sucks it up. “Okay. Hey. Germany do beer, right?”
The rest of the smile at the return of the old Pickles, but inside, Pickles is crumbling.

Toki tapped the table. “Since you coming backs, you wants to do press release so peoples know you alive and lives with us again?”
Pickles sighed and looked at the floor. “Yeah, I guess so,”
The rest of the table cheered, glad to have Pickles back. But Pickles’ smile fell off without a single person noticing.

Pickles got through the day by staying quiet and remembering the reward is at the bottom of a keg somewhere. The bus will pull them up in Germany and they can locate the nearest brewery. Should be a fun night. Too bad he’s not even excited to try and drown himself in booze.

Nathan knocks on his door. Pickles is in his burned out room and kicking the debris around.
“Hey .. is it safe to even be in here?”
“Does it matter?”
Nathan ignored that. “Ur … if you wanna tell the world you’re back for good, I can … ya know, get a conference together.”
Pickles’ lip wobbles. He really didn’t think it would be this easy, but considering his only options were Dethklok or Charles, he can’t really see a way out. “Yeah.”

The thought has occurred to him that he should just quit and retire out by himself, but without another person, that just feels sad. What would he do with his time? Find a girl and just … settle. No. He’s not a family man and his taste in women is shocking. He can’t even remember the last date he went on before Charles. He just feels pathetic for even thinking about it.

It was only a matter of hours before the bus would park and the paparazzi would storm them. Pickles is slouched into a chair while the others try to look optimistic.
“Whats you wanna do after the show?” Toki asks, trying to distract him from his own thoughts.
“Psh…. Might to hook my veins up to an IV with a lil bit of everything in it.”
Murderface is the most shocked to hear that. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“I try and think of the fastest way to intoxicate myself, or the most brutal way to sedate a large animal, then go do that.”

The rest of the room look a little bit concerned, but Nathan remembers meeting him after Snakes N Barrels. He went missing from the music scene for a while then showed up unaccompanied with dreads and a joint asking if this was the place looking for a drummer. Nathan knew who this man was and involving him was a risky venture, but they got along and he knew the music business inside and out. He couldn’t really say no.

Skwiss fiddled with his guitar and made an attempt. “We coulds destroy the master copy of the song you records for him. That woulds be fun, huh?”
Pickles blinked. “Huh. Yeah, what you think I should do to it?”
Nathan has destroyed a million records, but this one needs a personal touch. “Volcano? Acid? Launch it to space? Tie to a wild dog and send it off into the sunset?”

Everyone was staring at Nathan now.

Nathan frowned harder. “What?”
Pickles laid further back. “Might get it smelted down.”
Murderface nodded along. “And make the metal into something awesome, like a bullet.”
“No, that's gay. I was thinking knuckle dusters or something.”
“You think bullets are gay?” Nathan asks.
“No, I think firing a gun is gay. If you’re gonna fuck someone up, you do it with a cool car or with your hands, duh.”

Now everyone else is thinking about it.

The Klokateer’s voice came through the speakers. “My lords, we have arrived at the designated location.”
The band stays quiet.

Nathan leads the way, standing up and nodding the others to follow.

Toki stays behind with Pickles.

Pickles is absolutely not in the mood for Toki’s childlike wonder, or words of advice as a dominant play partner.
“You knows he will see your announcement.”
“Yeah, and I don’t give a shit. He clearly never did.”
Toki looked sad for him. “Pickle, he loves you. I knows you angry-”
Pickles stood up. “He doesn’t see me any different to any of his past partners. I’m just another thing he can control, and I thought we had something more than that. Unless he proves in the next 10 minutes that I mean more to him than the people he left behind, unless he can tell me he wants me in his future, I’m coming back to Mordhaus, and I’m staying the fuck away from anything that requires my commitment to work.” Pickles stormed off, having made his decision.

Out on stage, Nathan adjusts the mic while cameras flash, reporters yell and the others stand behind him shoulder to shoulder.

“Ur .. so due to … recent developments, it has been decided by all parties, that Pickles the drummer will be moving back to Mordhaus,” Nathan announces.

While the crowd starts yelling questions about his whereabouts, Pickles nudges Nathan and whispers, “I think I wanna go get fucked up now.”

Then the double doors opened with Klokateers on either side guiding Charles down the middle walk way toward the stage.
“Oh.. shit,” Pickles mumbled.

The closer he got, the further the rest of the band stepped back. Charles looked pissed and never moved his eyes from Pickles, but Pickles also never moved.

At the bottom of the stage, Charles looks him up and down while the press waits with baited breath for him to say something.

“Where the fuck is your collar?”
Pickles folded his arms. “I took it off.”
“And I’m the one who moves on too quickly?”
He groans and rolls his entire head. “Why’d you even come back if all you’re gonna say is irrelevant bullshit?”

“I realised something.” Charles hopped onto the stage, but Pickles remained still, showing him no fear. “I didn’t forget Edith. I didn’t get over her because I was never attached enough to hold on to her. And I didn’t forget Ezmay, or Janine, or Debbie, or Theo, or any of the others.”
“Who the fuck is Theo?
“Doesn't matter. The point is that it's been less than 24 hours and I’m not even ready to be in a different room, never mind moving on from you. Love isn’t remembering someone. It’s an agreement to be present, to be there through what they go through, even if you don’t need to. You’ve been there with me, and I want to be there, with you.”
Pickles looked awestruck.
“If you’ll accept my apology-”
Pickles cut him off by dragging him in for a kiss, which he happily reciprocated.

Of course the cameras clicked and flashed while the reporters all talked to the camera with new speculation about the scene unfolding before them.

Murderface huffed. “See Nathan, that’s why you need to fix your apology problem.”
Toki smiled. “To helps keep the balance in healthy relationships.”
“Well I wasn’t thinking that, but yeah, that too.”

Charles didn’t let his mouth go, but he did pick him up bridal style and carry him away.

The rest of the band could do nothing about it.

Skwiss took the mic. “Disregards everything we just says.”

Chapter Text

The band haven’t seen Pickles or Charles all night. Usually Pickles is already backstage because Charles’ middle name is punctual.

“Kinda weird that Pickles isn’t here first,” Nathan says to the group while he draws the paint on.
“Maybe they died,” Murderface says slowly, shaking his head. “Bitter sweet irony.”

The room went quiet while they listened, and heard the other two finally showing up and falling through the door, cuddling and giggling like a pair of horny teenagers.

The others turned away with embarrassment while they tried to say their goodbyes without letting go of each other. The quiet mumbling and sweet words of affirmation made the rest of the band a little bit sick. Neither of them have ever been this handsy in front of them. It’s even more cringe worthy when they hear the sappy conversation and leaving at their half hearted battle to part from each other.

“Okay I’m going now,” Charles mumbles milimeters away from Pickles’ face.
Pickles goes in for more kisses while holding his face. “You promise you’ll be right here,”
“I promise,”
“Okay,” he keeps kissing him but Charles is very slowly backing away, making Pickles lean to follow him.
Even the way he lets go of his hands, slowly and painfully, dragging it out until they simply can't reach anymore, and even then still blowing kisses and girlishly waving at each other.

The rest of them can’t help but notice the bruises and bite marks along Pickles’ neck and back under his tank top. The thick scratch marks are equally concerning, but they’ve seen those before.

Charles finally leaves and Pickles happily sighs. “God, I love that man.”
“Yeah, we noticed,” Nathan groans.
Skwiss gives him an unsure look. “So I guess you guys patched things up den?”
Pickles throws himself into a chair and lazily picks up his face paint. “Oh yeah, we’re good now. Honestly, I really didn’t think he’d come back.”
Toki smiled. “I dids.”

The others can’t help but notice his shirts the wrong way around and his hair is a greasy mess. “We’re .. still gonna go to that brewery later on- I mean, if you-”
“Oh shit, sorry, yeah, we ur .. made plans. Tonight,” Pickles says while rushing his make up in the mirror.
Nathan frowned at the back of Pickles’ head. “You’re leaving us again! You live with the guy. What could you possibly be doing that’s so much more important-”
Scattered around the room, Skwisgaar, Toki and Murderface violently shake their heads, bite their knuckles and sign ‘stop’ while staring directly at Nathan.

Pickles cocked his head with a confused face while also staring directly at Nathan.

Nathan just put 2 and 2 together.

Pickles slowly turned back around to fill the spaces on his face.

Nathan looked back to the band who remained silently resistant to Nathan’s petty attitude toward Pickles’ relationship with Charles. They just got Pickles back, and not in the angry drugged up way. The last thing they need is Nathan being mad that he’s chosen to have sex with his boyfriend instead of getting fucked up in a German brewery.

The show went exactly the same as the last show in Germany. Lights, angry screaming fans, broken equipment and a fire that spread through the crowd.

Dethklok shrugged it off and called it a night.

Pickles bolted from the stage and ran straight through the halls to find Charles running toward him from the opposite direction. The two of them collided in a joyful lift and spin with their mouths already latched onto each other.

Pickles was put back on his feet but the fall backwards led the pair of them down the hall while they were still excitedly feeling each other up. The display was meant for everyone, and Charles couldn’t have cared less who saw. The world already knows, so who cares if they see it.

The chase back to the spare bedroom was uncoordinated and sloppy. As was the two of them getting undressed without letting go of the other.

With no grace whatsoever, Pickles hit the bed while trying to stumble out of his jeans. Charles came to the rescue having just finished fighting with his own slacks and ripped them off before locking lips with him and grinding into crotch.

Pickles gripped the man’s hair and tipped his head back. “Fuck… Are we still going from earlier?”
“Abso-fuckin-lutely we are.” Charles said simultaneously kissing his neck and pulling the other man’s y-fronts away. “I’m still mad you took off your collar.”
Pickles was rolled over. “I also burned our room and your stuff but-”
“On your knees.”
Pickles did so, keeping his head down so he couldn't see him smiling.
“And I really don’t care.” Charles pushed himself into Pickles while holding him still and immediately started moving. “I just wanna be inside you,” he said while forcefully dragging their hips together.

Pickles’ eyes rolled back. He likes Charles hands gripping him, the sound of his heavy angry breathes, the shoving and pushing somewhere in his guts. Charles has no idea what that does to him. The noise that came out of his probably didn’t sound very sexy, but Charles just kept going. They had been going since he said sorry. He’s not sure what happened in the few hours he left him alone, but he came back feral.

Charles drove as deep as his body would go, but it still wasn’t hitting the spot. He fell forward and wrapped himself around the other man, intertwining them while still bouncing. Pickles shuddered and held onto him. He even turned his head and kissed him.

The moment went on until Charles basically ran out of steam.
“Hey Charles, roll over.”
They fell apart only for Pickles to climb up and sit on him.
“Better?”
“Much,” Charles said, lifting the man and dropping him over his cock.
“Did you take a viagra or something?”
“No,” Charles said smiling.
“I think we need to argue more often,” Pickles said, bouncing on him. He really wishes he knew what it took for Charles to stay in a sexual mindset, with no foreplay, no kink, no games, no humiliation or pain.

Somewhere in the back of Charles’ mind, a little voice screams “mine” over and over and over again looking at Pickles. The thought of losing him, of moving on, of him moving on hurts him so much, it's quietly turned possessive. He’s never felt like this before, or if this is the correct response, but Pickles clearly doesn’t mind.

Pickles bounces while trying to imagine what is going through that man’s head. He’s refused to let go of him and all their time together has been rough sex. He likes the rough sex, but it’s confusing. Maybe it's best not to think about it and just imagine that Charles is giving him a very hearty apology, or maybe he wants to prove how much he really missed him, or maybe it's some sort of dominance thing again. That sounds about right.

“Nathan’s mad I’m here instead of there,” Pickles said, happily testing his theory.
Charles looked at him under his eyebrows. “Fuck Nathan.”
Pickles tensed a little hearing that. He feels a little bit fought for, and it’s working for him.

Charles felt it, saw it and wants more of it. “You go where I tell you you can go, you understand me.”
“Oh fuck yes,” Pickles moaned.
Charles flipped them, pinning Pickles to bed under him and continued to hump him like an animal in heat. “I don’t want to hear another name coming out of your mouth-”
“-Oh fuck-”
“-while you’re in my bed-”
“Charles,”
“-Looking at me-”
“-For fuck sake-”
Charles couldn’t get the words out while he drove deeper and finished himself off.

Pickles laughed. He feels like there's too much blood in his face. His muscles physically can’t relax. He’s not even sure if they can go again. Earlier they just kept going, but Charles looks about ready to call it quits.

Charles really wants to keep going, but as desperate as his mind is for closure, he’s put his body through too much today.

“So,” Pickles starts, craning his neck to look at him. “Scene over or round like .. 12 or whatever it is?”
Charles pulled his blanked out thinking face. “Ur … Do me a favour and try and suck yourself off.”
Pickles blindly agreed to that, curling himself up and awkwardly trying to reach.
“Nah, you can stop. It’s not getting back up.”

Pickles rolled back out flat. “So what, we just watch some TV, get cosy for the evening-”
“-Fuck that. I’m gettin’ Claire,” Charles said, throwing himself off the bed and quickly putting someone's clothes on.
Pickles shot up with a creepy smile plastered along his face. “Claire? Now?” He jumped up to follow Charles only to put back on the bed.
“No no no nononono. You stay here.”
Pickles weakly fought back. “Oh, c’mon man. I wanna see the process.”
Charles landed back on top of him. “You. Make getting into the headspace very difficult.”
Pickles continued to grin up at him. “But not impossible.”

Charles’ mouth contorted into a grimace. “Fine.”
“YES!”
“But no talking.” Charles got up and stormed off. Pickles fell over himself trying to excitedly follow.

Most of their stuff was separated into different forms of luggage. A lot of it was still in the other room, but as it was still being cleaned up by Klokateers, what was left of their luggage was in a store room.

The pair of them marched down the hall and carried the boxes and suitcases back to the temporary room.
“I swear to god, if any of our toys were burned-”
“Oh relax, I only.. ya know, burned that one that one we moulded from your you-know-what …”
Charles gave him a mildly angry look. “That one took us forever.”
“Hey, I was mad. Gimme a break.”
Charles kept walking. “What else?”
“Ur … Couple of your suits, my collar, that set of work out clothes .. ya know .. some pictures…” Pickles admitted under his breath. “The bed sheets …”
Charles kept his eyes forward. “If I hadn’t just finished, we could have been setting up some torture devices right now.”
Pickles rolled his eyes. “I thought we broke up, okay. You’re gonna have to wait for me to actually do something bad before you start punishing me.”

Charles huffed through his nose. He would kill right now to have Pickles strapped up to some table somewhere with wax and hitty things at his disposal, but he supposes rough sex will have to be close enough.

Back at the room, Charles breaks open the first box containing shaving equipment and make up.
“Ya don’t need it.”
“You sure?” Charles asks.
“I mean, unless you need it…” Pickles says with much less confidence.
Charles frowns at it. “Nah, I need it.” He takes the box to the bathroom and Pickles follows.

Charles quickly strips and gets on with trimming down. Not like the man has a lot of body hair, but he’s meticulous anyway.
“I can feel you staring.”
“Can’t help it. You do this every time?”
“Literally every time since I started doing it.”
Pickles is in awe. Charles worked his way over his body once with an electric razor and then worked his way back up with a razor and shaving foam. Pickles wonders how many years he’s been doing this.

Charles finishes up and opens the box back up. Pickles can't help but look over his shoulder while he rummaged through the box.
“Pickles, this part you can’t watch. I need you to turn around.”
Pickles frowned. “Why?”
“If you know, you know. Turn around.”
Pickles grumbles but he does. He faces the wall and listens instead. “Can I hear tape?”
“Shut up.”

Pickles frowned at the wall. He just wants to know how he does it. And where in gods name did his weird military man pick this up as a hobby?

Charles wiggles around and decides he’s comfortable. He quickly covers up with a towel and leaves the room. “Okay, I’m done. Time to get dressed.”
Pickles followed. “Do you like .. have a different secret wardrobe for this shit?”
Charles breaks open a suitcase and starts rummaging. “Some of it I can buy and wear as is, but some of it needed altering and adjusting. Dresses … are difficult.” He pulls up the costume from Pickles’ Snake n Barrels scene.
Pickles’ eyes widened. “Maybe ur .. not that one.”
Charles rolls his eyes and throws out a shirt and skirt. The stocking and shoes were in the same bag. Pickles assumes the panties are also in there, but it’s not like they need them.

Charles turned away from him when he broke open the toy box under the bed. He’s got 2 toys that make this easier. One he knows he can handle, and the other is for Claire specifically. It's a little bigger and much more fun, but the first is a better starter tool.

Pickles isn’t sure he’s ever seen Charles use toys on himself. He knows he has to because Claire comes with toys, but actually seeing Charles break open the lube and take deep breaths while his hands do s o m e t h i n g under the towel is throwing Pickles through a loop.

Toy in, Charles sits on the bed and starts getting dressed. Stockings first. Skirt next. Top is buttoned up. Hair net.
“Dude, you look so fuckin’ different.”
“Pickles, I said don’t talk.”
“I can’t help it. When does the Claire part happen?”
Charles gave him the most fed up face he could manage.
Pickles genuinely wanted a response.

Charles gave up and completed his outfit. “Claire is a character. They require a certain state of mind. I can’t just .. be Claire. It doesn’t work like that.”
Pickles laid along the bed on his front and watched Charles break out a wig from a box. “Ya know I love Claire, but is all this really necessary?”
Charles used a mirror to get the hair on right and start styling it. “Yes. Claire comes with a routine. It all helps.”
Pickles wishes he could help. He can’t even remember the last time he used a hair brush, never mind helped someone else do their hair.

Charles completed the hair and then went back to the toy box. Pickles groans.
“Is there a problem?” Charles asks without looking at him.
“This is taking forever.”
Charles lubes up the next toy and sets down a towel for the old one. “Yeah. Claire takes time.”
Pickles rolled onto his back and dangled his head from the bed. “You spent nearly an hour shaving, 10 minutes getting dressed, another 10 minutes styling your hair. What else is there?”
“The make up.”
Pickles flops out further while groaning.

“We don’t have to do this.”
Pickles quickly rolled back over. “No no, I can wait.”
Charles smiled while switching toys. “This is not comfortable.”
“Charles, where’d you put your junk when you’re Claire?”
“That's for me to know and for you to imagine that Claire is a woman.”
“But I know it goes somewhere.”
“Pickles, honestly, you don’t have to worry about it.” Charles stood up and made himself comfortable. “Heels or no heels?”

Pickles deflated. “Don’t need ‘em I guess.”
Charles put himself back in front of the mirror and broke open the makeup section of the box.
Pickles raised his head to look. “Is that nail polish?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, that one I can do.”
“What happened to not talking?”
Pickles rolled off the bed and onto the floor in front of Charles while he started brushing his face. “I promise I’ll be quiet.”
Charles rolled his eyes and handed him an eyeliner. “I know you can use this.”
Pickles nodded. “Yeah,” he said quickly, taking it and kneeling in front of him.

Charles continued with the makeup process. Foundation, contour, eye shadow, eyebrow plucking, lipstick and finally giving Pickles the go ahead to draw the eyeliner on. Pickles carefully lifted his head and drew the very faint lines along his eyelids.
“When’d you pick this one up?” Charles asks.
Pickles smiled. “I thought I was supposed to be quiet.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
Pickles scooches closer and draws the second slightly thicker line on without blinking. “Snake n Barrels taught me a few tricks before we got signed.” He turned Charles’ head to check the symmetry. “Then we got make-up artists to do the photoshoots.”

Charles stayed still but the smile never fell off. “You ever notice Nathan’s got his nails painted.”
“Yeah. It’s how we met.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I showed up drunk at his door when he was still doing try outs. I was kinda .. couch surfing, and I ended up in Florida. Anyway, he kept me around while the rest of them played guitar or whatever. No one wants the drums, so I stayed there and worked around them. Nathan appreciated that, and he asked for opinion on the other try outs. I’m the one who painted his nails.”

Charles moved back and blinked. “Well, I never knew that.”
Pickles looked him up and down. “Mind if I add the finishing touches?”
Charles sat back and handed his hand over. “Go for it.”
Pickles gave him his glasses back and turned back to front with him. Charles’ other hand ended up draped over Pickles shoulder while he opened the little vial of paint.

“You sure we got time for this?” Charles asked, cuddling the man.
“We’re retired. We got all the time in the world,” Pickles said, reigniting the unblinking focus he needs to draw on each stroke.
“This is very intimate.”
“I know you’re into that.”
Charles closed his eyes. “I am.”

Pickles’ phone buzzed. Neither of them moved or even spoke about it.

Charles watched the man finish up with the first hand and let go to admire his own work. “Wow,” Charles said, having a good look. “That’s very clean.”
Pickles took the second hand. “Thank you.”
“Claire likey.”
“Oh, it's Claire now.”
“Yeah, it’s Claire now. I had no idea you were so artistic.”
Pickles smiles. “You into that?”
“I do like the care and patience you’re showing me.”
Pickles shuddered. “Well I got plenty more where that came from.” Then Pickles’ phone buzzed, but they continued to ignore it.

But it kept buzzing.

“You ur .. gonna answer that?”
“Nope.”

Claire leaves the first hand to dry and simply enjoys the delicate hands controlling hers. “What if it’s important?”
Pickles scoffs. “They’re getting drunk. If it's bad news, it’ll serve them right.”
“Weren’t you going to get drunk with them tonight?”
“That was before I had plans with a lovely lady who put all this work in-”
“Pickles, if it’s bad news, wouldn’t you have wanted to pick up, considering that could have been you tonight?”
Pickles’ face turned serious. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, my emotional stability and my drinking habits go hand in hand…”

Claire looked sad for a moment. How long has Pickles been trying to kill himself with booze? Maybe it’s not a conscious effort to kill himself, but the self destructive nature and lack of regard for his well being is very concerning. The only reason he’s not overdosed yet is because the curse refuses to let the band members die. Maybe he should be thankful for that.

Pickles just noticed Claire go quiet. “Hey, I’m almost done. We’re gonna need a couple o’ minute to let them dry.”
Claire decides it might be best to drop Pickles’ admission and focus on the positives. “So my hands are out of the equation for a little while, huh?”
Pickles turned around to start smiling at her. “Looks like it.”
Claire leans in and whispers. “Then however should we pass the time?”
Pickles held his tongue. The last few BJs have gone badly and he’s not excited enough to send himself over the edge with just the warmth of a mouth. “Actually, I was thinking you’d prefer it if I was the one keeping my hands busy.”

Claire gave him a knowing glance. “You’re trying to look under my skirt, aren’t you?”
Pickles jumped in mock offence. “What? Me? No, I’m not totally frying my brain thinkin’ about that.”
Claire laughed. “You are the worst liar I ever met in my life.”
“Then what else are we supposed to do?”
She shrugged. “Make out sesh?”
“Oh fuck yes.” Pickles lunged forward, only to be caught by Claire.
“Don’t fuck up my make up.”
“I make no promises.”
Claire let him go and happily took his mouth. It felt good just to kiss. Romance isn’t usually on the menu, but after yesterday, it’s a very welcome treat.

Pickles holds Claire’s face and gets really excited really quickly. The best thing about Claire, is that Claire moves like, feels like and tastes like Charles. The difference being the game they play with Claire. He’s not allowed to rush to the fun bit like he does with other women. He can’t just lay there and be passive like he is with Charles. Claire demands effort on his part and her response only makes him want to put the effort in.

Claire twists further into the kiss. Pickles’ excitement has been digging into her hip since they locked lips, but her own excitement feels very different. It’s not the same sexual pleasure. It’s more like a trust building exercise, or doing drugs. It feels good and makes you trust the other person so much more. She wants his body. She wants the feeling that comes with it. She wants to relax enough to go through with it.

“Hey, I can feel that,” she says, barely parting from his mouth.
Pickles keeps his eyes on her mouth. “Good,” he says, going back in for a kiss.
Claire enjoys it for just a little longer before breaking it off again. “Pickles, you know I love foreplay-”
“Okay, okay, I’ll get on with it.” He pecked her one last time before basically falling off her to reach for the pencil case of protection.

Claire rolls over, casually following him. “Where’d you want me?”
Pickles ripped the wrapper open himself and rolled it down. “Just stay where you were. Honestly, it was workin’ for me.”
Claire accepts and rolls back over with her hands on her belly. “Sorry I take so much prep time. I’m sure this is easier when it’s literally anyone else,” she smiled.
Pickles hopped onto the bed and hung over her face. “I’d have you no other way.” Pickles’ hand slowly drifted around her thigh and toward the brim of the skirt.

Claire’s momentary panic set in. A familiar event with Claire that Pickles has come to expect. “Don’t take your eyes from mine.”
“I won’t, I promise,” Pickles says, reassuringly.
Claire took a few heavy breaths and Pickles followed them, tracing his fingers over the bare skin under her skirt and only pulling on the toy when she inhaled. Pickles chose to push the toy back in and stopped when her hand reached out to slow him down.

“Gently,” she said, staring at the ceiling.
“I know,” he said, watching her face.

Claire seemed more relaxed now, the breaths getting shorter and her eyes creasing shut.
“You like that?” Pickles asked quietly.
“You know I do.”
Pickles quickly kissed her cheek. “I’m gonna fuck you now.”
Claire shuddered with her head tipped back. “I think I’d like that.”
Pickles interlocked their legs while focusing entirely on her face. She took another set of deep breaths and nodded at him to get on with it. He gently pushed forward, earning a gasp, but no signal to stop.

“Keep going, keep going, ah, stop. Right there.”
Pickles dragged back until she said stop, and then bumped between one and the other while she sighed with relief.
“Oh.. that’s so much better.”
“Fuck, you’re so hot.”
Claire gripped him and pulled him closer, craving touch, craving body heat, craving friction. Pickles remains consistent, gently rubbing himself off while Claire breathes down his neck and moans quiet words of praise.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispers between the moans.
“Say you like it, please.”
She holds him tighter “Fuck, I want it.”
Pickles’ eyes went wobbly in his head. “Oh .. my god, I needed that,” he strained the words out, but his hips didn’t stop moving, just slowed down.
“You enjoying yourself?”
“You could say that,” he said, sliding in until Claire stopped him again. “I’m not ready to stop.”
“I wasn’t going to stop you,” Claire said, letting him go. “Just promise you won’t look down.”
“I promise,” he said pulling up onto his arms and hitting harder and faster just to get a reaction out of Claire that he could ride off.
“Fuck!”

The scene ended with Pickles smoking and Claire cuddled up to his chest, still fully dressed.

Pickles blew the smoke and deflated into the headboard. “God damn, we needed that.” He offered her the cigarette knowing she won’t take it.
“I think so,” she said, taking the stick and putting it out on the bedside cabinet.
Pickles huffed. “So, is this the part where you get dressed and run off?”
“For practicalities sake, yes, I can’t stay all night.”
Pickles raised his eyebrows. “But maybe you’d like to come around tomorrow morning?”
“Why?”
“It’d be nice to spend time with Claire outside of the bedroom.”
She hums. “I have a few date ideas-”
“No, I meant, maybe, we just keep it casual for a few hours. Maybe you finally meet Dethklok-”
“Oh, oh no. Yeah, I’m not gonna do that.”
Pickles sits up. “Why? They know you exist. Might be a nice shift in the dynamic.”
Claire sat up. “That shift is the problem. I know Dethklok, and how they view women, and how they view our games.”
“It’s just Nathan, I swear.”
“And I don’t want to be shown off like some sort of trophy. I put the work in for you. Spending time with the band feels … insulting, for lack of a better term.”

Pickles knows what she means, but he really hopes that they could get their heads around it and they could all hang out. Claire does all the fun stuff they do and it might be nice to see Claire somewhere different, doing something with different people.
“Okay, compromise,” Pickles begins. “Whatever we’re doing tomorrow morning, I want Claire to come with, and at the first sexist comment, I admit defeat and you never have to talk to ‘em again.”

Claire thinks about it. Best case scenario, she’s either off the table or spoken to like a person. Worse case scenario, she’s either spoken to like a person or never has to talk to them again. “Deal.”
Pickles smiles. “I’m gonna check those messages now.”
“I’m gonna get changed.”
Pickles pecked her one last time before parting ways.

The last set of texts read;
“Pickles, Murderface can’t swim.”
“Never mind. Toki got him.”
“Does beer wash out? Ask Charles.”
“Don’t ask Charles. He’ll think we’re idiots.”
“We are idiots.”
“Shut up.”
“That was for me.”
“Skwiss wants to know what the Klokateers are carrying. Was I supposed to tell them to bring drugs or did Charles already organise that?”
“Help. Toki threw up in the big beer stirrer.”
“Get Charles to tell Murderface to stop pissing on things.”

Pickles stopped reading and started typing. “Band meeting tomorrow morning.”

*

The next morning went like any other while touring. The band woke up on the bus. Looks like they made it home, but now they have 24 hours to get back on their feet and recover from the god tier hangovers.

Everyone sits in the lounge area while the Klokateers provide breakfast on a long table they wheeled in. Pickles got here first and the rest draped in over the course of the morning.

Pickles can see that everyone looks like shit, but he couldn’t care less. His only goal today is to get Claire and his band in the same place doing the same activities.
“So, now you’re all here,” everyone looked at Pickles with deep bloodshot eyes. “I have a favour and I really need everyone to play along.”
“Whatever you needs, buddy,” Toki said right before throwing up.

Pickles kept going. “So, since we’re all on the same bus for the next .. I dunno, 12 hours, I was thinkin’ we could all hang out with Claire.”
Nathan squints. “Who’s Claire?”
“It ams Charles, remembers?” Skwiss reminds Nathan.
“Then why aren’t we just hangin’ out with Charles?”
Pickles answered. “Because Charles was our manager. Claire is a different character. We could all hang out, on the bus, for a couple of hours, if you guys decide to play along.”

Nathan looks even more suspicious. “Is this a sex thing?”
Pickles stares back in disbelief.
Murderface continues the point. “Like, if Claire only shows up for sex, and you want her in here with us-”
“That’s the fuckin’ problem. I see her for a few hours, we have sex, and she’s gone. If you guys can just be normal fuckin’ people, we could all just hang out like normal people and everyone gets what they want. Okay?”

The band are still too hungover for this.

Toki nods. “You know I donts care.”
“You knows how I feels about ladies,” Skwiss added.
“Sure, she’s just a chick, right?” Murderface commented.
“I guess I can deal with it,” Nathan agreed.
Pickles smiled. “Awesome. Hopefully she’s coming for breakfast, so just like, pretend this is normal.”

Everyone carried on watching the TV and eating in silence. Then the door opened and Charles, dressed as a woman stepped through the door.

Murderface was the first to open his mouth. “Why don’t you have tits?”

Claire turned 180 degrees and walked back out the way she came.

Pickles stared back at him. “God damn it, Murderface!”
Murderface shrugged. “What's the point in being a woman if you’re not gonna bother with the top half?”
“‘Cus she’s always fuckin’ dressed. What does it matter?!”
“If I was a chick, I would want a huge pair of tits.”
The group nod in agreement.

“I already said this wasn’t a sex thing. Is this how you talk to regular women?” Pickles asked. “Ya know what, don’t answer that,” he said, holding his own head.
Murderface continued his point with more confidence now the band are on his side. “We are famous rock stars. We can talk to women however we want.”
“This. Is why. You. Can’t. Get. Laid!”

The room goes quiet.

Skwiss broke the silence. “I noticed it too, yeah.”
Pickles hit the table with his head and sank in defeat.

Nathan pushes his pancakes around. “I mean, she’s not bad lookin’-”

Pickles got up and also left.

Then he ran back in, took 2 plates of food and ran off again.

Back in their room, Pickles puts the breakfast on the bed and yells to the bathroom. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”
Charles answered from the other side. “It’s okay. I kind of expected it.”
Pickles leaned on the wall by the door. “I mean, you can’t blame them. First thing I said to Claire was about how hot she is.”
“But we’re play partners. It’s be weird if you didn’t say something like that.”
Pickles looked miserable. “But you didn’t want sexualising from them. It was the last thing I fuckin’ said and they still fucked it up.”

Charles comes out of the bathroom wearing his usual suit. “Murderface will sexualise anything though. Remember when you made me sit in the jacuzzi?”
Pickles had to think back. “Oh yeah.”
“Or his fear of doctors and dentists?”
“Mnhm.”
“And certain foods?”
“Jesus, I forgot how often he’s thinkin’ about sex.”

Charles sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re one to talk.”
Pickles joined him on the bed. “Yesterday was your fault, not mine.”
“Touche.” Charles raised a triangle of toast.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day was typical. It was a little weird that around lunch, Pickles started sniggering like he’s on drugs, but he wouldn’t tell anyone what was so funny.

The entire day had been spent walking aimlessly around the bus. At some point tonight they might arrive at the venue, but that left everyone lounging around and bored.

Charles watched Pickles with a keen eye. He keeps looking at him and laughing. He doesn’t have anything drawn on him. It’s happened a few times in a few locations so it can’t be something he’s doing.

On their walk back to the room, Charles suddenly feels uncomfortable. He stops the walk and tries to work out why his crotch feels heavy.

Pickles’ smile wobbled. “You okay?”

Charles frowns. “Pickles, did you spike me?”
Pickles slowly begins to grin. “No…”
Charles dragged the man into the nearest closet and locked them in. “Pickles, what the fuck?”
Pickles completely ignored the severity in Charles’ voice. “Just a little bit of the blue stuff. It’ll go away. Eventually.”

Charles is legitimately stunned. “Why?!”
Pickles’ lazy grin only got more mischievous. “You needed a reason to punish me.”

Charles has never been so torn between actually angry and horny. Pickles has found an easy prank that gives them both what they want, but this does step an uncomfortable line regarding his body. He feels mildly violated, but not enough to lose trust in his boyfriend. Had this prank gone any further, he’d probably have to time out just to process that he’s been manipulated against his will. “Pickles, you are in so much trouble.”

Pickles leaned backwards against a cabinet, bending himself backwards with a playful expression on his face. “I really fucking need this,” he laughed tipping his head backwards.

Charles stormed over and turned Pickles around, bending him over the little counter and leaving him resting on his elbows. “I’m not punishing you so you can reward yourself,” Charles said, taking his tie off and loosening it into a makeshift rope. “This is going to hurt.”

Pickles let a deep breath go. He’s missed getting hurt in a weird way. He never gets in trouble anymore. “Yes sir.” His arms were bound together behind his back. Just a short set of cuffs meant to give the illusion of restraint more than keep him still. He likes Charle’s dedication to the moment. He’s not actually going to enjoy this, but Pickles will.

Somewhere outside the door, Skwiss wander by eating a bag of something sweet, probably chocolate raisins or something. He just found it in a cupboard. But he stops outside the door hearing Pickles and Charles .. arguing? He frowns. They just solved an argument. Why are they in a closet, so he puts his ear to it.

Back inside the closet, Pickles waits on his knees with his head down while Charles rummages through the draws and cupboards looking for tools. Up to press, he’s found nothing, but the extra time has given his chance to take his jacket off and roll his sleeves up.
“We are going to have a very serious discussion about your behaviour later,” Charles says while pulling a wooden spoon out of the draw. The closet must be where they leave the spare kitchen and cleaning equipment.

Pickles rolls his eyes, but keeps his head down.

Charles gently pushes him down, repositioning him face down ass up. “You’re usually so good,” he said, moving his legs so he can pull his jeans just low enough to reach his ass. “If this is because of yesterday, you need to start learning to ask.”
Pickles scoffed. “You put the idea i-OW,” he yelped.
“Be quiet. You’re in trouble. I don’t want to hear excuses.”
Pickles rolled his eyes. That kinda hurt. Charles must have found something wooden.

Outside the door, Skwiss finishes his bag of chocolate off while listening to the scene being set up.

Then Toki stops at the edge of the corridor and stares at Skwiss who just blinks back.
Toki mouths the words “Whats are you doing?”
Skwiss points for him to come join him.

Toki puts his ear to the door.

“You get a choice. I can time 5 minutes or you can count to 100,” Charles says.

Toki’s eyes widen. He’s not going anywhere.

Pickles thinks about it. If he has to count he’ll probably be punished for miscounting. If he choses time, he won’t know how close to the end he is. “Time it.” He can handle it.
“5 minutes starts now.”

Both Toki and Skwiss wince. The repetitive slap noise runs through both of them. All Skwiss can think is ‘poor Pickles,’ while Toki is thinking ‘How’s he going to sit behind a drum kit after this.’

Then Murderface spots them and yells. “There you are!”
Toki grabs him and covers his mouth. “Sh!”
Murderface freezes up and waits for Toki to let him go. The muffled sound of Pickles yelling now becomes more audible. Murderface works out what both of them are doing at this door.

Toki lets him go and goes back to listening with Skwisgaar. Murderface can hear what’s happening and is very uncomfortable, but curiosity killed the cat. He joined the other 2 and looked horrified, but refused to stop listening.

“Ow. Fucker. AH. Fuck-” And so on, accompanied each time with another hard slap sound.

Charles is bored. This part does absolutely nothing for him. It’s just part of the game. It’s only been like 2 minutes. Why couldn’t Pickles have chosen something actually fun? He likes pain play, but the whole punishment bit takes away from the games. They could have played chase, or gotten those silly colourful guns out. If he wanted punishment, why didn’t he just ask? He could have organised a full dungeon or something.

Pickles is literally shaking. His weight on his knees is not cushioning each hit. His ass is already sore and the pain is building, slowly becoming unbearable. He’s not even hitting him hard, but the repetitive nature is starting to take its effect. He’s not even sure how long it's been. It’s not a safeword moment, but he’s sick of the noises blurting out sounding more and more pathetic while only looking at the ground.

Meanwhile, outside the door, Murderface is checking the time. They’re still going. How long has this been going on for? Skwiss however has stopping thinking ‘poor Pickles’ and started thinking ‘impressive Pickles’. Toki knows this game and whatever Pickles did had better been worth this kind of punishment.

Charles watches the timer. Even his arm hurts from nearly 5 solid minutes of hitting him. What he wouldn’t have given for him to pick any other game. They’re stuck on the bus for hours and this is the set up Pickles has used. He’s mostly just mad that he’s been coerced into playing this game. He promised 5 minutes of pain, and it's only just been 4. This was not the time or place for this game, and that's the most annoying part.

Pickles is also regretting his decision. Subspace is slowly catching up with him. Sometimes he forgets how much these decisions hurt. He can’t even remember what he was supposed to be getting out of this, but his yelps and whines and slowly become grunts and hisses. He doesn’t want to look at Charles. This part is normal. He’s unhappy because he’s hurt, and is still being hurt, because he set it up for himself, but he refuses to be mad at himself. His choices are to blame Charles and brat his way through it, or simply agree with Charles that he needed it.

5 minutes couldn’t have come soon enough. Charles stopped and waited for Pickles to relax. The pattern is broken and now he needs something else from the cupboards.

Pickles grits his teeth. Now his body is trying to heal and everything exposed to the air is red raw. Charles has gone back to searching for something.

He returns but stays out of sight of Pickles, bending down next to him and pulling a pair of zip ties around his wrists with a centimeters gap and then using a third one to hold them together. He unties the tie and pulls Pickles painfully upright on his knees facing away from him. The tie is quickly made into a blindfold while Pickles grimaces about it.
“I don’t want to look at you.”

Pickles rolls his eyes and deals with the stinging sensation on his backside. The scene isn't over and he’s still angry at him. They both are now.

Charles kneels in front of him and holds his face still with one hand. “Teeth.”
Pickles resists but Charles still has hold of him.
“Teeth, or another 5 minutes.” Charles taps the wooden spoon on the floor reminding Pickles of his choice.

Pickles grunted at him but begrudgingly offered his teeth. The serrated edge was left for him to bite down on.
“That’s better.”
The packet was ripped and Pickles spat the edge out hopefully at Charles.

The hand under his chin slid around to the back of his head and Pickles shook it to make him let go, But Charles wasn’t going anywhere.
“Now you’re going to fix the problem you caused, understand?”
“Hate you.”
“I don’t care.” He dragged Pickles’ face into his crotch.

Outside the door, the other 3 listen intently, have just guessed what’s happening since no ones talking and they can’t hear movement.

Then Nathan spots them and looks disgusted. There's only one reason all 3 of them would have their ear to a door in silence. “Guys,” he begged, only for all of them to gesture being quiet.

He can’t believe his band mates are listening in on their friends' private lives.

Skwiss imitates pushing someone's head down and points to the door.

Nathan did not need to know what was happening on the other side. He didn’t want to picture it, hear it or know it was happening, but now he’s got that information and the other members of the band are getting involved for some reason.

Skwiss, Murderface and Toki continue to listen while Nathan stalks off. They know he’s not the type to listen in, but they’re all getting something different out of it.

Meanwhile, Pickles has completely given up. He planned on rushing it, but without balance, his hands or being able to see, he can’t do anything that wouldn’t put him at risk of scratching him with his teeth or choking himself. Both of those put power back in Charles’ hands and give him an excuse to make him start over, or hit him some more. The only way out is to play along and submit.

Charles slowly pushed Pickles' head away. “Say you’re sorry,” he prompted.
Pickles swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m sorry I spiked your drink.”

Meanwhile outside the door, all three of them contain their laughter and excitedly flap at each other.

Back inside, Pickles is presented with the spoon. “And say sorry to the spoon.”
“Urgh. I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Pickles groaned like an embarrassed teenager. “I’m sorry Charles used you-”
“-Wrong answer.” Charles pushed him back down and hit his ass again, making Pickles jolt inward.

He was pulled back up. “You don’t apologise for me. What are you sorry for?”
“Argh, I’m sorry I acted out.”
“Keep going.” Charles let go of him.
“I’m sorry I put us here. And I’m sorry that’s what you got used for. I know better.” Pickles mumbled with his head down.

The part Pickles didn’t see was Charles quietly finishing himself off because he just can’t get there using Pickles like this. But he can finish off using the scene. Pickles looks so unhappy and he hates himself for enjoying it. He loves this man, but seeing him suffer at his hands brings balance in his mind that he needs to maintain it.

Pickles can hear what he’s doing. He stays quiet. He did ask for punishment. It's why they’re here. He acted out and he’s not going to be rewarded for it.

Charles stays quiet while he finishes himself off and cleans up. “I’m going to cut the restrains now,” he says carrying some scissors from a draw with him behind Pickles.
Pickles tries to follow his voice. “Don’t take the blindfold.”
Charles stops. “What?”
“I need it on.”
Charles thinks about it and can’t see a reason to take it off. They are still playing technically and Pickles is setting a boundary for aftercare. “Okay.”

Outside the door, Murderface and Skwiss are bored. The fun bits over and they leave together. Toki however, chooses to sit down and listen to the aftercare. Not that he’ll ever need this information, but he still wants it.

Back inside, Pickles slowly gets his arms to face the right way and gently stretches the muscles. Charles is gently helping him pull his jeans away. The last thing this man needs is his wounds rubbing against rough fabric.
“Ow, fuck, my shoulders hurt.”
Charles rolls his eyes and continues to take his shoes and trousers off. “How are your wrists?”
“Ur .. I can’t feel any indentations or anything.”
Charles quickly looks up where Pickles can’t see. “Yeah, just a little red. Thought they might be sore.”

Pickles keeps his head down. He’s still mad. His knees hurt. His ass hurts. His shoulders hurt. He’s just waiting for the chat and the cuddle afterwards.

Charles sat himself against a cupboard and put his hand over Pickles to guide him in the right direction

Pickles crawled over and made himself comfortable against Charles’ chest. He snuggled in and let Charles hold him there. He’s still mad, but now he’s less mad.
“I felt a little trapped tonight because you spiked me.”
“I’m sorry I did that. I just thought it’d be fun to get a rise outta ya.”
Charles kept him close. “I dislike that you used my own body against me.”
Pickles held him tighter. “Yeah, I wasn’t thinkin’ about it like that at the time. I was thinkin’ about sex and … well they were right there.”
“I get it, but next time maybe don’t do that. You know you could have just asked. We could have role played, or you could have stepped on a less serious line of control. There were lots of ways to get this response.”

Pickles screws his eyes shut. “I’m sorry I picked this one.”
Charles’ hand drifts to his hip. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Pickles wiped his nose. “No, I needed it. Thank you for playing along by the way. I know you didn’t have to-”
“-No, I- I feel responsible. Maybe I set a bar too high, or maybe my outburst after we broke up was a little extreme-
“-It was awesome-” Pickles interrupted.
“-But you know you can just ask if I’m not providing enough.”
Pickles took his blindfold off. “Charles, we both know I acted out because I got selfish. I urm .. I’m interpreting this scene as a reminder to be happy with what I get.”
Charles looks down at him. “And maybe just tell me if there's something on your mind?”
Pickles closed his eyes. “And ask if I’m tempted by something else.”

Charles laid further down. “Did I do anything wrong tonight?”
“Urm..” Pickles really had to think about it. “I … don’t think so. 5 minutes might not have been long enough with a spoon. Or maybe I needed you to be angry with me. You were kinda quiet.”
Charles closed his eyes. “Did you not get to headspace?”
“No, not really. Got kinda close when we started talking, but I felt like that was more for you than me.”
“Yeah, it was. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.” For the first time today, Pickles leaned up and stole a kiss.

Charles let him settle back on his chest, warmed by the gesture. “I’ll ur .. be more engaging next time.”
Pickles smiled. “Maybe I also get to cum next time?”
“Good boys get orgasm.”
Pickles sniggered.
Charles rolled his eyes under his eyelids. He’ll organise something where they both get something out of it.

On the other side of the door, Toki nods along. His sadist side gets it.

Chapter Text

Later that evening, Pickles and Charles met the band in the lounge for dinner. The Klokateers follow the same pattern of cooking on the bus that Charles set up years ago. Charles is already sick of the junk these guys eat.

Nathan stands before the two of them as they sit with their plates. He drops a news paper open and the front cover is of Charles carrying Pickles away from the conference while being escorted by Klokateers holding guns.
“Ah,” Charles says bluntly.
“That's a good picture actually,” Pickles says, looking harder.
Nathan frowns harder. “Guys, this is serious.”
“I’m sure it is,” Charles says, picking at the bits of pastry on his plate.

Nathan looks at the paper himself. “Are you doing this on purpose? Did you WANT everyone to know?”
Charles shrugged. “Wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I’m not blackmailing the press anymore.”
Pickles sniggered. “At least everyone knows I’m alive.”

Toki kicks his feet up next to him. “Somes of the news is happy for you, Pickle. You gots lots of people talking abouts you.”
Murderface scoffed. “And how gay it is.”
Skwiss sat too close for Murderface’s liking. “So whats? We ams all been photographed kissings other guys.”
Nathan hit the paper. “But Charles usually makes it disappear!”

Pickles tears his party food apart. “I don’t care honestly. Snakes N Barrels basically paid me to keep the homosexuals happy.”

Everyone in the room went quiet trying to remember anything about Pickles in Snakes N Barrels.

Charles smirked. “And here I was thinking the crop tops were for the ladies in the audience.” Pickles playfully shoved him.

Nathan sat down stressed with the newspaper. “Guys, we’re about to get hounded by paparazzi.”
Skwiss waved it off. “We has done more outsrageous stuffs before now. It cants be that bad.”

Then Nathan’s walkie talkie buzzes. “Sire, we’re being followed by helicopters. What are your orders?”
Nathan looked at Charles first, who blinked at him. “Well Nathan, what are you going to do?”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Are they a threat to your safety?”
“Ur …………”
Everyone is looking at Nathan for an answer.

Nathan gives up and tries to hand the walkie talkie to Murderface, who panics and passes it to Skwiss, who throws it to Toki, who happily passes it Pickles, who hands it to Charles who hands it back to Nathan.

Nathan swallows and answers the caller. “Ur … Are we in danger?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then urm .. I guess leave them?”
“As you wish.”

Charles smiles at him. “I can’t wait to see how you handle this.”
Pickles nudges him. “Don’t be mean.”
Nathan panics. “What am I handling?”
Charles turns the TV on.

The group watch, as every single station is talking about Dethklok, the tour and Pickles.

Pickles drops his fork while staring at the TV. Charles ignores it and carries on eating as if the TV isn’t loudly speculating about the live video of Pickles being carried down the aisle by Charles.

The first reporter goes over the video footage of Pickles falling off the stage while drunker than he’s been for years while the rest of them rescue him.

The next channel is discussing the conspiracy theories. “Pickles suffering Stockholm syndrome?” one says. “Body double explanation for his absence” another says.

The next channel is doing interviews with people who Charles and Pickles have interacted with as regular jack offs, including the people from the karaoke bar.

The last one is going over Pickles’ history in Snakes N Barrels and the compromising positions he was caught in before Dethklok, suggesting he’s gay.

Pickles stands up and screams. “I’M NOT GAY! Why does having a boyfriend suddenly detract from having girlfriends? Can’t we just get past this? Why’s everyone shocked?!”
Charles spoke to his plate. “10 years of hiding your male groupies-”
“-You had male groupies?” Nathan asked.
Pickles held the sides of his head. “Oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

Toki suddenly looks scared. “Whats if they finds out about my kinks?”
Skwiss puts his plate down. “Ours reputations on the lines.”
Murderface starts shaking. “Is- Is this not normal … I mean, if one of us starts a relationship?”
Nathan stands in awe of the TV. “Ur… I remember the news … going on about my girlfriends, but this … Charles, how do we stop this happening to everyone else?”

Charles finishes his plate. “Call it publicity. When do we arrive at the venue?”

Nathan can’t tear his eyes from the TV which is still replaying videos of Pickles and the rest of the band separately. “Ur .. like an hour?”
“Guess where most of the publicity will be waiting for you.”

The entire band look unprepared for the next few hours.

*

As predicted, the bus pulled up to a million fans wanting to know more about Pickles’ personal life and reporters as far as the eye can see live streaming the buses every movement.

Klokateers open a path, but the screaming fans usually aren’t this ravenous.

Pickles holds Charles hand as the others step out and into the arena backdoors. Pickles wasn’t ready for this. This is new, and he doesn’t like it.
“Hey,” Charles says, turning his head, but Pickles’ eyes needed time to catch up. “Just go do what you normally do. Okay?”
Pickles nods. “Okay.”
Charles pecks him on the mouth just once. “We’ll lay low after this, okay?”
“Okay.” He kissed him back and then let go to follow his band mates.

Charles hasn’t told Pickles, but seeing them struggle with the regular stuff he used to do for them is cathartic.

Pickles is a little embarrassed and a little angry he’s being hollered at. This is not the kind of attention he looks forward to.

Backstage, the calm demeanour fell off as all of them fell into panic mode.
“Argghhh….!”
“Whats do we do?”
“What else becomes public?”
“How did Charles fix these things?”
“Dude, we get away with murder but a boyfriend is too far?! What’s wrong with the world?!”

Toki picked him up. “You has to ask Charles how he keeps it all secrets!”
“I tried! I think he’s enjoying watching us suffer!”
Murderface ran by screaming. “We’re gonna have no private lives!”
Skwiss rocked in a corner. “We ams going to be puts on displays for enternitys!”
Nathan punched a wall. “We’re gonna fall into irrelevancy!”
Pickles was dropped. “The fuckin’ bands falling apart!”
“Whats does we do?!”

Everyone went quiet while they thought about it.
“Drink?”
“Sluts?”
“Drugs?”
“Play musics?”
“Ask Charles?”

They all looked at each other.

Meanwhile, Charles is enjoying a few hours to himself on the bus. It's nice to see what the Klokateers are up to, and catch up on hobbies with the TV playing in the background. Currently he completes a book of crossword puzzles in Danish while the news speculates about him. Luckily he doesn’t even exist according to the government so they can’t speculate very far.

Then his phone buzzes.
“Hello?”
“Hey… Charles, we’re all freakin out so we’ve come to the conclusion that we need to do drugs about it. Can I have a free pass-”
“Woah, woah, woah, slow down. How the hell is that the conclusion?”

Pickles looks over his shoulder at the rest of the guys chugging beer and sharing pipes. “Urm. So, we talked about it, and we don’t have a solution, so we’re gonna fall back to old solutions. Drink, drugs, women and music.”
Charles sniggers. “I thought you didn’t want to go back to the old ways?”
“I really don’t, but we’re collectively freaking out and you can’t fix it without being our manager again so-”
“Pickles, hold on. Are you telling me you’d rather get fucked up than let me manage?”

Pickles froze for a second. “Yes. Yes I am.”
Charles accepts and makes himself comfortable. “Okay. You know the rules. No sex if you drink. No addictive substances. Women are okay if you’re playing safe.”
Pickles fiddles with one of his dreads. “No guys though?”
“Pickles, the media thinks your gay-”
“-Oh- FUCK!”
Charles smiles to himself.
Pickles hits his head on the wall in defeat. “Okay. Just girls.”
“Okay. Glad we have an accord. See ya tonight.”
“See ya tonight.”

Pickles hung up and turned to the band. “No meth, heroine, crack, opioids or spice. Everything else is a go.”
Skwiss looked crusty having just let go of a pipe. “I swears, it makes me plays faster.”
Toki crushed some pills up. “That ams bullshit, Skwisgaar.” The pills were handed to Murderface who tipped them into a glass of something that he tipped back and drank fast.
“Oh god, that burned a little.”
Nathan handed him another beer. “We gotta get fucked up fast.”
Pickles took it from it. “Couldn’t agree more.” He started chugging.

Meanwhile, Charles had made it to the security team who were happy to see him back, but none of them said anything. He just blends in with the furniture. The screens they watch display the show. Charles likes this room. Gives him a sense of control he likes.

The band is introduced and the stage rises with smoke and lights.

Charles smiles.

All of them are tweaking or falling around drunk. Pickles looks the most sober and he’s not sure if that is because his tolerance is still in place or because he’s banned from the heavy stuff.

Nathan points at the audience while struggling to remain upright. “Who’s ready to get really, really angry?!”
The audience go nuts as they always do, but Skwiss is fiddling his guitar very loudly over Nathan’s introduction.

“Okay … where the fuck are we?” Nathan asks.
Charles tuts and stands proud of himself.

The crowd yell ‘Poland’.
“We’re in Poland?” Nathan asks, confused. “Where the fuck is Poland?”
Charles rolls his entire head and starts walking away. He’s seen enough.

He chooses to spend his evening doing ‘Charles activities’ as Pickles puts it. He’ll find out tonight or maybe tomorrow morning how Pickles night went.

*

The morning was harsh for Pickles. He woke up after blacking out. He can’t remember anything after the show, and even that is hazy. He might just be remembering previous shows. It all starts to look the same after a while.

He starts looking around and figures out that he’s in his room in his bed. “Oh thank god.” Then he noticed something. “Charles?” He sits up and the room spins. “Charles?”

With no one else in the room he starts looking for clues.

Charles' clothes aren’t in the usual place so he must be up.

Pickles wanders in his underwear down to the main lounge where most of the band sit. “Hey, where’s Murderface?”
“He’s ur ..” Nathan starts. “Having his gay crisis.”
Pickles sits down. “What happened last night?”
“Ur…………”
Toki threw up. “Mistakes were mades.”
Skwiss is shaking like a leaf. “We needs more recovers time betweens shows.”

Pickles struggled to look around. “Anyone seen Charles?”
The whole room groans.
“What?”
Nathan points at the TV. Once again, they’ve made big news. Last night was displayed in short clips of amature footage with each other having a crisis while high or drunk and starting fights. Toki appears to have lost some clothes and Skwiss is talking to no one. Nathan is crying on a groupie and Pickles dragging himself backwards along the floor. Maybe he’s trying to make snow angels or something. Murderface is drunk explaining something to someone, probably in a language they don’t understand, but he’s persistent.

Pickles sinks even further. “Lemme guess. While blacking out, I talked about Charles nonstop?”
“You was also texting him.”
Pickles’ heart stopped as he pulled up his phone to read the texts. Charles didn’t respond to a single one of them.
“Miss you babe.”
“I swear, I’m not gay.”
“I love you.”
“Not just the drugs talking.”
“We should do kink stuff while I’m high for the sensory play.”
“I’m sorry. That’s against the rules.”
“Do you hate me?”
“Is it the daddy issues?”
“I think my collar needs permanently attaching. I don’t wanna go anywhere.”
“What if I’m so drunk I can’t find you?”
“Hold on I’m coming home.”
“Charles, I’m lost.”
“Charles, I’m on the wrong bus.”
“I think we need matching tattoos.”
“Miss you babe.”
“N;bfqiutybn3q2fuj’ vn”
“I fell over.”

Pickles winces. These texts go on for hours.

The group chat is no better. Toki took photos, and posted them. The media are having a field day.

“So.. where is Charles?”

Meanwhile, Charles sits in Murderfaces’ room while the man rambles and screams about his crisis.
“And the whole thing about Dick?! What if they find out? What if my family finds out? What if the media tells my family? What if even the guys don’t want me? I’m not gay! You’re gay!”
Charles nods and lets him waffle on. “There there.”
Murderface curls in on himself. “Why couldn’t people be more weirded out about the piss thing? Why's it gotta be a guys thing?”
“Pft. Americans.”
“What?”
“What?”

“And what if I find someone but I let them go because people will know?”
Charles rolled his eyes. He’s not going to tell William that Pickles has been on and off with guys right under their noses for years. The only reason Pickles is on the news right now is because they didn’t tell anyone and didn’t plan on being back in the public eye ever again.

Murderface hugs him too hard. “We’re not ready to do this without you,” he cries.
Charles pats him on the back. “There there.”
“And I don’t mean that in the gay way-”
Charles sighs and gets ready for him to over explain their reliance on him.

Later, Pickles still isn’t dressed, but the boys have collectively decided that getting hammered was not the correct way to go about a media frenzy.

Charles comes through the door and turns the TV off. They all look at him and wait for the news.
“So, your behaviour last night was displayed all across the world as every station speculated about why these behaviours have never been seen before and why you’re all ur .. acting so weird.”
Nathan groaned. “You use Mordhaus to keep it all quiet, don’t you?”
“Yeah… now had you asked me yesterday to do that for you, I could have shown you how to avoid any more of these,” Charles said bluntly.

Toki threw a pillow at Pickles. “You dildo! You coulds have asked him!”
Pickles threw it back and missed. “We don’t need fuckin’ parenting through my boyfriend!”
“He was Dethklok manager first!”
“And he’s my other half now!”
Charles looked bored. “Guys, you can do both.”

Everyone else looked up.

“Pickles, you want to lay low and enjoy being a regular person. Everyone else wants to keep getting away with stupid stuff like rockstars. You can do both.”
The group go quiet.
Toki slipped into a sadistic smile. “The TV doesn’t thinks he can does both-”
“-Fuck you!” Pickles yelled back at him.
“Guys!” Charles yelled.
The room quickly settled.
“Murderface is also feeling very sensitive about the subject. All of you have asked for a cover up at some point in your careers. Maybe a little bit of sympathy-”
“Coming froms the psychopath-”
“-Don’t talk to him like that!”
“-Whats it got to do with anything!”
The room erupted again. Charles gives up and goes back to the room. They have another day of travelling where they can talk to him one at a time.

*

One at a time, the boys seperated to talk to the people who could actually solve their problems, instead of just getting drunk about it.

Nathan went to the Klokateers who very slowly answered his questions about legal documents and cross continental rights.

Toki took himself to Charles to check what happens if the world finds out he’s a sadist with a history of trauma that leads him to dungeons.

Skwiss spent the rest of the night attempting self care and writing apologies in case he’s ever held accountable for excessive drug use and fornication.

Pickles decided Murderface could do with a shoulder to cry on. And he did.
“I know I like it. I just- I’m not ready to say it…?” Murderface took the joint from Pickles, who sat on his floor next to the bed.
Pickles blew smoke out through his nose. “The ONLY reason I never said anything was because o’ you. We knew you were into it, and everytime you tried to cover it up-”
“I was only covering it up because you assholes keep making fun of me.”
“Dude, if you had just been honest about it-”
“Why the hell were you honest about it?”

Pickles needed a minute to deal with the momentary shame. “B- Because I didn’t want the ridicule, honestly. Back in Snakes N Barrels, I was rewarded for dressing promiscuously. I was encouraged to get caught with guys and girls. I got taken to some fun parties. Then I got into death metal, and suddenly it’s all different.” Pickles ruminates on his first weeks getting into the new scene. His piercings, his dreads, the news black wardrobe … every now and then he misses colour. He remembers how the new concerts had a tone he was looking for, how it gave him space to be angry even when he wasn’t. But he also remembers how often he felt pressured to be something he’s not. “I fell outta one scene and straight into another. I guess you’ve always been here, huh?”

Murderface held his knees. “Yeah. Kinda told myself those feelings don’t have a place in my world and ….” Murderface trailed off.

Pickles looked sad for himself. “Maybe we didn’t exactly make it easier for ya.”
“I didn’t exactly stand my ground on the matter.”
Pickles gave him a side glance. “You ever thought about normalising it yourself, ya know, now the news about me ‘n’ Charles is out there-”
“-And let the world talk about me like I’m some sort of freakshow? Fuck that. You did this to yourself.”
Pickles sighs, mildly annoyed.

Chapter Text

Another country, another show, another night out with Charles. Except outside the fans are still fascinated by Pickles having a boyfriend, and the very public display of his collar. Pickles drowns it out and follows the boys backstage.
“Anyone else thinking about retiring?” Pickles says, tired of this.
“No.”
“Nope.”
“Nah.”
“Ur .. In case you’ve forgotten, Planet Piss is still in development-”
Pickles interrupted him. “I’ll take that as a no then.”

Charles knocked and awkwardly came in. “The next venue is faster by plane so … urm. Yeah.”
Pickles walked backwards, away from his friends and toward Charles. “We’ll see ya there.”
The pair left the room, but no one looked happy. The weight of the last few days took a toll on them all.

Meanwhile, Charles walked by Pickles' side. “You ur, doing alright?”
“Oh, you mean since the entire word is debating whether I’m dead or broken? Yeah, I’m totally okay,” he replied sarcastically.
Charles held his hand as they walked down the corridors toward the exit. “Well, we could lay low for a while if it would make you feel better, or we could go out and just continue to be regular people like we always do?”

Pickles sank. “I don’t feel like I’m allowed to be a regular person at the minute. God forbid someone gets a picture of me playing mini golf and everyone decides the club is my new favourite impact toy.”
Charles smiles to himself. “I can make that happen if it makes them go away.”
Pickles shuddered. “Urgh, it’ll just gimme more perverts following me.”
Charles thought about it. “Okay, I guess we can stay home for a while, but the longer you leave it, the more interested the public are gonna be in you.”

Pickles hates that he’s right. The best thing he can do is carry on like normal. “Maybe, we just stay home tonight?” He looks over and sees Charles is already on his phone, probably looking at what events they’re near.
Charles contorts his mouth. There are things happening, but Pickles is right. If they go out now, he’s going to be recognised immediately and that’ll ruin the evening.

Pickles is amazed when he puts his phone away and stops them at the main door.
“What did you wanna do with our night in?”
Pickles let's a long breath go. “Before you, I’d have said drugs and sex.”
Charles smiles. “Which is it, drugs or sex?”
“Well you won’t do drugs-”
“-What are we taking?”
Pickles’ eyebrows went up.

Everyone has a room on the plane as well. Dethklok refuses to go without all their luxuries while travelling and that means putting all the same rooms they use at home on every form of transport. So Pickles and Charles find themselves in their shared room and sat on the bed half dressed with a collection of pills to choose from.

“So, you've never done Molly before?”
“No, I have not.”
Pickles nods. “Okay, well it's a hallucinogenic-”
“Yeah, I know what ecstasy is.”
“Oh. So you know what you’re in for?”
“Ur … generally.”
Pickles binks at him. “You’re freakin’ out aren’t you?”
“I’m very scared, yes.”
“We don’t have to do this-”
“-But I want to. It can’t be that bad right?”
“Urm…” Pickles thinks back to all his worst reactions and how each passing one was more tolerable. “It’s .. a learning experience. Honestly, it's better if you’ve done it a couple o’ time.”

Charles is weighing it up. His research tells him he’s either going to feel amazing or awful depending on which way he trips. That is a risk. Knowing what’s going to happen is easing the anxiety, but not enough to confidently make a decision. “What does it do for you, exactly?”
“Ur … First time was awesome. I was at a party and I was just so much happier than before I took it. I mean, I was happy to be there anyway, so- you can imagine how much more intense it was.”
Charles nodded. “And the bad ones?”
“Ur …” Pickles had to think back. “I got paranoid and trashed the place.” Then Charles looked worried. “Woah, calm down. I was with bad people, honestly, I was already uncomfortable and they made it so much worse.”

Charles took a very deep breath. “Okay. I think I can deal with it.” Charles pointed at the selection before them. “Your usual dose is the big one-”
Pickles picked it up and took it dry.
Charles blinked at him. “And I was going to say you don’t have to take the whole thing.”
Pickles looked at what was left. “And … how are you taking it?”
Charles picked up a smaller pill. “I heard powder and paper taste bad, so I’m using Toki’s dosage since we’re about the same size and tolerance.” He opened a bottle of water. “I ur… know I don’t look it, but I’m freaking the fuck out.”

Pickles stopped his hand. Charles froze and gave him a look with just his eyes.
“You- Don’t have to do this.”
Charles slowly continued to turn the lid. “I know.”
Pickles slowly let go. He wishes there was more he could do to make him comfortable. No amount of curiosity is worth Charles’ discomfort, but here he goes, knocking the little tablet back and staring at him blankly.

“Okay, the internet said it should take half an hour to have an effect. What did you wanna do in that time?”
Pickles shrugged. “I’m usually at a party when this happens, so either girls or music.”
“Music it is.” He pulls his phone out. “What are we listening to?”
Pickles tries to look at Charles’ phone but he’s very good at holding it out of his line of sight. “What’s your most listened to track?”
Charles looks at his phone and half of it is rap. His parents would be ashamed of him. “I’m not sure it's your thing.”
“You need something that's gonna make you happy to hear. I’m open to everything.”
Charles’ finger hovered over the RnB playlist. “What about you though?”
“I will be happy no matter what you put on. We’ve been living together long enough for me to know what you listen to.”
“Podcasts mostly.”
“Charles.”
“Okay, fine.” Charles presses the button and they both sit awkwardly in silence while the most unfitting soundtrack starts playing.

Pickles frowns. “I forget this is your thing.”
“I can turn it off-”
“No no no, it’s okay. It’s not a bad thing, I just don’t get whatever you get outta this.”
Charles shrugs. “Possibly defiance. Possibly an easier bass that I can follow in the background of my tasks.”
Pickles smiles. “Defiance?”
“You know I told you my mom had a keen interest in music?”
“Yeah?”
“She had a thing or two to say about ‘hip hop’.”
Pickles sniggers. “You just did everything in your power to do the opposite o’ what they wanted, huh?”
Charles smiles about it. “I guess so.”

Pickles likes seeing him smile. It's rare, but it's meaningful. “You feel better?”
“Yeah, actually, I think I do. I’m sorry if this isn’t how this usually goes-”
“Charles, it ain’t like that. We’re doing something new for you. It’s like- normal- that you’re feeling .. not normal.” Pickles had no other way of explaining this.
Charles thinks he gets what he means. “Then- Thank you, for trying to make it easier.”
Pickles lit up. “No problem. This shouldn’t be uncomfortable.”
Charles looks down with just his eyes. “I’m seeing some parallels.”

Pickles frowned while he thought about it.

Charles sniggered.

Pickles just worked it out. “Oh- okay, yeah, I can see that now.”
“Really, it took you long enough to work it out.”
Pickles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, putting you from the accountant who lives with us to the guy who ties me up took a little more work than changing the music.”
Charles put his hand over Pickles’. “And you did. You talked to me and I trust you. I’d say that’s a little more than the scenes’ soundtrack.”
Pickles lowered his head to cover the blush. “Well ya know, I’m just .. doing what you do, I guess.”
“And I appreciate that,” he said, pulling him for a quick kiss.
Pickles giggled. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”

Both them parted and continued to sit awkwardly waiting for something to happen.

Pickles started thinking about the choice in music again. He really needs to stop judging the man.
Charles noticed him watching his phone. “I can change it-”
“No, I was just thinking about what else you listen to. And I don’t mean songs for karaoke.”
Charles looked at his playlists. “There’s classical, some pop music, a lot of drum and bass, a few rock bands … ya know, just a mix o’ stuff.”
Pickles leaned to try and look at his phone. “Any o’ that from your mom?”
Charles looked at his phone. “Ur … yeah. She was a fan of orchestras. As I said, my parents were very traditional people.”
Pickles nods. He knows it was the late 1900’s, but when he pictures these people, he almost imagines them as 1800’s with a gramophone playing Beethoven while she sews and baby Charles sits in fancy rich boy clothes by an open fire. He knows it’s silly, but Charles hasn’t described anything modern in his family household.

Charles scoops the drugs back into a bag and puts them on the counter. “I like this particular song. It’s kinda sad.”
Pickles nods. He hasn’t understood the words in a single song and the tone keeps shifting. “You want something more positive?”
“No. I can appreciate a sad sentiment.”
Pickles keeps nodding, having no idea how to respond. “I like angry music.”
Charles chunter. “I should hope so.”
Pickles broke into a smile.
Charles giggled.

Pickles suddenly recognised the feeling. “Ohh…. dude.”
Charles’ eyes widened. “Oh fuck, I can feel that. Wow.”
“I feel fuckin’ awesome.”
“I can’t remember the last time I felt like this,” Charles said, staring at the bed.
Pickles fell back. “It always reminds me of my first big shows. The crowds always got bigger. The music always got louder. The parties got harder. Life couldn’t be sweeter.”

Charles compares it to winning a fight. To getting a contract signed. To hearing a song he’s not heard since he was young. The feeling compares to success, or relief after a harsh moment of tension. His heart is beating heavier. His senses are all on edge. Everything in its simplicity is so much more intense. Even the way he looks at Pickles. His emotions are not under any sort of control any more. It’s just pure joy.

Pickles looks up to see how Charles is doing. He’s staring in wonder of the world directly at him. “Dude?”
“Wow….”
“You feelin’ fuckin’ awesome?”
“I only just figured out what love feels like, and boy am I glad I took this drug AFTER I put the feeling and the word together. Wow.” Charles said, eyes wild and crazy staring at Pickles.
Pickles just looked normal. “I know, it just feels awesome.”
“I know I’m on drugs because I’m not processing anything right, but it just feels so good, I don’t even care.”

Charles was pushed onto his back and laid sprawled out along the bed. Every movement, every sound, the gentle drag of fabric and the heat of Pickles' skin just felt incredible. “Why’ve I never felt anything like this?”
Pickles sat up to talk to him. “Because you purposefully avoid risky activities that take away your control.”
Charles really thought about it. If falling in love produces that feeling, he wouldn’t recognise it before Pickles. If loud music and attention produce the feeling, he wouldn’t have sought it out. If rollercoasters and trust building exercises produced it, he’d still have turned down the offer. This moment feels so good because he trusts Pickles and he recognises the feelings that come with the experience.

“I love you so much, Pickles.”
Pickles smiles down at him. “Yeah, that’s ecstasy for ya.”
“You just mean so much to me, and this all means so much and everything we’ve done and been through have been so.. So good.” Charles can feel himself sweating. He’s tense and he doesn’t know why. “I feel like I want something, but I’m so unbearably happy right now. Is there something wrong with me?”

Pickles’ eyes flick away and back to Charles. “You think you’re … aroused?”
Charles hadn’t even considered that, but now he’s thinking about it, sex would be so good right now. “We don’t play while intoxicated.”
“We can still consent. We’re literally talking about it right now.” Pickles really hopes he’s making a good case. All good feelings are exaggerated through these types of drugs. Sex would be awesome if Charles didn’t need some variety of kink to get excited about.

Charles is arguing with himself. He wants to say yes so badly because he loves Pickles and wants to feel good with him, but firstly, he’s not actually horny, and secondly, they can’t play while he’s not in a safe mind set. If they could switch that would have made life so much easier, but alas, tonight that will not be happening. “I want it, but we can’t.” Charles looked slightly heart broken. “I’m sorry.”

Pickles held his hand and continued to smile warmly. “We can do something else… maybe?”
Charles looks up at him in awe. He looks so good right now. Everything is so good right now. He can’t think of anything he wants to enjoy while floating through drug induced joy. “You know that thing we keep comparing sex to?”
Pickles’ eyes widened. “Oh… yeah. I could totally go for that.”
“What are you craving?”
“Ya know I’m not fussy in … this department.”
“Fine. What do you recommend?”
“Urm…. Where in the world are we right now?”
“Lithuania.”
“Where the fuck- Okay, okay. Urm… What’s ur … ya know, popular here?”

Charles pulled his phone out and started typing. Pickles watched over his shoulder as he started looking for local take outs.

“Ur … I don’t know what I’m in the mood for.”
Pickles pointed. “Oh my god, desserts.”
Charles’ mind was just blown. “I’m gonna eat dessert without dinner. My mom would fucking kill me.”
Pickles kept his mouth shut.

Charles pressed the button, and without knowing what exactly they were ordering, it was added to the basket.

“What do we do while we wait for it to arrive?”
“I don’t know. Make out?”
“That sounds so good right now.”

The two of them fell into a very heated back and forth, rolling around on the bed and sucking at each other's mouths while pressing against each other and pulling the other closer. Pickles’ hands usually ended up on Charles’ shoulders or around his waist while Charles made full use of holding Pickles’ head or interlocking their legs so he couldn't move.

Charles pulled away looking like a mess and Pickles laid there, chafing his jeans.
“You still feelin’ it?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Me too. This is awesome.”

Then Charles’ phone buzzed and both of them excitedly checked the notification.
“It’s being delivered!”

Pickles flapped. “I can’t believe I’ve never ordered in before.”
“When would you need to order in before now?”
“I dunno. I never got take away at home, and I never needed to order fast food as a rockstar.”
“Getting to know your eating habits was a little bit of a challenge.”
Pickles shrugged. “Switching out to healthy food was a little bit of a challenge.”
“It was not a decision I made lightly.”
Pickles happily rests on his boyfriend. “I know. But thank you for doing it anyway.”
Charles cuddled him. “That means a lot.”

Then Charles’ phone buzzes and they both break into manic smiles. “Foods here!”

The Klokateers dropped it off and Charles collected it from the door. They broke open the bag and got very excited while splitting the trays and tubs.
“This smells fuckin’ awesome,” Pickles said while tearing through the pastry.
Charles is literally drooling. “I already feel amazing. I’m not sure I’m prepared for this.”
Pickles put a chunk of something in his mouth. “There. I did it for ya.”
Charles shuddered. “Oh…. that’s good.”

Pickles wonders how intense the feeling is for Charles. He knows the man does feel strong emotions. He just also knows he purposely tries to live the most structured life ever, removing any and all unnecessary risks. He watched him pass out after taking painkillers once. How is he really coping with drugs?

Meanwhile, Charles is almost in tears. He knows the food isn’t actually as good as he thinks it is. The psychological high that comes with eating has been embellished due to the drugs. But even knowing that, he lets the ecstasy do its job. It's why he took it. The flavours are fine. The unfamilarity is adding some anxiety to the mix, but all he can feel is fucking awesome.

Pickles carried on eating. The music is chill. The moment is sweet. The mood is awesome. Life is good. “What are we eating?”
“It could be one of the many Lithuanian foods we ordered. Some form of bread and meat in sauce.”
Pickles nods along. “Makes a nice change from junk.”
“Makes a nice change from cooking.”
“And no dishes.”
Charles exhaled. “Oh.. no dishes is so good.”
Pickles could only giggle. They do take away at home, and they share the dishes, like they share all the house chores. It’s weird to see Charles so at peace. He can definitely tell he’s high right now.

Charles has made himself sad that dinner will end. “What do we do after we’re done?”
“Sleep it off, man. We can’t go out like this. We can’t have sex. Can’t imagine you wanna break out a board game-”
“Absolutely not.”
“-Then the rest of the evening is gonna be chillin’ out.”
Charles dips stuff in things. He has no idea what he’s eating but it feels good. “I think I can handle that.”

With food thoroughly demolished, Charles laid down with his hand on his belly. “This is so bad for me.”
Pickles started stripping his clothes.
Charles cocked his head at him. “What are you doing?”
“Getting naked.”
“Why?”
“Comfy.”
Charles accepted it and closed his eyes. All his cares are just slightly too far away for him to actively give a shit. The moment is so calm. It reminds him of the come down after sex. Maybe they should have done sex first. Aw well.

Charles checks in on Pickles and he’s staring at his phone .. while hard. “Pickles, why do you have an erection?”
Pickles shrugged. “I’m naked in bed with you at the time o’ night when we’d usually have sex. Just an .. automatic response.”
Charles frowned and thought about it. Did he accidentally condition Pickles’ bodily responces to associate bedtime with sex? Looks like it.

Pickles can feel Charles staring at him. The silence does not bode well. He pauses and makes eye contact with him. “I’ll get dressed again if this is a problem.”
“Would you have liked to have sex tonight?”
“Whut?”
Charles repeated himself bluntly. “Were you looking forward to sex?”
“I’m always looking forward to sex. And falling asleep next to you. And breakfast. When am I not looking forward to something we do regularly?” Pickles said confused and slightly alarmed.

Charles rolled over, thinking about how bad laying down is after eating. “Pickles, this doesn’t usually happen, but I think I want it.”
Pickles’ heart skipped a beat. “Charles, you know the rules.”
Charles got to his knees while grumbling. “I know, I know, but I am in such a good place right now, and seeing you …” Charles gestured to Pickle's naked body casually posed along the bed.
Pickles went from being confused to being playful. “This doing something for ya?”
“No, not in that way. I think I just need to utilise the headspace while we’re in it.”

Pickles thought about it. He’s always down for sex, but Charles isn’t excited and kink stuff isn’t meant for ecstasy. “What’d ya have in mind?”
Charles can’t believe he’s thinking about this while in an altered state. He’s going to regret tonight tomorrow. “I urm- I think I’m just looking for intimacy at the moment.”
Pickles shuddered. “Oh okay, you wanna cuddle or ….”
Charles’s elbows buckled. “Could just … touch yourself, maybe. As if I’m not here?”
Pickles raised his eyebrows. “Ur.. yeah, sure. How’d you picture this?”

Charles bit his lip. They didn’t do any prep work and that ruins a few ideas he had. “Just - do what you’d usually do. I’ll work around you.”
That’s a new request for Pickles, but he can do it. “Alright.” He sat himself up and pulled the lube bottle from the drawer but spent the next few minutes flicking through his phone.

Charles spent that time trying to get undressed from the few items of clothes he was wearing. He’s not aroused exactly, but he feels so physically comfortable in his own skin whether he gets there or not, Pickles’ arousal will do something for him.

Pickles’ eyes focused in on a picture that sent his brain reeling. Without even moving his eyes from the screen, the lube was applied and his gripped hand started moving. He felt Charles move back onto the bed and was greeted by the man crawling naked in his direction and pushing his phone out of the way. He continued forward and eventually pulled him in by the jaw for a kiss. It ran through him and left him pleasuring himself for someone else.

Charles basically climbed over the man, almost sitting over his thighs and deepening their kiss. He likes their bare skin touching. He likes being in control of Pickles and his pleasure. He wants them close, but not in a sex way, just a mutual way. “Say you’re thinking about me.”
Pickles muscles tensed. “I don’t want your hands to let go.”

Charles likes sharing the feeling with him. He likes to see Pickles enjoying himself. He likes being involved. He likes to see him totally naked. He likes touching his skin. He .. thinks the drugs might be talking.

Pickles lays back and pushes himself to climax.

Charles has no idea what to do with himself now. The moment is over. Is he disappointed?

Pickles can see Charles isn’t okay, but he can’t tell why. “You ur.. You okay?”
“Ur… Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Charles slowly moved away. “I was excited while you were enjoying yourself, but now it’s over I- I think I’m… Sad?”
Pickles can’t remember this ever happening to him. “Huh. Did- you want something?”
“No, I’m not.. Actually aroused. I was just enjoying something you were enjoying. Does that make sense?”
Pickles nods. “Yeah, it does.”

Charles sits back and shamefully holds himself while Pickles tidies himself up.

Pickles gives himself a quick wipe down and gently pulls Charles out of whatever mental spiral he’s falling down. “I think,” he says while lifting his head. “We need to keep doing stuff we enjoy.”
Charles blinks. “Like what?”
“Ya know, we do more than have sex. What else do you like seeing me do?”
“I… have no idea.”

Pickles has one idea left. “Can I share with you video games?”
Charles’ eyes widen. “I’d fucking love that.”

And the rest of the evening was just that. A message was sent to the Klokateers who plugged in the only console they could get hold of (PS2) and a few second hand games. God only knows where they got it but the fact the one who brought the giant boxy TV in knew how to set it up and left them to it is a miracle.

Chapter Text

The boys spent the next day on the plane. Luckily the plane is full of activities and fun spaces.

Bowling is the current activity. Charles is obviously winning, but second place is Murderface which has set off a quiet competition between the two of them. This left Nathan, Pickles, Skwisgaar and Toki joining in but talking between themselves while the other two took the game far too seriously.

“Italy, huh? Didn’t think they’d let us back in after last time,” Pickles starts while slouching along the chair.
“Yah,” Skwiss agrees. “I remembers Murderface gots himself arrested.”
Toki is failing to re-tie his bowling shoes. “He gets arrested every time.”
Nathan smiled. “But it was totally worth it.”

Pickles remembers being much more interested in the culture than the rest of the boys, who decided to go criticising the landmarks, art and food. Pissing on the tower of Pisa was where the Italians drew the line. “Yeah, but remember the actual show?”
“No,” Nathan replied.
Toki thought back. “Was this the one when we hads those nuns?”
“Yes!”
Every one went “oooohhhhh…..”

Skwiss looked at Pickles. “You still nots going out after shows?”
“Fuck no. The world thinks I’m either dead, or gay.” The bit he didn’t say out loud was that he’s not sure which is worse, especially when Charles is right there and probably listening.
Murderface sauntered over while Charles took his sweet time taking his turn. “Pickles, you know it’ll blow over and the fans will get fascinated with whatever stunt one of us is gonna pull and you can go back to being dead.”
Pickles isn’t sure why, but that made him feel better. “Thanks, but I still don’t want creepy fans filming me doing regular jack off stuff with Charles and then reportin’ on it like it's news. That's the whole point of doing regular jack off stuff.”

Charles swapped with Murderface who confidently went back to the alley. “Pickles, you can’t hide from the world forever. Murderface is right. You should try and normalise your new life.”
Nathan said it. “Charles, no offence, but you remember how much security we had from our fans, and the measures you put in place when the media thought they saw something.”
“You ur… didn’t exactly help yourselves by writing books, becoming politicians and building unsafe theme parks.”

Pickles stood up aggressively. “Exactly! Who we’re fuckin’ around with should even compare to all the stupid shit we did in the past.”
Toki raised his eyebrows. “Maybe that ams the problem. We don’ts do anything for thems to talk about no more.”

The group froze while thinking about their antics lately.

“Huh,” Nathan said. “I guess we’ve all been laying kinda low ever since.. Ya know.”
“Since Salacia,” Charles said under his breath.
“Since Abigail left,” Pickles added sadly.
“Since you moved out,” Nathan corrected.
“Whats you think we needs to do about it?” Skwisgaar asked the group.

Everyone looked at Charles.

Charles looked confused back. “Why are you looking at me?”
“Because thats whats you do?” Toki reminded him.
Charles frowns harder. “Guys, I was incharge of the company finances. I talked to the label and the companies who used to endorse you. What ur.. What exactly are you expecting from me here?”
Skwiss poked him. “Fix it.”
“Yeah,” Murderface interrupted. “Fix it.”
“Yeah, c’mon man-” Nathan joined in.
And before Charles could argue back, the group was repeating variations of the words “Fix it” and “Do it”.

“Alright, Fine!” Charles concedes. “I think a public address would be appropriate right now, or perhaps some positive publicity would-”
“Hey Charles,” Nathan interrupts.
Charles gives up. “Yes, Nathan.”
“Do you know when dinners being served? Kinda hungry.”
Charles looks annoyed.
“Yeah,” Skwiss agrees. “I can’ts remember whens last time I ates was.”
“I hopes its something good.” Toki adds.

Charles fell back into a familiar state of mind. “You could always have an apple.”
“Urgh, no.”
“What are trying to do to us,”
“Yeah, Ofdensen, whats you saying dat for?”
“He ams conspiring-”
Pickles lost his shit with the group. “THIS is exactly why we can’t ask him for help anymore! Stop it!”

The room went quiet.

Nathan squints at Pickles. “Are you in on this healthy snacks bullshit?”

Pickles raised his hands in defeat. “Fuck it. I’m gettin’ an apple and going back to my room.” He turned and walked away.

Charles let him go.

The rest of the boys waited for Charles to say something.

“You ur … should really follow in his footsteps-”
“He wants to have sex with us!” Murderface yells while pointing in horror.
Charles also gave up, turning away and walking out of the room.

*

Backstage, Pickles was first in make-up and least talkative to the group. They’d noticed he’d been glued to his phone since his hands were freed up, but none of them dare ask what he’s looking at or what he’s discussing with Charles.

The silence in the greenroom was awkward and painful, so Nathan tried to change it. “Charles said he’ll organise a couple of talk show-”
“Stop - using him as our manager!”
“Woah, okay-”
“No, I’m so sick o’ this. I just want this tour to be over so I go back to being dead and whatever sexuality keeps the fans happy. I can’t have that while you assholes are using my boyfriend how we used him before I left.”

Nathan rose to match Pickles’ fury. “OH, but when he’s not here, you wanna come crawling back to Dethklok as if you never left?!”
Pickles looked shocked. “YES!”
“You can’t just do that!”
“Yes I can. This is my job. That's my personal life. I should be able to fuckin’ chose how involved you are in either of them. Why is this such a hard concept for you to grasp?!”

The room went quiet. Nathan didn’t have the words to express himself and Pickles was all but out of steam. The rest of the gang wait in suspense for one of them to break.

Pickles knows full well Nathan isn’t going to appologise, so he backs down first. “Whatever man. But I remember a time when you wanted the fans to back off, when you wanted the label to leave ya alone, when moving on and settling down was the only thing on your mind.” Pickles marched past him. “Guess it doesn’t count if it's not a pretty girl, right Nathan?”

The other 4 watch him leave the room and head toward the halls. Hopefully he’s only going for a smoke to call Charles or something.

Nathan quietly dwelled on what Pickles had said. He knows he’s not the most secure about his personal life. He’ll happily share his mistakes about drugs, about girls, about music and his previous life in glam rock, but anything to do with family and relationships and he suddenly goes quiet.

He’s never tried to ask the man about his personal life. Mostly because he doesn’t care. They’re a band. Their relationship is built entirely on music. None of them ever talk about home, or their interests outside of their rooms. Murderface collects old shit. Skwiss likes coffee and women. Toki will partake in just about anything. But outside of alcohol, he’s never thought about who Pickles actually is. Or what Charles does with him outside of Dethklok.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise had he really thought about it, but why did they try and hide it? Why is Pickles angry about it being public knowledge? Why is he trying to leave Dethklok behind?

Maybe he needs to ask.

By the time Nathan had come to this conclusion, the show was over and Pickles had already bolted from the stage and started running toward the bus again.

Nathan threw the mic to the nearest Klokateer and chased Pickles on his mad dash to avoid fans.

Pickles was still pissed about this whole thing. He wants to be mad at Charles for letting them become public knowledge, but he supposes he started it by acting out about their break up.

Maybe he’s mad at Nathan for making him choose between Dethklok and a normal life. If he had to choose, he’d choose a normal life. He loves the music, the performances, the games with the rest of the gang, but whatever he was getting out of that lifestyle has been replaced, and Nathan just can’t see a comparison.

Then Nathan catches him up and struggles to get his breath back.
“What do you want?” Pickles says watching Nathan and leading them back to the greenroom.
Nathan can’t catch his breath. “Gimme- a- minute.”
Pickles rolls his eyes and keeps walking. “Whatever man.”

In the backroom, Pickles pulls his phone out and starts texting. Nathan awkwardly reaches out and stumbles over his words. “Did- I mean- Were you still going to ur… stay home tonight?”
Pickles never even looked up. “Yeah.”
Nathan tried to get his attention. “So maybe … You wanna hang out or ….”
Pickles huffed through his nose. “Why d’you care? I thought you’d only want me when I’m drunk or recording.”

Nathan desperately wanted to remind him that their personal lives used to be their work lives, so hanging out could be so much more than drinking and recording, but he keeps that to himself. “I urm.. Thought if you and Charles aren’t doing anything- or maybe if you didn’t wanna come out, maybe we could- I don’t know- I don’t feel like we hang out any more.”

Pickles is still texting Charles. “You know I’m trying to keep my personal life separate from work, Nathan. It’s literally the thing we’re arguing about.”
Nathan huffed back. “Do you want me involved in it or not?”

Pickles hadn’t thought about that. “Huh.” He supposes he doesn’t. “The thing is, Nathan, that I’m trying to stick to this healthy thing I got going on with Charles, and being near you and Dethklok in general really fucks that up for me.”
Nathan held his arm. “Would you let me try and do the healthy stuff? Just- me and you?”
Pickles held back calling him gay. Considering his own crisis with the public right now, maybe that word is best left unspoken. “You sure you can handle it?”
Nathan’s not sure now. What does Pickles do with himself if he’s not in bed with Charles or getting drunk? “Ur… yeah. I think so.”

Pickles has no idea what to do with that kind of offer. He texts Charles.
“Nathan wants to hang just me n him.”
“Are you happy with that?”
“I’m not leaving the room, but I don’t wanna leave a third wheel.”
“Then I will go wander around Italy while you boys patch things up. I’ll text when I’m on my way back.”
Pickles smiles warmly at his phone. “Thank you Charles.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”

Nathan looks over Pickles’ shoulder. “What did he say?”
“He says that's cool, but he’ll want you out for bedtime.”
“You have a bedtime?”
Pickles gave the man a warning look.
Nathan backed down.

Pickles threw him a towel and started wiping the paint off at the same time.

Nathan follows Pickles’ lead, quickly cleaning up and then following him back to the bus. Usually this would be the part where Nathan is offered everything by Klokateers and he’d decide what he felt like as if came up, but Pickles walks the halls like a ghost. He talks to no one, he’s uninterrupted by staff, his desires for the usual rockstar stuff is just gone.

“What ur .. what are we doing when we get back to your place?”
“Probably normal people stuff. Watch a movie, play a game or some shit.”
Nathan frowns. “You don’t sound happy with those options.”
“They’re fine. I kinda like that they’re so easy going, ya know.”

Nathan’s not sure what happened between Salacia and moving in with Charles, but something happened that has turned Pickles from their functioning alcoholic to their boring, flanderised gay neighbour.

Pickles and Charles’ room looks like a combination of both of their creature comforts. One bed, tidy bedside tables indicate whose side is whose, gym equipment, rack of Pickles’ clothes and a guitar in the corner. The TV is new.

Pickles kicked his shoes off and stepped into slippers before throwing himself on the black and red bed and pulling his phone back out. Nathan isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. What would he do if he was a normal person? Drink maybe? Talk about his girl problems? How does he go about this with Pickles?

“So ur…” Nathan starts.
Pickles looks over his phone with just his eyes.
Nathan gives up. “... Nice weather we’re having?”
“God damn it!” Pickles throws his phone. “Not you too.”
Nathan has no idea what he’s done wrong.

Pickles slumped into his spot and covered his face. “Nothing has changed since this shit became national news. Why are you talking to me different since it happened-”
“I’m not. I’m just trying to- make conversation-”
“If that's true, why aren’t you talking to me about the shit we normally talk about?!”
Nathan scoffed. “Like what? You don’t come to the parties, or watch TV with us, or practice-”
“Nat’an, I do come to the parties, we do watch TV, no one is practising. You don’t talk to me like you used to because JUST like everyone fuckin’ else, you can get your head around my relationship with Charles!”

Nathan got stuck.

Pickles stared a hole into him.

Nathan looked at the floor.

Pickles frowned. “I fuckin’ knew it. You don’t like that I’m not straight.”
“That’s- not true-”
“Yeah it fuckin’ is. You can’t ridicule me like Murderface, and you can’t ignore it. Just admit it,” Pickles said, slowly losing faith in their friendship. “You’re as bad as they are.”

Nathan uncomfortably walked to the bed and sat with his head down. “I- I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”
Pickles sat further back against the headboard. “I was literally JUST telling Murderface about this. I came from glam rock. I just- wasn’t expecting this to be such a big fuckin’ deal.”
“If you don’t think it is, why did you hide it?”
“Because of everyone elses’ fuckin’ reaction to it!” Pickles yelled back. “This!” he said, gesturing to Nathan.

Nathan huffed through his nose. “Is- that why you’re trying to leave Dethklok?”
“What?”
“You said it yourself. You just wanna do the shows and go home. I’m not mad because Charles is a guy. I’m mad because you picked him over us.”

Pickles just blinked at him. “Nathan, you planned on running away with Abigail!”
“So!”
“So why the fuck can’t I do that?”
“Wh- You can. I guess.”
Pickles is astounded Nathan can’t hear himself.
Nathan is just unhappy that Pickles is leaving Dethklok.

Pickles gives up. “Whatever man. I’m not changing because your fans are fuckin’ insane.”
Nathan looks away. “You wont have to worry about them when you’re not here anymore.”
“Perfect.”
“Great.”
“Fine.”
“Awesome.”

The two of them went quiet without looking at each other.

Pickles wishes he hadn’t thrown his phone.

Nathan wishes he knew why Pickles wants to leave. “If- If Charles hadn’t left-”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t have gone with him.”
“Huh.”
“And no, he’s not coming back to be your manager.”
Nathan is ready to give up again. “What’s the point in running off to live with him if you’re not settling down to have kids and get married and stuff?!”
Pickles cocks his head at the man. “Nathan, we’re a pair of guys in our late 40’s with no desire to raise children. That's what YOU want.”
Nathan shook his head. “Then why’d you have to leave?”

Pickles doesn’t have an answer. They didn’t HAVE to leave. “I guess we just wanted to put some distance between our jobs and personal lives.”
Nathan finally looked at him. “So- Maybe- when this is all over, you guys could come visit, or maybe you could invite .. us.. To do … Whatever the fuck it is you two do?”
Pickles can hear the hope in his voice. This is as vulnerable as Nathan gets. “Yeah. I think I can agree to that.”

Nathan looked happier.

Pickles felt better.

Nathan looked away again. “This- Might be a stupid question, but have you .. always had a thing for Charles?”
“No, Nathan.”
“So … you can- just g e t interested in other men or ….?”
Pickles has lost the will again. “Is that how it works for you with girls?”
“No, I’ve never become interested in a girl later in our working relationship.”
Pickles raises an eyebrow. “You mean like Abigail?”
Nathan gets stuck.
Pickles keeps going. “Is that how you think it works?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know. Our fans got mad about being too white, I’m not gonna make what I do in the bedroom public. It's not something you talk about!”

It's just dawned on Pickles the only people in the band who discuss race, ability and sexuality are him and Murderface. “The bottomline, Nathan, is that I fell in love with that dude, and he makes me happy. If our fans can’t calm the fuck down, I’m gonna fall out of love with music.”

Nathan looked heart broken at him. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do. I seriously do. I would give up the parties, the money, the transport, the staff … I’d give it up, if I could live the rest of my days out- Happily.”

The two of them deal with the harsh moment of silence.

Pickles wonders if Nathan will fully understand the comparison.

Nathan is still wrapping his head around Pickles replacing infinite women with just 1 guy.

Pickles sighs and goes for his phone.

Nathan is glad he never got caught experimenting, considering the bad reaction from the fans and the internal conflicts of the band.

Pickles checks the news, and they’re still discussing his stage presence and newly discovered relationship with Charles.

Nathan wonders how Pickles choses guys and why the best one was Charles.

Pickles dramatically throws himself back on the bed.

Nathan wonders if he’s missing out on something.

Pickles hates this community, and he hates that he’s tying his best friend into it.

Nathan shudders, thinking about what exactly he is missing out on.

Pickles covers his face. “Why is metal so fuckin’ touchy about this stuff?”
Nathan shrugs. “Considering the whole point of it is to get angry about normal stuff…”
Pickles sighs again. “Yeah.”

Nathan had a lot to think about. He never considered himself intolerant of the subject, but Pickles (and Murderface) are dealing with the ramifications of it publicly, and he can’t do anything to stop it. He might be part of the problem.

Usually they’d tell Charles to make the problem go away, but he can’t. He’s not their manager, and Charles did create the problem. He must not think it's a big deal. This problem is Pickles’.

Pickles is scrolling, and texting, and looking through his camera roll. Anything but thinking about his shift from glam rock to death metal. He misses the music, and his old band, and the variety of outfits. He misses the photo shoots where he was supposed to look happy to be there. He misses the freedoms that come with it.

Maybe, after the tour he needs to start getting back into that. In all his photos with Charles, he’s smiling, and he’s wearing different things, and he’s listening to different music. Maybe he just needs a break.

Then Pickles gets a text.

“Who is it?”
“Dude, it's Toki.”
Nathan climbs over to look at his phone. “What’s it say?”
“He says you need to get out there. They’ve found a Doritos factory.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. Then he realised he’s abandoning Pickles.

Pickles huffed at him. “Dude, you don’t have to stay here. I’m not doing much.”
“I- I feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t. Even Charles is out, and he physically can’t feel bad. Go. Go on.” Pickles starts ushering him up.
Nathan still feels bad. “Lemme know if-... ya know, you wanna-- I don’t know, come with or-”
“Nathan, just go. I don’t want to be outside. You don’t want to be inside.”

Nathan was awkwardly pushed toward the door while trying to figure out if he should stand his ground or not. He supposes he did get answers, but that hasn’t changed too much.

And now he’s on the other side of the door.

He missed his chance.

Pickles however has put himself back to bed and started texting again.
“Is he coming?”
“Yeah, I kicked him out.”
“Goods. Pickle, I gives Runke your number. Answers him.”
Pickles frowned at his phone. “Who the fuck is Runke?”

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed and a familiar Norwegian accent drones through on the other side. “Herro Pickle.”
Pickles closes his eyes. Today is going badly. “Dude, I think we met like one time. What do you want?”
“I couldn’t help but notice your -- orientation …. Is literally everywhere.”
Pickles considers hanging up. “Yeah.”

Runke is flicking through the tiny TV on the floor surrounded by magazines all open to a page about Pickles. “I follow the community wherever it goes. Metal is always changing, always following the rest of society like a starving dog, just waiting to be thrown a bone to chew on. Sometimes we steal a bone from ourselves, and for better or worse, we must deal with that wound.”

Pickles blinks. “Whut?”

Runke sits on the floor in his little underground layer. “Toki tells me you are not happy.”
Pickles gets angry again. “Of course I’m not happy. Everyone and their fuckin’ mother is talking about me like I just changed the course of history!”
Runke flicks through the pages. “For some peoples, you did.”
“Aw, c’mon man. Why can’t people just let me have a personal life.”
Runke gives the phone a look. “Likes fan day? Likes taking groupies to the red carpets? Likes hiring a cult leader PR manager? Likes ending the apocalypse?”

Pickles growls to himself. “Why’d you call, man?”
Runke makes himself comfortable. “If you wants to be normal, you needs to go and be normal.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I mean goes about your life as you did before. I already know you’re thinking about running away, or changing everything about yourself to better blend in. Tell me Pickle, have you considered changing how you look recently?”

Pickles has no idea how this man could possibly know that. He’s scared now. “Ur. Yeah.”
“Yeah, I thoughts so. Which way were you going to swing? More black and chains, or more civilians?”
Pickles lowers his head in shame. “Civilian.”
“Oh…. You thinking about leaving.”
Pickles is back to being scared.
Runke continues. “Before you decide to put it all in the past, remembers why you puts yourself here first.”

Pickles wouldn’t usually open up to just some guy like this, but this guy clearly knows something he doesn’t, and considering everyone else has been useless in helping him, he’s going to trust it. “I got into drugs, and performing on stage, and sharing a living space with my band. -- It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. So I pushed for harder parties, harder music, harder drugs, more girls.” Pickles feels shame creeping back up. “I just got selfish, and ended up here.”

Runke lets him process that before speaking. “Do you still need more?”
“No dude, I need less.”
“And that's where this guy comes in, yeah?”
“Dude, get outta my head.”
Runke only gets more comfortable. “I cants imagine goings on tour has helped your desire to lives among the normal people.”
“No.” Pickles paused. “What's this got to do with my problem though?”
“The media loves a good scandal. Dethklok so powerful you guys got nothing left to sell to the consumers, lapping it up for a single hit of escapism.”
“.. .What?”
“What am trying to say Pickle, is that it only a big deal because you makes it a big deal. Anything you have to cover up only becomes more exciting to uncover. If you lets them get to you, it only becomes more interesting to them. Makes it mundane, Pickle. It is the only way out.”

Pickles sank with his phone. He’s not sure why this random guy knows so much, or what he’s been through to know the situation so well, but it's the only solid answer he’s had so far. “You think- you think Dethklok is just .. not as news worthy?”
“Well, if Dethklok had other interesting things going on, this woulds be yesterdays news, but your best chances to makes it go away are to normalise it. Is it news to you, or just news to your fans?”
Pickles holds himself. “The fans?”
“So stops it from being news. Carrys on, like you always have.”

Pickles took a deep breath. “Thank you. You’re the only sane person I’ve spoken to about it since me and Charles … since we got together- actually.”
Runke just blinked. “Am sorry it not normal yet. But ifs you feel better, you ams paving the way for some .. repressed groups.”
Pickles shook his head. “Oh no, fuck that. I’m not an advocate. I don’t stand for oppressed people and shit. Dude, I forget my own fuckin’ beliefs. I don’t believe in shit.”

Runke looked at one double page spread among the many that put Pickles looking lost and confused as the centre picture and poorly edited rainbows around him, labelling him as the face of LGBT representation in metal. “Yeah… I has a feeling you woulds feel that way. Any whos …. I thinks I have made my point. Keeps being Pickles as you wants to be recognised.”

Pickles nods to himself. “I- I will. Thank you.”
“Takk.”
And the call was ended.

Pickles took a moment to look around the empty room.

He looks back at his phone and thinks about Charles. He’s not sure what to do without him.

With a fresh perspective, he supposes he should go out and spend time with his friends.

But then he doesn’t actually want his friends. His friends come with the rockstar lifestyle.

He wants Charles.

He starts texting.

Meanwhile, Charles has spent the evening waiting to be allowed back to the room. He doesn’t want to be here either. It’s why he never left Mordhaus. The rest of the boys are just destroying stuff and laughing at inane things. The only saving grace has been Toki offering Pickles’ number to Runke. Toki and Runke have been following Pickles’ publicity very closely. Toki says Runke has some experience with this kind of problem so let him call him.

Right now, Charles is bored. He watched Murderface dare Skwisgaar to strum his guitar with his cock and he really didn’t need to see it. Toki has convinced Nathan that in the heart of Europe, they've found a Doritos factory, so Pickles can talk to someone who will hopefully snap him out of it. He does wonder what Nathan wanted to do with him tonight. He has some ideas, but it's not his place to assume that kind of stuff.

When Nathan does show up, of course he’s mad that there was no Doritos factory, but Charles was more amazed to see how easily distracted the bunch were when they spot something completely unrelated.

As of right now, Murderface has spotted flashing lights and now the group have moved toward some sort of night time festival.

Charles has had enough, but Pickles hasn’t told him he can come home yet. Nathan isn’t there anymore, but he can’t stand to just watch Dethklok walk into a busy area with no security.

He’s torn. Pickles doesn’t want him managing, but while he’s here, he’s going to fall into bad habits. Just like Pickles.

He misses him. It’s only been a few hours, and he hates this.

The flashing lights has turned to music. This little Italian festival has given the boys new opportunities that Charles can cringe about. He bets none of these band members know who to call for medical help, or if Nathan brough the walkie talkie. He wonders if there are any Klokateers on hand to keep an eye on them.

Charles watches as Murderface starts pissing on the Spanish Steps. Toki has pushed through the crowd to get to the little fountain at the bottom. Charles looks around and spots Nathan and Skwiss raiding the local vendors.

He gives in and starts texting. He can’t take any more of this.
“Did you still want some space?”
Pickles begins typing.

Charles reads it. “Italy’s romantic right?”
Charles frowns. “I thought you wanted to lay low.”
“I’ve decided I don’t care.”
Charles smiles at his phone. “You wanna go out tonight?”
“You know I’m down for anything.”
Charles has a few ideas.

Chapter Text

The entire band and Charles lounge in the bus. Equally sprawled along the floor, the couches and individual chairs, they all look at their phones and wait out the very long journey.

A Klokateer opens the door and holds out a newspaper. “As you requested, my lords.”
Nathan didn’t even look up. “Ah, that’s great, just ur …. I don’t know. Put it down- somewhere I guess.”

The servant put the paper on the floor and closed the door.

Skwiss fell first, craning his head and refusing to move his body to look at the front page. “Huh. It ams Murderface on the front pages today.”
Murderface scoffed. “Not Planet Piss.”
“No… I don’ts think so.”

Eventually Nathan had to drag himself up to look at it since no one else was interested.

“Huh. So you … did go out last night?” Nathan asked Pickles while looking at the amature photo of him and Charles eating spaghetti near the Vatican.
Pickles shrugged. “Yeah, if they’re gonna take pictures, it may as well be stuff that doesn’t bug me.”
“I thought it did.”
“It did, until I realised Charles isn’t going anywhere, but the fans will. It’ll blow over.”
Charles looked surprised to hear that.

Toki glanced up from his phone. “Nathan, did you figures out how to stops our secrets getting ya know, taken pictures of?”
Nathan frowned. “Ur … Kinda. I’m picking it up.”
Charles answered this time. “Guys, Mordhaus literally holds hostages, and your tours come with pain waivers. I feel like who you take to bed shouldn’t be-”
“And that reminds me-” Murderface interrupts. “When Planet Piss DOES become headline news, I’m gonna need to know how you kept the good publicity coming in-”
Murderface was swiftly interrupted by Pickles. “Stop using him as a fucking manager!”
“Pickles, it’s fine,” Charles interrupts.
“No. No, it’s not,” Pickles counter interrupts.

Skwiss smiles to himself. “I’ds like to see whats Murderface thinks ams good publicity. Remembers when we sends that rock into space? Huh?”
Nathan smiles. “Or failed to get through every single press release by himself?”
“Or DIDN’T write a single song?” Pickles joins back in.

Murderface stood up to defend himself. “Plant Piss is going to make its own good publicity! With sex appeal and- and something else.”

The entire room sniggered.

“What?” Murderface asked everyone.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Pickles answered.
“You gots no sex appeal,” Skwiss answered.
“You play one instrument. Badly,” Nathan answered.
“Only person who likes you naked gots blown up. By you,” Toki gleefully reminded him.

Murderface sat down and pouted. “At least I figured myself out.”
“Not publicly,” Charles mumbled while looking away.

The room went painfully quiet.

Nathan was the first to speak up. “Our fans kill themselves when we’re spotted dating anyway. Who- cares… what- it is..” He stops because he can feel the room staring at him.

Pickles creeps into a smile. “You- never been with another guy?”
“What? No. Course not.”
“For real?” Pickles says, entertained by the notion.
Nathan only internalises harder. “No! Why would I do that?”

The room goes quiet.

Nathan looks around. “Really? All of you?”

Everyone is still staring at Nathan.

Charles smirks while he says it. “You ur … Gonna make that public knowledge?”
Pickles sniggers.

Nathan turns away from the group. “I don’t care.”
Skwiss rolls his eyes. “Sures you don’t, Nathan.”
Murderface enjoys the reprieve of humiliation from his orientation now being aimed at Nathan, for the opposite reason. Maybe that should be Planet Piss’s new angle.

*

The show is the same as EVERY OTHER show they’ve done this entire tour. Beat for beat, the music starts, Nathan sings, stuff blows up, people die and one of them might get a solo or something.

As is tradition, Pickles is removed as early as possible, and dragged away with Charles.

In the back of a limo, Pickles excitedly tries to guess where they’re going. He doesn’t even know what country they’re in, but knowing Charles, he’s probably picked some back alley event where they’re going to get away with murder and and disappear into the night.

Charles throws him some clothes. “Put those on. We’re roleplaying tonight.”
Pickles shuddered and started stripping off while the vehicle threw them around.

With each piece of clothing, Pickles got more and more suspicious of where their date is being held.

Then seeing the clothes that Charles was putting on made Pickles nervous. He’d feel less nervous if the guy had brought hitty things and latex. He’d feel safer had Claire showed up. He’d feel less concerned if their game of roleplay wasn’t leaving the safety of home.

But no, the limo stops.

The pair climb out and Pickles looks up at the bar, playfully themed as a barn with hay bales and the sound of a fiddle being played from inside.

His worst nightmare was realised as the lantern lighting showed their outfits off unmistakably against the night sky; they’re cowboys.

“Charles, this is gay.”
The limo drives off, leaving both of them stood there in a foreign country dressed like cowboys. “I don’t understand.”
“This is literally gayer than gay sex.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“Charles, this time period was dudes chaffing leather saddles and getting into gun fights to impress other men. I literally couldn’t think of anything more homosexual, than men camping in the desert with nothing to eat but meat and beans.”

Charles squints at him. “Am I missing something here?”
“You ever seen Brokeback Mountain?”
“No, what is it?”
“Oh for god sake.”
Charles almost looks scared. “What?”
“It's a famous movie about a pair o’ gay cowboys.”
“Oh. Well I didn’t know about that.”

Pickles looks fed up. “Why’d you pick this one?”
“Booze, guns, rope, dancing … ya know, stuff we like.”
“Uh huh. Followed by sex?”
“Sex happens whether we meant for it to or not.”

Pickles steps back to take a deep breath.

Charles waits.

Pickles is stuck.

“We- don’t have to do this.”
“But you wanted to.”
“I … think this might be another culture difference we didn’t plan for.”
Pickles lets a deep breath go and comes back. “Okay. What’s the plan?”
“Same as every bar. Either get drunk and embarrass ourselves, or we pretend to be civil until you get tied up.”
Pickles held his chin while he considered his options. He was looking forward to their usually scheduled foreplay, but this game is a little too close to home right now.

Charles rocks on his heels. “I mean… you don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”
Pickles raises an eyebrow at him. “Charles, it's a dance. Not a fucking swingers club.”
“Then I’ll keep my hands to myself until you give me the go ahead.”
“Deal.”

Through the door, the music is loud, the stage is small and thematically appropriate, the men are drinking from large glass beer mugs and arm wrestling, the women are dancing and serving the drinks. The more Pickles looks, the more he hates it.
“I’m going to the bar.”
Charles leaves him to it, but has spotted the silly game of shooting at the back.

Pickles makes it to the bar and has a decision to make. If he gets drunk, they can’t play. But falling into the ‘gay cowboy’ stereotype is putting him off sex. His thoughts are interrupted by the bar man speaking German at him. Pickles stares at him until the man points at the alcohol on the shelf.
“Beer?” Pickles spits out.
The man nods and starts pouring the large glass. Pickles already knows it's going to taste bad.

Charles however has been handed a rifle. The stall owner stands the cans up and steps back.

Pickles finally spots Charles and rolls his eyes. “Show off.”

Charles knocked every can off the little shelf and then started reloading. The men watching either stepped back or got closer depending on how impressed they were. There is a lady encroaching on his space now though. Wearing the full ruffled dress and corset to match. She gives him a look under heavy blue and red make up. Charles raises his eyebrows at her.

Pickles can see Charles is already making friends, and with a woman in such close proximity, he’s definitely going to need his free pass. “Fuck it,” he says before tipping the glass back and chugging the whole drink. The bar man nods with respect and starts filling him another one.

A German accent speaks Pickles’ name. He looks over to see a large man with a beard, also wearing cowboy clothes, smiling down at him.
“Can I help you?” He’s not sure why he asked that. He won’t understand him.

The German speaking man starts talking in some ugly mix of German and English that Pickles couldn’t decipher. He heard his own name and Dethklok but everything else was just noise. Pickles looks through the corner of his eye for Charles, but he was dealing with his own version of fame right now.

Luckily, Charles spotted Pickles looking lost with a large man speaking a foreign language at him.

Pickles feels safer now Charles is coming.

Charles has no idea what the man is saying so he opens the conversion to anyone who can speak Danish.

Pickles looks confused.

Charles hums. “Doesn't look like we share a common language.”
Then the woman following Charles joins the group and says something in French.
“I don’t speak that one.”
“But we know someone who does.” Pickles pulls his phone out.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Nathan fills his mouth with squirty cream and swallows it whole. His moment is interrupted by his phone ringing.
“Hello?” he says, wiping his mouth.
“Nat’an. You still speak French?”
“Ur … Yeah. Sort of.”
“Great. Can you tell this lady to tell this guy that I want leaving alone.”
Nathan blinks. “What?”
“Dude, just do it.”

The boys stand by while Nathan poorly translates. They then watch as the lady looks at the large man and says something to him in German.

The large man then responds while Pickles and Charles stand awkwardly and wait for the lady to fully understand what he’s passing down the line.

She turns to the phone and says something funny to Nathan in French, who asks her something back in French, and she joyfully answers. Nathan seems less willing suddenly.
“Guys, where the fuck are you?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Then you’re not gonna like what he’s got to say.”
Pickles takes a deep breath and braces for impact. “What’d he say?”
“He’s ur … asking about your coming out story.”

Charles caught Pickles before he threw himself at the man fist first.

The large man and the lady step back, leaving the phone to fall to the floor while Pickles kicks and wriggles to get out of Charles’ grasp.
“Nathan, can you tell him he’s not in the ur … right headspace to talk about it right now?”
“Headspace!” Pickles hisses. “It was never open to discussion!”
Nathan then quickly says something the others don’t understand, which is quickly translated and answered by the man.

From the man, to the lady, to Nathan, Pickles hears “He guessed.”

Charles threw Pickles over his shoulder and waited for him to calm down. “Nathan, can you tell them he’s uncomfortable with the subject and that we’re going outside?”

Charles waited with Pickles throwing himself about over his shoulder while the message was once again passed through the line, to the man, and back down again.

“He says okay.”
“Thank you, Nathan. You can ur.. You can hang up now.”
The line was cut and Charles addressed the group. “Excuse us.”

Outside, Pickles was dropped on a haybale and Charles kneeled sternly in front of him.
“Calm down or we’re going home.”
“Calm down?! Why is everyone fucking obsessed with this shit?!”
Charles remained neutral with his hand on Pickles’ shoulder. “You tell me, why would someone ask the newly outed death metal artist why he’s at a gay event with his boyfriend, then get angry about it?”

Pickles took a few calming breaths having nothing to say to that.

Charles slowly let go, but didn’t move from in front of him.

Pickles eventually got his breathing straight. “I- I just wanted to stay away from the subject. I want to be a normal person, and if people wanna talk to me about it, they need to hear it from me. Not the fucking Dethklok minute.”
Charles gave him a moment then continued. “So it’s not the subject.”
“No,” Pickles admitted. “It’s the place. I told Nathan years ago and he didn’t want to know. I told you, and you helped me keep it hidden. I move out, and the world thinks I’m dead. I want to go back to being dead.”

Charles sits on the hay bale with him. “Okay, so next time, maybe we set those boundaries instead of picking fights…”
“Okay.”
“And, maybe you tell me in advance so I know that cowboys events are off the menu.”
Pickles took a long deep breath. “Ya ever notice that we only ever separate to talk to women?”
“Huh?”
“Neither of us use our free pass for other dudes.”
Charles looked surprised. “Huh.”

Pickles deflated in on himself, disappointed by his previous actions. “I’m sorry I lashed out. You really wanted to be here, and I just couldn’t suck it up for you.”
Charles put his hand over Pickles’. “I never want you to suck it up. I want you to tell me when it's not fun for you.”
Pickles pulled his hand free and used it to open his packet of cigarettes. “It could be fun.” He lit the little stick. “But I’m just too fuckin’ insecure to enjoy it.”

Charles watched the man take a drag and then tried again. “If Pickles was a regular person, I don’t think he’d be mad if people made an incorrect assumption.”
Pickles blew the smoke out. Charles is right. As a normal person, he’d probably be more understanding. “Okay. I think I wanna try again, but this time maybe we just keep to ourselves?”
“And if the media take pictures?”
“I’ll deal with it.”

The pair reenter the bar holding hands and march back to the large man who nervously waits for them.

Pickles took a deep breath and winced as the word left his mouth. “Sorry.”
The large man smiled. “Leid.”
The room suddenly felt less tense. Pickles needed this.

Charles pointed. The dance floor was clearing out to start a line dance. Pickles rolled his eyes and smiled about it. He did promise he’d give it a chance.

Charles dragged him to the dance floor and waited while the band reorganised themselves.
“You know neither of us can dance?”
Charles didn’t look at him. “I plan on winging it.”
“I can get behind that.”

The musician on the tiny stage pulled his fiddle up and tapped his foot. The crowd quickly split into 2 lines. The boys haphazardly fell into opposite lines and listened in for the beat.

The fiddle suddenly made a high pitched screech and the crowd started clapping. The music started and the pair at the front of the line run to each other, linked arms and danced up the line. The boys watched them twirl and bounce all the way up. The second pair set off and did their own version of the dance, holding hands and spinning and bouncing until they reached the end of the line.

The boys looked at each other as their turn approached, neither having the slightest idea what they’re going to do when the time comes. They clapped and watched each pair swing past them while the crowd clapped and cheered to the upbeat sound of a fiddle. Pickles’ entire head flicks between the other participants and Charles. Charles looks like he’s thinking.

When the line reaches them, the rest watch and clap. Charles steps forward and Pickles copies him, meeting him in the middle. Without reacting, Charles takes Pickles by the hand and twirls him once, ballroom style. Pickles laughs, but plays along, landing chest to chest and matching Charles’ quick exit via waltz-esque manoeuvres.

“Did you forget about the western theme?”
“I can’t line dance, but this one’s close enough.”

Pickles could only laugh and let Charles lead their uncoordinated dance much more elegantly than the others step and twirl up the line. He knows the rest of the line is confused. He knows the band on stage is probably bewildered, but they’re not here for them. They’re not here to show off a love for the genre, or care for the style. They’re here because Charles likes dragging him out of his comfort zone.
Confidently and unphased, they reach the end and simply return to their spots and continue to clap and look lost at each other.

Once again, the line started again, following the beat, but this time, moving in unison leaving Pickles and Charles to play catch up and awkwardly follow the moves the other dancers performed. They linked arms too late. They spun out of time. Pickles tripped up. Charles needed processing time between steps. The whole thing was a disaster, but neither of them stopped. Pickles laughed. Charles took the failure in stride.

When the song ended and everyone was out of breath, they all clapped and cheered. Charles used a cowboy hat to fan his boyfriend. Pickles needed it.
“I’m gonna get a drink.”
“I’m going to play with rope.”

They split up and Pickles ended up exactly where he was before, at the bar, out of breath, but this time in a much better headspace. Infact, the big German guy is still here. Pickles can see him watching him from the corner of his eye. Pickles rolled his eyes and strolled over. The bar man, also dressed 1800’s style, waited for their order.
“2 beers,” Pickles said, raising 2 fingers and praying it translates.
The 2 large glasses were filled and dropped in front of him. Pickles pushed one toward the large man, and kept the other one for himself. If drinking has taught Pickles anything, it’s that drink is the common language.

The large man slowly came around, smiling down at him and accepting the drink.

Pickles felt better.

The large man then catches his attention again, and points between Pickles and Charles somewhere behind him playing with rope. He looks like he’s getting lessons.

Pickles replies by making a heart with his hands and releasing it in Charles’ direction.

The man cocks his head, confused.

Pickles waits for him to elaborate.

The man raises his fingers in the typical devil horns position, referring to Pickles’ past in metal.

Pickles raises them back, then points at Charles, and raises them on his behalf. He really hopes he understands what the man is getting at.

Meanwhile, Charles is being shown how to lasso objects. He knows the knot is not allowed to move in bondage, so this feels very illegal, but it does give him an excuse to do something he’s always wanted to do.

Back with Pickles, the large man raises his sleeve to show a very nasty scar, then points at Pickles while smiling.

Pickles is going to assume this is a Dethklok related thing. He winces and holds his neck. He knows he can’t move away from it entirely, but he can’t condone it anymore, now he’s got to interact with their fans.

The man puts it away and waves it off. He clearly isn’t angry about it.

The Pickles hears Charles yell. He looks over to see Charles instructing him to raise his arms. Of course, he doesn’t even think twice about it and raises his arms. Then he remembers he’s talking to the man by his side. In the time Pickles was looking to the man by his side, something swooshed overhead and fell down his body. Pickles looked down and the rope tightened around his ankles.

It was too late to react by the time he realised he was going to fall over and get dragged half way along the floor.
“Charles, you fuck-”
Charles stood over him and smiled down. “You want hog tying too, or did you want me to save that one for later?”
It’s not often he sees Charles in this state. It’s not relaxed, but it’s not stressed. He’s just, at peace. He’s in the moment. “I thought you didn’t like public stuff.”
“I am so glad the people here don’t speak English.”
“Glad this is hitting your asexual buttons.”
“It really is.” Charles bobbed down to start untying his lasso from his legs. “I promise, you’ll get your reward later.”
“I think I landed on my ass.”
“Noted.”

Charles pulled Pickles to his feet and Pickles walks him back toward the tiny gun range that looked more like a fairground attraction. But when the man hands the gun over, Charles hands it to Pickles and pushes him forward to the barrier.

Now Pickles was confused, but Charles just kept guiding his hands to hold it right, his arms to the correct position, his legs for the best posture. The way Charles held him, front to back with his hands overlapping his bare skin, breathing down his neck, lining the shot up for him sent Pickles to a very familiar place.

Charles whispered, “There's going to be some recoil,” so Pickles tightened his stance as Charles tightened his grip and pushed against him like a deep breath of air being constricted, but it was just his finger pulling the trigger in anticipation of the bang and the feeling that shudders down his arms.

In the blink of an eye, it was over and Pickles wasn’t ready for Charles to let go, but he knew that, because Charles helped him put the gun down and then held his hand afterward.
“You did really well,” Charles whispered.
“I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”
Charles slowly walked them away from that part of the room. “You know how I feel about weapons.”
Pickles smiled, but he still walked blindly with Charles. “You got something out of this then?”
“I’ve been getting something out of it for most of the night.”
Pickles squeezed his hand. “So what else did you wanna try?”
“You wanna take this back to Mordhaus, or did you wanna find a hay bale I can bend you over?”
“Charles!”
Charles just smiled and kept them walking toward the benches and tables.

Pickles sniggered to himself. If he could guarantee no pictures would be taken, a quickie around the back of the venue sounds nice, but getting tied up at Mordhaus might be the safer option. “Since we got publicity now-”
Charles pulled his phone out of nowhere. “I can get rid of them right now.”
“Oh fuck yeah, do that.”
Charles pulled him one last time for a very public display of affection.

“They can have that one for free.”
Pickles held onto him. “Soon to be not news worthy.”
“We’ll keep an eye on your fan base from Mordhaus.”
“Thank you.”