Chapter 6

Something Special

His hands were sweating, his heart racing as he opened the door and let Toki inside his room. The Norwegian went over to his bed and plopped down on it, bouncing up and down delightedly. "In Norways you knows what I sleep on?"

"What?" Pickles asked, closing the door softly.

"Floor." Toki said, taking off his shirt. "Sometimes with blankets in the winters, but I was mostly cold."

The drummer frowned. "So you slept in the cold?"

"Ja, and sometimes hungrys, too, but it wasn't so bads. Sometimes I eat snows and it kind of fills you up."

The guitarist obviously didn't see a problem with these things, but it all made Pickles' stomach turn, and as he went over to the bed and laid down he said, "Well, you're not ever gonna have to be cold or fuckin' hungry again."

Toki beamed over at him and tugged at his wrist. "Comes on, Pickle, you saids-"

"I know, I just—I'm...I need a minute, 'kay?" he said, staring up the ceiling. The Norwegian shrugged and laid his head on the drummer's stomach, looking up as well.

Finally he asked, "Pickle, you nervous, huh?"

"Huh?"

"You don't wants me to dos it, huh?"

Pickles shook his head. "No, I'm not scared of nothin'."

"Oh. That ams good. I wish I was more likes you."

This made him laugh a little and say, "No you don't. Trust me." And without further hesitation, he took Toki in his arms and began kissing him and loving him. It made him feel so damn good, almost as good as it made him feel as Toki's hands passed along the zipper of his jeans and began to fumble with his belt. "Hold on," Pickles breathed, "I got it."

He undid his belt and let Toki pull down his pants and underwear and jump off the bed. "You sure you wanna-" But knew the guitarist was sure. He was already on his knees, poised and ready.

He knew it shouldn't be a big deal, and Pickles sort of felt like an idiot for thinking that it was one, but in a way, it would be the first real sexual thing that Toki had ever done. The drummer refused to consider what Nathan had done to the guitarist as anything, mostly because it was just so cruel and cold...who would ever be able to take advantage of Toki like that? To hurt him so badly?

Yes, he was nervous. Terrified, actually. No one before had ever managed to make him feel like this. Still, he did want it. He wanted it so fucking badly. Pickles scooted closer to Toki and shuttered as the guitarist ran his hands along his growing erection. God, he had warm hands...

And Toki knelt there, stroking him for a while, until Pickles said in a trembling voice, "You really wanna suck my dick?"

"Oh, ja," he whispered, running his thumb along the head of the drummer's erection. "I likes doings this—playings with you."

"Uh-huh," he rasped, trying to contain his desire. He had to hold it, had to fight it off.

Toki smiled up at him and all too suddenly took Pickles into his mouth, sucking and running his tongue over him. The drummer gasped and gripped Toki's hair. "God, 'dat's good..."

His whole body was rigid with the beautiful pleasure of it all. Pleasure that was becoming greater, and greater...Toki sucked him in even deeper, letting out a deep moan as Pickles' erection grew. He was trying so very hard to hold it, to make it last. But, Jesus, was it so perfect. Unable to resist, Pickles looked down, watched as Toki sucked him and teased him. His grip on the Norwegian's scalp became even tighter, making Toki grimace. But he didn't quit. He liked the pain.

Pickles let out a hiss of pleasure and began to cum a little. Toki swallowed and his blue eyes flitted up, full of love and affection. It was clear that he wouldn't do this—wouldn't even consider doing this—for anyone one else other than Pickles.

The drummer saw this and came a little more, biting back an exclamation of ecstasy. "Fuck yeah," he whispered. "God, Toki, you're so fuckin' perfect..."

And that was it. He released himself inside Toki's mouth, cursing as he did so. Once he had, the guitarist gratefully swallowed and took Pickles' cock out of his mouth, smiling a little. "You likes it?"

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, falling back on the bed, not even bothering to put his clothes back on. Toki climbed up on the bed as well and laid on him, kissing him and trying to get some more affection.

"I really likes doing that with yous."

"Uh-huh." he responded, still breathing hard. Pressing against his stomach he could feel something distinctly hard. He looked down and saw that beneath Toki's jeans there was a firm erection.

"You pulls my hair a little hards, though."

"That ain't the only hard thing you're gonna be getting," Pickles breathed, kissing him on the lips.

"I kind of likes the hurt, though." Toki commented, licking the lips. "Only when yous dos it—I only ever wants to do that kinds of stuff with you."

"Yeah?"

He nodded and let the drummer's hands run along the firm muscles of his abs. Under the warm touch of Pickles, he smiled. "Ja."

"Well if you liked 'dat then just wait 'till tomorrow," the drummer said, closing his eyes. The day had passed by so quickly, zapping all of the energy from him. He longed for the taste of alcohol, the high of heroin or something. Anything would do, but he had Toki to deal with. He knew that anything he did, the Norwegian would want to try too. Was he willing to introduce him to that kind of life?

Yes, he was.

In an instant Pickles had reached over to his nightstand, where a half-empty bottle of tequila sat gleaming in the moonlight that streamed in from the open window. Sitting there, the glass of the bottle the color of the hazy moon, it was almost calling to him in that sweet, whispering voice that addiction brought. "Hey," Pickles said, "how about you close 'dat window over there, huh?"

Toki frowned. "But I likes it, seeing the stars and everythings. It reminds me of home."

"Oh. Okay, then leave it open." he said softly, kissing the guitarist on the lips. "Whatever makes you feel better. Hey, want a drink?" he presented the bottle to Toki, but not before taking a large sip from it himself. "It's really fuckin' good."

He wrinkled his nose. "Booze? Why you drinks that stuff?"

"I dunno. I really like the flavor." and he drank some more and sighed in content, feeling the warm, burning rush of alcohol coat his throat. He knew he was killing himself with all the drugs he did and all the alcohol he drank, but the problem was he was just too deep into the shit to quit. He needed it, almost as much as he needed Toki.

"Sure, I'll takes some," Toki said, reaching for the bottle. Pickles let him have some and watched as his pale blue eyes began blinking rapidly, trying to focus.

"Too much?"

"Nos, I wants more."

" 'Kay, whatever. S'your hangover, dude."

Pickles and Toki spent the rest of the night screwing with each other some more and drinking. Mostly just drinking, though. Both of them were far too uncoordinated when drunk to actually touch each other that much, but still, it was nice. What was better was the following morning.

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E P I L O G U E

Pickles awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh coffee. He smacked his lips and opened his eyes. His throat was burning with thirst, and although he held a bottle of tequila in his hand, it was disappointingly empty. The events of the day before were a mystery to him until he saw Toki standing in his doorway in nothing but his black jeans, holding an entire box of cereal, a couple of bowls, two spoons, and a whole gallon of milk. On the nightstand next to the drummer were two cups of steaming coffee.

"I didn't fucks it up this time!" Toki said in a sing-song voice, grinning so proudly that it was almost absurd. Pickles scratched his head and sat up.

"Yeah, 'dat's good. Why're you doin' this again?"

" 'Cause I loves you and you wakes up so late that-"

"No, I mean..." he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Shit, how much'd we drink last night?"

"Only half a bottles of tequila," Toki responded innocently, throwing the box of cereal, the milk, and the bowls and spoons on the bed. He fell into the drummer's open arms and closed his eyes placidly. "But I fix you breckfasts, 'cause-"

"Oh yeah, thanks for 'dat." and he quickly drank the whole cup of steaming coffee. "Perfect," he breathed, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Why was he so hungry? Usually drinking took a lot out of him—true, Pickles wasn't the best at holding his booze—but normally he wasn't starving afterward. Almost timidly he asked, "Toki, what else did we do last night?"

"I don't remembers that well, but-"

As Pickles' hands went to hold Toki's, they brushed against his upper arm, running along some particularly gross cuts. When he looked down he saw that they were small puncture wounds, like those from a needle. He felt his heart drop. When he peered at his own arm and discovered the same kind of dotted marks, he felt sick. Toki looked up at him.

"Whats? What ams wrong?"

"Toki, did you stick a needle up your arm last night?"

He shrugged and said casually, "Well, ja, but that ams only 'cause you saids it would make me feel good, and it did."

"Aw crap," Pickles breathed. "Why the fuck would I say 'dat?"

"Well it ams was true! Why, what's wrong?"

"Toki, I gave you heroin."

His eyes shined dully as he said, "Oh...and what ams that again?"

"Nothing, just—what else did we do?"

And for the first time, his eyes took in the full scene of his room. Cocaine was spilled in little piles on the nightstand, some of it cut into little, neat rows. There were also little Ziploc bags of marijuana spilled in a corner of the room, next to the window. He groaned. "Son of a bi-"

"Wells, anyway, it was fun," Toki said. "Sos what ams it really matter?"

Pickles looked down at him and smiled. It was true. What did it matter? So what if they would both end up in fucking rehab one day? At least they'd be there together.

"Yeah," the drummer agreed. "It was kinda fun, huh?"

And he fixed Toki a bowl of cereal and they ate together, both slurping up the milk and corn flakes hungrily. In the end, Pickles couldn't help thinking that if this is how it would be every day of his life, maybe the world wasn't such a shitty place after all. If Toki really belonged to him—and always would be his—then, what the hell? Maybe life was about more than just money and drugs. Maybe it was worth getting up the morning and saying no to a couple of drinks every now and then. Maybe it was almost worth living.

"Toki?"

He looked up and wiped his mouth. "Ja?"

"You're gonna...I mean you ain't gonna leave, huh?"

Toki thought about it for a moment then shook his head. "Nos, I'm never going to leaves you."

The drummer sighed. "Oh. 'Dat's good. And...well, you wouldn't mine bein' with me forever? Y'know, just—I..." he cleared his throat and said, "I love you."

"And I loves you to."

"So you wanna stay with me?"

"Of course. I ams yours, and you ams mine, right? Ams that how love works?"

"Yeah," Pickles said, "that's how love works."

And they spent the rest of breakfast talking, and for the first time Pickles actually felt...whole. It didn't feel like he needed a drink or a noseful of cocaine to feel complete. For once he didn't want to just sit in his room all day and get high, because now he had something more. Now he was in love and had someone to love him back. For once, he didn't feel like he belonged in a garbage can

[Thanks, dad]

and he wasn't mad at his stupid, douchebag brother

[He burned down the fuckin' garage and he blamed it on me]

or any of that stupid, childish shit. He was just in love with Toki, and no matter what, he always would be.

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**A/N**

Hope you enjoyed this story. Remember that reviews are love. Also, in reference to the mention of the garbage can and the burnt-down garage, these things were brief flashbacks from Fatherklok and Rehabklok. They are two of some of my favorite moments from each episode, so I thought I'd somehow work them in. Hope you liked it. ^_^

[sequel in progress?]