Note: Takes place immediately after Snakes N Barrels II.

Contains: Mentions of violence from canon events, sex acts (m/m), dubcon.

After Dr. Rockso had burst onto the stage and the audience completely erupted into chaos, Nathan shook himself out of the horrified stupor that he'd fallen into watching Toki's frenzy of ultraviolence. A quick glance to one side ascertained Skwisgaar and Murderface's presence, and—oh, fuck. As Nathan raised his eyes to the stage he saw there the same tableau as that directly in front of him, only this time with Pickles in place of Toki. At least that one he'd seen coming. He sprinted forward and vaulted onto the stage unimpeded by security, most of whom had either abandoned their posts or were trying to stop the crowd from trampling each other. Nathan grabbed Pickles around the chest from behind, lifting him off Rikki Kixx's prone form.

"Enough, Pickles!" he roared, dragging him offstage as the drummer continued to swing blindly. "Quit it!" Nathan shoved Pickles away from him, harder than he'd meant to, sending him stumbling through the open door of a dressing room.

Nathan followed him in, finding Pickles now leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

"He's out," stated Nathan flatly. "All right? No need to kill him. That's, uh, you know, bad publicity."

Pickle nodded and wiped his streaming eyes and bloodied face with the back of his hand. "Thanks, dood. I just—I dunno what happened."

Seeing the drummer on top of another man, pummeling his face to oblivion—it had gotten to Nathan, heated his blood, infected his mind with something incurable, insatiable. Pickles normally was drunk enough to remain pretty laid-back, but Nathan could tell there was a slow-simmering anger under the surface, and whenever it boiled over, he found himself aroused. Probably there was something pathological in that, he reflected, but he cared very little.

Nathan shut the door and locked it. "Out there," he said, taking a step closer to Pickles, "that was fuckin' brutal." He grinned, in a way that was not altogether reassuring. "I like brutal."

Pickles turned a wary gaze on him. "Dood, what're ya getting at?"

Nathan decided to be blunt. "That story you told us earlier, about you and that guy in the alley…That was no joke, was it?"

Pickles sighed. "What's it to you?"

"I need to know."

"Fine," said Pickles. "Fine, it really happened. Is that what ya want to hear, so now you can tell me how fuckin' gay I am, douchebag?" He moved toward the bigger man, taking on an aggressive posture even as he had to look up at him. Evidently the urge to fight was still there, making him seek provocation. Nathan suppressed another grin and leaned in closer.

"No," he said. "I just thought you might wanna do it again. With, uh, me."

"What—but—dood," stammered Pickles, the expression on his face going from hostility to confusion to something like contemplation as he took an uncertain look at their surroundings. "Ya mean, like, right here?"

"Mm-hmm."

"If ya really wanna…I mean…I could probably stand ta shower first—"

"Right now," growled Nathan.

Pickles slumped back against the wall again in resignation. "All right, dood, whatever you want. Go to town."

That was all the encouragement Nathan needed. He came forward, taking Pickles by the shoulders and pinning him to the wall as he leaned down to kiss him. Pickles started to turn away, but Nathan didn't relent until he felt the smaller man relax, until he tasted the blood from the drummer's split-open lower lip.

Nathan pressed forward with his hips, feeling through their two layers of clothing that Pickles was hard against him. He dropped to his knees and fumbled with the fly of Pickles's jeans, pulling them down to his knees once he'd gotten it undone. He had on underwear today. Nathan leaned in and pressed his face to the cotton cloth, damp with sweat, taking in Pickles's sharp scent, seeking his cock with his lips through the material.

Pickles was breathing harder again, parting his thighs to give Nathan more space, offering himself to him. Nathan slid down his underwear now and took Pickles into his mouth as far as he could. He didn't taste great at the moment, but then Nathan hadn't expected him to. Nathan moved up and down on him, sucking and bringing one hand up to stroke the remainder of the length that he couldn't take into his mouth as easily.

Pickles gave a faint moan and tipped his head back, hitting the wall with a faint thud. With one hand, he braced himself against the nearby table for balance, while the other, trembling, moved tentatively over Nathan's glossy black hair.

"Oh God, Nate—oh, fuck—yeah," Pickles encouraged him, not bothering to try to remain quiet. "Ohh. Yeah, like that."

"Mmm," agreed Nathan around his dick, and the sensation made Pickles gasp. He began to move his hips, thrusting into Nathan's mouth.

"Yeah—c'mon, faster, please. You're—you're really good, babe." Pickles had both hands in Nathan's hair now as he arched back against the wall, held in place by Nathan's powerful hands, darkpainted nails pressing into his skin—

Pickles cried out as he came. Nathan swallowed and pulled back as soon as he was done. Pickles sank slowly to the floor to face him, limp and exhausted, the rage of a few minutes ago dissipated.

"What the fuck was that, calling me babe?" growled Nathan.

"Huh? Did I?" Pickles was all disoriented innocence. "I dunno, I say all kinds of shit in bed. Don't worry about it."

"Right," said Nathan, and stood. "Put your pants back on so we get find they guys and get out of here. I'm fuckin' sick of L.A."

"You and me both, dood."