It was nine in the morning when Skwisgaar arrived back home.

He was tired and annoyed, having had a rather frustrating night; he'd called one of the women "Toki" and had to spend an exhausting, cautious amount of time explaining that it was nothing but an honest mistake. Afterwards, he'd felt even emptier than before. The energy that usually boosted his sexual stamina had sustained, instead, his rising sense of guilt.

He'd left the last woman's apartment quite indignantly and went wandering around the streets before realizing that he missed his true lover. It was becoming harder to enjoy sex with anyone else.

And this was annoying as hell.

So when he returned to an empty room, his already sour mood worsened. Furrowing his brow at the unoccupied bed, he decided to check Toki's room; after finding it in the same state, he conjectured that it was quite possible that the Norwegian was already up. It was after eight, anyway, and any time past this was considered "sleeping in" for the younger man.

He checked, in exact order, the living room, the recording room, the kitchen, the game room, even the gardens where the wolves resided: he was nowhere to be found.

He passed the corridor that led to Murderface's and Pickles' rooms - the drummer's was empty and he knew that Toki wouldn't dare knock on William's door at night. That left only one other option, unless the rhythm guitarist had, for some unknown reason, ventured out onto the island. This made Skwisgaar more uneasy than anything else ever could. Or so he thought.

Lazily, the Swede approached Nathan's shut door and banged once with the palm of his hand.

…

No answer.

Pfft, lazy dildo.

Skwisgaar's arrogance usually allowed him entry into anyone's rooms, at any time. If there was a girl in the bed, he would leave politely, and as he entered he smirked. Nathan was buried in his bed covers and through the sheer canopy, the blonde could see a woman beside him, curled up against him, her long, chestnut hair splayed gorgeously across the fluffy pillow.

He's not here either , he thought, sighing.

He turned to leave, his hand on the doorknob when he heard an unsettling noise; it was a mere half-sigh. But a familiar noise all the same.

His head snapped back to the bed as the woman was turning over, facing away from Nathan and toward Skwisgaar. His eyes widened as he recognized Toki's gentle face, asleep and peaceful.

Slowly, the Swede approached the bed, making sure that he had the scene correctly:

Toki…in Nathan's bed…curled amiably against the singer…bottles of Jack Daniels and Stoli littering the floor.

No.

Fuck no.

Seeing red, Skwisgaar clenched his fists, speaking aloud now, through clenched teeth.

"You….fuckinks….SLUTS…."

Toki stirred and his gorgeous blue eyes fluttered open. He looked up innocently, his brow scrunched in confusion. For a moment, he'd forgotten where he was.

"…Skwisgaar…? W-…/n/ Hey, are you okay? /n/"

Nathan grunted.

"Shut up, Toki…"

He covered his head with the covers, his voice now muffled.

"Go back to sleep."

Skwisgaar stood, practically shaking, now fixing his furious gaze on the singer. He marched over to Nathan's side of the bed and ripped the comforter off.

"YOU FUCKINK SLUTS!"

Toki yelped, jumping up. His brain started to process the suggestiveness of the situation.

Nathan growled and sat up, his head pulsing.

"What the fuck?! FUCK YOU, Skwisgaar, get out of my room!"

Without warning, the Swede had Nathan by the front of his shirt. He was pulling him out of the bed and, quite impressively, threw the singer up against the wall with a loud thud.

"Whats ams you doings with TOKI ins your beds?!" he growled, still holding Nathan against the cold stone. His muscles were bulging, his eyes maniacal; he looked ready to kill.

"Skwisgaar, no!" Toki cried, "wes just…no, s'not likes dat! I was lone-"

"Shuts up, Toki…" Skwisgaar hissed, never taking his eyes off the singer.

Nathan brought both of his hands to the Swede's grip on his shirt, using all of his strength to attempt to pull the man off; but after such a night of drinking and smoking, he was running at fifty percent and felt rather weak.

"Errggh….get OFF me, man…" Nathan warned, "He came to me. It's not my fault that you have to go out every night because Toki's not enough for you."

Toki looked just as shocked as Skwisgaar. Nathan glanced at the Norwegian momentarily and all the blonde needed was that moment of hesitation and silence to pull back and slam his fist as hard as he could into Nathan's face.

Toki yelped.

"Skwisgaar, NO!"

He raced to the other side of the bed where the other two stood, but Skwisgaar would not cease his attack; he just kept punching the slightly defenseless singer over and over and over and over…

Going blind with rage, tears in his eyes and his stomach sick, Skwisgaar saw, in some part of his consciousness, that blood was splattering on his knuckles, on Nathan's face, on the wall, on the floor…but he wanted nothing more than to kill Nathan. To murder him. For touching Toki.

Toki finally mustered up the strength to grab the Swede and throw him back on the bed. Skwisgaar let out an angry shriek, struggling against the Norwegian as the younger man held him down.

"/n/ SKWISGAAR, STOP! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! /n/"

Nathan collapsed, slumping to the ground in a mess of ruby and ebony, completely unconscious. Skwisgaar's face was contorted into a furious snarl and it didn't soften as he turned to look at Toki, who was staring down at him in horror…almost in the same way he had a few nights before, when he'd learned of the Swede's past.

"Gets off of me…I leaves for ONE nights ands y-…you-…/s/ you fuck NATHANS?! How could you?! /s/"

Toki was sobbing and Skwisgaar just now seemed to realize. The younger man shook his head furiously, his hair whipping about.

"/n/ No, Skwis! /n/" Tears were streaming down his gentle face mercilessly now. "/n/ I was just lonely because you left me…I didn't want to be in our bed alone! Nathan was drunk when I came in here and he passed out. I just wanted someone beside me…please…nothing happened…/n/"

Toki's crying was unsettling to the blonde, in so many ways. The younger, more muscular man was still holding him down, but his grip was loosening as Skwisgaar's body and face began to relax.

"Toki…" Skwisgaar began, his voice softer, but still edgy. "Lets me up."

The Norwegian nodded and sobbed once more, standing and walking to Nathan's motionless body. Skwisgaar sat up and his eyes were wide as he surveyed the mess he'd created.

"Wes has to gets him tos da medicine's wings," Toki whispered, wiping his eyes. He looked much like a child when he did this.

Skwisgaar didn't move and Toki looked over at him expectantly. But the Swede simply stared and became lost in thought, very obviously disturbed by his slightly out-of-body experience. Sure, he'd leapt to conclusions…but what Nathan said had really gotten to him.

"It's not my fault that you have to go out every night because Toki's not enough for you."

Is that what Nathan really thought?

Is that what Toki thought?

Toki sighed, wiping his face once more before leaning down to pull Nathan up into a half-standing position. He leaned the singer's large body against his own, attempting to hold it up.

"Comes on, Skwisgaar, helps me!"

Skwisgaar suddenly felt more like vomiting, but he nodded and stood to assist Toki in taking the singer to the medical wing. They had to practically drag him; but they were lucky that it was still early and none of the other guys were up to question the act.

The doctor took Nathan in without asking a word, figuring from the look of the singer's face that it had been a fight. He was busted up pretty badly and the doctor mentioned a few things about a surgery to realign his nose and jaw. Skwisgaar's mind was far away and the professional's words were fuzzy, so Toki did his best to try and remember the doc's every word.

They were shooed away after an operation time was determined and Skwisgaar trudged slowly back to their bedroom while Toki trailed behind. Without a word, the Swede plopped down on the bed, on his back, blinking at the ceiling.

Toki shut the door, his brow furrowed. He stood by it, however, and didn't approach the blonde, or even the bed.

"…Skwis…?"

Skwisgaar's face was set in a deep, thoughtful frown.

"Ja."

"…why…dids yous do dat to Nathans?"

The Swede swallowed hard before sitting up to face Toki. He looked sad now.

"I-…just goes crazy. I saws him…and I saws yous, just…it lookeds like…" He shook his head.

Toki nodded.

"Ja, I knows…"

Skwisgaar sighed, wanting to finish.

"I can'ts stands to t'inks of someones else touchinks you…"

He looked up into Toki's blue eyes, looking desperate.

Toki didn't look necessarily sympathetic; he appeared slightly scared and timid – but above all, he looked vindicated.

"Nows you know hows I feel."

He turned to open the door and left swiftly. Skwisgaar heard his quick footsteps down the hall and then the shutting of his own bedroom door.

"/s/ I hate myself. /s/"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pickles jolted.

Holy shit, this ain't my bed, this ain't my room!

He felt his face, then his chest…then he looked down, furrowing his brow.

I'm…naked..?

….OH!!

His mind was fuzzy, but as glanced around, he remembered: this was Charlie's room. His stomach jumped a bit with excitement; he'd never thought that he'd be allowed here. Did he dream that blowjob?

No, that had to have been real…he remembered the amazing sensation too clearly; it seemed to stick out among the other blurry events of the night.

Nathan…drinking…Toki…apartment…

He nodded, but immediately regretted it as he cradled his head gingerly.

"Ugh…"

The bedroom door creaked open and there stood Charles – already dressed, his hair already slicked back – an almost grave expression on his face.

"You're up."

Pickles rubbed his eyes slowly, grimacing at his growling stomach and throbbing brain.

"Yee-uh…"

Charles had almost left and gone to the office; but he'd decided it best to stay behind and make sure that Pickles left at a decent hour. Also, he wasn't risking any Klokateers seeing the drummer leave his apartment. That would just mean more people he had to keep quiet. He had enough of those already, for various reasons.

"It's almost ten o'clock. You have one, last stage rehearsal at noon."

"Really? Aw, shit..."

He tilted his head a bit as Charles was still standing at the doorframe, his arms crossed and an expectant look on his face.

"Ah-right, I get it," Pickles snickered bitterly, "Ya want me ta leave. I'm goin', I'm goin'."

He rolled out of bed, standing up and stretching. Pickles never had been very modest.

The manager's eyes roamed the younger man's body. But he quickly looked away; not out of politeness, but mainly annoyance. He was angry with himself for even wanting to grab Pickles and give him a passionate kiss goodbye.

This couldn't happen again.

"Am I…gonna see ya later, or…?" Pickles asked, unabashed, as he pulled on his pants.

Charles shook his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, but only briefly to discuss your treatment schedule. I have a lot on my plate for today."

Pickles nodded, frowning. He'd forgotten about rehab. He began to speak again, but the older man's house phone rang urgently. Charles sighed and disappeared into the living room, answering it. The drummer could hear his robotic voice.

"Yes?...what's the problem?...mmhmm…"

His usual, monotonous air erupted into an angry growl.

"What?! Who was fi-…Skwisgaar?...is he conscious yet?...yes…"

Pickles furrowed his brow curiously and emerged from the bedroom, watching Charles, who now had a hand to his forehead desperately.

"Yes, well…he went into surgery? Without my consent?! …is he…all right?"

Pickles widened his eyes, but continued to listen.

"Yes, I'll…be there momentarily. Thank you." He hung up.

"What happened?!" Pickles demanded.

Charles clenched his teeth in a very determinedly angry way, grabbing his jacket.

"Skwisgaar and Nathan were fighting and Nathan suffered some major injuries – particularly to the face. This is just great. And right before the show…"

"Is he okee?!" Pickles wasn't worried about the goddamn show. He was worried about Nathan!

"Oh, um, yes. I suppose so. He had to have surgery to set his jaw and nose, but the doctor said that he's going to be fine."

He grabbed his briefcase, planning on heading to the office afterwards. This little stunt had the potential to double his work for the day; he would have to explain why Nathan had sustained such injuries to many people. It was possible that Nathan could sue Skwisgaar…though without Charles' suggestion, the singer wouldn't think of it himself.

Pickles nodded.

"Okee, good…Jesus, I wonder what dey were fightin' about…" He pulled on his shirt and grabbed his shoes.

"I'm not sure, but it better have been something meaningful."

Charles opened the front door for Pickles, leaving with him. Pickles chuckled.

"You know that it wasn't. Nate'n prahbly called him a fag, or somethin'."

Pickles walked out into the hall and Charles turned around to lock the door. As he did, Pickles timidly put a hand on the manager's back, watching him.

"Hey, Charlie?...thanks fer…ya know, takin' me in last night. I musta been a pain in the ass, bein' so drunk, heh."

The manager was momentarily stunned by the sudden physical contact, but he quickly recovered and stood up after locking the door. He turned to Pickles, which inadvertently forced the younger man's hand off of him.

"It's fine," he said plainly, "Perhaps I was wrong to allow you in." But his voice was so flat that it became obvious that he hadn't had a second thought as to whether it was right or wrong.

Pickles narrowed his eyes a bit. Was Charles always this unapologetic? Had it always gone unnoticed?

"Yee-uh," he decided to test him, "I guess ya did kinda take advantage."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

"I strictly recall you asking me to." He looked rather unafraid.

Pickles closed the gap between them, wrapping one arm around the manager's neck. He was happy to see that he'd caught Charles slightly off guard. He kept his voice at a whisper now.

"I think you were jes' lonely…" He smiled.

Charles frowned deeply and stepped back, pushing Pickles away.

"I'm never lonely."

His tone became slightly dangerous.

"Don't come back here, Pickles," he ordered. "You're no good for me."

The drummer felt his blood boil. Charles was so fucking cold and it irritated him to no end.

"I don't plan on it," he said through clenched teeth before brushing past him and continuing down the hall that connected to Mordhaus.

But something on the inside urged Pickles to chip away at Ofdensen's shell. There had been a connection there, that he was sure of; he'd also sensed the manager's unsteadiness. By the end of his treatment, he vowed, he would have the older man completely undone. Completely his.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nathan was released from the hospital wing with copious amounts of pain medication. He was sent to his room and stayed in his bed; his face was almost completely bandaged, particularly around his jaw and nose.

Skwisgaar didn't come out of his room either, his door shut and locked. Their rehearsal had been canceled so that Nathan could rest and Pickles, especially, was happy; he was still suffering through a hangover.

The drummer had tried to visit Nathan – but the singer had been very non-responsive and wouldn't talk about the reasons behind the fight. It was pretty obvious that Skwisgaar had been infuriated; as far as Pickles knew, the Swede hadn't really sustained any injuries. So, he assumed, it was Nathan who had opened his big mouth first.

Toki had been trying to busy himself with a model plane, but his concentration slowly slipped as the day progressed; and when he heard that Nathan had returned from surgery, he perked up. He peaked out of his bedroom and saw Pickles leaving the singer's room, looking rather crestfallen.

After the redhead disappeared around the corner, Toki snuck out. He passed Skwisgaar's room, pausing momentarily, but continued on to Nathan's. He knocked softly, to no answer, and pushed the door open shyly.

"…Nathans?"

He shut the door behind him softly. And locked it. He wasn't sure why.

The singer was in his bed, half sitting up, flipping through channels on the large LCD screened TV that hung perpendicular to him. He looked like his usual, sulking, grimacing self – but with two black eyes, a covered nose and bandaged jaw. Toki wondered if he could even talk.

The Norwegian approached his bed cautiously, playing with his own hair in a timid gesture.

"Nathans…hej…ams you okay?"

The singer turned the volume on the TV down and turned, very slowly, to look at Toki.

"Yeah. Ugh, ow…"

"Nathans, don'ts talk! Yous jaw!"

Nathan shook his head sluggishly – it may have been the pain, or the medication that was making him move in slow motion, but Toki didn't know which.

"It was just…out of place. It's fine now...ahh…"

He reached one large hand up to touch the edge of his cheekbone gingerly. Toki nodded and moved to sit beside him on the bed. He sat Indian style, watching Nathan closely.

"Nathans…I-…" he bit his lip and tears were embarrassingly filling his eyes.

"Oh, Toki, don't…don't cry," He was trying to sound annoyed, but it came off as caring, instead.

"I's sorry…so sorry…dis is alls my faults. If I's wouldn'ts have comes in last night…"

Nathan sighed.

"Skwisgaar is just a dick, Toki. He's just fucking paranoid 'cause he's always sleeping around."

Toki took on a rather determined expression, his jaw set.

"Wells, he can'ts just bes a sluts and gets mad at me fors sleepinks wit my friends!"

Nathan raised an eyebrow at the suggestiveness of that statement and Toki hunched his shoulders sheepishly.

"We…we ams friends, right Nathans?"

Friends? Is this what Nathan wanted to call them?

"Yeah, sure," the singer muttered.

Toki's eyes lit up significantly. He wanted to hug the older man, but impressively refrained and grinned widely.

"Yous ams da BEST, Nathans!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, just…keep it down."

Toki nodded seriously.

"Wells…at leasts you looks like da badass wit all da blacks eye and everyt'ing."

Nathan couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah."

Toki turned to sit beside the singer, facing the TV. They watched a few episodes of a horrible soap opera, mostly in silence. During the last commercial before the credits, the Norwegian turned to Nathan, decided to breach the subject.

"Nathans…why dids you says dat to Skwisgaar?"

The singer kept his eyes on the TV. His felt awful groggy from the Vicodin.

"Say what?"

"Dats…I's nots enough for him."

Nathan froze. Did he really want to delve deeper into the subject? And with Toki? God, he wished he could still drink while taking these fucking pills.

"Uh…well, I dunno. It just seems like...if you were enough…he wouldn't need anyone else, ya know?"

He braved a look at Toki and regretted it; the younger man looked devastated. But he nodded.

"Ja…I t'inks abouts dat sometimes…"

Nathan sighed.

"Look, we…all know that Skwisgaar is a fucking sex addict. It's not your fault you're not a fucking sex machine. He just needs to learn…ya know…restraint."

Toki nodded gravely.

They sat without a word for another few minutes before Toki did something completely unexpected; he moved to straddle Nathan, blocking his view of the TV. He put his hands on the singer's chest, looking down at him with an odd, intense look in his eyes.

"Toki, wha-…what the hell are you doing?!"

The Norwegian bit his bottom lip and Nathan felt his own eyes go slightly wide; why the fuck did Toki have to look so sexy? His long, hair falling on the singer's shoulders…

"Its has to bes fair…" he whispered.

"What? What are you fucking talking about?"

Nathan shifted. The feeling of Toki's legs spread on top of him, their clothed dicks almost touching, was starting to get to him; he was surprised that he could even get hard with how doped up he felt.

The guitarist felt Nathan's cock twitch and he licked his lips.

"I shoulds bes allowed to do whatevers I wants, too…"

"Toki!" Nathan protested, but he was betrayed by his hands instinctively going to Toki's hips. The younger man felt himself getting turned on at that touch, something he was always weak to. "If this leads to me getting my face smashed in again…I'm going to kill you."

Before he knew it, the younger man was trailing kisses down the singer's neck. It felt good, it felt soft…almost like a woman. The soft, long hair was a nice addition, too, and Nathan reached up to bury his hair in the brown locks.

Why the hell was he letting this happen?

But his brain wasn't working and he was letting his consciousness slip away, ever so slightly. He felt Toki undoing his pants; he heard Toki mutter something about how big his cock was; he knew, in the back of his mind, where Toki was headed as his sweet kisses trailed down to his stomach.

But he wouldn't stop him.

"Mmm…" he groaned instead.

Toki was determined. He'd earlier considered going out and getting fucked by any random fan or slut he could find; but this was a much better substitution. He deserved this and Nathan was all too willing, he could tell. He wasn't sure if it manipulation, but he didn't care. He was going to put his mouth on another guy's dick, if only to spite Skwisgaar and his stupid, reckless behavior.

Without hesitation, he reached inside of the singer's pants and pulled out his cock, which was already hardening before his eyes. He smiled softly; inside he was curious as to why Nathan was so agreeable and why he had this affect on the older man…but it didn't matter. Not at the moment, anyway.

He began to stroke it, softly at first, and then more fervently when Nathan began to moan, closing his eyes.

"F-Fuck, Toki…"

The Norwegian flicked his tongue across the head and Nathan reached down, burying his hands in Toki's silky hair, tugging slightly. This action encouraged the younger man and he dipped his head, taking nearly half of Nathan's impressive erection in his mouth.

"Shit! Goddamnit, Toki!"

Instead of insisting that the singer shush, Toki simply grabbed the remote that was laying idly by and turned the TV up – no one would question that and it would successfully drown out Nathan's low moaning.

He began to bob, letting out tiny little noises of approval as he did. Fuck. Toki was good. He was talented. This was like a dream for Nathan…hadn't he dreamt this before? Or maybe merely fantasized…either way, it was heaven.

Toki stretched out his legs, lying on his stomach to concentrate on his work. He was trying hard to deep throat the singer and nearly succeeding; but Nathan was big and he didn't want to choke. He hadn't even gotten used to deep throating Skwisgaar yet, and that was quite a task.

He moved his mouth faster, pausing every now and then to pull off and lick, to keep his jaw from tiring too quickly. He let one of his hands caress Nathan's balls gently, not wanting to over-stimulate the man. The singer seemed to be grateful for every movement of Toki's hand and tongue. He never directed, pleaded, or suggested as Skwisgaar often did. In fact, he didn't really talk at all.

Toki had gotten quite used to hearing strings of Swedish, either in the form of compliments, pet names or cursing. His heart began to ache slightly. And as he looked up, he felt disappointed at the face that was revealed to him. It wasn't Skwisgaar. It wasn't his lover.

But he couldn't stop now. Besides, this was revenge right?

Before he could even consider running away, Nathan's breath hitched and his fist clenched in Toki's hair. He muttered something about cumming, perhaps as a warning, and released into the younger man's mouth.

Toki swallowed what he could – which honestly was mostly all of it – and pulled back, finishing with his hand, letting the singer ride out the orgasm.

After a few moments, Nathan forced his eyes open and looked down at the Norwegian…

…sadly enough, he didn't see what he'd wanted. Toki looked horrified; completely and utterly regretful of what he'd just done. Tears were forming in his eyes and Nathan quickly tried to pull his pants back up, tucking his cock back into them.

"Toki-…"

The guitarist forced a small smile.

"W-…Was its good?"

But a tear trailed down his cheek and he angrily wiped it away, sheepishly fixing his gaze on an unoccupied portion of the mattress.

Nathan didn't answer. He frowned deeply. Toki's voice was barely a whisper.

"I's nots Skwisgaar…I can'ts dos it…I-…"

The singer started to reach out; to do what, he didn't know…pull Toki into a hug?

But the Norwegian jumped up, his tears flowing freely now.

"I's so sorry, Nathans!"

And he dashed out, accidentally slamming the door behind him.

Nathan was left with an absolutely empty feeling. He'd never felt used before. That feeling was for chicks. He reached over to the pill bottle beside his bed and downed two more of the tiny, white capsules.

Fuck…that was brutal.