Authors Note: I do not own Dethklok. Sorry. Don't own them at all, but I like using them for my own personal amusement and perversion.

Toki burst out of Nathan's beat up pickup truck and hopped on to the charcoal grey asphalt in the parking lot of the city's public library. Nathan slowly got out, his Facebone's bag full of heavy tomes and encyclopedias.

Nathan followed behind as the little Norwegian bounded up the stairs to the entrance. He reminded the Floridian of a giant , skinny puppy. Toki was always stumbling on himself, his limbs long and slender like a fawn, but his hands and feet were huge in comparison, his shoulder's boney and wide. The teen was still in that awkward stage of growing into himself, and he was constantly tripping over his own, huge narrow feet.

SMACK!THUD!

No sooner then the lyricist thought of the boy tripping, did the Norwegian do a full face plant on the stair steps-defying physics itself by tripping UP the stairs. Who the hell does that?

Oh, shit. His rhythm guitarist was dead. Fuck balls. Pickles and Skwisgaar was going to kill him. Not good.

Shit, fuck, cock,fuck.. fuck all manner of ducks. Oh, for Ozzy's Balls, the poor kid was shaking at the top of the stairs. Nathan felt his stomach clench somewhere deep down. He felt .. uh.. responsible for the newest and youngest member. Great. The fucking Nord was most likely bawling like a baby dropped on the floor at the top the stairs. Nathan ran up, two steps at a time to get closer to the Norwegian goofball, only to discover..

Laughing. What the fuck? The fucking Norwegian was giggling like a Japanese school girl caught on a molester train.

Toki, at the head of the stairs was laughing his ass off, grinning with his split lip, blood trickling down his narrow squared-off chin. His forehead was slightly scraped up, as was his arms, knees..

Shit

His hands were scraped up as well.

Why was the little fucker still laughing?

"Na'tan! I trips UPS de stairs.." Toki laughed, wiping at the blood at the back of his hand, only to end of smering it all over the lower half of his face

"Aren't you .. like.. hurt or some shit? I mean fuck, Toki.. you made out with the fucking stairs.."

"Made out?"

"Like.. you know..kissing and shit"

"Oh, likes withs Skwisgaar"

WHAT? Surely he didn't hear that right. The kid didn't speak English too well, anyways. He must have meant how the nymphomaniac Swede would make out with everyone and anyone..

Anyone?

He really wouldn't put it past the pervert, being European and all that. Wait-that is against the no-caring rule. Never mind.

"Uh.. here.. give me a second.." Nathan went back down the stairs, back all the way to his pickup truck, and came all the way back, wheezing slightly, his huge hands clutching one of Pickle's spare bandanas. He held Toki's face in one hand while he cleaned the kid up, trying to wipe away all the blood on the kid.

He felt the kid starring up at him with those unnerving pale, cool blue eyes. He didn't so much as flinch when the singer ran the cotton bandana over a cut, slightly opening the wound just a tiny bit. It was pretty brutal, but deep down Nathan knew something wasn't exactly right with this kid. Maybe it was because of the scars Skwisgaar talked about. Maybe the stupid Norwegian had a high pain tolerance or some shit like that.

Fuck.

No caring.

Yup.

Never mind. The kid is clean enough to go in without scaring the librarian ladies. At least he didn't look like he had been beaten with a lead pipe.

"Tanks, Na'tan" the teen chirped, dusting himself off and straightening his clothes.

Nathan made a beeline for the return desk, unloading himself of his piles of books. The elderly librarian smiled kindly at the lead singer and made small talk with him, as Toki ran for the comic book section. Nathan was one of the regulars that would come in nearly every Thursday, rain or shine. His appearance might scare some people, but Nathan was always very polite and considerate, and was an avid reader. The little librarian ladies soon got to know him and his taste for unusual medical reference guides, cult classic books, and scientific journals. He was also a fan of the classics-especially the unabridged copy of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, before it was censored all to hell in the 1920's. He had checked the book out like five times so far, confessing that his favorite scene was Quasimodo bashing the people's brains out against the side of the cathedral, and his favorite character was Dom Claude.

"That's nice, I see you brought your little brother today" Pearl said, scanning each book in to the computer system. "He is such a nice little boy.."

"Hmm. Weird kid, though" Nathan smiled, or what passed for smiling. He liked the itty bitty librarians, in their cute little pastel cardigans, cheerful little kitschy brooches, and their crinkled, smiling faces. They didn't seem to be scared of him like so many people. They talked to him, found interesting books that he might like, set aside books that were donated to the library that was unfit to go into circulation, but still readable. Once and awhile, though he would rather be buried up to his balls in live scorpians then admit it, he helped them change lightbulbs or reach really tall items.

"We got some new books in that you might like. We have it set up in the Librarians corner. I rather think you might like the newest collection of H. short stories."

"Brutal. Thanks, Pearl" Nathan shuffled off, his empty Facebones back fluttering with each step. The Librarian's corner was just two bookcases set at an angle that featured various books on subjects that they found interesting, or related to popular media in some way, or something that was on the news lately. This week's selection proved to be a gold mine.

The lyricist found the perfect subject, and in copious amounts. Bugs. Beetles. Creepy crawly things that ran over decaying corpses. Centipedes that were many feet long and poisonous. This was a good start. He gathered up a selection, especially if they featured pen-and-ink style medical sketches that looked so metal. The beetles in particular looked particularly fierce, with long spikes, brutal helmets that featured samurai like extensions and pinchers that could cut off a finger.

Perfect.

Now where the fuck was Toki?

Not in the comic books.

Childrens books?

Toki sometimes read children's books because his English was so poor, that he needed the practice. Found him. He had a nest starting in the far children's corner-several books surrounded him as he sat on a bright red toadstool chair usually reserved for those under seven. He had a tongue out to the side of his mouth as he was concentrating on reading. The book was by Beatrix Potter, who Toki seemed to be a big fan of. As the singer got nearer, he could hear Toki softly reading out a sentence, then repeating it back to himself in Norwegian. When no one was around, especially Skwisgaar, Toki's English wasn't that bad. It was thicker, slower than usual, but the tendency to add 's'es to things wasn't as frequent, and his verbs were more often in the proper form. It was probably because he could slow down and think about his English words , rather than try to clumsily convert from Norwegian to English all the time.

"Eh.. looks like you found some books.."

"Ja, this one haz a bunnies rabbits named Peter" Toki said, holding up the water-color pastel book. "this one has Thomas de Kitten" then sheepishly looked up.

"Okay."

Maybe Toki was expecting him to make fun of him or something. No point to, really. So what if the teen used children's books to practice reading in English. Who cared? He already knew he slept with that weird teddy bear the lead guitarist gave him, and that he liked cooking and cleaning. That had nothing to do with playing brutal music, so Nathan didn't care. He could be as weird as a fruitcake if he wanted to, so long as that shit stayed at home and he melted faces off on stage.

Toki got up, cradling his pile of books, and set them down at the hardwood desk that Nathan was using as his book drop spot. Nathan wandered about the tall, long rows of books, running his hands reverently along the dusty spines. No matter what year it was, regular books were still the best. There was just something so awe inspiring about the actual physical presence of books. It was there in the smell- the comforting scent of the library. It was the scent of desperate dreams, heartbreaking depressions of the writers, the dust of dying ideas, the death of entire ecosystems. The library was like a catacomb for all pre-electronic culture. Books sat, forlorn and forgotten, untouched for years. They sat, being eaten alive by the hordes of silverfish that darted about almost unseen in the shadows. It was a brooding type of comfort as Nathan moved from one row to the other. Shiny, plastic-covered books glinted in the guttering yellow light that streamed in from the tall, narrow windows that illuminated the rows of shelves. The lights overhead were soft, outdated, by thankfully not fluorescent, their glare soft, yellow-orange, gentle. It was dim, and cozy, womblike environment that the singer felt most at home in.

Someday, when he got famous and didn't need to give a fuck about money, Nathan would have his Library of Alexandria, with gothic columns, carved arch ways, stained windows. It would be his cathedral to the written language. His temple for the non-digital, the authentic, a tribute to all those writers, lyrics and poets before money got in the way and fornicated away any creative integrity. He would have all kinds of books, in every subject , old and new. He would have copies of precious works, ancient tomes, rare editions. It would be all his to plunder at his will.

Until then, once a week on his day off, he could be content to get out of the house, away from the noise, and just enjoy the silence and solitude. Sometimes Mordhaus felt suffocating, and crowded. It had gotten better with the little Norwegian there, since at least Mordhaus was clean and tidy at all times, but sometimes a man just needed time to think.

Maybe Nathan just needed to get laid again. Betty Page, Our Lady of Bondage, he needed to get LAID. All capital letters, bold-face typing, laid. Preferably by a blood thirsty Valkyrie that was trying to fuck him through the floor and into Valhalla. Then, maybe, just maybe he can focus on his fucking music and get the songs so they can get their first album. No, album just sounded lame. Death Album. Dethalbum? Yeah. That sounded good.

Toki had wandered off to the small section of DVD's , looking at each one intently, brushing his hair out of his face with one of his scratched up hands. He chose a few scary-looking movies, as well as a few for just him to watch in the early morning .

Later On

Pickles came home after a long , crappy day at his shit hole gas station. It was a fucking pointless job. Watch the gas as they filled up gas, work the register, take money, yadda yadda yaddy. Ding dong doodily do.

He found, as he walked through the door, was the mouthwatering aroma of that cheap pot roast he bought the other day. It smelled like heaven after an eight hour shift. Toki had set up the folding card table, and tried to set it up nicely. It was cute, and slightly pathetic at the same time. Pickles the drummer, who had seen and done nearly it all, was touched. All the plates didn't match, and the glasses were chipped. The silverware didn't match each other in the slightest, stolen from various diners a couple pieces at a time. In a Cool Whip tub were a small pile of baby carrots, cooked in the brooth of the roast, and had some salt and pepper sprinkled on top. A margarine tub held the potatoes. There was a container of a luxery item-cottage cheese, as well as another Cool Whip container holding corn, dotted with bits of melted margarine.

It was a feast.

Pickles felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as the little Nord served him up a plate. Everyone helped themselves, nothing but a few kernels of corn was left, and they huddled around the rickety card table, Nathan on one side, Pickles on the other, Skiwsgaar and Toki were side by side, their bony shoulder's touching, though neither seemed to mind. Murderface sat furthest from Nathan. It was like the oddest "family" dinner in history.

"Schoosh, whatsch about the new albums" Murderface spat out, mouth full of half-chewed food.

"Murderface, chew with your mouth shut for fucks sake!" Nathan growled, annoyed as bits of stuff came flying over the tiny card table.

"Whatssh? I can't eat without you saying schoo? FUCKS YOUSCH!"

"No, I just don't like you spitting your fucking food at me, asshole!"

"Guys, guys guys! Jesus feck'n Christ on a cracker… list'n , lets jus' have a nice meal, eh?"

They ate in silence for awhile-or as close to silence as you can get with Murderface joining the table.

"So, yeah, uh, I think I have some ideas. " Nathan began

"Yeah, so?"

"Beetles are pretty metal, right? They have horns and shit. It's fucking brutal. We can do a song about them"

"Rollin' around in corpses. Maybe?" Pickles added, tilting back some cheap $3 bottle wine. He was in a good mood, so he poured some for the others, even Toki, who only got a little bit.

"Whats about de beetles crawlingsk out of peoples? Like… dey eats foods with bugs eggsies, then it comes outs of dere guts ands eyesballs?" Toki said after a few sips of wine, a pretty blush creeping along his cheeks. Skwisgaar agreed heartily.

"Or hows abouts dey lay eggs in de brains, and they eats de way outs?" Skwisgaar added, tilting his glass at Toki

"That's fucking brutal!" Nathan said gleefully, finishing off his plate

"What about big fuckin' giant bugs pickin' up people and .." Pickles began

"Ansh drops themsh on to a fucking volcano or schome schit!" Murderface finished

It went that way for a while, everyone leaving the now cramped kitchen for the living room. Pickles was sprawled out on his back, hands resting on his full belly , a full glass of wine by his side. Toki and Skwisgaar were side by side, which for them was becoming the norm, leaning against the wall facing the couch in the living room. Both had their long, skinny legs outstretched and overlapping each other's , as well as their arms, when Skwisgaar looped an arm around Toki's, ignoring Murderface's protests saying it was a European sign of friendship. Pickles and Nathan didn't really give a rats ass stapled together inside out, so whatever.

The conversation turned to other types of insects, and how they could possibly make them into some type of metal song. Nathan, who kept his beat up crappy composition book at hand nearly all the time, was scribbling down various song titles. So far they looked promising.

Coleoptera (which was the scientific name for the family of beetles, and Nathan decided it sounded pretty metal.)

Gagging on Maggots

Iron Butterfly (Pickle's idea-song about a snuff film beauty who is pinned down and dissected piece by piece, all while set to more classic tune)

Centipede

Brains and Beetles

Skwisgaar and Toki soon grew bored and began talking to themselves in their mother language. Pickles watched them out of the corner of his eye , a slightly whimsical smile on his lips. He saw it, clear as day now, even if he was getting tipsy. Toki was leaning against the blond, tugging at his tank top playfully as they were talking, and Skwisgaar was smiling.

The Swede never smiled. He smirked, sure, but never a honest smile on those full , girly lips of his.

"Oi, what you two goin' on about?" Pickles grinned, interested

"Wes thinks wes shoulds have guitars due-ettes. Intra-mentals, hauntings-sounds. Somethingsk differents from other songs."

"Uh.. we are Dethklok, so we should.. you know, sound like Dethklok. Brutal, heavy.. fucking metal" Nathan said carefully, swirling around his cheap wine, feeling like a rich bastard for some reason. Well, that could also be from Pickle's fine-ass weed too.

"No, wes knows.. jus' first albums shoulsk shows ranges, whats ams wes cans do." Skwisgaar said thoughtfully

Pickles nodded enthusiastically, his dreads bouncing up and down wildly. FINALLY! Some one that knew what the fuck to do with a first fucking album! You get a few fucking songs together that showed what the fuck you were about, then you threw a few different ones in there to show what else you could do, you know, figure your shit out and what not. Then, you always added one or two songs that were totally different just for the fuck of it!

"Well what would the song be called then?" Nathan sighed, exhaling his smoke. Damn, Pickles always had the best shit.

"..uh.. Chernobyl Snows" Toki answered shyly, his face now full-blown pink. He listed to the side, like a magnet was connecting him to the Swede, and giggled a bit into his glass of wine.

Pickles grinned. He could totally see that. Icy instrumentals, crisp guitar crying out.. the stage could change from red lighting to cool blue and white. Simple, effective, brutal as an ice storm in Siberia. He could almost hear the melody –the gentle wail of Skwisgaar's Explorer, answered by the Flying V, as Pickles gently tapped the cymbals. The bass would rumble out like distant thunder. No words would be needed for a sparse, haunting song.

"Chernobyl… where the fuck is thatsch?"

"Feck'n Russia or sum shit. Big feck'n nuclear melt down, ya douchebag. Whole place is dead as dead can get"

"Hmm. Sounds good. Chernobyl Snow. I like that."

The conversation shifted from music to women as the fourth bottle of wine got passed around. Toki was now giggling into Skwisgaar's shoulder every so often, his legs pulled up to his chest.

First on the chopping block, was the iffy topic of Nathan's two regulars-Melissa Quick and Sam Berg (who ironically was the daughter of his old manager, Chuck ,but who the fuck cares about that?). Both were dumber than a box of rocks combined, and about as shallow as a petri dish. Melissa was bossy, and only came around when she got horny, which was once a week. She also would fuck Pickles and Skwisgaar when the fancy struck her, but Skwisgaar turned her down after one round.

"Shes a sloppies sluts.. alls overs de place.. " Skwisgaar commented casually

"Rilly, she was a major cunt-sorry, but she was" the yooper boy joined in, passing another joint around. "Decent tits though-man.. her nipples were TINY!"

Toki went to take one from Skwisgaar, who merely shook his head at the boy.

"Ones ting ats de times, Little Tokis.. cans'ts haves baby dildos sicks"

"I want to try it." Toki pouted "I am not a baby!"

"You are already getting drunk. You don't need to get high as well. One thing at a time"

"Whatcha two lovebirds yakkin' about over dere?" Pickles grinned, tugging on a dread and examining it

"Tokis wants to trys de merry-a-wanna, buts hes alreadies drunks of de wines. I says nos, because hes baby dildos who cans nots handles any-tingsk yets" Skwisgaar pointed out, ignoring Toki's pouting

"Aww.. dat is sweet"

'Is nots, jus' don'ts wants to cleansk up de vomits "

"What aboutsch Chuck's daughter.. whatsch her namesh?"

"Sam.. gawd.. she was HORRIBLE!"

"Schtupids bitsch.. "

"Uh.. yeah. She was crazy. Clingy , she was always leaving her shit around. What was up with THAT?"

"I dunno, dood. It starts wi' one item, then she's conqured t' shower.. next thing ya know you got tampons under the sink, and she's livin' wit' ya!"

"I know! I know! Ozzy's Balls, I got Sam's shit all over the fucking place.."

"Heh.. ya know Toki's been using dat shit?"

"What? Heheh… Really? "

"Dats whats ams de reasons he smell likes berries.. like a goil!"

"Amsnest nots a goil!"

"Joo smells like a goils, Tokis!" Skwisgaar said as he sniffed Toki's hair to prove his point "Sees? Hairs smells like straw-a-berries!"

"Wells, I smells betters thens de rests of joos!"

"Toki, smelling like strawberries isn't metal"

"I smells nices! Strawberries smells better den Murdarface!"

"Hesh! I smellsh likesch a man! Fuck Yousch!"

"Who cares if the goofballs smells like feckn' strawberries, n sum shit?" Pickles said inbetween drags of his fat joint "So, who was your first?" Pickles turned his attention to Nathan, ignoring Murderface.

"Easy-Jenny Davis, back of my truck. You know you can fit a whole queen size bed back there? Drove out to a section of deserted beach, and fucked her brains out til the sun came up." Nathan said, leaning back into the couch

"How old were ya?"

"17" Nathan snorted " Scored some beer from some friend's older brother. Just me, this sexy ass bitch, and the beach. "

"Schee any good?"

"Uh.. not really. Sloppy as fuck, but she had some great tits on her" Nathan motioned a huge handful

"What about you, Blondie?"

"Ja.. some manys goils.I don't keeps tracks of de malls, but ja.. first one ... de first was goil from schools" Skwisgaar said, throwing his head back as he grinned "Wes dids it on de teachers desk.."

"No way!"

"Ja… was 14.. she whats ams 17, nices plumps goil."

"Wellsh, minesh was this huge tittied redhead, fucked her schooo hard.. it wasch awesomes.. did it like five timesch. Wasch a boy of sixteensh.."Murderface chimed in, though none of it sounded convincing.

Pickles raised a pierced eyebrow at him "MMmmm…hmmmm.."

"Ha, lost mine at 13 to Seth's girlfriend while at a friend's pool party!" Pickles giggled into his new can of beer, with shouts of "NO WAY!"

"Hey.. Toki… "

Everyone turned to look at the teen, who was by now bright red

"Ja?"

"What about you, kiddo?"

"Tokis beens withs no ones.." Toki giggled

"HA! Toki's a virgin! Toki's a virgin!" Murderface chimed in, pointing a finger at him.

"Sos? That's amest nots bads.. " Skwisgaar, of all people said

"WHAT? Being a virgins, like. Not cool."

"We gotta get the kid laid.."

"Yeah, letsch picksh up some slutsch and all get Toki laid! "

"Oh, I... That's maybes a little too hards for mes to handle." Skwisgaar shifted ackwardly next to Toki , pulling his long lanky legs up his chest, hugging himself with his free arm , while pulling the bottle of wine closer to him.

"Slut party sounds good, but we gotta git our shit together, pump out an album, do sum gigs, git money, then we can fuck ourselves stupids fer all Ah care."

Nathan got up to go take a piss, and went into the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza, munching on it cold. "Fuck youself Stupid..heh"

"Could you actually fuck yourself stupid?"

"Wellsch.. with autoerotic asphyxiation .. if yousch cutsh off the air flow long enough, you can starve the brain of oxygen.. whamo! Retarded!" Murderface said calmly, crossing his arms over his fat belly.

"Heheh. Sex retards"

"Skwisgaar.. I dons.. feel so good." Toki started in English, but switched to Norwegian, holding his stomach

"Oh.. Tokis.." Skwisgaar looked over, seeing the Norwegian turn a delicate shade of green. " Comes.."

"Hahahah.. kid can' handale his shit"

"Noobie!"

"Cut it out guys, Toki's new to this shit, unlike you fuckers. " Nathan cut in as he watched the Scandinavians shuffle slowly downstairs. Toki's room was in the modified laundry nook under the stairs, and was right next to the downstairs bathroom.

Skwisgaar carefully guided Toki to sit down on the cool tile floor of the down stairs bathroom. It was smaller than the upstairs one, and used way less, usually only during band rehearsals.

Toki looked fairly pale as he knelt in front of the toilet. Skwisgaar pulled his hair back, tucking it behind his ears as best as he could. The caramel locks were still too short to tie back, so he did the best he could with it as his Norwegian counterpart started dry heaving into the bowl.

"shhh… it's ok.. you just drank a bit too much" Skwisgaar murmured, rubbing small circles into the teen's bony back, grimacing slightly as he felt each ridge of those horrific scars. They stood out like small ridges, and deep valleys , and Skwisgaar felt slightly sickened .

Toki started throwing up patheticly, crying and clutching the bowl. He didn't have much to empty, and was soon just resting his head against the coolness of the bowl, trying to ignore the acrid scent in his nostrils. He cried a bit more, feeling very pathetic.

"Oh, Toki.. I shouldn't have let you drink that much.. I didn't know you were that much a lightweight" Skwisgaar groaned

"It was only two glasses.." Toki managed after awhile

"A few glasses , even if they were only half full, is still too much for you" Skwisgaar managed a small smile, his fingers rubbing small circles at the small of the boys back, feeling the hip bones jutting out at him. "Baby dildo"

"I feel horrible.. Does drinking always make you sick?"

"No, don't be stupid.." Skwisgaar began, just as Toki started throwing up all over again. Tears were falling into the toilet now.

"Shh… sshhh.. It's ok.. It's ok.. " Skwisgaar continued rubbing his back, and brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

He stopped what he was doing in order to get a clean wash cloth, and wetting it with cool water, wringing it out as best he could. He ran the cool cloth over Toki's flaming forehead and face, along the back of his neck.

The teen sighed a bit, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Skwisgaar"

The blond started to pull off Toki's damp tee shirt, and threw it in a pile in the corner.

"Come on, Little Toki.. we need to get you dressed in your pajamas.."

Skwisgaar held the boy up, his long fingered hands carefully clutching and supporting the boy. He kicked open the cheap pressure-board door of Toki's so-called bedroom, and maneuvered him on to his rickety twin bed. Toki just flopped over patheticly, and didn't make a move as Skwisgaar started to unbutton his pants.

Toki felt weird. Like he was in.. suspended animation? It felt like his body was suspended in thick gooey jello. It didn't feel bad, just weird. His head felt heavy, his stomach was painfully empty again, feeling abused thanks to two days of eating to much, only to throw it all up again.

Skwisgaar pulled down the zipper of the pants, then started tugging it off. His hands were slightly trembling with the effort. The pants slid down those slender, fawn-like pale legs that seemed to glow in the red light of Pickle's old lava lamp. The pants sprung free, and Skwisgaar knocked the back of his head against the wall with the effort.

Just put some pajamas on the stupid Norwegian Skwisgaar willed himself.

This was a bad situation.

Toki was sprawled along the length of his bed, his pale body lit beautifully in red, clad only in his tiny blue boxer briefs. He looked helpless, innocent and very inviting.

Skwisgaar used all his strength of will to turn around, found the dairy crate that held the small pile of Toki's clothes, and rummaged around, finding a clean pair of sweatpants.

Good. The Slut Pants. It will work.

He grabbed Toki's feet, and stuffed each leg of the sweatpants on, pulling the soft, thick fabric up those legs that Skwisgaar just wanted to nibble and lick.

Now the waist.

Oh, gods..

Little Toki was standing at attention. It was straining against the thin cotton fabric.

Skwisgaar bit his lip, and urged Toki to raise his hips. With the utmost care, the Swede pulled the sweatpants on all the way, but not before he heard Toki moan when the fabric brushed against his throbbing length.

"Skwisgaar.." Toki said quietly, his pupils blown as he looked at his lead guitarist "I feel weird.." He pawed slightly at his budding erection

"I bet you do" Skwisgaar smirked as he leaned down, his long blond hair tickling the boy's face. He planted a soft kiss on his forehead before pulling back with a groan. He grabbed the blankets, so nicely made up on the twin bed, and helped Toki climb into bed, pulling the covers over him.

"Skwisgaar?" Toki's face was owlish, his blue eyes huge in their sockets . He was sitting up, resting against the pillows, cradling Deddy in his arms.

"Hmm?"

'Don't you like me?"

"Pffttt" Skwisgaar snorted, blowing his long bangs slightly

"Of course I do, dildos"

"No.. I mean.. uh.." Toki fumbled with his Deddy Bear, tugging its paws up and down. He didn't look up at the other for awhile. "Like-like."

"Like-like?" a golden eyebrow shot up near the blond's hairline.

Skwisgaar turned away from the shirtless teen on the bed and instead admired the artwork clumsily taped up on the wall. There were crudely drawn, like something a child might do. There were lots of pictures of him, Toki, and Pickles. Some of Nathan in what Skwisgaar supposed was the library, and even a few of Murderface sleeping on the couch, his legs spread wide, and his stomach popping out. One, though caught his eye. It was an Angel-Skwisgaar, holding a badly drawn Explorer. He was glowing.

Skwisgaar was touched, turning back around to face the teen, who was blushing beautify.

"Toki.." Skwisgaar sat down carefully next to the boy, and took his hand in his own. He felt along the new , fresh scrapes he got early today "Listen, I cares about you, ja? "

" You do?" Toki perked up a bit, sitting up more, and learning towards the Swede

"Maybe, I don't really know yet. Haven't cared for anybody befores"

He pushed Toki back down on the bed with care.

"I think… I think I love you , Skwisgaar"

"Little Toki, your drunk.." Skwisgaar whispered, pulling the blankets up to the boy's chin

"No.. its true.. I think I love you.."

"Toki.. your only 16.. You don't know what love is."

"Neither do you.."

"I've been around a bit longer then you have, experienced a lot more."

"But.. you kissed me"

"Ja, I did, and it was hot"

"And you are always nice to me"

"Because you are cute"

"And you got me Deddy Bear"

"So you wouldn't have nightmares… Toki"

"Am I not good enough?"

"Why do you think that?"

"because you .. don't.. because.. uh.. with the old lady.. and ugh"

"You think your not good enough because I won't fuck you like some stupid slut in the back of a store? Are you fucking retarded?"

"No.. "

"Toki, I only fuck sluts when you they are drunk.."

"I'm not drunk"

"You aren't a slut either. Your better than that"

Skwisgaar leaned down to capture Toki's lips in his own for a second, before he pulled away, tucking a stray strand of caramel hair behind his ear.

"Toki.. just listen to me for a second.. I like you, I like you a lot. Maybe not love. I don't know. Whatevers, but … gods, I wants to. I really wants to, Toki. " Skwisgaar breathed heavily, petting the hair with slightly trembling fingers

"Skwis.."

"But, I can't.."

"Why? I don't understand..why not?"

"Because you're sixteen, and your drunk -off only two and a half glasses of wine. You just got done barfing, and you fucking deserve better then to get fucked through the mattress by a Swedish whore like me" Skwisgaar gritted out, leaping off the bed like it was on fire.

Skwisgaar stormed out Toki's bedroom, only to return briefly with a gallon icecream bucket container, a small glass of water, and some alka-seltzers.

"Skwisgaar? Did I do something wrong?" Toki asked, hurt swimming in those baby blue eyes of his.

"No, no. Toki, you didn't do anything wrong. Just, relax, and go to sleep. I'll check up on you in a little bit. I won't go anywhere until you start feeling a bit better."