Pickles stared out at the infinite ocean, the rain lashing against his skin as the sun was setting. It had looked warm, it had looked tropical, but no, it was raining. Hot, humid rain. Strangely, Pickles liked it. His stomach was in a knot...or at the very least, some kind of vice. He'd asked Toki to marry him. And he couldn't look at him. At the beach. Alone.

"P-Pickle..." the Norwegian sobbed. "S-Says it again..."

The drummer briskly walked back to Toki, finding it in himself. Grabbing the guitarist by both shoulders, he looked him straight in the eyes. "M-Marry...m-marry me..."

"Yes! Yes, I says it a b-billions times, yes! I marries you, I m-marries you, I marries y-you..."

They kissed as the sun's red rays illuminated them, silencing the doubts, and vocalizing the love and sensations.

Men weren't a pain in the ass, Pickles decided. Aside from Skwisgaar, or difficult like Murderface. Actually, fuck that. Men were difficult.

Pickles didn't understand why he'd ended up marrying Toki when he knew his parents wanted him to settle with a nice lady, and Seth would never let him live it down.

Not many people Pickles ended up in a relationship with lasted for long. That gave him a new kind of respect and adoration for the Norwegian, who desperately loved and cared for him and needed him.

And when Mordhaus was burning, his world crumbling, there was no way he was going to let Toki die.

"Congratulations," Nathan said. He smiled, even. The moments in which Nathan smiled were rare, and lasted only a few seconds. But God, what a blissful few seconds.

Pickles grinned. "Thanks, dood."

"I hope your fucking parents aren't here. How did they react when you told them?"

"...I didn't. I jest said I was gettin' married."

Nathan slapped his forehead, trying not to look at the brown-haired, incredibly annoying man that stood behind Pickles.

"So, bro, dude, I hear you got married...who's the lucky lady, eh?"

Pickles ran a hand over his face. Why did Toki have to be so adorable that it was difficult for Pickles to not feel a guilty sensation in his stomach whenever he upset him? Pickles didn't mean it. God, he would never hurt Toki intentionally. But that comment that had slipped out...why did he have to take it so personally? Toki hated his parents. Pickles wished he hated them more. Maybe they weren't dead because Toki didn't love them, and everyone Toki loved died. Usually.

Pickles froze in his tracks, realising this scary thought as he was looking down at the Norwegian, who was sitting in the steps, silent tears pouring down his cheeks.

"I'm sahhry, babe," he sighed, sitting next to him. Instead of shoving him away, Toki immediately wrapped his arms tight around him. Maybe he'd just been reading Pickles' mind.

"I loves you," he whispered, sobs catching in his throat. "I l-loves you, P-Pickle...m-my beautiful, h-handsome...don'ts dies..."

Pickles couldn't promise that. But hell, he'd sure fucking try to survive. "I won't, babe."

And then Rebecca came along, presumably a candidate for Nathan to marry. The lead singer, however, was kind enough to remind Dethklok that he was pissed off with humanity and Pickles was glad he wasn't married to a woman like that - or even a man like that. An enormous mansion with too many flights of stairs was still considered a 'shithole' by Nathan. Nightrod. What a fucking stupid surname.

Pickles accompanied Nathan when he went to see her in hospital. Didn't let Toki come. He didn't want him catching anything contagious - Toki was ill with the flu.

That morning as he was about to leave, ignoring Nathan's screams for him to hurry up, Pickles rushed into Toki's room and kissed the sleeping rhythm guitarist goodbye, and promised he'd be back later. Pickles didn't see it, but Toki turned in his sleep, sniffled, and smiled.