Author's note: I have no idea how to write Pickles' accent so I didn't even try. Sorry.

"Your playing is dildos again, Toki. Dids you stays up too lates? Maybes you needs a naps?"

Toki glared at Skwisgaar, but managed to keep his mouth shut for once. He knew the complaints weren't true. He was the second fastest guitarist in the world, wasn't he? Maybe his playing wasn't always as flawless as Skwisgaar's, but no one's was. He could almost keep up, and that was a lot closer than anyone else got, and that would be enough for him if the lead guitarist would just stop mocking his playing all the time. Maybe let him have a solo now and then.

Besides, he knew that arguing was just what Skwisgaar wanted. He fell into that trap every time, and he was tired of it. He didn't know why the stupid, dumb, dildo, jack-off Swede liked to make him angry, but if he wanted a reaction, he could find it elsewhere.

Toki had plenty of practice keeping quiet; just because he hadn't needed to since he'd left home didn't mean he couldn't. He'd decided that the night before.

Instead, he frowned and repeated a tricky bit on his Flying V, then tried the song again. After two more run-throughs, Skwisgaar nagging him the whole time, he had it down, at least to his standards, and apparently the rest of the band agreed, because Nathan declared it was time for lunch. And he still hadn't said a word.

Skwisgaar stabbed his fork into the turkey on his plate and glared at it. Murderface snickered, and smirked when the glare was turned on him.

He went back to ignoring the bassist, tuning out whatever Pickles and Nathan were talking about, and picked at the turkey. Something was wrong. Rehearsal normally relaxed him, but today's hadn't had that effect at all. No, he was definitely disgruntled, and he didn't know why.

He was still picking at his meal and lost in thought when Ofdensen entered the dining room. "How's the new music coming, boys? The fans are getting anxious ... where's Toki?"

All four members of Dethklok looked at Toki's empty chair.

"Huh," was all Nathan said.

"I don't think he even came to eat," Pickles mused aloud.

Skwisgaar stabbed his fork into his turkey again. "Pff, he is probablies havings crybabies time," he muttered, a twinge of irritation hitting him. "Who cares?"

Ofdensen frowned. "Did he eat too much candy again?"

Murderface was prodding at the table with his knife. "Nah, he'sh fine."

There was a long, awkward silence, as if the manager was waiting for someone to elaborate. No one did. "None of you care? ... Nothing?" More silence. "Well. Alright, then." He sighed. "As I was saying, your fans are getting anxious for a new album. I've taken the liberty of scheduling-"

Murderface shoved his chair back loudly from the table. "You know, I think I'll jusht go check on the kid. He wash awful quiet in practish today."

Nathan and Pickles made their own excuses about being worried, and after a moment Skwisgaar was alone in the dining room with the manager.

Ofdensen raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to go check on Toki with the others?"

The guitarist snorted. "No, that dildos ams just being Mr. Sensitives again." And he defiantly took a huge bite of turkey. It was cold, and his irritation grew.

The manager waited for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, then. If there's anything I should know about-"

"What's ams to be knowing?"

"Right." Another awkward moment of silence, then Ofdensen seemed to give up. He left the room, leaving Skwisgaar alone with his thoughts.

Toki had carefully set the wing against the line of glue on the plane's body and was holding it in place when someone knocked on his door.

"Comes in," he called, before remembering his personal vow of silence. Luckily, it wasn't Skwisgaar, but ... Murderface? That was weird.

"What'sh going on?" the bassist asked. It was pretty obvious from his tone that he didn't much care, and Toki figured that someone had put him up to this. The question was, who?

Best to just assume it was Skwisgaar, and not let on his plan. If he acted as normally as possible with the others and just ignored Skwisgaar, maybe that stupid dildos would notice.

"Oh, nothings," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"You, uh, misshed lunch," the bassist said, a questioning note in his voice as he glanced around Toki's room.

"Oh, no, I hads it up here! I gots dis cool new plane model!" He held it up so Murderface could see. "A Wildcat. Wanted to get started rights aways."

"That'sh cool," Murderface said, but instead of looking at the model, he was eyeing the pictures of Toki's parents hung on the wall. "I'll, uh ... I'll jusht leave you alone, then ..."

Toki shrugged as the bassist left the room, and turned back to his project.

"Told you he wash fine," he heard Murderface tell someone out in the hall. The grunt sounded like Nathan, and Toki was both relieved and oddly disappointed. "Why'sh he keep those creepy pictures ..." Murderface's voice faded as he and Nathan headed in the direction of the living room.

He sighed, then shrugged again, at Deddy this time. "What cans you do?" He had all the time in the world to drive his rival crazy. Skwisgaar wasn't going to beat him at this, too.

For over a week, the rhythm guitarist was completely silent first at practice, then as they started laying down the first tracks for their next album. He'd answer whenever any of the others talked to him, but not Skwisgaar. He seemed fine whenever Nathan or Pickles checked on him, though he stopped taking meals with the others or hanging out in the hot tub. He'd even quit playing his beloved DDR if Skwisgaar entered the room and vanish.

It didn't take the others long to figure out what was going on.

"I think he getsh it from me," Murderface confided in Nathan and Pickles one day. Skwisgaar had stalked into the room and scanned it. When he saw Toki wasn't there, he swore and kicked a chair over, then stalked back out, and the other three had started snickering the minute their bandmate was out of earshot. "The being a dick, I mean."

"This is, uh, really driving Skwisgaar crazy," Nathan said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"I didn't think he had it in him to stay quiet this long," Pickles said, sipping his drink.

"He did when our parents were here," Nathan pointed out.

"And when hish dad was dying," Murderface added.

Pickles tipped his beer in their direction and started flipping through the channels. "Yeah, that's true. I'm a little impressed, though," he said.

"Yeah. It's really funny," Nathan said.

Skwisgaar disagreed. He didn't find it funny at all. He found it infuriating, whenever he forgot that he wasn't supposed to care.

Like right now. He was sitting in his room, playing his guitar and fuming.

It was infuriating because he -did- care, he finally decided. He knew the Norwegian resented him. Maybe even hated him — he said he did, often enough, which was Skwisgaar's own fault. He didn't know what drove him to pick on the younger man so often.

It wasn't his playing. He wasn't as good as Skwisgaar, and unless he started practicing, he never would be. But he was better than just about anyone else; Skwisgaar had to admit that to himself, even if he'd drink poison before he'd say it to anyone else.

It wasn't really anything Toki did. Sure, the Norwegian could be annoying, but Skwisgaar cared about him enough that he got angry with anyone else picking on him. That dildos clown, that dildos driving teacher. Skwisgaar was the only one who could pick on Toki.

Had his teasing finally broken the younger man? Had Toki's resentment finally really turned to hate?

After he'd played the same bar five or six times, Skwisgaar realized that even his beloved guitar couldn't get his mind off of his rival, and he dropped it on his bed angrily.

In his own room, Toki's thoughts were surprisingly close to Skwisgaar's. He was starting to get bored with the game of giving the Swede the cold shoulder, but he refused to lose this, too.

Even so, while Skwisgaar's annoyance had been satisfying at first, Toki couldn't help but think of the times the other guitarist had almost been a friend to him. He remembered the haze he'd been in when he'd found out his father was dying, and while he didn't remember much about that, and had drunk himself stupid for a while afterward, he did have a few vague memories of Skwisgaar trying to cheer him up.

And now that he'd stopped just reacting to the lead guitarist's constant needling, he'd had time to think about it, and he felt a little guilty. Skwisgaar was a jerk, but at least he was always there and occasionally kind. Toki, on the other hand, had failed his enemy-maybe-friend when Skwisgaar returned to Sweden in search of his birth father. He'd been selfish, only thinking of his place in Dethklok and not what Skwisgaar had been dealing with.

Maybe he was the jerk. Maybe he was the one who should apologize.

"No! I nots apologize!" he muttered, and forced himself to remember instead all the times Skwisgaar had mocked his guitar playing, or bragged about all the ladies he was sleeping with, or treated him like a baby. Friends weren't mean to each other all the time.

It was ironic that at that moment, his door slammed open. Skwisgaar stood there, looking furious, and Toki realized that it didn't matter if he quit now or not, his silent treatment had finally pushed the other man over the edge.

"Whats ams your problems! You stupid dildos, whats are you trying to proves!"

Maybe it was because he was already feeling angry — and a little guilty — but before he could stop himself, Toki shot to his feet. "I hates you, Skwisgaar! You always treats me like garbage! Goes away! I's not talking to you anymore! I hates you!"

The blonde recoiled, with a look like he'd been slapped, but he covered it quickly with his usual haughty expression. "Huh. Well, you justs talkeds to me rights now." Silence. "Is that alls you are goings to say?" Silence silence silence.

Toki set his jaw stubbornly and glared. Skwisgaar glared back, and there was another long moment of silence. Then he shouted, "FINES THENS! I DON'T WANTS TO HEARS YOUR DUMB DILDOS VOICE ANYWAYS!" He turned and left, slamming the door shut behind him, hard enough to knock a few of the pictures from Toki's wall.

Toki had finally won for once. So why didn't he feel good about it? He let out his breath, and went to rehang the pictures. It wasn't until he was straightening the last one that he caught the eyes of his photo-parents. Staring down at him, refusing to speak, to tell him what he'd done wrong, just like they had done all through his childhood. Never explaining, just lashing out.

It hit him harder than any of their beatings ever had. He was just like them. The guilt won over the hurt and anger, and it almost made him throw up.

It was nearly dawn when Skwisgaar finally returned to Mordhaus. He'd gone to a club, hoping to get drunk and find a MILF. And he had, to both, but parking had proved neither was a distraction, and he'd gotten home alone.

He tried to tell himself this had nothing to do with Toki, but it didn't work. He cared, much as he hated to admit it. And he'd never admit it to any of the others, but Toki was like the little brother he'd never had. He was certainly closer to family than Skwisgaar's own mother had been.

He could be irritating, especially when he was drunk, but he was always game to spend time with Skwisgaar when loneliness crept in — unless he was with that dildos clown. Which, again, was better than his actual family. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but he was still closer to Toki than anyone else in Dethklok.

So their fight had hurt, much more than he would have expected.

Skwisgaar had finally succeeded in pushing Toki away. He'd finally said one too many mean things. He'd protected him from others but hadn't bothered to be a friend himself, and this time, when Toki had said he hated him, he sounded like he meant it.

Skwisgaar had no idea how to deal with that, and trying to self-medicate the only way he knew how — banging anything that caught his attention — hadn't helped a bit. So he came home alone and tense as hell.

Which explained why he nearly had a heart attack when he entered his dark room and heard a quiet, "I's sorry, Skwisgaar," from his bed.

He panted for a moment, a hand clutched to his chest, before he realized it was his bandmate. "Damns it, Toki, you nearlies killeds me!" He fumbled for the light switch, his heart pounding in his throat. When light finally filled the room, he saw Toki sitting on his bed, his chin resting on his knees, looking stricken.

"I's sorry for that, too! I's been real means, Skwisgaar." The younger man chewed at his lower lip, then pushed on, looking at the ground. "I's been just like my parents. All screweds up." A shiver seemed to go through him at that, and then he swallowed.

That sent a little shock through the lead guitarist. He knew how Toki felt about his parents.

Skwisgaar stood silently for a moment, then closed his mouth and went to sit on the bed next to Toki. "We's both beens dildos, Toki." He almost glared, but caught himself. Now was not the time to be himself. He took a deep breath. "I knows I ams always teasings you, but maybe I ams goings too far sometimes?"

Toki nodded slightly, still staring at the ground. "Lots of times," he said, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Why you gots to be so mean to me all the times, Skwisgaar?"

Skwisgaar sighed, and decided he might as well be honest. "Because you ams being like a little brothers to me." He saw Toki's eyes narrow at "little," but continued as if he hadn't noticed. "We promised not to cares abouts each others. The others, they'd make funs of us, ja? So I pretends." He'd promised not to care about anyone at all, because it hurt less that way when they didn't put you first too. And he really didn't know how to act as if he cared anyway, not about anyone but his lay of the night, anyway. But he didn't know how to say that.

Still, something must have gotten through to Toki, because the other guitarist was watching him with something like sympathy and maybe understanding in his eyes. "We both all screwed up," he said finally, and Skwisgaar nodded.

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, and then Toki said, "You really thinks of me as a brother?"

Skwisgaar felt himself smirk slightly. "Wells, yeah, I means you ams annoying like a brother, and always lookings up to me."

Toki tried to glare, but couldn't quite manage to keep the happy smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I hates you, Skwisgaar," he said, but there was no sting to it this time, and no truth either, and the blonde's smirk flashed into a genuine grin for a brief second.

"Maybes you shows me how to play the dancings game tomorrow?" Skwisgaar asked, a peace offering. "I bets you I will be a hundreds times betters than you."

Toki stood up and headed for the door. "No way, you never be as goods as me. You know it!" He paused at the door. "'Night, Skwisgaar."

"Sleeps well, Toki. Oh, ands Toki?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tells nobodies about this."

Toki left the room, feeling better than he had in months. Maybe ever. He didn't know if things would ever change completely between them, but it was enough for now.

Once the door had clicked shut, he turned to go back to his own room, and froze.

Murderface was standing at the end of the hall, obviously just getting home himself, his mouth open. And from his expression, he'd definitely gotten the wrong idea seeing Toki sneak out of Skwisgaar's room at five in the morning.

The two men stared at each other for a second, then Murderface spun and went back toward the living room at a speed close to a run. "Picklesh, Nathan, you'll never guessh what I jusht saw!"

"Fuck," Toki said.