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It was a rare occasion that Toki and Pickles found themselves alone, but in the earlier days of Dethklok, Toki spent a fair bit of time bonding with each other member, and on one such particular night, he learned what he and Pickles had most in common was a love for drink.
Dethklok was rapidly soaring in prosperity and Mordhaus was just coming together, the most important part already implemented: the kitchen, with cabinets filled with booze.
A few shots in, not quite shitfaced yet, but definitely inebriated, Toki leaned against his bandmate to keep himself from swaying too much. Pickles was evidently a heavyweight, seemingly only somewhat buzzed as he put a hand around Toki's shoulder to steady him.
"Pickle, how comes you get that names? You really likes pickles or somethin?" Toki asked with a hiccup.
"Course I do. Fuckin love em. When I was a little boy I even had a shirt with a pickle on it, so it just made sense, ya know?" Pickles said with a shrug, taking a swig directly from the bottle of vodka. "I once even ate so many pickles, my palms turned green. Heh. Good times."
Toki blinked at him in amazement, trying to keep his eyes open. "Wowee! That's crazy, Pickle! I could never eats that manys. Actuallys, pickles ams pretty gross, if you asks me." Toki chuckled, but suddenly jumped when Pickles slammed his bottle down on the counter.
"Toki, what the fuck? You like stinky fucking pickled herring but not good old, all American, regular, pickled cukes?" Pickles said indignantly, spilling a bit of his drink as he waved his arms at Toki.
"I'm... sorrys, Pickle! It's just, whenevers I eats them, I gets that gross, sours pickles taste in my mouths for hours!" Toki replied with a frown.
"That's what makes em so good! It's the value, dude! Long lasting flavor and value!" Pickles said, putting both hands on Toki's shoulders, rattling him slightly.
"It's gross! And hey!" Toki swatted his hands away. "Pickled herrings is totallys differents. Firsts of alls, it's more Swedish, and--"
"Can't fucking believe you'd rather eat that shit than a pickle." Pickles grumbled, cutting him off. "Pickles are the quintessential treat for any day, any time. Nice, cold, snappy, the perfect companion to a sandwich or a burger, you can eat them on their own, they can be sweet, salty, spicy... You can make them in Kool-Aid, get all the pretty colors, add your own spices, God, they're so good and easy, Toki!"
Toki scoffed, grabbing the bottle from him and taking a generous gulp, rolling his eyes back in his head as he swallowed.
"Pickle," he pointed at the other man with half closed eyes, delivering his next line as stone cold seriously as possible: "I woulds rather eats your pickle than a reals one."
Pickles choked. "Shut the fuck up, dude! No way you'd rather go down on a dude than eat a fucking cucumber."
Toki shrugged. "Wants me to proves it?"
Pickle stared at Toki incredulously. "Look, Toki, you wound me with your words, but you don't have to, ykno, suck my cock just to prove a point." he said carefully.
Toki rolled his eyes again with a heavy sigh. "It's no big deals, Pickle. It ams only gays if the balls touch." Pickles couldn't question that logic.
"But if you feels like you needs to do somethings in return, how bout you trys my pickled herrings?" Toki said excitedly. "Ah, real fish. I don't means my penis."
Pickles furrowed his brow at Toki. "I'm not that desperate for a BJ, and I never will be."
"Aw, come on, Pickle!" Toki pawed his friend's chest with a limp hand. But Pickles knew better than to get tangled up with Toki while under the influence.
"Maybe... maybe some other time when you're a little more 'all here', huh, not that it's really a high bar." Pickles snorted, tipping back the very last of the vodka.
"Well, cans I at leasts has a kiss?" Toki's eyes were closed now as he swayed slightly.
Pickles looked at him, noticing that his vision was starting to get just a bit blurry on the sides, seeming to give Toki this warm and fuzzy glow.
"Hey, what is the really about? Are we having an argument or are you just tryna get in my pants?" he said, trying to remain stern but noticing the edge of his mouth tugging into a slight grin.
Toki shook his head, eyes still closed, as he reached his arms out to gently wrap around Pickles' neck, which he allowed. "No pants pickle, you saids. Just wants a kiss."
Pickles sighed, patting his friend on the arm, no stranger to drunken affection, and decided he would indulge Toki in this one kindness, assuming he'd forget about it in the morning. "Alright, alright. One little kiss then I'm passing the fuck out."
Pickles leaned up into his friend and kissed him gently, but found with some surprise that Toki responded more passionately, opening his wet with drink lips and pressing his tongue into his mouth. In his slightly bleary state of mind, Pickles returned the gesture, deepening the kiss somewhat sloppily, feeling Toki hum in pleasured approval as he tightened his arms around him.
Just as Pickles felt it all getting a bit too hot and heavy for him to think clearly, questioning if he should've rejected Toki's earlier offer, the other man pulled away suddenly with a quick smack on the lips, grinning widely.
"See? You still tastes much better than a real pickles."