Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lars was pissed at James and Cliff. James was pissed at Lars. And Cliff? Well, Cliff was pissed at both of them but decided to be the bigger person.

His solution?

A road trip.

“Hey dipshits,” Cliff announced, standing in the middle of their trashed living room. “Pack your shit, we’re going on a road trip.”

James, half-asleep on the couch, rubbing his eyes. “The fuck ?”

“What are you talking about, man?” Lars says tiredly, “fock— my head.” His hangover hit pretty hard there.

Cliff loudly claps his hands together. “You heard me. If we don’t get out of here and solve this shit, our band is getting no where. So get moving.”

Before anyone could argue further, Kirk appeared in the hallway, a backpack already on his shoulder and a smile on his face.

James let out a chuckle at Kirk. “You’re seriously going?” He motions his hands at Cliff, who is standing there packing the things he needs (including his blunts of course)

Kirk shrugged. “I mean…its not a bad idea. And this place is getting pretty suffocating…”

Lars, holding onto his head, “I don’t know, dude. Putting all of us in a car feels like asking for disaster.” he states as he glares at a specific blonde.

“Get moving before I leave without you.” Cliff barks out. Geez he can be bossy when he wants to be.

James groaned again, staggering himself off the couch. “Fine, but I’m not sharing a seat with Lars.” “I don’t wanna sit next to you either,” Lars shot back, glaring. Kirk rolled his eyes, his patience strong.

“Lars can sit up front with Cliff and make sure he doesn’t drive us off a cliff—” “Haha. Very funny kirk.” James grumbles out as he looked for a bag, shoving Lars’ shoulder when he passed by.

By the time they were all packed and ready to go, it was clear that this might not go the way Cliff planned it to.

First stop? Walmart.

The guys pulled up to Walmart in Cliff’s fucked up car, looking like they’d just survived a storm.

Cliff hopped out first, holding a crumpled shopping list, and Kirk followed, peeking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything on the list since he wrote it. James dragged himself out next, yawning so loudly.

His hair looked like he’d battled with a damn bear, and he clearly couldn’t care less.

Lars wasn’t much better—his motorhead shirt was on backwards, and he had some kind of stain on his jeans as he obnoxiously chews on the meal he was eating.

Cliff glanced at them and sighed. “Alright, listen up,” he said, holding up the list Kirk had written. “We’re here to get what we need, no funny business. Got it?” James scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, like…what do we need first?”

“Well first we need a cart. If you two idiots can handle that without fighting, it’d be a freakin’ miracle. And for the record, I’m still mad at both of you. So don’t do anything stupid.”

James threw his arms up. “What the hell did I do?!”

“Lots of shit,” Lars muttered with a smirk.

James shot him a look, then immediately put him in a headlock. Lars flailed around, laughing like an idiot, while Cliff chuckled as he rolled his eyes.

“Let’s hurry up kirk.” Kirk just shrugged and smiled. “At least they’re, uh…bonding?” “Yeah, sure,” Cliff muttered, already walking into the store. “Bonding over being idiots .” He chuckled.

Inside, Kirk and Cliff made their way to the snack aisle while James and Lars lagged behind, still bickering. Kirk stopped in front of a shelf stacked with candy and held up a variety pack of chocolates, his face lighting up.

“Cliff, do you think we could bring these?” Cliff looked at it and shook his head. “Dude, that’ll totally melt in the car.“ Kirk frowned. “I mean, maybe? We could still eat it?”

“That’s a pass,” Cliff said, grabbing a bag of doritos instead.

“We’re getting stuff that won’t turn into a disaster after a couple of hours.”

Meanwhile, James and Lars had finally grabbed a cart, but of course, they couldn’t be normal about it.

Lars was inside the cart and had James pushing behind, threatening to shove Lars into something.

“I’m gonna push you into these group of people,” James states, evilly grinning.

“Do it then, pussy!” The dane challenges.

From the snacks aisle, Cliff heard the crash and stiffened.

He turned to Kirk, who was holding up a box of granola bars now. Kirk just sighed.

“Do we even want to know?”

“Nope.”

Cliff stuffed another bag of chips into the cart and they both stiffly walked out of the isle.

Apparently , Dave’s band, Megadeth , had been having some major issues too—just like Metallica. Of course, they just had to come up with the same solution! A “ bonding ” road trip.

Out of all the things they could’ve done, they picked the same thing. The Metallica guys had serious beef with Dave, though. Cliff? He was chill with him—they got along well enough.

But Lars? Lars couldn’t stand Dave. James was somewhere in between.

Sure, Dave could be a loud, snarky, bossy jerk, but there was something about him that James liked. They used to be close. Dave had helped James come out of his shell back when he was a shy, timid kid. James was still working on it, but without Dave’s obnoxious confidence rubbing off on him, who knows who he’d be?

The thing with Dave, though, was the drinking.

Metallica was not unfamiliar to partying—they all got wasted at gigs, hotel rooms, and strived to cause chaos. But drunk Dave? That was a whole other level. When Dave got drunk, he wasn’t just loud; he was mean . That was the final straw for Lars.

Week later, Dave was out of the band.

The rest of Megadeth wasn’t so bad, though. David, Dave’s best friend and bassist, was super chill. Marty, their short, curly-haired guitarist, was probably the sweetest guy on Earth. And Nick, their drummer? They didn’t know much about him but they assumed he was chill.

And now, somehow, this was happening.

Metallica and Megadeth had bumped into each other. In a Walmart blanket aisle.

“Oh,” Dave said, spotting them. His eyes landed on Cliff first. Then the rest of the guys. “Hey, Cliff,” he said, trying to sound casual. “And, uh, hey to you guys too, I guess.”

The awkward silence that followed was just terrible.

Cliff, trying to be the peacemaker, decided he had to do something to break the tension before anyone starts throwing insults—or punches.

“Hey, man!” Cliff said, slapping a hand on Dave’s shoulder like they were old buddies. “You doing alright? It’s been a while, huh?” Dave smirked and shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been…good. Busy going to gigs, you know. The usual.”

He then picks at something on the shelf.

And just when things were starting to feel kind of normal, James and Lars put their blabber mouths to use. Good god. “ Fock , man,” Lars muttered as he stepped up behind Cliff. His voice was low, but not low enough.

“You didn’t say Dave was coming too!”

“I didn’t even know he was coming, dude,” James mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face like this was the last thing he needed.

Dave, hearing everything, turned his head to look at them. His smirk dropped.

“Ah, James and Lars. And… Kurt , was it?” he said with a petty tone.

“Uhm—” Kirk mutters, but Cliff cut him off.

“It’s Kirk,” Cliff said firmly.

Before anything else could be said, Marty appeared behind Dave, holding up a bag of chocolates—the same one Kirk had shown Cliff in the snack aisle earlier.

“Dave, we should get this,” Marty said, his voice sweet. Dave glanced back at him. “Not now, Marty,” he said, “I’m in the middle of something here.” Marty blinked, finally noticing what Dave meant.

His eyes lit up as he realized it was their supposed “rivals”. Not that Marty had a problem with them or anything—he didn’t even really understand the rivalry. He liked Cliff and Kirk a lot.

They were both super chill and funny, he tends to talk to them when they coincidentally end up performing at the same gigs.

The other two? Lars, with his bright blue eyes and long brown hair, he wasn’t so sure about him...and James, towering with his blonde mane and piercing gaze, looked like he could crush someone.

Marty wasn’t sure where he stood with those two yet, but he figured some playful banter couldn’t hurt.

“Oh hey, it’s you guys,” Marty said, grinning as he leaned on Dave’s shoulder. “What brings Metallica to the Walmart blanket aisle? Got a sleepover planned? This a girls night out?”

Lars rolled his eyes. “We’re not, dude. We’re—”

“ Lars ,” Cliff interrupted, “Don’t.”

Dave snorted. “Yeah, Lars. Don’t. Listen to what your daddy says,” he said, motioning at Cliff.

Kirk, trying to ease the tension, stepped forward nervously, “We’re just, uh, grabbing a few things for a trip. Nothing huge. What about you guys?”

Dave and Marty glance at each other, then back at Metallica. “Same,” he said, nonchalantly. “Road trip.”

“Oh c’monnn ..” James muttered under his breath. “Of course they’re copying us.” Cliff sighs, sensing the tension rising again. He looked at Marty.

“You know, I’m starting to think those chocolates might actually survive the car ride. You still down for those chocolates, Kirk?” Kirk caught on immediately, nodding.

“ Totally!  We could stick them in the cooler or something. Problem solved.” We don’t even have a cooler. Cliff made a mental note to buy one.

Marty laughed. “ See? These guys get it.” Dave raised an eyebrow. “Alright, Marty, let’s grab the chocolates. Let’s leave these guys to their trip .” His voice dripped with mockery as he turned to walk off with Marty trailing behind him. “See you around!” Marty turned around calling cheerfully, waving. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Lars complains. “ Great. They’re doing a road trip too. This just keeps getting better. Focking hell.”

Kirk starts to scan items at the self-checkout while Lars stood next to him, leaning on the cart and looking bored.

Kirk figured should probably say something.

“Hey, Lars?” Lars perked up, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Yeah?”

Kirk hesitated for a second, then asked, “Do you think we might see Dave on the road? Like, could they be going where we’re going?” Lars groaned loudly, “Oh, I focking hope not,” he grumbled, his Danish accent thickening.

Kirk giggles at that. “Hey, could you teach me some Danish words in the car? I’ll sit in the back with you if you want.”

Lars blinked at him, surprised by the offer. He felt his face heat up a little. “Uh—sure! Yeah, man! We could do that! I mean, I need to sit away from James the giant anyway. He drives me focking nuts, dude.”

Kirk laughed again, “I’ll make sure James doesn’t bother you.” And Lars laughs at that—knowing Kirk wouldn’t stand a chance going against James.

Meanwhile, Cliff and James were at the end of the aisle, double-checking the list. Or at least Cliff was.

James wasn’t really paying attention, more focused on keeping his hands warm by shoving them under his hoodie.

“Alright, looks like we got everything,” Cliff announced, standing up straight and stretching his arms over his head.

“Cool. Can we get some food or something? I’m starving,” James muttered, his voice muffled as he rubbed his hands together.

Fuck, why is it so cold in here?

Cliff’s ears perked up at the mention of food.

Sure, he loved jamming out on his bass and sleeping, but eating ?

If there was one thing Cliff could do better than anyone, it was devour a plate of Mexican food.

A smirk crept onto his face. “Hell yeah, man, let’s get some tacos and quesadillas,” he said confidently. The only problem? He pronounced it “case-of-dillas.”

Kirk almost dropped the bag of chips he was holding, laughing so hard he had to lean on the cart for support. “Dude! It’s not case-of-dillas !”

Cliff grinned. “Whatever, man. You know what I meant. Now let’s go before i eat someone.”

The group stepped out into the glaring sunlight. It wasn’t particularly hot, just bright—way too bright for the early morning. They shuffled over to Cliff’s beat-up car, arms loaded with bags and carts rattling. That’s when they noticed something. A shiny, deep-black van sat parked right next to them. And on the side?

A bold, loud sticker that read: MEGADETH.

Lars threw his hands up in frustration. “Are you focking kidding me?”

James, lagging behind and carrying most of the bags, looked up, squinting at the van. “What now?” he grumbled, adjusting his grip on the bags.

“ Look!” Lars pointed dramatically at the black van parked next to them.

“Wait, is that…” James trailed off, staring at the sticker. His shoulders slumped. “Seriously? Is that Dave’s van?”

Megadeth’s van looked brand new, with its deep black paint and smooth edges. In comparison, Cliff’s car looked like it had— let’s move on.

“Dude, their van is way too nice,” Kirk muttered, feeling a pang of jealousy.

“Yeah, well, I bet they don’t even have real snacks,” Cliff said defensively, opening the trunk and dumping in the bags.

As if on cue, the doors to the Megadeth van opened, AUTOMATICALLY opened with a press of a button. And the band started piling in.

Dave stepped in first, his long ginger hair shining annoyingly in the sunlight. Marty followed close behind, laughing at something, with David and Nick right behind him.

Lars hissed, nudging James. “Just get in the car.”

“Hey, guys!” The ginger calls out in a sing-song voice.

James stared straight ahead as if he didn’t hear him.

As for Lars, was muttering Danish curse words under his breath.

Marty notices them and waved. “Hey, guys!”

Kirk hesitated, before giving Marty a small wave back. “Uh, hey…”

“ Kirk! ” Lars half whispers.

Dave smirked one last time before hopping into the driver’s seat. Seconds later, the Megadeth van roared to life. As they pulled out of the parking lot, loud, distorted metal music can be heard in the distance.

“Fucking assholes….” Lars comments, squinting after the van.

Cliff crossed his arms, glaring at the retreating vehicle. “Who the hell do they think they are?”

James didn’t say anything, all he did was stared confused.

The car ride was tense and silent.

Cliff drove for a while, his grip on the wheel tight, before finally pulling over and tossing the keys to Kirk. “I’m done. You drive.”

Kirk nodded without a word, climbing into the driver’s seat.

As he drove, the tension in the van felt suffocating.

Just as the guys were starting to talk again, a familiar black van sped past them on the highway.

Music blasted from the open windows, and inside the van was even worse.

Megadeth laughing and headbanging like idiots.

James sat up straight, his eyes narrowing. “What the fuck.” Lars groaned, slamming his head back against the seat.

Even Kirk, normally the the calmest, gripped the wheel a little tighter. “They’re so obnoxious,” he muttered as he focuses on the road.

Cliff just shook his head, glaring at the van as it disappeared down the highway. “Next time we see them, I’m slashing their tires.”

Lars was kinda bummed he didn’t get to teach Kirk any Danish words. He was gonna make Kirk say something stupid like “james er en idiot.”

But now?

Now Lars was just pissed. Pissed about Dave. Just pissed.

Kirk cleared his throat. “Uh… you guys still down to get Mexican food?” Kirk asked, sounding nervous to bring it up.

Cliff was the first to respond, because of course he was. “Hell yeah,” he said, typical Cliff.

Dude couldn’t even hold anger if tacos were involved.

Lars and James?

They didn’t care as long as there was beer. “As long as there’s beer,” James hollered, tearing open the blanket package they’d bought at the store.

“What the fock are you doing?” Lars asked, giving him a side-eye.

“Making myself comfortable,” James replied, “This car’s cold, man. Feels like a goddamn freezer.”

“It’s not that cold,” Kirk said, glancing back at him.

“Dude, you have the heater blasting in your face up there!” James yells out as he pulls the blanket tighter around himself like a burrito.

Lars rolls his eyes and sighed loudly “Where the hell are we even going anyway?”

Cliff, who was riding shotgun and lazily puffing out smoke— how many times did this guys smoke? ,“It’s this place with cabins and shit. Lots of other bands go there. Let’s just hope Dave isn’t… y’know.”

“What?” Lars barked, leaning between Kirk’s and Cliff’s seats, as if Cliff just told him the car was going to explode. “Hope he isn’t going there? Fock, man, he’s totally going there!”

Kirk tries to hold in his laugh, but Lars caught it. “You think this is so funny, Kirk?” he grumpily grumbles. “No!” Kirk said quickly, but his smile gave him away. “It’s just… the fact that James is literally hibernating behind you.”

Lars whipped his head around, and well, James had piled up the rest of the blankets, turned sideways in his seat, and was now looking half-asleep.

“Dude, you look like a fucking taco,” Lars muttered, laughing a little.

“His hair is the cheese.” Kirk blurts out and they laughed.

James shuffles a little— for a more comfortable position. “Wake me up when there’s beer.” he huffs out.

Cliff snorts, shaking his head. “You guys are stupid.”

For a second, everything feels at ease, like they could finally chill and mess around.

“Fockin Dave,” Lars mumbled.

Chapter Text

The car ride dragged on.

It had been over an hour since they left Walmart, and Lars hadn’t stopped talking for even one minute.

“Lars,” Cliff growled. “If you don’t shut your mouth for five goddamn minutes, I will knock your teeth out.”

Lars blinked, grinning like a little shit. “You wouldn’t punch this face.”

Cliff glowered his eyes at him, “I would have your head as my next meal.”

Kirk made a weird noise as he tried to hold back a laugh.

James, still wrapped in a blanket in the backseat, sat up suddenly. “Jesus christ, if we don’t play some Motorhead or literally anything that doesn’t sound like some chick’s birthday party, my brain is gonna melt out my ears.”

Lars, now turned around in his seat to face James, rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh please, you’re literally wrapped in a focking blanket like a little girl right now.”

James narrowed his eyes. “And you look like a kid with a very punchable round face. Seriously, are you swelling up? You allergic or something?”

“You motherfucker.”

Kirk snorted.

Cliff groaned loudly. “Oh my god—”

“Your face looks swollen,” James continued, “like a—like a fucking balloon. A big, round, stupid, ugly balloon.”

Lars glared at him like he was considering ripping james apart, limb by limb. “Well at least I didn’t get attacked by acne at the age of twenty like some people.”

“Oh wow. So we’re going there.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” Lars muttered, turning toward the window.

Cliff dragged his hands down his face, annoyed.

Then, without warning—

THUMP.

The car lowered slightly to the right.

Kirk’s hands flew on the wheel. “What the—?”

“Kirk, did you hit something?” James said, leaning forward and peeking between the seats.

“He didn’t hit shit—now back up.” Cliff snapped.

Kirk slowed them down, the car riding bumpier by the second.

“Oh, this is just fantastic,” Lars muttered, with strong sarcasm. “What next? We run out of gas? James blankie gets stolen?”

“Fuck you, Lars.”

The car rolled to a full stop, and everyone climbed out.

Sure enough, the front tire on the passenger’s side was flattened.

“Well, fock me,” Lars said.

“Shittt,” Cliff muttered, inspecting the damage and kicking at the tire.

James looked at the guys, scratching the back of his neck. “So… what do we do now?”

Lars frowned. “Who here actually knows how to change a tire?”

Silence.

Everyone looked at Cliff.

Cliff looked down at the tire.

“…I mean, I’ve seen it done.”

Lars groaned, leaning against the car. “Oh great. We’re all gonna die here. Stranded. On the side of the fucking highway. Cliff’s gonna try to use fockin’ waterproof glue or some shit.”

“It works for a lot of things,” Cliff muttered defensively.

“I’m just gonna say this is Lars’ fault,” James muttered, still wrapped in his blanket.

“Shut up, pepperoni face,” Lars shot back, refusing to look at him.

Kirk was already freaking out. “Okay, first we need to find some kind of close by car shop—“

“Kirk, theres no fuckin’ close by car shop,” Cliff groaned, popping the trunk and tossing random crap out of the way.

James nodded his chin at Lars. “I mean, we could use Lars’ head to lift the car.”

“You trying to fight, Hetfield?” Lars says with a raised voice, snapping his head towards james.

“Not in those jeans.”

Kirk, finally holding up a hand to shut them up. “Okay, okay, stop. Everyone calm down. We can figure this out.”

Cliff muttered something about “losing his cigarette that he just had in the car” under his breath.

Lars sighed, staring dramatically off into the horizon. “I focking knew this was a bad idea Cliff.”

“Don’t test me Lars.”

“Don’t worry,” Kirk said softly to no one in particular. “We’ll figure it out.”

They silently looked for some kind of air pumper in the car. But obviously this was disturbed by a familiar van that was driving up the road.

Kirk looked up slowly.

“No.”

“Oh god,” Lars whispered.

James peeked over with a chip bag in hand. “…Well.”

Chapter Text

Nick lifted himself up from crouching beside the tire, his sunglasses slipping down his nose. His curls were sticking to his forehead from the heat.

“Are you guys always this unprepared?” he muttered, wiping his hands on his jeans. He gave the newly-fixed tire a dramatic slap. 

“Boom. Fixed. You’re welcome!” With a grin on his face.

Cliff let out a low whistle, “Damn. I didn’t know Megadeth had a useful member.”

Nick stood up straighter and mockingly bowed, his grin widening. “I’m useful for many things. You should see me when I'm not playing drums.”

“You’re also full of shit,” Dave called from the passenger window, where he sat with his arm hanging over the passenger window and sunglasses on. 

“Good job, Nick!,” Marty cheers from behind him, “Seems like you guys are ready to get back on track!” He adds cheerfully. 

“Thanks to Nick,” Kirk added, offering an actual smile. He genuinely looked impressed.

Nick threw up a peace sign. “You’re welcome.”

Dave slid the van door open and stepped out, stretching and popping his neck. “Anyway,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t about to say (or do) something absolutely irritating, “you’re all patched up and ready to roll.”

“Great,” Lars muttered. “Start the car Cliff.”

Dave raised a hand. “Ah ah ah. Not so fast.”

Lars narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch…”

Dave grinned. That stupid and smug grin. “Don’t get all sulky, Ulrich. It’s not like I’m asking you for money. You guys owe us a favor. That’s all.”

James groaned from behind him. “Jesus fuckin’ christ, I knew there was gonna be a favor.”

“Hey, I just did labor,” Nick chimed in, raising his hand so they could see that it’s dirty. “ I don’t get this dirty unless I get paid.”

“You were drinking chocolate milk and taking breaks while fixing our tire,” Cliff pointed out.

“Yeah. And I still fixed your busted-ass car.”

“What kind of favor?” Kirk asked, desperately hoping it wasn’t anything crazy like “Let us take your next gig.”

Dave clapped his hands together, “I want the chips.”

Silence.

“What chips…?” Kirk asked, confused.

“Cliff I said start the fockin’ car.” Lars deadpanned, voice flat.

“The chips,” Dave repeated. “The red one in that bag.” He pointed right at the open Walmart bags sitting in the back of Cliff’s car.

Cliff squinted. “The Doritos?”

“YES,” Dave said seriously. “Walmart was out and I’ve been thinking about them the whole car ride. Turns out you guys took the last one.”

Ellefson waved apologetically from the driver’s seat. “They’re really good, man.”

James took a real good look at them. “You’re seriously asking for… for a fuckin’ chip bag?”

“Problem?” Dave snapped.

“You’re telling me,” Lars gritted, “that after you copy our road trip idea, after Nick plays fockin’ superman for ten minutes, you want OUR Doritos!?”

Nick leaned into James and whispered, “Did I really give off superman vibes?”

James scowled and glared at Nick, with his arms crossed.

“Give it to him, it tastes like shit anyways,” Cliff says as he tries to mutter quietly to Lars.

Dave glares offended, “Take that back, Cliff.”

Dave was quite literally met with silence from all four boys.

“Deal’s off. I’ll pop your other tire.”

“NO, wait,” James sighed, rubbing his face with both hands, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but just give them the fuckin Dorito bag. I just wanna eat those tacos Cliff is crazy about and sleep.”

“Yeah,” Cliff muttered, already pulling out a cig from who knows where. “They can have it. It’s not worth fighting.

Lars stared. “Wow. I’m being fucked over. By my own band.”

“I don’t remember it being your band,” James shot back.

Kirk sighed, walks to the car and reaches in for the Dorito bag to hand over to Dave, to be honest, Kirk doesn’t want any more problems with Dave. “Here.”

Dave, victorious with the Dorito bag in hand, was already climbing back into the van, yelling something about scooting over.

Marty sticks his head out from the window, and gives them a little wave. “Bye! Also, Kirk—those chocolates did melt.”

Kirk blinked. “What? Really?”

Marty held up the squishy bag and gave it a gentle squish. “Yup. You can have it!” He throws it to Kirk.

Kirk winced and catches it—he knows Marty doesn’t mean any harm.

And just like that, that shiny black van was driving off.

Lars let out a groan of pure irritation and slammed the car door open and slipped in.

Cliff repeatedly flicked his lighter on and off.

“Fock off, Cliff.”

“Marty and Ellefson’s are alright,” James muttered. 

Kirk looked down at the melted chocolates in his hand, sighed, and tossed it into a nearby bush.