Writer's note:
YO
the other one didn't do so bad
so I thought I'd post something about my ACTUAL otp
it's a lot shorter than the first one. :V
I think it's really sad that in this fandom it's more socially acceptable for fans to ship 2D with his adopted little sister, or the guy who beats him on a regular basis, or some crap female character the writer made up- than with his CANON ex-girlfriend.
Gorillaz is a fucked up fandom, yo. 0A0
So anywhore, this fanfic is dedicated to Bradford Cox and his beautiful voice.
Love, Cat
Enter in my heart
It never stops
It never stops
- Deerhunter
She felt a bit sick. She pulled back all her sweaty, stringy hair, the offensive smell of grease and dandruff not sparing her nostrils. She wondered if he could smell it too. But he didn't seem to notice.
Stuart just sat at the edge of the bathtub, watching her undress, yet not really noticing anything. She assumed it was only because he was used to the sight. But then again, he hadn't been the same since the accident.
He continued to stare at her with empty eye sockets, his face displaying no emotion. On any other man it would have felt creepy, but this was Stuart. Harmless, childish Stuart. Her Stuart.
"Y'know… if yew stare at long enough at the baffroom tiles, yew can see Fozzy Bear starin' back at ya."
Her poor, broken Stuart.
Paula stepped out of her pants and into the tub, gesturing for him to follow suit. He stood up, looking extremely awkward and gangly. His ribs seemed to poke out of his chest. He blinked and scratched at his groin and yawned.
She turned the water on.
She shrieked, and they were both suddenly backed into the tub, avoiding the icy water.
He snickered.
At close range, she realized he smelled even sourer than she did.
In a few seconds the water reached desired temperature. They embraced it, hypnotized.
The feeling of sickness hadn't ceased, and had maybe even increased because of the steam.
"It's a bit weird." He spoke softly.
"What is?" She closed her eyes, feeling a little dizzy, hoping her stomach wouldn't upset itself.
"Just- showerin' wiv someone else."
"This isn't the first time we've done this."
"No, it's not… but, wot ah mean is, it's- it's like, everyone's used ta showerin' alone. Then, when there's someone else wiv yew, it feels… very different. Do yew git wot ah mean?"
"A little." She mumbled, her head spinning. Maybe a hot shower hadn't been the best idea. She sat down on the tub's edge, rubbing her momentarily blinded eyes.
"Wot's up?" He asked, kneeling in front of her.
"I'm fine. I'm okay." She insisted. "The steam hurts my eyes, is all."
He brushed his fingers over her cheek, touched her hair. She kept her eyes closed, feeling him run his thumb over her cheekbone, trace her brow and temple. She felt his breath on her neck as he leaned in, humming something sweet and silvery; he had probably made it up on spot.
It between all that, the silly, persistent scent of butterscotch lingered on him, beneath the sweat and dirt.
Her eyes still closed, she smile absurdly. And even without looking, she could feel him smiling back.
"It might just be yew." He whispered.
"What might just be me?" She opened her eyes to see him beaming at her.
"Yew. Make me feel this way."
"How?"
"Like buttahflies are flutterin' around inside o' me, makin' a… a mess."
"A mess?"
"A happy kind of mess. A happy kind of feeling." He leaned in closer so that their noses touched, so that they could both smell last night's nicotine on each other's breath. "Do yew evah feel that way? When yew're wiv me?"
Her stomach still churned, but her heart was hammering. She rested her face into his neck, breathing him in, him and all his boyish naivety.
"All the time." She said, her voice small and raspy.
"It's a lovely feeling, in'nit?" He let her lean in closer, tracing her ribs, settling his hand on her side.
"Mmhm." She felt completely nauseous. Her head pounded and her stomach tossed, and she felt thoroughly vulnerable, weakened by the heat.
The shower had been a terrible idea.
Even Stu could sense her distress.
"Yew don't look too good. We should git yew outta here." He ushered her up, holding her hand, but he'd moved a bit too fast. Paula felt the blood rushing to her head, clouding her vision again. She clung to him for support. She stood close against him, chest heaving.
The water cascaded turbulently, drops bouncing off her skin.
Her head felt heavy.
She thrust him aside and vomited, right there in the bathtub.
Stunned, he stepped out of the tub, taking her by the hand and guiding her out. She was still reeling and had to sit down immediately on the toilet seat, clutching her head. He wrapped a towel around her.
"Poor luv." He crooned, stroking her damp hair with a large, wet hand. "Why didn' yew say anyfin'?"
"I thought it would pass." She mumbled weakly, burying her head into his shoulder. She peeked at the floor. The longer she gazed, the easier it was to see Fozzy Bear in the patterns on the tiles. But if she tried to focus, he disappeared.
"Yew always find time to look aftuh me, but yew nevah have time ta check yer own temperature." He kissed her knuckles. "Yew should git some rest today."
"Don't we have to record?"
"Ah'll explain it to Murdoc. Just take it easy." He kissed her again, this time on her jaw. He stood up, folding a towel around himself. After checking the tub to see that all the sick had diluted down the drain, he turned the water off.
"Dry up then try to get some sleep."
She nodded, her eyes following him as he exited the bathroom.
She stood up and walked to the sink, and washed the taste of stomach acid out of her mouth.
She wrote Stuart's name in the vapor on the mirror.