AN: Welcome to the first chapter of Behind The Fic, the Fic that shows you all the craziness the other fics leave out! Just to let you know... We own nothing. We are broke. Please don't sue us.

Pairing: Murdoc x 2D

Rating: T (I think... If I'm wrong, let me know and I'll change it)

In Which The Typical Morning After Awkwardness Becomes Just a Bit More Awkward

Six months. Six months on this plastic piece of floating rubbish, and he had finally sunk as low as he could. He had been lonely, he reasoned. And anyway, who else had been there? It's not like it would happen again...

It was at this point that his half-coherent thoughts were interrupted as the blue-haired singer whom his musings were about snuggled a little closer to the bassist in his sleep. Murdoc found himself jerked awake a touch more, but didn't see any particular reason to move or leave the room. It wasn't that he didn't want to wake the other man or leave the warm embrace. Of course not. Couldn't be. Besides, who could walk in on them? Cyborg Noodle? She wouldn't care. If she did, he could always reprogram her to not care.

He couldn't help feeling... Guilty. He hated admitting he had emotions at all, but on this bloody hunk of plastic... Well, nothing could be hidden, not for long. Every mistake man made ended up here. Every little mistake from the beginning of history was laid bare, including - no, especially - his own.

Stu had actually been creating a life for himself without Murdoc. He had even been succeeding without him. The man he had always thought of as a dullard had found direction and had actually begun to make something of himself... Alone, without any help. Yet Murdoc had taken it away from him, dragging the other man into the abyss of death threats, ominous green fog, and the total, utter aloneness that embodied his life at present.

What kind of man was he? His drummer was missing, his real guitarist was Satan-knows-where (if the girl wasn't dead, that was), and the one band mate he had managed to track down hadn't wanted anything to do with him. The singer had told him to piss off. And if that wasn't enough, he was being chased down by Russian pirates, multiple criminals around the world, several third-world dictators, and some family members (which was, quite possibly, the worst of the lot).

And, despite all that, the younger man had forgiven him. Shit, he'd locked the man in an underwater room, knowing full-well of his irrational fear of whales, and still the singer had forgiven him...

He brushed the younger man's blue hair out of his face. It wasn't quite as spiky as it had been before, and looked to be a bit shorter, too. He looked healthier then he ever had at Kong, or at any point during the (Christ, had it really been that long?) 11 years they had known each other. The singer's expression seemed to tighten suddenly while his nails, somewhat sharp even though they were trimmed, scraped against the bassist's chest. His jaw was clenched and there was a slight sheen of sweet on his furrowed brow. A small whimper escaped his slightly parted lips, and the Satanist wondered if he was having a nightmare. Probably.

Murdoc sighed, not wanting to ruin the whooshing quiet that was around him, yet also wanting to never hear another wave lap against the plastic shore for the rest of his life. This place was maddening... With another sigh, he shook the other man's shoulder in an attempt to wake him.

"Stu," he said, giving the singer's shoulder another shake, "Stu!"

2D opened his eyes, startled and still half asleep. "Nng?" he blinked a few times, "Wot-?" he yawned, interrupting himself, then looked around with a growing blush, "Wot'd we-?"

"'Zactly what you think, Stu," Murdoc replied, feeling around with his free hand for his rum, "Le's not talk about it, s'better that way..." He took a swig of the rum, not caring if he didn't have mixer at the moment, and didn't move from where he lay, one arm lazily around the singer's shoulders, and both of them completely nude. It wasn't as if he wasn't moving because he wanted to stay there, of course not. He was just... He just didn't want to move yet. That was it. He was too lazy to move just yet.

"You do know, mate, that we're not doing this again," he said suddenly, looking directly into the singers blackened eyes... The injury he had caused. That wasn't a twinge of guilt in his gut... It was indigestion. Definitely indigestion.

2D looked confused. "But... But las' night you said-"

"I was drunk las' night, dullard."

"Then... Why are we still-?"

"I'm drunk now," the bassist said, even though he was barely buzzed, as he took another swig from the bottle of rum. "I'm quite sure," he continued in between small sips, "That I'll regret this... When I'm sober." He finished off the bottle, tossing it to the side with a hollow thunk, not even managing to break it. He rolled on top of the younger man, one hand of each side of his head, "'D, understand," he said, voice low, "i's nothing personal..."

2D was confused anew. "Wot's nuffink personal?" he asked, blinking up at the bassist.

"Don't interrupt me," Murdoc said, "I wozn't finished." He paused for several moments before continuing. "You know," he said slowly, "This... This meant nothing... I woz jus'... Er-" He tried to think of a good excuse.

"Drunk?"

Perfect. "Yeah, drunk."

"But then... Why're you still-?" 2D's voice trailed off, as if he wasn't sure how to put it. It was a moment before Murdoc, blinking in confusion, realized what he meant. He was still on top of the singer. Mentally cursing himself, he tried to think of a reason... And couldn't.

"I 'aven't a bloody clue, mate..."

After a moment's thought that seemed to stretch forever, he finally managed to get up, even if he was a little wobbly.

"It still didn't mean anything," he said again, as if repeating it would make it true. Deep down, he couldn't deny that it had meant something... Though what, he still didn't know.

He made the mistake of looking back at the singer. He had that expression, the one that made him feel that twinge of guilt he'd always tried to pass off as indigestion. He groaned inwardly. Why in Hell did the singer have to give him that look?

"Awright, mate," Murdoc said, giving up, "We'll... Talk about it..." He sighed, eyeing the empty bottle he had thrown earlier.

"I need more rum," he muttered, leaving the room.

2D propped himself up on his elbows, watching the bassist leave the room. He was still trying to figure out what, exactly, had just happened... But it seemed like a step in the right direction. Though... He could be wrong about that. He listened, staring at the door, as Murdoc's footsteps echoed in the hall, getting fainter as he moved away from the room. There was a pause, then the unsteady steps began getting louder, heading back toward the room. The singer waited for the other man to reenter for whatever reason... But only heard a lock click into place before the footsteps retreated again.