Chapter 20- Standoff: Discretion
(note 1: the section that starts off with "the not-so-distant-past" takes place a day after last chapter. confusing, i know. sorry about that)
(note 2: please excuse any and all grammatical issues. i'll get to them eventually.)
(small edits made on August 22, 2015)
oOo
Immersed in stony silence, he feels nothing short of lost. The once sweet hums that echoed within the confines of his head have since turned sour, and he no longer finds comfort in the imaginary fingers rubbing into his back when his sickness becomes too much.
Everything that once gave him solace and bearing has no meaning. The sounds and sights that haunt him day in and day out only give him grief.
Holed up in his room, hands tugging painfully at his hair, Murdoc keeps asking himself the same question.
What the fuck just happened?
oOo
((the not-so-distant past))
Droplets of milk and cereal land against the hard, cracked table in wet splashes. They add on to the already existing, caked-on mess that takes over almost half of the table's surface. Murdoc has a hard time suppressing his gag reflex throughout the whole ordeal.
The breakfast table is disgusting.
Littered with trash and grime, smeared with indiscernible substances and stains- it's an inhabitable war-zone and most people would steer clear of its borderline toxicity. But, of course, the four band members aren't most people and they continue to eat at it
And they continue to litter it with more filth until someone is forced to clean it. Usually, it's the drummer who succumbs to the need to cleanse the unsightly thing, but...
Today, that isn't the case. And that's because Russell isn't home. Not that Murdoc particularly minds, seeing as the past twenty-four hours have been hard on him and he needs a damn break from his plaguing thoughts.
Murdoc leans fully against the shoddy table with a spoon sticking out of his mouth and a bowl of raisin bran sitting half-eaten in front of him. He watches young Noodle pick through her own cereal, amused, disgusted and it's almost completely silent save for the mute splatting of milky raisins hitting the tabletop.
"You're supposed to eat the damn raisins, Noodle-girl." Murdoc says finally, words jumbling messily around the utensil in his mouth. The metallic clang of spoon meeting teeth obscures his words and he pulls it out with a snort. He pauses, grimacing at the trail of spit traveling down his chin and he wordlessly wipes it off with the back of his sleeve.
"They ain't decorations."
Sighing, Noodle glances up from her cereal and casts Murdoc an annoyed look before dropping her head down again. He watches her with piqued interest, not registering the angry gleam in her eyes.
"...I do not like them." she says moodily, continuing to pick them out of her breakfast with steady progression. She looks up at Murdoc again, eyes thoughtful and she brushes her thin fingers through her messy bangs.
There's a long pause and Murdoc almost thinks that Noodle's going to leave it at that before she speaks again.
"...They... resemble..." she says, pausing between each word and she trails off, waving a hand in the air in an attempt to find the right words.
"...Resemble, what?" Murdoc asks, smirk on his face and he raises a brow in amusement. Noodle groans in frustration, her little hands clenching and twitching as she struggles to speak.
She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and exhales slowly through her mouth.
"...Raisins are much like the old people."
Silence. Then, a snort.
Without any warning, a slender hand clamps itself onto the bassist's shoulder from behind. The sudden impact startles him, jostling him out of his thoughts and he whips his head around to find 2D doubled over in laughter. The singer clings to him, trying to stay upright and his breath comes out in wheezy gasps, wracking his frame with violent shakes.
Noodle's annoyed expression melts away instantly and a dazzling smile takes its place.
"Hello, Toochie!" she says excitedly, eyes bright and expression animated as she pushes her mushy bowl of cereal to the side. "You see Russell-sama?"
The bassist's breath hitches in his throat at the drummer's mention and he covers it up with a coughing fit.
Collecting himself and wiping a stray tear from his reddened cheeks, 2D shakes his head.
"Nah, love. I haven' seen 'im since yesterday."
Noodle frowns at his answer and taps her fingers against the tabletop in thought. She stares ahead for a few moments, emerald eyes flickering between the two men in trepidation.
"...And nose?" she asks softly, gesturing to the singer's bruised faced as if to clarify. "Is okay now?"
Again with this? Murdoc asks himself, sighing heavily through his mouth in annoyance. 2D moves to stand next to him and prods his nose tenderly, looking pensive.
"Yeah, I'd say so." he shrugs, seeming overall indifferent to the current state of his physical wellbeing. "Only ever hurt when the door hit my face."
Noodle hums and nods once, gentle smile returning to her face without an ounce of hesitance.
oOo
The sound of heavy thumping and muffled shouts from just below his feet pulls him from his trance. Metal wheels screeching against concrete, wires dragging from behind, 2D's curious voice inquiring as to what the hell is going on...
Russell's back.
Murdoc never did get a chance to set the record straight with him yesterday. Or, at the very least, he never got a chance to beg him not to say anything to the singer about...
Well.
He doesn't really want to think about that.
Anxiety rises like bile in his throat and he pushes the squeamish feeling down. Forcing himself to move, he takes the lift down to the floor below and when the doors finally open he's met with an interesting sight.
Russell, with an armful of crate. It overflows with amplifiers and drum extensions out the wazoo.
Noodle, carrying a surprising amount of musical equipment in her tiny arms- showing strength far beyond what is expected of someone her size and stature.
2D, staring wide-eyed at the other two band members with a hand pressed to his mouth- either laughing or holding back a yelp, Murdoc isn't too sure.
When the others don't acknowledge his immediate presence, he decides to make himself known.
"You were out for seven hours getting this crap?"
Russell's attention is instantly received.
He doesn't look too happy.
"This ain't shit, Murdoc. It's high-quality sound equipment that I bought with my own damn money for the benefit of our band."
The bassist rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in vexation, tapping his foot impatiently against the concrete floor.
"Whatever- it's still shit."
Ignoring the impending conflict between drummer and bassist, 2D steps around the various machines and looks at them curiously. He plants his hands on his hips and leans forward, reading the labels and tags with difficulty.
"...So what's this stuff s'possed t'do, anyway?"
Russell sends the singer a grin and sets his crate down, cracking his back with a grunt.
He ignores the disgusted retch Murdoc makes in response.
"They're supposed to help enhance our sound. Has a lot of the stuff that our studio does but it's more hands on."
The bassist glances over the equipmentcritically, scrunching his nose at the unfamiliar names.
Noodle shrugs and continues on her way, having enough of being ignored and she hefts the large amount of cables and chords in her arms without struggle.
"Is easy."
2D snorts as the small girl leaves the room, goofy grin plastered to his face. He turns his attention to Murdoc for what feels like the first time in forever and his grin turns playful.
"Better t'have things more hands on anyway, right Muds?"
oOo
((Several days later))
One drink leads to another.
He tosses his head back, heavy metal blaring throughout the recording studio without direction or guidance. He reclines further back than his roller-chair permits and he rests his legs against the studio mixer lazily, head swimming in his newly acquired inebriation.
When the lift sounds from off in the distance Murdoc adjusts his position in his seat. He can hear feint footfalls making their way for him and in his current state he can't tell who they belong to.
Step, step, step...
...A pause.
He can hear the other person trying to speak to him (their voice is high and muffled in comparison to the speaker's wailing) but the loud music only serves to overpower their efforts. Murdoc glances over to where the other person currently stands and he immediately turns the music off upon seeing their familiar hair and lanky form.
This new silence is almost deafening, feint buzz emanating from the speakers and Murdoc cracks open a new can of beer.
"What was that, face ache?"
Leaning against the door frame cautiously, 2D looks almost nervous. A soft smile graces his lips and he steps fully into the recording studio, fingers twitching in anticipation as he collects his thoughts.
"I was sayin' that Russ and Noods just left for the cinema."
Murdoc nods his head in affirmation, tapping his ring finger against the metal can of his drink.
"Yeah, fat arse did say somethin' about tha', didn' he?"
2D shrugs, looking off to the side with a shy smile.
"First I heard of it. Not surprised, I'm a bit slow on the uptake."
It's said with a laugh and a shake of the head, but Murdoc doesn't follow suit. He frowns and reaches to the floor, grabbing an unopened can of beer in his free hand. He whistles, catching the singer's attention and he tosses him the drink.
2D fumbles a bit, squawking in surprise and he only manages to catch it by the metal lip of the can.
"Nice one." Murdoc says with a smirk, expression softening a bit and he gestures for 2D to join him. "C'mon mate, can't be fun bein' all alone down there."
A bright smile illuminates the singer's face and he bounces on his heels, rushing to take his seat on the floor.
"Thanks, Muds."
The bassist sends him a smile and raises his drink, giving the singer a salute.
"Cheers."
It continues like this for an hour or so. And as drinks are consumed, inhibitions are forgotten. Finding himself slipping to the floor, Murdoc lets out a sigh and groans when his head smacks against the hard surface. 2D laughs and he sets his beer to the side, trying his best to prop the other upright.
"Murdoc, y'ain't fairin' so well."
Murdoc snorts and shakes his head deliriously, nudging 2D in the stomach with a playful grin.
"No, no mate. I'm farin' jus' the right amount."
He reaches forward and pats the side of 2D's face once, raking his fingers through his cobalt locks before finally dropping his hand to his lap. He feels his heart constrict and rise to his throat, almost succeeding in cutting off his air supply.
When he doesn't say anything else, the singer rolls his eyes.
"...Always needin' help with gettin' back t'your room, eh Muds?" 2D teases, lips pulling into a fond smile and he gets to his feet. He holds out a hand in silent offering and it's grasped immediately.
This time, Murdoc doesn't let go.
oOo
Smoke plumes between chapped lips and through gapped teeth, burning its memory into clothing and skin. The scent of cannabis and tobacco mix together tantalizingly, creating a sort of euphoric atmosphere.
Sitting side by side on the bassist's bed, their bodies press flush against one another and they have no qualms with sharing the same space. Legs intertwined with soiled sheets, fingers grazing jean clad thighs- it's a comfortable and companionable silence.
When gravity finally decides to force itself upon Murdoc, he feels his head begin to fall onto 2D's shoulder. The singer laughs softly and rests his cheek against the top of Murdoc's head, nuzzling the greasy mop affectionately.
"...S'nice, y'know." he sighs, drumming his fingers gently against the bassist's leg.
Murdoc snorts in reply, stubbing his cigarette out against his mattress carelessly.
"Dunno what the hell y'talkin' about, mate."
With each passing minute his words begin to lose their clarity. Wrapping his arms around the singer's waist, the bassist lets out a contented sigh.
"Sing for me, blue bird."
2D lets out a breathy laugh and shifts beside Murdoc, wrapping an arm around the his shoulder tiredly.
"...Okay."
It's a soft melody, rich words and intones escaping the singer's mouth with ease. Warmth floods through Murdoc's body as the song progresses, settling in the pit of his stomach.
And it moves lower.
He feels himself grow hot and he tightens his hold, gripping the singer's shirt tightly in his fists and he bites his tongue. 2D continues to sing softly, breath catching in his throat for a second (due to the vice grip Murdoc has on him) but he presses on.
When the song ends, the room falls still.
"...That one of ours?"
2D laughs and shakes his head.
"Nah, jus' somethin' I heard on the radio. Thought it was catchy enough."
His thumb rubs lazily against Murdoc's upper-arm, burning the bassist through the thin material of his shirt. It sends a shiver down his spine, nearly wracking his frame.
He's getting sloppy. He extracts himself from 2D's embrace, eyes downcast as he turns to face the singer. Bleary, bloodshot eyes stare into twin abysses, searching. Voices in his head compel him to move forward- something akin to strings begin to tug in his chest, urging him on and he leans in.
He doesn't notice 2D turning his face away.
Rough lips meet a stubbled cheek awkwardly, friction almost uncomfortably rough but he doesn't stop. Murdoc lifts a calloused hand and presses it against the side of 2D's neck, gracelessly moving his mouth over the singer's exposed jawline.
Even without the 2D's participation he feels himself grow hot- he feels himself grow hard and his breath comes out in ragged pants.
"...Murdoc, what're y-"
"-Nothin'."
This exchange is commonplace, repeated time and time again.
2D doesn't question it.
The bassist presses on, moving his lips from the singer's jaw to the corner of his mouth, licking the flesh teasingly. After a few moments of useless prodding, the singer begins to reciprocate and it sends a jolt of desire down the bassist's spine. Murdoc feels 2D's hands press against his lower back and he grins into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the singer's neck with fervor.
In a flash of movement Murdoc is pressed against the mattress with 2D wedged between his spread thighs. He takes it upon himself to bite at the singer's lip, lapping the blood that surfaces from the fresh abrasions with his tongue.
2D grunts, but he doesn't make any signs of moving away.
The bassist hooks a leg around the singer's hip and thrusts upward, grinding himself against the singer's growing hardness with a moan. 2D lets out a muffled groan and returns the favor, pulling away from the kiss to attack Murdoc's neck.
Needless to say, that earns him a reaction.
Gentle hands reach down and tightly grip at Murdoc's hips, applying a pressure against the bassist's crotch that intensifies with each and every thrust delivered.
But just as soon as the contact starts, it stops. Dazed and confused, Murdoc opens his eyes and stares up at the other.
"..Wha-"
"-I-I gotta go."
No explanation is given. The singer looks absolutely terrified and he scrambles to his feet, darting out of the Winnebago with impressive balance and speed. The bassist feels his heart drop and nausea begin to settle in his stomach, twisting.
He can't find it in himself to be angry.
oOo