The Thing About

Chapter: Two.
Series: Gorillaz.
Warnings: Foul language, very light angst, and slash (Murdoc/2D) in future chapters.
Disclaimer: Albarn's and Hewlett's.

Notes: Non-graphic, just-a-pinch-of naughtiness here, on 2D's side of things. Kind of a cliff-hanger. Feedback's loved; and thanks to all of you who have dropped me a review or two since I started writing! You're motivating me. Thanks so much!

The thing about dreams is that they aren't real.

They are a figment of the unconscious imagination, a compilation of images, scenerios, memories, people who oftentimes look and sound and feel real but aren't.

Waking up from a dream can mean nothing. It can also be relieving. Or disappointing.

2D woke up from his dream very early in the morning. He woke with quick breaths, his body hot and slick with sweat, his sheets clinging to his skin, and an enormously painful, throbbing ache between his legs.

The details were fuzzy, at first, but as he sat up in his bed, staring at nothing in the darkness of his room, trying to calm his breathing and make sense of everything, bits and pieces started trickling easily back into place.

It was a fast, racy dream against a backdrop of violent red and streaks of white and black. He remembered how vulnerable and exposed he felt, pinned beneath the surprisingly comfortable weight of the completely shadowed figure above him. It was faceless, no features, no gender, but it had hands and even now, even after having returned to reality, he could conjure up the touch of those hands. They traced trails of fire up and down and across his body and it was all so real, all so torturously lucid that he could physically feel every little detail; every arch of his own back, every slide of skin against skin, every panting breath and shiver up his spine and how his lower body had become an indescribable blur of perfect, blissful ecstacy and before it was all over, before his universe had a chance to explode behind his clenched eyelids, he had woken up.

Gasping for breath and painfully hard.

And thinking back on it all only made it worse.

He dropped back down onto his back, trying to ignore the throbbing ache and calm himself down. The darkness of his bedroom held no comfort for him, and his mind kept helplessly reverting back to the screaming heat of the dream. The pleasure. The pleasure he knew he felt.

His hand paused on his stomach and his breath hitched.

The arching. The slow burn.

He bit the inside of his cheek as his hand wandered. Lower.

Those shadowed hands, heavy and rough but somehow comfortable on his hot skin.

Touched himself and shuddered and closed his eyes.

Made an effort to try and keep quiet.

He didn't wake up as refreshed as he'd hoped, later on in the morning.
2D didn't really like ramen noodles, but he couldn't help but accept them when they were offered to him by small, delicate hands.

The sun had started to set, and Noodle joined his side to watch it with him. For awhile, they didn't really talk. They didn't need to. 2D was in no mood to go on like a blabbering fool, and Noodle felt and respected that by keeping to herself, content with simply enjoying his presence. Every so often, between mouthfuls of noodles, he would talk. His voice was quiet and low, but Noodle listened intently to every word.

He found a rhythm, at one point, and went with it. He began talking as though she wasn't there

He talked about how irked he was during the interview earlier on that day. It seemed like every interview had questions that just begged to be answered in jest and untruthfully. Murdoc tended to take the reigns and dominate interviews, being the most opinionated of the four and the most offensive, as well.

The subject of relationships just happened to pop up, somewhere. All four of them had somewhat been expecting that, but nobody had exactly been expecting Murdoc's reply.

He talked to his Japanese friend about how unnecessary it was for Murdoc to call him on his 'lovebite' in front everyone. The subject itself, 2D could have easily side-stepped, but the way Murdoc went about it and what he'd said was uncalled for. He'd gone a bit too far over 2D's comfort level, and despite the fact that Russel had forced the Satanist to change his answer and try again with something more appropriate and less harmful to 2D's image (and pride), it all still bothered him.

He knew Murdoc's first answer wasn't going to be published, because Russel had saved his ass and negotiated with their interviewer, but he was still upset.

That particular topic slid into the topic of the morning before. He talked about how there was something about the way Murdoc's scrutinizing eyes had placed themselves on his neck that boiled his blood. There was something in the tone of voice he'd used to question it and talk about it that made his skin crawl.

When he trailed off, not sure what else to say, and ended it all with a mumbled "Fekkin' Murdoc." to himself, Noodle turned away from him to face the setting sun, hands folded meticulously in her lap.

"2D," she spoke up.

He kept his gaze straight ahead, stirring the contents of his half-empty bowl with his chopsticks. "Yeh?"

The girl took a breath.

"There are some... people in life. Who we love very much. There are some people in life who... we hate very much. But there are also... people. People in the world and in life who we do not care for. And then, people who we love to hate. And hate to love."

She paused and glanced at him. She remained quiet until he looked back.

"Murdoc-san does not hate you," she continued, holding eye-contact with her friend and offering him a smile. "and he does not hate the rest. Of us. He is just a man. He is a sad man. He is lonely. I know. I feel it."

"But... but'e's always wif a new chick, all th'time."

"It is a vessel. He needs to be with... with somebody. A body. He is very..." She stopped, her eyes sliding off to the side for a moment as she regrouped her thoughts. "...he likes attention. He likes to... to have people pay. Attention to him."

"I do," 2D heard himself mutter back, somewhat against his will. "I do't all th'time an he jus' tells me t'go away or beats me up or summink."

Noodle nodded in understanding. "He is.. your friend, yes?"

"He's me best mate. An he hates me."

Noodle watched him for a moment, before tilting her head to the side, expression innocent and honest.

"It does not work for you. Does it?"

His eyes found their way back to hers. "Hey?"

"Being with... the women. It does not work the way. The way you would like it to. It just... makes you feel more empty. Doesn't it?"

2D held her gaze. "Yeh." He placed his bowl aside and rubbed his forehead. "It don't work. An I should'na done it. I didn't wan'it t'be like this. I didn't wanna be payin child s'port at twunny seven."

"Atashi no tomodachi." (1) The girl timidly reached over and took hold of his free hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze. "You are too much... worrying. You must relax. Calm. Breathe and let yourself be."

He had to smile. Noodle was so wise for someone her age. Such a peaceful person at heart. He envied that. "M'tryin."

"Try haaarder," she replied, her own smile growing. "You will not be.. disappointed. You go. Talk to him. Tell him... what is wrong. Tell him to stop. Crossing lines. He cannot be crossing lines anymore."

2D chuckled, releasing her hand to ruffle her hair. She giggled and watched him stand up, brush himself off, take one last look at the setting sun with a quiet sigh.

"M'gonna miss'it when it's gone."

"You say that every evening, 2D-kun."

2D's smile slowly faded.

The winnebago was smoky, cramped, and had an unpleasant, pungent smell that never failed to nearly knock 2D on his ass when it first hit him. After the first few breaths, the nose adjusted just fine, but the first whiff was the worst. It was a mix between old pot, nicotine, rotting food, and general uncleanliness.

The door had been slightly ajar, as it sometimes was when the stench started getting to Murdoc and he felt the need to air the winnebago out a little, so 2D timidly let himself in, taking a moment to adjust to the atmosphere before knocking belatedly on the doorframe.

Nobody answered.

"Murdoc?"

Nothing.

He moved further in and shut the door behind him. Took a look around the front.

"Oi, Murdoc? Is y'in 'ere?"

The only thing that answered him was the presence of a large black bird, perched on the top of the driver's seat, staring at 2D with beady red eyes. Staring at him as if he were utterly unwelcome.

Something creaked toward the back, where the man's bedroom was. 2D hesitated before moving toward it. It was dark, and his already-poor eyesight had him moving slowly and tentatively, feeling with his foot before stepping down. Trepidation crept over him. He felt unsafe.

"Mur-"

He jerked as his body was suddenly turned and pushed forward, forcefully slammed into the wall just beside the winnebago's small bathroom. His body hit first. His forehead hit last, with a loud crack.

Hit so hard that he almost saw stars.

He stuggled to turn and face his attacker, but he couldn't move. He was held fast against the wall by a hard body pressed along the back of his own, and strong, rough hands.

...heavy and rough but somehow comfortable on his hot skin...

( 1 : "My friend." )