Disclaimer: Characters not mine; Albarn and Hewlett's. Idea, however, totally mine (I doubt they'd want to claim it).
Rating: NC-17 for angst and Murdoc/2-D slashiness in later chapters.
Notes: I just love the idea of Murdoc in the passenger seat of the Geep, scared to death by 2-D's driving. Something about the scenario makes me giggle like a schoolgirl.
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"Am I okay?" Murdoc asked, repeating 2-D's question in an incredulous tone. "Do I look okay?"
"N-no…" 2-D replied hesitantly. "But… y' don' look as bad as I was 'fraid you'd look."
It was true. Although Murdoc's eyes were covered by large white gauze bandages and medical tape, 2-D had been expecting Murdoc's face to be covered in lacerations. Seeing the bassist laying at an incline in the hospital bed, his dark hair more mussed than usual, 2-D was relieved - deeply, shakingly relieved - to see Murdoc's face had very few deep cuts on it. There was a small smattering of healing scratches around his eyes and forehead, but the majority of his face was unmarred. As 2-D moved forward, his eyes were drawn to Murdoc's hands, resting on the coverlet.
Murdoc's hands were deeply scratched. In a few places, stitches bristled from the skin, holding together the sundered skin.
'So that's why 'is face isn't scratched up… he must've raised 'is 'ands at t'last second,' 2-D thought, staring helplessly down at Murdoc's hands. 'To bad 'e didn't raise them jus' a little higher…'
He felt a tightening in his chest as he thought for the thousandth time in the last two weeks that this was his fault.
"Y' still there?" Murdoc asked, obviously unnerved by the silence. He twisted his head a little, as if trying to pick up a sound.
"Yeah," 2-D croaked, forcing the words out from behind a thickness in his throat. "I uh… I saw Doctor in t' hall. 'E says y' c'n go 'ome this week?"
"Yeah, 'e said somethin' similar to me," Murdoc replied without enthusiasm. "I dunno if I will."
There was a pause and the two men listened to the silence of the room. From behind his bandages, Murdoc felt dismay at his ability to look at the other man's face. He had taken for granted his ability to read people just by looking at them. Always before, his dual-colored eyes had been his probe, helping him to read the thoughts and emotions of the people he interacted with. Now, he had only vocal tones... and 2-D wasn't talking.
'Wot is 'e doin'?' Murdoc wondered, but he was determined not to ask again if 2-D was still in the room; he didn't like presenting himself as helpless.
"If… if you'll let me, I'd like t' 'elp you." 2-D's voice in the silence almost made Murdoc jump; he'd been listening so intently, he'd keyed himself up. He managed to keep from jumping only by tightening his muscles. Still his face twisted into a slight grimace, and 2-D misinterpreted the expression.
"I won't 'urt you again, if 'at's wot yer thinkin'," 2-D said quickly, shuffling his sneakered feet on the floor impotently. He wanted to touch Murdoc, but he wasn't sure how the touch would be interpreted or accepted; after all, Murdoc was only in hospital because 2-D had screwed up… as always.
"I wasn't thinkin' that… don't try to put thoughts in my 'ead, Tusspot." Murdoc's voice held a distinct warning tone that 2-D was very familiar with, and 2-D rubbed the tip of his tongue lightly in the empty spot at the front of his upper gums - a habit of his any time he was nervous.
2-D struggled to think of what to say, and then just decided to go with gut instinct.
"Murdoc? I want t' 'elp you get better. It was my fault this 'appened to you, and I want it to be my fault if y' get better… like wot y' did for me with the coma. If you'll let me, I know I c'n 'elp you." 2-D reached out gently, touching Murdoc's shoulder. The bassist went stiff for a moment, then shrugged, causing 2-D's hand to drop.
"Fine. It might be fun to have a slave for a few weeks." Murdoc's tone was taunting, revealing none of the inner turmoil he'd experienced when feeling 2-D's hand on his shoulder. It had started with a gentle pressure on his chest, and then a slight tightening in his groin.
'Of course, two weeks with no female contact except that of Sister Jenny would do that,' Murdoc reassured himself. 'One o' the fust things t'do when I get this soddin' bandage off is t' get m'self a groupie and do to her things she could never tell her father about.'
2-D, oblivious to Murdoc's thoughts, smiled his gap-toothed smile and - in an apoplexy of joy and confusion as to what to do - gave Murdoc's shoulder a few happy pats.
"I'll tell Doctor," 2-D said, and Murdoc heard the younger man scurrying from the room.
'I'm goin' t' regret this,' Murdoc thought, slouching down into the hospital bed. 'I just know it.'
'I'm goin' t' regret this,' Murdoc thought, listening to the squeak-squeak of the wheelchair's wheels and the soft padding of the nurse's shoes. He was being wheeled down to the front of the hospital where the rest of his band mates were waiting with the Geep to drive him back to Kong Studios.
'Now don't f'get wot Doctor said," Jenny was reminding him cheerfully. "Don' get y'bandages wet. Take it easy, but don' stay in bed all t' time. If y' need any help, don' be shy about askin' - that's wot yer friends are takin' y' home for."
He heard sliding doors hiss open and felt a breeze of moist air hit him. He couldn't hear the Geep or his band mates, but he felt Jenny set the brake on the wheelchair and move the footrests up so he could stand. A light touch on his arm guided him toward the Geep. Unwillingly, he put his own hand over the one on his arm - he didn't need to go arse over tit in front of a hospital with people looking on.
'Odd,' Murdoc thought, climbing carefully into the vehicle and settling into the seat, 'to not be drivin' the Geep.'
The hand on his arm let go and Murdoc heard a rapid patter of feet moving to the other side of the Geep, then a light dip as someone got into the driver's seat.
"Ready?" The voice came from his left, in the driver's seat, and it was 2-D.
"Wait, yer drivin' us?" Murdoc asked, incredulous.
"Yeah. Don' worry, Murdoc, I'll get us there."
Murdoc huddled into the seat, suddenly wishing he hadn't been so adamant about not installing seatbelts in the Geep.
The drive - which, thanks to 2-D's belief in the 'jerk and weave' school of driving, would have been nerve-wracking even if he'd had sight - was disorienting and sickening thanks to the imposed blindness. Murdoc often found himself clutching at the sides of the Geep, trying to get his bearings. Every once in awhile, Russel, Noodle, and 2-D would try to draw him into a conversation, but the roaring wind, weaving Geep, and his inability to focus on anything rushing past them left Murdoc unwilling to engage in anything but a prolonged vomiting session. His single-syllable replies shut them all up fairly quickly.
"Feelin' better today, man?" Russel's voice, originating from somewhere in the backseat, was cheerful.
"Hmmm," Murdoc grunted, clutching the doorframe.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Noodle was cautious, obviously recognizing Murdoc's bad mood. "We went to ta store lass night… to get food to celebrate your return."
"Huh." Murdoc growled, shifting lower into the seat as 2-D passed a car - Murdoc heard the grumble of the car's engine next to him, and the blastingly-loud honk of a horn.
"D'ya need anyfin', Murdoc?" 2-D sounded the same as he usually did when addressing Murdoc - childlike and unconcerned with what might happen next. In fact, that was usually how he sounded when addressing anyone, even flesh-eating zombies intent on the choicer bits of his anatomy.
"No." The reply was terse, annoyed, and it finally shut the three musicians up.
It felt almost painfully good to get back into the carpark. The familiar smells of petrol, grease, and cigarettes - God, how he needed one of those; damned 'No Smoking' zones - made Murdoc eager to get out of the Geep so he could retreat to the silence and privacy of his Winnebago.
He heard as well as felt Noodle, 2-D, and Russel get out of the car. A light touch on the back of his hand announced Noodle's presence next to him.
"Welcome home." Her childish voice was solemn, her touch light. She was gone a moment later, the footsteps of the retreating musicians still echoing in the carpark after the door into Kong Studios had clanged shut.
'Great. Maybe I shouldn't've been so terse on the drive. Now I 'ave to get to the Winnebago without stumbling into a parked car or down the bunker.'
With careful precision, Murdoc got out of the Geep, putting his booted feet onto the cement floor. With one hand on the side of the Geep, he took a step forward, then stopped. Was the Winnebago in front of or behind the Geep? How was it usually parked? He'd never before had to think about how to get from Geep to 'bago, and he was dismayed at his complete helplessness.
'Well, this'll be fun. In a couple hours, when someone comes t' check on me, I'll still be standin' next to the Geep like a total gorm.'
Murdoc took a deep breath, let go of the Geep and stepped forward - right into someone.
"Oof!" The tone was high and light, and Murdoc felt a flush of embarrassment as he realized 2-D must've been standing in front of him the whole time. The embarrassment quickly turned to rage, and he grabbed a fistful of the shirt in front of him.
"And 'ow long 'ave you been standin' there? Were you just goin' t' watch me wander around until I ran into sumthin'?" Murdoc twisted the shirt, 2-D's hands scrabbling at his clenched fist.
"No! No! I jus' wanted t' see if you could do it y'self!"
"I'm blind, you dullard! How the 'ell was I s'posed to do it m'self?" Murdoc released the shirt in disgust, turning away from 2-D to storm off before remembering he would only storm into something.
He stood undecided for a moment, then felt a gentle touch on his arm. 2-D's fingertips slid down to Murdoc's hand, grasping the bassist's fingers. 2-D gently lifted Murdoc's hand, placing the older man's fingers in the crook of his thin arm.
"I'll walk y' t' yer Winnebago," 2-D said gently, obviously not angered by Murdoc's outburst or the state of his shirt.
Murdoc still felt anger simmering below the surface, but he made an attempt to be polite. After all, the last thing he needed was to lose his temper and knock 2-D out and end up stuck in the middle of the carpark with no idea where to go until the younger man woke up.
"So, why did Russel an' Noodle take off? I'd've thought there'd be a big 'omecomin'." Murdoc could feel 2-D's pulse beneath his fingers and he had the sudden urge to stroke the inside of 2-D's arm.
'Def'nitely need to bed a bird,' Murdoc thought, shaking off the urge.
"I uh… I asked them to. Before we left for 'ospital, I told them I wanted t' be the one wot took care of you. They agreed, an' so… 'ere we are."
2-D's arm slipped away from Murdoc's grasp, and for a moment the bassist felt a niggle of worry - was 2-D going to leave him standing out here? - and then his hand was grasped again, and placed on the familiar door handle of the Winnebago.
"Yer prob'ly tired," 2-D said. "I'll leave you alone for a few hours an' come back t' check on you later."
Murdoc listened to the retreating flap of 2-D's sneakers. The heavy metal door to Kong Studios squealed open, and there was a pause.
"'M sorry for 'urtin' you, Murdoc," 2-D said softly, and before Murdoc could reply, the metal door had clanged shut, leaving him alone in the carpark.