The lift's light flickers as the doors slide open once again. 2D turns his torch back on as he steps off. It's as dark and wet as normal at the bottom of Kong Studios, but feels somewhat eerier than normal, so he rushes to the Winnebago as quickly as he can manage. He trips over himself once and comes crashing down to the ground face-first, whimpers, and picks himself back up. He's scuffed up the right side of his face, but pays no mind.
Once he's reached the Winnebago, he hesitates to knock, but eventually brings up the courage to. Knocking thrice, he waits for a response.
"What! Who dares disturb me?" Murdoc sounds like he's just woken up.
"Uh--uh, it's." He's stuttering again. "2D, uh. You're alright?" Stuart asks nervously.
It's a moment and there's a few crashes and the Winnie starts shaking before the door bursts open. "Why are you bothering me now, it's bloody late!"
2D fidgets, glancing at the ground. His shoulders have slumped. "I'm, um. You're not dead? Uh. Not dying?"
"Of-fucking-course I'm not dead, paper brain!" Murdoc sees the singer flinch. "Not any more than usual, anyway, no. Say, why the long face?" His gruff voice has a vague semblance of gentleness. Or maybe he's too tired to keep yelling for once.
It takes a moment for Stuart to begin an answer, instead tugging at the blanket round his shoulders. He's still not meeting Murdoc's gaze. "I-- I, um. I. Nightmare." He eventually gets out. "You'd been shot. In. Um, in the face."
"Oh." Murdoc replies with a sigh. "Well, I suppose you should tell me about it, then. In you get." 2D mumbles in agreement. "Oh, sweet Satan-- C'mon, it's too damn cold to be standing out there!" Murdoc barks.
2D yelps, shutting his torch off and going inside. It smells of cigarettes and sweat, but he doesn't mind it much. Just smells like Murdoc. He has to slouch even more whenever he comes in here, though, the ceilings are too low. That's not the most comfortable.
"Now, mate," the green man lights a fag, sitting back on his bed, "what's this one about?" He offers one to Stuart, who gingerly takes it and mutters something along the lines of a thank-you. The boy sits down on the bed next to him, taking a drag.
"Well, I keep having this sort of, um, nightmare-thing." Stu begins. He's tired, again, so his accent is hardly comprehensible, but enough so that Murdoc can just understand. The ends and beginnings of his words are eating into eachother, sounding almost like another language. "About World War Two, bombs and guns and aeroplanes and everything."
Murdoc makes a mental note to bitch at Russ for letting 2D watch those damned documentaries. If he can remember by afternoon, he'll be sure to give that blasted drummer an earful.
"I don't. Um. Don't remember a lot of the little details, but we had men chasing us. Lots of mean people, and I didn't like them very much at all! Hated them, really! Russ says hate is a strong word, but I really did hate them!"
Murdoc grunts in acknowledgement. "Get on with it," he grumbles. Really, he thinks he doesn't get paid enough for this.
"So, um. Where was I." Murdoc reminds him. "Right, bad people. One time they broke into the place and stole Noodle. So we all had to go out looking for her. There were all these big aeroplanes flying low over us. Um, Russ got hurt from stuff flying everywhere when there was a big bomb. It made the loudest noise!"
Murdoc's interest is peaked a bit more than usual, now. This dream makes more sense than most of the other ones Stu describes to him.
"The sirens were so loud, it was all I could hear even though your mouth was moving, but then a dark man showed up with a big gun. It hit you square in the face when he shot it." 2D begins sniffling, much like a young child does when something frightens them. "You-- You-- You fell to the ground. Lots of, um. Lots of blood. And you didn't talk. Or. Or move."
Murdoc pats the boy on the back. It sounds very awful indeed, why have such a pretty face only for it to be blown off?
It's quiet after that, save for a bit of sniffling. "I woke.. Woke up after that, fell off my bed."
"Is that why you're all scratched up, then?" Inquires Murdoc, gesturing over at the scuffs on 2D's face.
"Um, no, tripped on the way here. It's scary." He rubs at the scratches; he'd forgotten they were there.
"Yes, it is quite spooky, isn't it nice? Keeps all the people away." Murdoc replies offhandedly, scratching at his neck. "Back to that dream of yours; did you really think I'd gone off and gotten myself shot?"
A nod. "Was positive. I even went to check on Noods, but she was with Russel because her room's cold. Heater's broke on that side." Explains the singer.
"Oh. Well, I'm fine as ever, see?" Murdoc spreads his arms as if to demonstrate. "Not even a lousy old bullet can kill ol' Murdy, can it? Never has before."
"Um, can. Can I stay here? Just for a bit. It's, um." Stuart's fidgeting again. "To be sure. That, um." His voice trails off with a yawn.
Murdoc doesn't answer for a moment. "Fine, but you'd better not bother me. It's too fucking late at night to be up and about, now."
With a fervent nod, 2D cuddles up to Murdoc with his ear on the man's chest. The sound of the heartbeat soothes his anxiety some, as if a guarantee that Murdoc will stay alive for a very long time. It seems mere moments pass before he's snoring away, finally relaxed.
"I'll get Russ for this," Murdoc says to no one as he begins to nod off. "Just you wait."
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Hello!
After fighting with the document manager for a good half an hour, I just decided to split this up into two uploads. Sorry!!
It's a longer one this time! Great!! It was fun to write, but I quite think we'll need more fluff next chapter. About 4x the fluff. In the meantime, hope you enjoyed!!
Until next time,
Hawk
