Disclaimer: I still own nothing and make no money from this
2-D sighed slightly, dabbing a bit of iodine over the cuts on the left side of his face. With a slight grimace –it stung, of course- he peered into the mirror, noticing with a dulled acceptance that his jaw was starting to swell. It was routine, after all- Murdoc would make some comment, 2-D would respond without thinking and Murdoc would throw some sort of blunt object into his face.
He scowled mildly at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out a way to make Murdoc stop hating him so much. Fighting back was the furthest thing from his mind- he didn't wish to fight the bassist anyway. Murdoc was his friend, and friends typically didn't wallop on each other. Except for Murdoc – that was just his way. That was simply how Murdoc was, and there was no way of getting around it.
The keyboardist gingerly screwed the cap back on the iodine bottle, taking careful measures not to spill. That would be wasteful : he'd most likely need the antiseptic later on anyway.
After capping the bottle, 2-D remained staring at himself in the mirror, painstakingly observing the bruises and small cuts. The bruises he didn't mind very much, but the cuts really hurt. Sometimes 2-D wished that Murdoc would at least have the decency to take off his rings before giving the vocalist a sound thrashing. He sighed again, turning to leave.
Russel walked in at that moment and 2-D quickly hid the iodine behind his back, "Oh, h-hey Russ…"
"Sup, Dee?" Russel nodded to the singer, moving over to the sink.
"Um, not much, rilly. I should be going; I'm going to see if I can teach Noodle some Eng-"
"Jesus Christ, what happened to your face, man?" The drummer interrupted, blank eyes widening slightly.
"Um, my face? N-notfing…" 2-D shifted the iodine bottle uneasily behind his back.
"2-D, don't try to hid the bottle," Russel said, eyes closing halfway as he lifted an eyebrow, "I can see it."
"Oi, Russel…Don't make such a big deal about it," 2-D said. He added, "It's just a little minor thing."
The American sighed heavily, placing a large hand on the singer's shoulder, "Listen 2-D," he said, "you can't keep letting Muds treat you-"
"I never said Murdoc did this."
"-like this." He withdrew his hand, staring at the vocalist with vacant eyes, "2-D who else besides Murdoc would do this to you? Everyone else loves you, man."
2-D didn't respond to that, he fiddled with the iodine bottle, which he had stopped hiding by then. Everyone loved him, true enough – except Murdoc, who hated him without justification. But as much as 2-D wanted Murdoc to love him as everyone else did, he had simply come to accept the fact that the bassist unconditionally hated him. Because that was simply the way Murdoc worked.
"Dee," Russel continued, slowly, "I know you don't want Murdoc to get in trouble, but seriously man. He's liable to kill you some day."
"I know," 2-D answered. His voice lowered a bit and he added , "But better me then him, right?"
The drummer paused for a moment, "2-D, you haven't talked with Murdoc about….that, have you?"
"Of course not."
Russel nodded, thoughtfully, "Good…you know, it ain't really our business, right?" He pronounced it biddness.
"I know," the singer responded, "But-but I just wish-"
"I know, Dee. We all wish he'd get help for it," the American sigh heavily, poking at the vocalist in the shoulder with an extended index finger. "But don't let it get ya' to down. Muds won't even admit to it and we have no proof he even does anything-and even if we did, you know he's too damn proud to get help."
"Uh-huh," came the reply. He lifted his eyes from the iodine bottle and stared at the drummer blankly. "Ta, Russ," an attempt at the characteristic sunshiny smile was directed at the American, but it was somewhat weak – from the bruises and scrapes, but also because he didn't exactly feel like smiling at the moment.
"Don't mention it," Russel said with a tired grin, reaching up to rumple the keyboardist's hair.
"Russel-samaaaa…!"
Russel looked up from the percussion magazine he was thumbing through to see a Japanese girl burst into the room, mp3 hat securely on her head. She recklessly charged up to the American and jumped up onto him , scrambling to hide behind his head, arms latched around his neck.
"N-Noodle, what are you….?" Russel stood up, trying to pry the girl off him. She jabbered in her native tongue, staring at the doorway she had just burst in from, "Would you get off of-"
"FUCKING WASABI BITCH."
Noodle yelped, ducking her head. Russel turned towards the doorway, half-scolding and half-surprised at the obviously enraged Satanist. The Niccals was darkly staring at Noodle, hands clenched at his sides. He advanced upon the drummer and the guitarist, mismatched eyes still fixated on the latter.
"Murdoc, what have I told you about calling-"
"'Get. Out. Of . My. Way."
Russel blinked rapidly, shifting so that he could wrap a protective arm around Noodle, as she clung to his neck from the side. "What could Noodle have possibly done to piss you off so m-"
Much, he was going to say.
"f-f-f-f-f, Fuck off Russ," Murdoc interrupted growling. Clashing eyes flickered to the American, but returned to the guitar player, narrowing faintly. "This is between me and the girl."
"Tasukete, Russel-haku," Noodle murmured, tightening her grip around his shoulders.
"Jesus, man – what did she do?" Russel was growing concerned. Murdoc constantly beat up on 2-D, and often verbally abused Noodle – he claimed she couldn't understand what he was saying anyway, so it didn't matter- but it was an odd thing when the bassist was anger at the girl to the point of violence.
"Sh-she scratched up me bloody record," the Satanist growled, fists clenching even tighter.
"Nemohamonai, nemohamonai," Noodle half-yelled, glaring at the Satanist, "Wasabi-wa inosento desu! Russel-sama, hontou…!" She continued babbling in Japanese at the two, repeating the phrase 'nemohamonai' over and over. It took Russel a few moments for this to all sink in, and he eventually yelled over Noodle's feverish denials.
"Murdoc-She's- only a girl!"
Noodle obediently quieted down as the drummer raised his voice, although she probably didn't know what he was saying. Murdoc started at Noodle for a few more seconds, then turned his gave to the American. A look of gradual understanding accompanied with self-loathing crossed his features, "I…. f-fuck," the bassist muttered. He turned on his heel and quickly exited.
"Murdoc-san okay?" Noodle asked the drummer, worry overriding the anger and fear formerly in her eyes.
Russel smiled tightly to the girl, shaking his head slowly, "I dunno Noodle-chan….I dunno."