Murdoc would have thought it was something even he couldn't screw up-let there be a good selection of booze and they were golden-but the little scumlicker had decided that he was in the mood to find somewhere with live music so he could get up and wag his arse at women until one of them bit. Admittedly it would have been a good enough plan in most circumstances, one Murdoc would even likely have gotten in on in other circumstances.
But this time around, the band playing at the spot 2D had chosen were...
They were...
They were good, damn them straight through all nine layers of Hell. A bit rough around the edges still, a good ten years of hard work away from being any competition at all to Gorillaz as it was at the present, by which point Murdoc would have spent the same time making damned sure that they were light-years ahead of where they'd been so it'd still be no contest. And they'd obviously modeled their image off the hundreds of hideous manufactured pretty boy pop bands in the world. But they still had that spark of life, that certain je ne sais whatever that Noodle went all gaga over since she'd started her self-declared war against zombie culture.
It was bad enough when she got that way over Lardo or Dent-head. At least with the two of them he knew that if he ever wasn't around to distract her and one of them managed to rub enough brain cells together to notice her panting over a well-played chord it wouldn't matter all that much. They were too dead-set on seeing her as the little sister they'd never had to even notice that she'd been blessed by the god's of puberty to stay lovely as you could want a girl to be instead of getting as greasy and spotted as any normal teenaged bastard.
It was infuriating when it happened over the guests they invited to the studio to record their parts on the new CD, but could be dealt with. If any of them ever actually got it into their heads to try something with her chances were that Russel would take care of it without Murdoc needing to lift a finger, throwing them out on their arse with his drumsticks shoved straight up it for good measure for daring to look at his baby girl with lust in their heart. But if any of them managed to fly under Russ' radar as well as Murdoc himself had, then he'd have a little talk with them. And they would not be entering the studio again until he'd made it perfectly clear that Gorillaz was his band-his!-and that Noodle was his guitarist, and as such when the time came he was the one who got the first shot at her cherry if he wanted it. Since he'd never said he didn't want it, they'd best stay the fuck away. And if that wasn't enough to get through their thick skull, it would be time to have a little chat with the man downstairs, see if he'd be willing to whip up something nasty for them in exchange for Murdoc getting a few groupies to start praising Satan.
But he should not, not, need to watch her drooling at a bunch of poncey kids who hardly looked old enough to have had their nadgers drop. She wasn't even paying any attention to Muds, facing her back to him as she sat backwards in her chair to fully face the stage, her legs spread wide open around the chair back, the little shorts she was wearing pulled high up her thighs.
They were starting to lose some of their pull over her at least, ever since the guitarist had noticed Murdoc glowering at him. His playing was quickly going to hell as his attention shifted away from his guitar to Murdoc, throwing the occasional frightened glance in his direction to see if he was still glaring. Murdoc quickly reevaluated his prior judgment of the group; if the brat was distracted that easily their group would never get anywhere close to Gorillaz level. He'd wager all of Kong that Noodle'd never let her playing get that sloppy even if someone up and started shooting at her; a nasty look wouldn't even register. It'd be the easiest money he'd ever made.
At least he was giving Murdoc the proper respect. He could end their pathetic little band if he felt like making the effort. Wouldn't even take much work; the whole fucking music industry would bow down and kiss his ass if he told them to, blocking some no-name band from ever getting anywhere would be no problem. The guitarist was right to fear him.
But the rest of the band hadn't noticed him and hadn't let themselves be thrown off by their increasingly shoddy guitarist, the only signs they gave that they'd even noticed what a mess he was making of their music were the occasion glares they shot him. And as long as most of them were still doing well one bad player wouldn't be enough to break her attention.
Right. This called for drastic measures.
He drained the last of his drink, sliding his tongue out to swirl it around the bottom of the glass and make sure not a drop of alcohol had been missed, then shoved himself to his feet. "All right, Darling," he said, he said, dropping one hand heavily onto her back between her shoulder blades and carefully making his tone sound like he was very grudgingly offering her a kindness, "I can tell you want to get out on the dance floor, and the gin here is rubbish anyway. Let's go."
That did it. Her head snapped around so she could look at him, the band immediately forgotten. She pushed her hair out of her face to better stare at him, her mouth dropping open. He tried not to make it obvious he was looking at that mouth, her lips shiny pink from the virgin daiquiri they'd gotten her, at least not as long as Russel was sitting right there.
But Tubs had drawn his own completely inaccurate assumptions about Murdoc's motives. Murdoc thought he rolled his eyes at him, though it was hard to tell with those blank white peepers of his, as he said, "Muds, man, don't you think she's getting a little old for you to try using her to pick up girls? Taking your little sister out for a fun night don't seem as sweet when she's big enough to go out on her own."
"I don't know what you're getting at," Murdoc told him, narrowing his eyes at him. He didn't know why he'd feel like bring up that kind of ancient history. It wasn't like it had ever bothered Noodle; she hadn't even been able to understand what the hell he and the ladies had talked about over her head back then. "I'm just offering Noodle a little favor."
"But Murdoc," she finally said, still staring at him like he'd suddenly sprouted two new heads and maybe a few tentacles besides, "since when do you dance?"
He bristled at the implication that there was any type of performance that was beyond him. "Of course I do, love. What do you call what I've been doing when we rehearse the next video?"
"Showing off?" she suggested. "There is more to dancing than just thrusting your hips, Murdoc."
"Right," he said, and grabbed the back of her shirt to yank her to her feet. "I've got to prove it now, don't I?"
She squirmed until he dropped her, then flashed him a shark-wide smile that showed off all her teeth. "You don't need to pull me to make me come. I must see this!"
Then she grabbed his wrist and began pulling him along instead, like she thought he'd back off not that it was obvious she was going along with the idea. She should really know him better than that.
The dance floor was closer to the stage which pulled her attention back to the band, though a moment's distraction probably hadn't been enough to really bring her down from being panting hot to begin with, but that was just fine. In fact, he guided her right up until he was as close to them as they could get, which had the added bonuses of keeping Russel from being able to see more than snatches of them that would only show up when the crowd parted the right way and of making that sad sack of a guitarist look like he was about to piss himself with fear at how close Murdoc was.
Didn't matter if the music was what made her get wet to start with, he was the one with his hands on her. Music might be her first crush, the one that could get under her skin and make her gasp and whimper, but there was nothing concrete in a sound like there was in a touch. Even if he wasn't about to show her the old bump and grind-even if he hadn't promised himself that he wouldn't really do anything with her until she'd caught up with the program on her own he still couldn't do anything with her that didn't look to be the picture of innocence when they were out in public where any asshole with a camera phone could be watching them for a scoop they could sell off to the trash TV circuit-but when you were worked up enough any little touch could be enough to get to you.
So he kept a perfectly respectable amount of distance between their bodies, touched her only briefly in places nobody watching would think twice about, and still felt her shiver every time his hands brushed over somewhere as innocent as her arm.
She laughed suddenly, brightly, and hopped forward, flinging one arm around his neck and bumping her hip against his. "Okay, Murdoc, you have convinced me that you know how to dance" she said, still laughing around the words, still staying close, and still moving with the music, "but you're doing it like you're my father, I'd guess! If you don't really want to dance with me, I could find 2D. Or we could go back to the table; you were the one who wanted to do this in the first place!"
All right then, fuck the paparazzi. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and as she'd just been kind enough to remind him she had cajoled 2D into dancing with her often enough when they were out in the past without anyone trying to try scandal on them. If they tried raising a fuss because it was him, he wouldn't be slow to call them on their horseshit. Call them ageist gonks trying to tarnish his good name, if he could keep a straight face long enough to claim he had one, or something of the sort.
"No need for that, love," he said, curling a hand around her waist to keep her close. "Teach me to try and treat you well, doesn't it? I assumed you'd rather I kept my distance, or am I misremembering that comment about 'halitosis on toast'?"
She laughed again, and shook her head. "I got used to that years ago. You can breathe on me as much as you want!" Then she seemed to hear what she'd just said, and made a face. "That came out funny, but you understand what I meant, right?"
"Clear as crystal, Darling. I'll make sure to keep that in mind in the future."
Yes, he certainly would.
