Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Honestly it was amazing that the two of you had ever met, but even more implausible was the fact that you got along so well. If asked, Murdoc would say that it had been inevitable, what with you being gorgeous and him being irresistible, and that it was a testament to how amazingly charming he was, and to a greater extent how amazingly patient you were, that made it work.

He'd always been an excellent liar, to himself most of all. The truth was that he had mellowed somewhat in the last few years, and that you'd both had a string of very good luck.

When Stu first had you over to the new Kong studios, when he had first introduced you to the band, Murdoc hadn't been paying almost any attention. It wasn't like Dents didn't have birds over all the fuckin time. You weren't even the first that week. Why the hell would anyone give an actual fuck?

But Noodle and Russ seemed really enamored with you, and even Ace seemed to like ya, malignant leach that he was these days.

Murdoc had never even intended to be in this little living room space, but he'd run out of inspiration (and worse yet out of rum). There was indeed a bar in the living room, but the only alcohol had been beer, and then once he had one Dents and the girl were in the way of Murdoc's leaving. The rest of the band and said new girl talked for a while while Murdoc mostly zoned out and stared at the label on his beer and sulked silently about his writer's block. Okay, so he hadn't even looked up when you started talking, but that was normal, it was all just banal and normal.

Then you'd laughed at something Ace said, not even a giggle but a good snorting ugly laugh, and Murdoc had made the mistake of paying attention, and you were not quite banal and normal. Rather you were, which was unexpected.

You weren't the kind of girl that 2D normally brought home, not like the perfectly-painted fans and less-pretty-but-wonderfully-liberated groupies that came through doors. You wrinkled your nose when told a bad joke, and were wearing clothing that looked comfortable rather than sexy, and slapped your leg when you wanted to make a point.

Some old quote about broken noses rattled through his head until he stepped closer, put down his beer, and joined the conversation. He didn't have much to say, was already bit too drunk to be clever, but had one clear moment when you laughed at his joke, his, and smiled. It stuck with him.

Much later that night Russ had cornered Murdoc on the way to his room, and muttered something about 'not this one's and 'off limits' and 'hamburger out'a your fuckin face.' Despite his distraction, Murdoc got the message: Russ didn't trust him not to chase after Dent's new girl.

"Suck eggs, you burly idiot," Murdoc growled, and was absolutely unsurprised when that earned him a black eye.

Well. Like Russ or even black eyes had ever stopped him before.

It occurred to Murdoc that 2D didn't normally bother introducing the band to any of the women he had over, but by the point that percolated through the haze of his mind it was 2am. He was drunk and a little slow tonight, so what? But it was abnormal that you'd been introduced to the band, abnormal that Russ had bothered mentioning you. Honestly, what were the odds Murdoc ever saw you again? He'd made you laugh, and would likely never see you again.

The next time he saw you he was flat on his back in the middle of the something-like-a-living-room. A room with a sofa, one of several he supposed. Things today were fuzzy. He had tried to fistfight Jamie for a perceived slight, only to discover that it was not in fact Jamie but actually Russ's punching bag, and it was less 'fight' and more 'swing at and get knocked on his ass', and now he was off his tits on three painkillers from Dent's personal stash.

"Holy shit, it's her. The girl. She. The one and only," Murdoc stared up at you with a grin.

"Hey there. Are you okay?" You looked amused above him, bending at the waist with hands on knees to see him better.

"I'm fuckin great. High as a kite. Feeling absolutely nothing. Actually love, do you think you could possibly bring me my whiskey? And a straw. Like a long one. Like one of the curly ones." He waved a hand, trying to trace a spiral pattern. "You know the kiiiiind."

"Yeah, he can't have booze," Ace said from the sofa.

"Boo," Murdoc said.

"He fucked up his back because he's an idiot, and now he's experiencing the consequences," Ace didn't look up from his magazine.

"Aw, sucks to be an idiot," you said. "I can bring you a water?"

"Nah, don't touch the stuff. Sweet of you though, that's a laudable trait, sweetness. Kindness. Never quite understood the desire to pursue that-"

"Do you need a pillow?"

"Only if the pillow is-" Murdoc was cut off by a throw pillow to the face, and blinked up to see Ace glaring down at him.

"Why are you here with us idiots anyway?" Ace asked you.

"Driving Stu to the doctor, getting the new prescription." You watched Murdoc flail around for the pillow for a moment, then toed it toward him helpfully before you turned to leave.

"Ha-Hate to see you go, but…" Murdoc said without really meaning to, leaving the rest of that thought unspoken. Ace kicked him anyway, and you casually flipped him off. Lovely hands, you had.

"They're just hands… Is he always like this? He seemed less sleazy last time," you had paused in the doorway but didn't actually sound upset.

"All his life he's been like this. He was pretty sober last time," Ace admitted, like a traitor. "I'm not a traitor, Muds, you really are the unholy union of a used car salesman and a barfly."

Murdoc did not deserve this kind of mistreatment.

"Aw, poor dear, so mistreated by the people helping you not die by mixing benzos and liquor." Ace was outright laughing now.

"Do feel better soon, 'Muds.' No alcohol."

Then you were gone.

"Why she bothers being nice to you, I do not know," Ace went back to his magazine.

A week later when you were in the studio again Murdoc was surprised into awkward silence by you smiling warmly at him. He vaguely recalled having been a bit of an ass last you saw him, but he also hadn't slept at all in the last 24 hours, so he was relatively easy to throw off right now. Also he just a tad stoned, if he were being honest, which in fact he tried not to be.

"Hey Murdoc!" You smiled from next to Noodle in the kitchenette-like-area, where the two of you seemed to be mixing some kind of food product. A bluetooth speaker was playing pop music. You looked happy, like properly happy, to see him. It was disconcerting.

"Hullo," Murdoc managed to say, even if he could tell he was staring like a fish. He hadn't decided if he wanted to ruin Dent's year by seducing you, and hadn't thought about what the hell to say to you now that he was sober. Well, sober-adjacent. Well, less high on pain meds.

"How's the back?" You sounded genuinely curious.

"'S fine, fine, 's just. All better. What, uh… Ya makin?"

"Cookies!" Noodle grinned, and so Murdoc smiled back. It didn't matter her age, seeing Noodle happy had always made Murdoc want to smile. And sure, he'd spent years repressing that instinct, but hell, he was really trying to be less of a shithead these days, to make it up to the girl a little.

"W-what kind?" Murdoc leaned against the kitchen counter and glanced around for 2D someplace nearby.

"Well, they were going to be chocolate chip, but you lot don't have any chips." You were back to stirring as you spoke

"2D walked out to go get some but it's been-" Noodle looked at you and you both laughed. "It's been a bit!"

"He forgot," You said.

"Got lost," Noodle countered.

"Fell down a hole," You laid out a sheet of tin foil.

"Eaten by zombies," Noodle used a spoon to plop dough onto the foil.

"Is standing in the store staring at the crisps, stoned with the munchies," You nibbled at some dough.

"Oh, yes," Noodle nodded.

Murdoc realized he'd been watching this back and forth between you and Noodle like a tennis match. He sat down on the stool perched under the kitchen bar a little dizzy and a lot amused.

"Innit like 1am?" He asked, propping his head up in one hand. He didn't have the energy to be suave tonight, he decided, just friendly. He'd charm your pants off another time. God, even thinking that made him feel old.

"Is it?" Noodle glanced at her phone. "Well shit."

"So really he's probably standing in front of the closed store, just hoping it'll open soon," Murdoc suggested.

Noodle barked a laugh, swept up the tray of dough, and dropped it in the oven.

"You're probably right," You walked over to the counter, smiled at Murdoc again, and picked up your keys and purse from in front of him. "I'm gonna go check on him."

Noodle was cleaning the kitchen and dancing around to the music. Ace snored loudly from the sofa, where Murdoc hadn't even seen him resting. Rus was probably someplace rational like his damn bed.

You repeated yourself gently, "I said, did you want to come with?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Murdoc found himself saying. It was only one in the morning, after all, might as well spend the witching hours with a pretty face. He had nothing better to do, and the fresh air would be nice, and he had a whole pot of coffee in his system to wait out before he could sleep.

You laughed, "Why the hell'd you drink coffee so late?"

"Fuck if I know. Looked at the clock an thought it was 11am,not pm," Murdoc shrugged. "Might have had a bit to drink by then."

"And you were drinking, or thought you were drinking, before noon?"

"Ha-haven't been around musicians much yet, have ya love?"

He stepped out the front door of the studio and had to consciously remember that this new Kong was practically downtown compared to the old one. The street was quiet this late after last orders, but the sky was orange as always, and the lack of zombies and tombstones was jarring.

It was so good to be home in England, out of jail and free from responsibilities, but he was exhausted trying to get back into the swing of songwriting. With Ace lingering around the place like a distant relation on holiday (to be fair that's absolutely what he was) the studio was both too crowded and not loud enough for Murdoc's tastes. There wasnt any drinking or partying to justify the close quarters, but Murdoc never seemed to find anyone making fucking music, not even himself, not even on nights like tonight where he had been locked in a sound booth fucking with his bass for hours. He felt off kilter, and tired but wired, and sick to death of trying to behave, and he desperately wanted a fuckin smoke.

"You can smoke in the car," You shrugged and opened up the door of an unremarkable sedan.

"Satan's tits, was that entire monologue out loud?" Murdoc collapsed into the passenger's seat and fought the electric window until it was down far enough for him to light up. Actually it seemed like maybe you'd rolled down the window for him. Piss.

"Yeah. You should probably sleep, dude. I'm constantly on Stu to take a damn nap, it's like you artist types just don't understand how to keep yourselves functional." You rolled down all the other windows, letting the night breeze pour through the car.

Murdoc glanced over at you as you pulled out into the empty street, suddenly remembering his reason for tagging along: nosey curiosity. "Yeeeeah, how is Stu? How are you two doing? Getting along?"

"Yeah, it's been good!" You turned wide to the right and dragged your hand through the cool night air like you were flying. No, swimming. You moved like you were in liquid, graceful or something. "Well…"

Murdoc let his jaw click shut to ensure he didn't speak. He was trying to keep his head down and get along tonight, but deep down in whatever was left of his heart Murdoc was hardwired to want to see 2D suffer, at least a little. Stealing his girl might be a little extreme these days, but making her leave him maybe? He hadn't decided.

"Yeah?" He spoke casually around his cigarette then ashed it out the window.

"Just, it's been weird, you know? We've only known each other a few weeks, so I guess it's fine that we don't actually know each other all that well but. It's weird, that's all. We'll get there. London is just so big and empty, for me. I don't know any one but Stu and you guys from the band, and not even knowing Stu that well… I think I'm just a little lonely."

Half his brain was screaming 'seduce her!' while the other half was wondering exactly how damaging another five breaks to his nose from Russ would be.

"Noodle seems ta like ya," He managed as you pulled into the Tesco lot.

"Yeah, she's amazing! You've all been so kind. Like you coming with to find poor wayward Stu? I appreciate it Murdoc. It's not exactly an intrepid expedition, I'm not worried about him, but it means a lot that you were willing to drive around at 1am with me looking for the guy. Speaking of whom," You parked the car and leaned out the window. "Hey Stu!"

The man in question was leaning against a lamp post in the parking lot, and blinked several times before moving.

"Oh hey!" Dents wandered over to the car with his normal totally unhurried gait. "Shop's closed, but I thought I'd wait til they open. Clerk must just be on a piss break or somefing."

"Hey, question: how stoned are you right now?" You sounded amused.

"Oh, yeah, pretty, uh. You know. Pretty…" Dents grinned.

"Stu, do you know what time it is?" You were definitely amused.

"Uh, nighttime? Is that a trick question?"

"Get in the car, faceache," Murdoc stubbed his cigarette out on the side mirror, noticing a scar on the plastic suggesting he wasn't the first to do that. "Shop won't open for hours and you're obviously too high to walk alone."

"Oh hey Muds! Wait, why can't we wait? Wait to wait. But really, they'll probably be right back soon, right?"

"If ya get in the car we'll go get chips," Murdoc sighed.

"Oh, fuck yeah," The singer climbed into the backseat through the open window, not listening to your halfhearted protests about using the damn door.

Halfway to a fish and chips shop 2D was singing to himself in the backseat and you glanced over at Murdoc.

"You handle loopy-Stu pretty well."

"Uh, oh, yeah. Sure. Had practice."

"I don't doubt. It's just that… From what he's said about you two in the past, I sorta thought you'd be less, ya know. Patient."

"Yeah, well, don't think I'm soft on the lil fuck-head or, you know, something." Murdoc crossed his arms, glanced back at 2D in the side view mirror. "He jus doesn't respond well to anger, is all. I can play nice enough if it gets him to cooperate. He's gotten to be less of a little shit, doesn't fight me on everything anymore, makes it easier to get on. Finally wised up I suppose."

"Sounds an awful lot like you both went through some personal growth to me," You said, then laughed at whatever outraged expression his face had managed without his meaning to react.

Murdoc had talked Dents out of his wallet to pay for chips and soda at the all shop, and he hummed along to the music you'd turned on, until you started singing. You weren't any kind of talent, but Murdoc shut up and listened anyway, charmed by your intentional breaks and warbles. After your hand brushed his reaching for your soda he had sat with arms crossed until you all piled out of the car again at Kong.

When they did stop, Dents tried his best to climb over Murdoc to get out of the car, and the two devolved into a slap fight. It took three tries and a mean bite to 2Ds arm before they managed to extricate themselves from the vehicle, and by then you were already inside. Stu jogged in to join you while Murdoc seethed.

Inside it turned out that Noodle had managed to burn only half the cookies, and while you and 2D seemed enthusiastic about them, Murdoc didn't have the stomach for it. He instead nodded his goodnights and went back to his room. He couldn't explain why he'd been so amicable all night. He thought about your hands, cold rivers, Russel throwing punches, and didn't sleep.

Then it had been another few days, Murdoc trying to wind down his mind just before dawn, glaring at his inner demons in the paint splotches on bedroom ceiling. Eventually he'd noticed the bitter chill of the dark, and knew dawn would come soon, and if he wasn't asleep by then he'd be really fucked for the next 24 hours.

He'd gone downstairs with the incredible plan to find a bottle of rum and drink half, and at least if that didn't knock him out cold he'd be drunk enough to not care. Walking past a large window he hadn’t really seen you, but he’d seen something, and so backtracked the three steps to look down into the dark street. You were sitting on the hood of your car, arms wrapped around your knees, and looking down.

He tried to think back, was pretty sure that you and Dents had gone to the ocean today, and come back wind chapped and exhausted well before dark. There were no good reasons he could think of that would have you back here at this hour.

“I'll be right back,” Murdoc muttered to the theoretical rum he was abandoning, then went back to his room to stumble into filthy jeans and boots, and at the last minute a coat. He barely remembered to prop the door open with a potted plant on his way out (to avoid being locked outside) then made his way over to you. He found himself dragging his feet so as not to startle you.

“Hey,” he said, like an idiot.

“Oh fuck me,” you said, sniffled, and by comparison maybe his opening wasn’t the worst possibility.

He read your posture and decided that sitting on the hood near you was acceptable, “You okay?”

"Sure." You sounded really convincing.

"So I'll go inside and leave you here, since you're obviously just fine," Murdoc said casually, and shivered. After a moment he fumbled to light a cigarette.

You glared at him halfheartedly, fiddled with your nails. Murdoc didn't leave, blew smoke away and stared pointedly.

"Well here I am, then," he said.

“You ever get so stuck in your head you just can't sleep? Like all you can think about is a mistake or a flaw, and you consciously know it's an overreaction but some part of your brain is just pure self loathing, just like 'end it all' rage and shit, even though you know that's pure stupidity?" You turned to look at him and it was like a physical blow that he tried hard to conceal.

Of all the dreams he had which could be called nightmares, the only ones that he really hated were about Noodle. Dreams of pirates or zombies or even jail were just reminders of times he’d feared for his life, his own life, and survived, they weren't-

He would wake up in the wee hours buying back screams, knowing Noodle was safe, right next door, was whole and human (and the guilt of that last word would ache too) and he wouldn't be able to sleep. He didn't deserve sleep. And then he would watch the ceiling lighten, eating his mistakes like shards of broken glass, only to vomit them back up, examine them, and swallow them down again, an endless cycle of self hatred and obsession-

Murdoc nodded.

You didn’t seem sad, just quiet and exhausted. “I didn’t have anyone to talk to tonight. I didn't want to wake Stu, but I couldn’t just stay at home and wait for dawn, and I drove around for a few hours but… Well I didn’t have another place to go. Didn’t want to waste more petrol.”

Murdoc considered, glanced up at the dark windows behind which Dents surely slept, then down the dark street full of the also sleeping neighbors. It would be easy to keep you company, it would be so easy to ply you with a little liquor, a little commiseration, a lot of charm. You honestly seemed to need most of that anyway, but the last thing you needed was to wake up in the wrong bed.

What he said was, “I was about to get loaded and listen to post-punk. Care to join me?”

"You like post-punk?"

"I like it more when I'm too drunk to critique it harshly. Pretty company helps too."

It took effort, but for the rest of the night he did his best to sound the right kind of lecherous, the joking kind, the harmless kind, and was surprised how much he wanted to make you smile and how little he wanted more than that.

It worked: the two of you spent the hours until dawn broke just laying on the floor of a dark workspace, with the music low and the bass up high, drinking rum with a crazy-straw. Murdoc lost the plot at some point, and then his boots and coat, and you’d somehow scrounged up throw pillows because ‘we’re both too old to fall asleep on the floor without pillows, Muds.' The next thing he knew it was past dawn and Russ was glaring down at him as you snored into a pillow nearby.

“What?” Murdoc asked, scratching his chest. You were using his coat as a blanket, and he was shirtless, but also too tired to give a solitary fuck. You were fully dressed and not in the wrong bed and weren't crying, so he considered his morning a huge success. He managed to drag himself to his own bed, alone, without ever really waking, and was able to slip back into a dreamless sleep for another 4 hours. That was a record high for the week.

You showed back up at the studio at six the following evening and walked right into the room he occupied like you lived there. Murdoc had just been pushing words across a page, acoustic guitar in his lap to fiddle with the melodies, but hadn't done anything productive for an hour. The bit of sleep he'd gotten this morning had helped him function, but that only lasted so long before he inevitably had to try sleeping again.

And there you were, a perfect distraction from sleep, saying, "I'm here to tell you not to drink late night coffee."

"Damn you," he said evenly.

"Get up. I want chips and to talk about that prog rock band you played for me last night."

"And if I were in the middle of some important songwriting?"

"You've been staring at that paper for three minutes, motionless."

"Watching me, are ya? Fuckin stalker," Murdoc shifted the guitar to the floor, felt every joint crack.

"You know this room is like 90% windows, yeah?"

"The better for you to stalk me." He stood stretched, and dug through the sofa for his coat. "Alright, I was promised chips."

You drove inadvisable fast to a shop much further away then necessary, and Murdoc loved every moment of the trip: the sunset behind you, then the pink glow of the sodium streetlights, the reflections off the puddles on the road. You had turned up a sad trip-hop album far too loud for either of you to think, much less talk, so all he could really do was watch you drive and let himself slowly become more and more tired.

"Is everything alright, love?" He propped his head up on one hand, watching you. "You never did talk last night. Mostly it was me nattering on about music theory and terminally climatic forms."

"Kinky," you said.

"Listen, when I'm hitting on you you'll know it, sweet cheeks. I promise. I'm not a damn amature... But that was a good attempt at dodging the question."

You huffed, silent for a moment.

"Yeah, everything is fine. Nothing I can't handle," You slowed the car to a more reasonable speed, turned down the music. "I haven't lived here very long, just about six months before Stu came back from tour and I reached out."

Something about that sentence seemed weird to him, but he held his tongue for now.

"And there's just a lot of drama back at home, you know how family is. Half of me wants to pretend it's not happening, and the other half keeps wanting to visit home so I can check in on them. You know," you said again.

"I have no idea what that's like," Murdoc said.

You glanced over, obviously trying to assess if he was joking. "Yeah?"

"Not really. My family was a shitshow, don't misunderstand me. Nightmare. But once I got out, I had zero desire to go back to see them. Blow off their calls when they try to ring me every few years. Don't even really talk to Ace outside of the band, and he's something like a second cousin. Or like officially he's my uncle, only younger than me? I dunno. Anyways, he gets a pass only because he can play bass alright. The whole concept of family though, sounds like more work than it's worth."

You snorted, "Of course it does, Muds. You hate most people."

"Not most people, all of them."

"Oh wow, how did the band get so lucky, that you like them and them alone?" You asked sarcastically, but Murdoc just leaned into the window and closed his eyes.

"You say that like you think I don't hate the rest of the band."

It took you a minute to reply, "You don't hate Noodle."

"Perfect, I don't hate you or Noodle, two whole people. I am a veritable paragon of patience and friendship."

"You don't actually hate Stu," you sounded fairly uncertain, but he refused to open his eyes.

"No, I don't," he said eventually, and it was true he supposed. It wasn't just a thing he was saying to reassure you. He didn't hate the kid, he just, he was just- "He's just so god damn spacey. Fucking grade-A space case. How does that not grate on you?"

"Oh it does, but. He's just Stu. It's endearing. Like you being so prickly."

Murdoc felt his eyes roll almost involuntarily even behind closed lids. Prickly. He stayed silent a long moment before conceding, "I suppose he's not so bad once you get used to him. Little bird told me he's making it to appointments and shit more often now you're around."

"Yeah, his not driving makes it hard to do on his own I think."

"S not like he couldn't catch the bus, or ask one of us for a lift."

You snorted a laugh and stopped the car.

"We're here," you were out of the car before he was even cognizant enough to open his door.

Murdoc actually paid for food, and dragged you back to the studio, and then past the bar and up to the roof. He was so tired, god damn it, but all the same here you were.

"Why are we up here?"

"Did you talk to Stu about this family drama?"

"No. It kinda has to do with him, and…" you trailed off.

God, he almost wanted to be angry about it, about the fact that you deserved someone to talk to and Dents obviously wasn't doing it. Murdoc twisted the cap off of a bottle of tequila he'd snagged on the way up, took a swig, and gestured grandly, "Well. Fuckin talk."

This was becoming a habit, his listening.

And he knew he sounded frustrated, and was getting drunk as you spoke, but for some reason you looked happy. You sat, kicking your feet over the edge of the roof, and immediately stole Murdoc's chips, and launched into a detailed overview of your extended family. Murdoc tuned out after a minute, just drinking and making affirmative noises occasionally, until the chips and tequila were gone and you went home.

A month later you'd become quietly incorporated into the band’s life and somehow Murdoc still hadn't gotten your fucking name. It was way too late to just ask you outright, and with the number of new people and faces going in and out of the studio every day he couldn't even just listen for a new unknown name and hope it was yours.

But he had a plan.

Despite you bouncing around the studio for weeks, somehow you'd never met any of the other musical artists who frequented it. Murdoc was aware of this because you'd literally complained loudly about that fact to 2D as the two of you had been playing some arcade game, and 2D had laughed and said, "Sucks for you," and you'd punched him then beat him at the game while he was rubbing his arm.

"She hits even harder’n you, Muds," Dents had complained, then he'd gestured at the arcade cabinet. "I'm gonna get a soda, you can try to beat her if you like. She cheats."

Murdoc did indeed take the open space next to you, punching through the menus to select a new fighter and challenge you.

"So what, meeting the Gorillaz isn't enough for ya?" He asked, as a new round began.

"Fuck you, Niccals," you said casually as your character landed a flurry of kicks. "You're just Stu's friends as far as I care."

"What, ya didn't listen to the band growing up? Not out there idolizing us lot?" Murdoc mashed a button and felt it jam, sending his character backwards and into a wall uncontrollably. You were silent for a long moment, presumably distracted by absolutely dominating this game. Murdoc glanced over to find you pink cheeked, glanced back to see a big 'KO' appear on screen while his character cried about it, and huffed.

"Damnit, I'm shite at these games."

You gasped took a faux-dramatic step back, "I'm sorry, did they great Murdoc Niccals just admit to a lack of talent in something?"

"No one'll believe you," Murdoc shrugged and leaned against the machine, patting down his pockets until he could locate his cigarettes. He opened the pack, shook a few to the top, then paused and held up the box. "Victory smoke?"

"Uh, sure," you nodded. "Patio?"

And the two of you sat outside, legs hanging off the edge of the building once more, staring out at the last pink clouds from sunset.

Murdoc let you pluck a cigarette from the pack, lit his own, then handed you the lighter. He watched you struggle with the flint for a moment before just laughing.

"Fuck you, did you give me a trick lighter?"

"What the fuck is a trick lighter? That's not a thing."

You flicked the striker uselessly a few times, "Yeah, you absolutely gave me a lighter that doesn't work. There's a secret, right? A safety or something?"

"What?" It was more laugh than question.

"A wonky broken fuckin-"

Murdoc pulled it and the unlit cigarette from your hand, and handed you the one he'd already lit to hold onto for now. The one he'd already taken a drag from. The one a half inch burned down. The one you promptly put your lips around and-

You took a long first drag and held it, while he fought the flint himself. "See? Trick lighter. Warned ya."

"It's my only fuckin lighter," he groused, finally managing to light the second cigarette. You made a motion to trade him back but he leaned away.

"Nah, nope. You lost those first few drags, as a penalty for making fun of me."

"Unfair!"

"They're both my smokes, thief."

"Oh fuck you," you socked him gently on the arm, and he rubbed his shoulder in faux-shock.

"Violent!"

"You don't mind."

"Kinky."

You made a shushing noise, waved a hand, and watched the clouds. Murdoc licked his lips uneasily for a moment, thinking.

You spent more time with him than you spent with almost any of the other band members, except for Dents presumably. The two of you shared cigarettes, traded insults and punches, talked in the dark in the wee hours before dawn. He was sure he’d seen you doing things with Russ, with Noodle, but he’d never seen you doing nothing-at-all with either of them the way you were happy to do nothing-at-all with him.

But he didn't have any thing to offer for you to do together, really. Chips, drinking, cigarettes, flirty banter. Noodle cooked with you at least. Dents was the one who went on adventures with you, who took you to see sights, you always had some trip planned. Dents didn't deserve you, but god you deserved someone bright and happy like 2D knew how to be.

“Hey Muds,” you glanced over at him, blew smoke at him, grinned. “You’re thinking too loud. Either stop, or tell me.”

"Tell you what?"

"Whatever has you glaring? You're my best friend, idiot, you're allowed to talk about shit. You listen to me all the time."

Fuck, when was the last time he actually had a friend? Not a co-conspirator, not an alibi, not a partner or bandmate, just friend.

He just nodded, muttered something about you being sappy, and finished his cigarette.

But that conversation was why, when he woke up with a gasp and a scream behind his teeth a week later, he thought of you.

To be fair, he'd already spent some time thinking of you in the shower earlier today, you were thoroughly on his mind.

Still, once the adrenaline was fading and the gutting guilt that always followed it welled up, and he felt the tight sensation of having swallowed a cold stone off the riverbed moving from his chest to throat, once his shakes were setting in and the sweat on his skin was chilling him, he shuddered a breath and wanted comfort and thought of you.

[You up?] was what he texted.

[yes but why are you] your reply came, then [/sarcasm, I know you have no concept of a sleep schedule]

[Ha ha clever why do I like you]

[I'm your only friend up at 4am. You OK?]

He thought about it, thought about the question, and apparently took too long.

[Lmfao why am I asking: it's a 4am text and you haven't asked what I'm wearing, you're obv not ok. Be over in 20]

[What ARE you wearing? And u don't need to.]

A five minute delay, then [Too late, in car. And RN a leather jacket. You like that, you freak?]

He snorted at that, said the word 'yes' outloud, then dug around for enough clothing to see you. If he slipped into his tightest pair of jeans, his thinnest and most worn-down shirt, well. He'd just been wear those a lot (around you) lately. After thinking about it, he palmed his keys and waited outside, not wanting the rest of the band getting the wrong idea.

You arrived with milkshakes, and didn't kill the engine, just leaned over to open the passenger door. You were wearing a damn leather jacket, and he realized he had worn his as well, and bit down on a flare of mixed embarrassment and glee.

"Get in, we're going down river to see the sunrise."

Murdoc got in.

You turned up your heavy metal playlist, drove out of the city, then for another twenty minutes before you asked, "You okay?"

He felt like shit, felt like an ass, had called you before dawn and you had not just responded to him but oh, you had shown up, like a white knight, riding in with a strawberry milkshake and loud music.

"Nightmares."

You downshifted and the car felt too quiet.

"Noodle," he managed.

You slowed further and glanced over.

"Listen, this never leaves the car or I end you and Stu and the whole of the greater London area," he said without real venom.

"No one'll believe me," you said, and sounded amused enough that he was able to swallow a few times, blink burning eyes.

"I keep dreaming of her, of- of-," when did his throat get so tight?

He didn't finish and you didn't say more, navigating the car from the main road and up several smaller streets to a park. You were able to find a space and pull in looking east, then killed the engine but not the music. You sipped your milkshake, and Murdoc realized he was just watching you, breathing far too shallowly.

He turned back to the windscreen, face pointed sightlessly at the pink glow beginning there, and picked up his now melted milkshake.

"I can handle most of it. I can manage dreams about Point Nemo, and the pirates, and even just prison. Some of it's been bad, some has been not bad at all, most of the time though- most of the time it's ya know, a nightmare. I'm in danger, or bored, or whatever. Fuck. I forget about it in the morning. But that Mañana shoot is just ground in there, not fading when I wake up. Just there, a thing, that happened, and was almost-"

Murdoc sipped his strawberry milk and tried not to loath himself for being both pathetic and dragging you out of bed to see him be pathetic. You just watched the sunrise, not replying, waiting.

"I'm tired, is all."

"It sounds awful," you said evenly.

Murdoc didn't reply. Eventually he rolled down the window and tossed the cup out. You rolled your head on your shoulders slow, staring at him, eyebrows raised.

"Fucking FINE," He huffed, and threw open the door to retrieve the cup and jam it into an over-full trashcan.

When he returned to the car the sun was up, the music was loud, and you'd turned over the car. The steady purr of the engine was comforting, and he wanted to drive but didn't want to ask you if you'd mind, so he just leaned back and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he felt your hand inch across the front seat and squeeze his slightly, just for a moment, then you were gone.

"Call me anytime, Muds."

He glared at the road, suddenly trapped by tunnel vision, trying to work out what to say, how to explain this without sounding pitiful. No one wanted to be vulnerable, be open, not really, him least of all, but he wanted to make sure you understood- Well. He wasn't sure what he wanted you to 'understand' exactly, other than his gratitude, so he focused on that.

"Thanks, it, uh- Fuck. Don't have any other friends, ya know so. Means a lot."

You didn't glance over, didn't speak immediately, just let those words hang for a moment before saying, "You're pretty much my only friend who isn't my half-brother, for what it's worth."

He snorted, then you laughed, and the somber and serious tone was broken. He tried to remember what you'd said about your family in the past, to recall what he had turned out, with no success.

"Want to go get breakfast? Fry up, eggs and too much coffee?" You navigated toward a part of town that looked to be waking up.

"Fuck, yes, absolutely. On me."

Yeah, this was weird, because you were definitely his best and only friend… And he really needed to know your fucking name already.

A day later he had set the plan into motion. It wasn't complex, just one phone call and a conversation with Dents, and few hours later in walked the solution to his little name trouble.

"Stu! How've you been? See you traded back in for the old bassist model, shame," Damon Albarn was shedding his coat on the sofa, then briefly gripped Dent's shoulder in a half-hug.

"Holy shit," You said it so quietly that only Murdoc could have heard you. Damon was still distracted greeting 2D, not looking your way yet, so Murdoc risked it and reached out, gently squeezed your arm as he spoke quietly.

"Big girl pants on now, love: he's just another musician."

"He is not!"

"No, despite his lack of talent he was actually in Blur: he's definitely a musician." His tone was dry.

"Not what I meant! He was one of my first crushes as a teenager," You whispered back.

"What, not me?"

That got the reaction he'd hoped for, got you to relax just a tad. You rolled your eyes and leaned back to give Murdoc some kind of expression… But after a moment you instead blushed and snorted a laugh.

"I want to tell you off, but I'm a shit liar when I'm stressed out, and you make an excellent point. I absolutely had a crush on you, and I've done fine talking to you and becoming your friend, haven't I? God, Kong is such a trip."

Murdoc forgot to speak for a moment, just sort of stared at you and nodded.

"Thanks, Muds, you're right. If I can handle you, Damon's not a big deal, yeah?" You grinned.

Murdoc smiled back, fingernails dug into his palm in an attempt to remind himself that you deserved something good, to be happy, and Stu made you happy-

"Ooh, right! Damon, come here I got someone for you to meet," 2D was smiling, ushering Damon closer. Fucking perfect timing, the little shit.

Murdoc let his frustration go, and remembered the plan. An introduction, he'd invented a way to overhear an introduction. He made a conscious effort not to lean forward in anticipation of this moment, of FINALLY hearing your name, and tried to let his simmering jealousy of Dents go.

Damon was extending a hand to you, saying something charming, and Dents was introducing Damon, and then gestured to you- and- and that was when 2D.

Said. Your. Name.

'Oh. Oh, of course. Lovely,' Murdoc thought. 'I'd have never guessed it, but that fits, that's actually just perfect, it's beautiful-'

And then Murdoc's train of thought was promptly blasted off the rails by Dent-head's next words.

"- my half-sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister," Damon said as Murdoc's skull spontaneously and quietly imploded into a cloud of bone and gristle that hovered for an instant before forming a singularity behind where his eyes had once been.

"Found out a bit ago. Only met a few months back," Stu said.

"Same dad," you said, shaking the hand of one of your first crushes, as Murdoc watched the tiny black hole which had formed in the center of his brain fracture into shards of glass (that looked suspiciously like they were from a trip he'd had last year, his brain was being derivative again) and folded timespace inward.

"He was a cheating bastard, but hey, I got a sister out of it," Dents sounded pleased, and Murdoc watched the last ten minutes of his life play in reverse as spacetime melted around him and all his

"Funny, you look nothing like him," Damon was saying to you with a smile, and yeah, he was being charming.

"Well we must be alike somehow, because she’s three-quarters to stealing my band. Russ and Noodle love her, even Muds gets on with her great," Dents grinned at Murdoc.

And in a slow turn Damon smiled at Murdoc as well, and while to anyone else the grin on Damon’s face would probably have seemed benign, Murdoc knew Damon too well, and knew shit-eating when he saw it. Those five last words from Dents, and the fact that it was Murdoc who asked Damon to drop by the studio today, just those two facts had the whole situation laid bare to Damon. Murdoc liked this girl, and they both knew it.

Hell.

Murdoc heard his own jaw click shut, worked hard not to shout some denial that made no sense, to not say something inane to Dents, and rocked back on his heels in an attempt to look casual and unaffected. Damon had doubled down on the charm and looked too knowing for words.

"Well I have some very good embarrassing stories about these two," Damon said, turning back to you.

Murdoc tried very hard to black out.

Ten minutes later Murdoc was standing on a patio of the third floor and couldn't quite remember how he extricated himself from that situation. It was freezing out here, the wind cutting through harshly, and he lit up a cigarette like it would somehow help.

The sound of the door opening brought laughter from inside, and Murdoc had a dismissal for Dents on his tongue when you spoke.

“Hey. Gonna offer me one of those?”

"No," he said without thinking, then realized that he felt betrayed.

How dare Damon see his interest in you when you didn't? And how dare you not see Murdoc's discomfort with Damon dredging up old embarrassments? And also, how dare you be Dent's sister? Murdoc was lucid and sane enough to see the flaw in the logic in that last bit, but still, he found himself frustrated and resentful and didn't want you near.

"Okay. So you're gonna be petty about me being impressed by Damon Albarn and not by you, that's fair. I guess. I mean, it's small and vindictive, but sure, you get to have those emotions, they're yours," you were still smiling, leaning against the railing now. "They're shit emotions, but you can have them about me and Damon, a guy who's been nothing but charming the last half hour."

"If he's so fucking charming then why the hell're ya out here?" Murdoc sneered.

There was a beat of silence.

"Oh wow," you drew out the word. "Actually fuck you. You really are gonna be a bitch about this? Really?"

"Maybe I'm just sick of your yammering."

"Maybe you're just a shithead," you hadn't moved and he didn't like the look on your face. You knew him too well, you weren't shocked when he was mean, didn't respond with anger in turn, you just called him on it, you-

"Wait. Oh god, you're actually jealous aren't you? That I was excited to meet someone who isn't the Gorillaz?"

"No," Murdoc knew that sounded weak, and found his mouth kept going, much to his dismay. "Someone who wasn't me."

Damn it. Fuck.

The silence was so damning, you standing there wrapped up in your coat, face blank for now, about to tell him he was a ridiculous self centered ass whom you hated.

"What?" You didn't sound shocked about the words, nor mocking, which was good. Mostly you seemed… Amused? Proud maybe? Your scowl was soft, lips curving slowly.

"S nothing," Murdoc turned back to the street, wondering at what point he'd shifted to face you to begin with.

"You wanted me to be impressed with you," you said, and stepped closer. "I mean, okay, not too surprising. I'm more in awe that you were self actualized enough to recognize it."

"Fuck you," he said, but found there was very little venom in the words.

You shrugged and plucked the cigarette from his hand and took a long drag, and suddenly Murdoc really actually realized and comprehended that you had never been dating 2D.

You'd never been someone else's girl.

You'd been single this whole time.

You'd been stealing cigarettes from Murdoc, and talking to him at 4am, and going out for chips with him, and falling asleep on the studio floor next to him, and ducked outside to find him when he went missing and-

Yeah. You'd just bailed on talking to the lead singer of a band you loved to instead find Murdoc, simply because he had left unexpectedly.

"Hey," he said, and took his cigarette back, and for the first time put his lips on a filter still tacky with your lipstick, and god that felt good. "Next time ask to share, you thief."

"Like you ever say no to me anyway."

And that was true, and he didn't know when it had become true or how, and he tried to figure out when he'd gotten wrapped around your finger without noticing.

You let him keep the cigarette for a few moments while he thought and you zipped up your coat against the breeze, then you stepped close to pull the cigarette right from his mouth again, tipped your face up, and took a long drag. You stayed close, close enough to touch, to hold. His hand twitched on the patio railing before he very carefully lifted it, placed it on your hip, and ran one thumb along a line of stitching in your jeans. And you let him, Sweet fucking Satan, you let him drag the pad of his thumb across denim and eventually skin. After a moment you exhaled and placed the cigarette gently back on his lips with a brush of your fingers.

Like it wasn't a new intimacy, you touching his skin. Like it wasn't a new sensation, properly sharing a cigarette instead of just having one taken from him. Like you were happy to just have these moments, not demanding or expecting more or less from him. Like this was already normal.

He barely managed to keep the cigarette in his mouth.

"I'm going back in. Try not to catch hypothermia."

"Yeah," he nodded. You got two steps, hand on the door, when his brain finally processed a reply, "Hey, y-you wanna grab chips? After?"

"Hell yeah. I'll find you," you said, and left.

Twenty minutes later his cigarette had long burned out. You, Stu, and Ace were still talking to Damon. Inside Russ was holding a heavy bag steady for Noodle. Murdoc had wandered in, lost in thought, and found himself leaning on a wall near Russ, watching Noodle tighten her boxing gloves.

"Hey Russ, full disclosure and hoping to avoid an ass kicking here: I think I might be dating Stu's little sister," Murdoc blinked at the drummer, fairly sure he was having a dissociative episode. Noodle landed two punches on the bag, and Russ moved not an inch.

"You dumb fuckin son of a- wait. Wait. You say dating?" Russ braced again as Noodle landed another one-two hit.

"Yeah."

"You don't date."

"I know. I asked her out for chips, and uh. We shared a cigarette. Well, several I guess. She just blew off Damon to check on me. She, ya know. Puts up with me. Does that count?"

"Oh, well that's fine then," Russ no longer sounded intent upon murder. "I like her more'n you, so I'll break ya nose if you hurt her. But ya know that already."

"You are not dating," Noodle said between hits. "Yet."

"Mm. She's right." Russ was moved back a half foot by Noodle's next hit and grinned at the girl, "Go easy on me now." He settled back into the bag and looked to Murdoc, "Unless y'all been on a date or had the conversation, it ain't dating."

"Chips and booze on the studio roof doesn't count as a date, does it?" Murdoc chewed a nail.

"No," Noodle said with a kick.

"Awright-" Murdoc was about to leave when Russ reached out one arm.

"Hey," the drummer said, slowly pulling Murdoc closer with one meaty fist clenched in his shirt. "Don't. Fuck. This. Up. I do not fuckin care if you date her, but she's good for Stu. He keeps appointments with the docs, he's sleeping most nights, he's eating better. Lemme put this in language you understand: if you fuck up her relationship with Stu, you fuck up the band. And I know you don't wanna fuck up the band…"

"Russ t-that is categorically unfair and uncalled for. You know I would never in my life endanger this band," Murdoc raised his hands and found himself spilling platitudes without thinking, but he was surprised at how unafraid he felt. Because Russ threatened him regularly? Because he didn't think he'd fuck things up with you? Because nothing could ever fuck up the band if he hadn't done it already?

Russ released Murdoc gently just as you rounded the corner of the hall. The drummer leaned into the heavy bag once more, and Noodle let fly a flurry of fast jabs. Murdoc tugged at his shirt, trying in vain to smooth out the wrinkles, as you paced closer. When he finally looked you in the eye you didn't even look curious about the exchange.

"Chips?" You smiled, pink cheeked.

"Want to bring them back here and get drunk whilst stargazing?" Murdoc asked, and felt Russ glare at him.

"Absolutely. Do you think you can see the stars from the roof when it's clear like this?"

"Not a chance, too much light and smog."

"Right on, let's do chips anyhow."

Murdoc tried not to look smug as you left together.

You paused at the ground floor in the stairwell, and turned suddenly, almost causing Murdoc to run into you.

"Wait. You have to drive," you leaned toward him and stage-whispered the words.

He leaned in conspiratorially, "Okay. Why?"

"I may have had a mimosa upstairs, to take the edge off. Ace made me one. Or three."

"Right, give me your keys."

You took a moment to find them in your coat pocket, then pressed them into his palm. You were able to pour yourself into the car, fiddled with the music on your phone to make him listen to a band from the Sahara desert, and leaned over him to order at the drive through. When he stopped the car at a local park you pivoted sideways on the bench seat, pulled the bag of food into your lap, and swung your legs over his knees.

"Thief," Murdoc said, and tried to swipe at a container of chips. You pulled the chips back, tipsy and laughing, and he paused only for a moment to consider it, before grabbing behind your knees and pulling the entirety of you closer. You cackled with laughter as you ended up half flat on your back and Murdoc stole a handful of chips.

"Ah, fuck, hot!"

You cackled louder while he glared at you.

The evening passed much like many others you'd shared, eating greasy food, smoking, passing your phone back and forth to play songs you thought the other would like. It didn't feel like a date to Murdoc, and when you were sobered up and dropped him at Kong he realized it was 3am and he was sober and tired as hell.

He slept like the dead for 4 hours, woke up to a nightmare, and then spent the next 5 hours sleeping fitfully until the respectable hour of noon.

"You're up early," Ace was grinning. Murdoc stared, set his jaw, readied himself to launch across the kitchen and slap his cousin silly. After a protracted silence during which Ace's smile became, if anything, wider the idiot spoke again. "Your girlfriend didn't keep you out late?"

Murdoc didn't actually wait until Ace finished speaking to lunge for the man, snatching a magazine from the counter and whacking him across the head, and only after the strike landed realized that Ace had kicked his feet out from under him. Murdoc dragged Ace down as he went, and for a moment the kitchen was a blur of shouting and resounding hits. The fighting ended abruptly as it began, with Murdoc pinning a
Ace while the other man held a knife.

"Truce?" Ace was still smiling, like the split lip was worth it and he wasn't holding a switchblade.

"She's not my girl."

"Methinks the lady doth protest-"

"Shut up, you cheating son of a bitch," despite his words, Murdoc rolled off the other man and they both lay on the linoleum panting until you arrived.

"What happened?" you asked.

"Oh hey, just the woman I was-" Ace began, unmoving.

"Think carefully there mate," Murdoc growled without moving either.

"I will cut you," Ace countered, not even glancing over.

"Ha, like you could stop me with that little knife. Weak wrists. Tiny arms."

"You two seem fine," you said, and navigated around them to start the kettle. "When you're done bleeding on the carpet there'll be water for tea. Me and Stu are headed out to the shops."

"Thanks," Murdoc said.

"Thank yoooou!' Ace sing-songed, and as you left the two men on the floor devolved into another halfhearted fistfight.

Murdoc eventually made his way to the kettle, prepared a cup of tea, added cream and far too much sugar, then threw the contents of the cup onto Ace. He fled the room pursued by a sticky and furious Ace.

Back in his room (door locked, nose bloody, and without caffeine or alcohol) Murdoc glared at the wall and had a good think about yesterday, about you and women in general and friendship and soft skin. It took all day, a handful of uppers, and eventually Murdoc rolled into his most ridiculously tight pants and found Ace.

"It's Friday, we're going to a show."

"What show?" Ace looked unconcerned by the abrupt hand around his throat pinning him to a wall at eight in the evening. In fact he only looked put out when he realized to whom the hand belonged.

Murdoc quickly let go, then sneered, "Text Damon why don't you, he'll know of something. You're driving."

They ended up at a dive bar with Damon and Jamie, listening to some doom metal-esque folk singer who was absolutely amazing but also so bloody young, she looked younger than Noodle, and made Murdoc want to be an asshole.

"Is the guitarist ever going to use that slide?" Jamie craned his head.

"Wait for it," Damon said.

"Jesus," Jamie said quietly a moment later.

Damon was nodding furiously, "Don't they sound so fucking loud?"

Everyone was being musicians tonight, being professionals, and all Murdock wanted was to be an idiot, to ride the high of stardom and fame, to fuck around and damn the consequences.

"There's chains on the cymbals," Murdoc observed, then stood. "I'm getting a drink."

"Oh fuck, yeah there are. That drummer is absolutely surrounded by crap isn't he?" Jamie sounded excited.

"So loud!" Damon was gleeful.

At the bar Murdoc ordered a double and drank and flirted with some beautiful women idly. The night was bright, and blurry, and he felt like himself for the first time in months.

"I like your jacket," said a smiling blonde, and Murdoc grinned back, licking his teeth. He bought the blonde a drink and waited patiently, but still got his hand slapped when it ventured slowly to a bare thigh. It was a gentle slap, so he shrugged it off and let her get back to her friends.

At some point Murdoc's own friends were at the bar, drinking with him, then Damon and Jamie were gone. Time speed up, and Ace was back to the bar with a woman on each arm, then Ace and one of the ladies went to the restroom and Murdoc kept the other entertained, and then somehow Murdoc and both women were back at his room in Kong, without a stitch on any one of them, and then it was suddenly well past dawn the next day.

The girls slunk home. Murdoc considered that debauchery didn't seem to last nearly long enough any more.

Murdoc found Ace passed out on the living room floor, still dressed from the night prior. It looked like one of the girls had covered him in a blanket on their way out. In the kitchen someone had made an entire pot of coffee. Murdoc poured himself a first cup and drank it black and fast, lingering by the pot so that he could immediately refill his mug.

Voices in the hall resolved slowly through his hangover, fist Dents chattering and then eventually you responding.

Murdoc froze. There was absolutely no chance he'd manage to hide or slip away, but was at least wearing a robe. He glanced down and set the mug aside to tie closed the gaping front of the silk kimono that he had almost certainly stolen from someone who'd visited his room in the past. Somewhere nearby Ace snored.

He poured his coffee and tried to look casual.

You and 2D were so caught up in conversation that for a moment all he got was a glance from you.

"Coffee?" He gestured.

"Looks like you had a good time," you said. He blinked, and you clarified, "You have lipstick just. Everywhere."

He didn't think you sounded mad, which made him nervous. As far as he could tell you sounded amused.

"Gross," Dents said while pouring himself a cup of coffee

"Fuck off," Murdoc snapped at the other man.

"I'm gonna go shower: meet you here in a half hour?" Dents waved at you as you nodded, then he wandered off.

You were already thumbing through your phone.

"Ah. Un, c-can we talk?" Murdoc asked.

"Absolutely," you nodded. When he stood there awkwardly for a moment, you in turn pocketed your phone and leaned forward. "Oh, so like talk-talk. Sure, go ahead."

"Are you uh. Upset?"

"Bout what?"

"That I was- Last night-"

"That you got spectacularly laid?" you were smiling, what the fuck.

A gravely voice waived up from the floor, "He stole both of the girls." Ace sat up like a zombie, arms limp at his sides. Murdoc threw his empty coffee cup mostly by reflex, it bounced off Ace's skull with a comically hollow noise, and the man went down to the carpet again groaning and clutching his face.

After a silent moment when you apparently decided not to care about the prone man, you turned back to Murdoc and amended, "Spectacularly laid twice?"

Murdoc knew he was bedraggled, apparently covered in lipstick, probably bug-eyed and unshaven, in a too-small robe with butterflies all over it. He didn't, however, know what to say. Ace had rolled over and was snoring. Somewhere he could barely hear a shower start up.

Your smile looked a little brittle now, but it was still a smile, "It's none of my business if you sleep around."

The long awkward silence was broken only by you pouring a cup of coffee of your own. Murdoc found that he couldn't figure out what to do with his damn hands, fiddling with an oversized ring, glaring at the ceiling for a moment. He opened his mouth a few times and finally spoke-

"I could not. If you. I mean- Fuck."

You were paused with your cup against your lips.

"Jesus I'm fuckin bad at this," he muttered.

"Why?"

"Why'm I bad at it? Fuck if I know." He turned, leaned against the counter beside you so that he wouldn't have to look at you, knuckles in a white grip on the edge of the countertop hopes of steadying himself somewhat.

You breathed a few times evenly, finished the cup, set it aside.

"Okay. This isn't a no, it's absolutely not me saying-" you floundered, mouth opening and closing a few times in his peripheral vision. Then you reached over and slid your hand over his, your fingers fitting into the groves between his knuckles, your thumb tracing a circle on his wrist. "Give it a week. Give yourself a week."

Murdoc opened his mouth, but you just squeezed his hand and cut him off.

"Give yourself a week, for me. Then, uh. Ask whatever it was you wanted to… Ask." You shrugged vaguely, giving him an out, not meeting his eyes.

He realized he was staring. He realized you could tell, and weren't looking at him. He realized that he desperately desperately wanted you to look at him.

"You should go shower, get that lipstick off," you said, then pulled your hand away as you moved to the sink.

The tactile memory of your fingers felt like it should have been visible, like strings of glue or taffy trailing off his hand where your fingertips had been ripped away.

"Stu's out, there should still be hot water."

Murdoc had to replay that sentence a few times in his head to make sense of it as you rinsed out your own coffee cup. He slipped from the room in silence as you retrieved his discarded cup from near Ace and began to shake the sleeping man, muttering talk of coffee and toast.

His shower was freezing, because Dents had in fact used all the hot water, but really Murdoc wasn't even that annoyed. He was barely paying attention, instead wondering what the fuck he HAD been trying to ask in the kitchen.

Murdoc spent the next two days completely drunk, fucking about in a spare soundproof room with a keyboard and acoustic guitar. After the first shoe had been thrown directly at Ace's face, no one (else) tried to interrupt his solitude. He hadn't seen a trace of you in the studio.

Day three he had woken up sober, leafed through the notes and music he'd made, and then trekked up to the roof with the whole pile of paper. He had shoved all the notes into a five gallon bucket, emptied in the last of his rum, and sent the whole thing up in flames.

The bucket had, predictably, melted into a foul puddle of blackened chemicals, but all the incredibly damning evidence of lovesongs had been incinerated. They hadn't even been good songs, to be honest, though the melodies themselves hadn't been awful…

Murdoc got very stoned locked himself back in his little den of wallowing and self pity, and came out a day later with absolutely nothing to show for it.

At some hour of some day of that week Murdoc crawled his way into the kitchen and found Stu already there. Noodle was eating cereal across the room, looking very hungover.

"Hey Muds."

"What do you want faceache?"

Dents huffed and looked annoyed for only a moment before a mean grin spread over his face, "Just thought I'd tell you that my sister is leaving the country in a few hours. Have a grand day, yeah?"

Murdoc took great, if momentary, joy in grabbing Stu by the collar and slamming him bodily into the wall.

"What did you say?"

Stu was only momentarily slowed, then his smile came back and he kneed Murdoc in the balls.

The floor was much dirtier than Murdoc had realized, and he had a good view of it until Stu's shoes got in the way, then his knees and hands, then his face being lowered near to Murdoc's.

"Did I kill you? She'll be pissed if I kill you."

"Fuuuuuuuck yooou…" Murdoc hissed.

"Yer fine," Stu wisely sat down further away, out of arms range, while Murdoc remembered how to breathe.

Noodle hadn't even stopped eating her breakfast.

"What were you…"

"Oh, right. She's going home for a bit. Some family shit, said you'd probably know what she meant."

Murdoc tried to remember what the family drama you'd told him all about had been all about. He glared at the floor thinking for a moment before realizing it didn't matter and that the actually important thing was the conversation you two couldn't have if you were a billion miles away.

He dragged himself to his feet, shot a parting kick at Stu's shin that left the other man hopping in pain, then rushed to find his phone.

You didn't answer.

He called three times, hung up before getting to the message machine, then paused. Stared at his phone and saw a string of missed texts from you.

[Hey Muds! Headed out of town for a bit, don't burn down Kong while I'm gone or anything, okay?]

[Not that you can't commit arson, I wouldn't want to cramp your style after all, just wait til I get back so I can watch, ya know?]

[Mostly just don't kill my brother, actually. That's my only request: no murdering Stu.]

The last one was time stamped from an hour ago. He ran back to grab Dents by the shirt once more, but immediately let go of the fabric when the younger man looked ready to hit him again.

Murdoc smoothed the fabric of Stu's collar ineffectually and asked, "When's her flight and where?"

"Why?" Dents flicked Murdoc's hands away and kept on scowling.

"I have to talk to her-"

"Why?"

"I have to ask her-"

"What?"

"I just need to say- Say that-"

"What do you need to say to her?" Dents tone was dripping disdain.

"I don't fuckin know, faceache! But I need to tell her- I need her to-! Fuck!" Murdoc grasped uselessly at the air for the right words.

"Muds," Stu said staring at the panicking man with dead eyes. "You are an idiot."

And then he told Murdoc exactly when and where your flight was anyway.

Two hours and an 'unexpectedly borrowed' uniform later, Murdoc had used his very real pilot's license for the first time in his long life just to get into a building, and regretted nothing. Well, it was a bit of a shame mine wasn't going to steal a plane or something, but still. It turned out the old trick of 'look like you have all day to faff about and act bored' got one through security now as well as it ever had, and Murdoc and his carry on bag (Russell's gym bag: it had been in the man's car when Murdoc 'unexpectedly borrowed' it, and Murdoc needed it to sell his story of pilot leaving the country) and Murdoc was now nearly running across the concourse to catch you.

At first he thought he'd missed the chance, but no, there you were behind a potted fern, just standing up from fiddling with your luggage. Murdoc ripped the stupid hat from his head and threw it into a potted plant while trying to catch his breath, then called your name.

"Muds?" You sounded confused. "Did you- How did- Don't you need a ticket to get back here?"

"I'm a pilot," he was a little winded, but managed to stay upright without passing the hell out.

"God shelter and preserve us," you said dryly. "I have to go Muds, they're calling for boarding."

"Hey, uhm, listen-"

"Can it wait Muds? I'm glad to see you and all, but I'm on a schedule."

"Yeah, that's it though, I was hoping we could talk? Can you catch a later flight?" He hoped that if you said yes he would at least have time to figure out what the fuck he wanted to say.

"No, I really can't."

"Just a minute-"

"Now's not a great time," you were already turning away, hand on your suitcase.

"Wait, you have to-" Murdoc grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

You froze, glanced down at his hand, then very slowly tracked up his arm to his face.

"Murdoc," you hissed.

He snatched his hand back like you were a live wire and stuttered out an apology.

"What did you want?" You sounded more tired than angry.

"It's hard to explain."

"Muds, I have three minutes, you are being an utter ass, and I am so tired-"

He wanted to apologize, and tell you to have a good trip. He wanted to tell you that he'd come to tell you to be safe, and then wanted to go home and call everyone in his phone book and spend three weeks flirting with anyone who returned his calls until he'd fucked and drunk you out of his system. He wanted to pick up the most beautiful woman in the airport bar and make her forget her name. He wanted to, wanted so bad, to say that it was nothing.

"I think I'm in love with you," was what he said instead.

"What?" You blinked.

"I thought you should know."

The overhead PA rang out with a last call for your flight. You stared at him, and Murdoc just focused on not running away.

"You are so fuckin selfish," you said.

He wanted to deny it, but instead what came out was an eye roll and, "Hello, yes, Murdoc Niccals, we have met haven't we?"

You were unamused.

"Listen, love: I just- I d-didn't want you to go without-" he paused and you stared at him.

"You don't want me to go at all," you said, sounding unimpressed. "You don't want me to go, and some small part of you was hoping that telling me would make me want to stay. I have to go Muds, now. Right now. I'll, I mean. I'll call you, okay? I'll call you."

"Wait," he said, hands out, stepping forward, feeling useless.

"I literally can't, you idiot! The plane is boarding right fucking now!" you threw your hands in the air, obviously frustrated.

"Love, please-" he'd stepped closer, and you let him, you met him by a step, but you were so mad, so visibly furious. He fluttered his hands uselessly.

"God you're an asshole," you whispered, then reached forward, fingers brushing over his cheekbones to hold him still while you pressed the briefest kiss to his lips before pulling back to reach down and once more shouldering your bags. "Seriously, I'm going to kick your ass when I get home."

"Okay," Murdoc nodded.

"So hard."

"Awright."

And then you were gone.

"Now you are dating," Noodle said, appearing unexpectedly at his elbow and slurping loudly on a soda.

He flinched. "How the fuck are you here?"

"You think you are the only one who can fly a plane? Psh," Noodle shrugged. "I thought you might need help. Or to be retrieved from Airport Security."

"She left."

"I see that."

"She kissed me."

"I also saw that," Noodle grimaced. She elbowed Murdoc gently, and when he didn't move beyond watching the empty gate, steered him to a window.

Your plane was taxiing away. He found his hands pressed to the glass, unsure if you could see him and unable to see you at all.

"She will come back to kick your ass," Noodle said. He nodded mutely, but she want on to clarify, "That is not a false platitude, she is too violent not to. You are very punchable as well."

He snorted a laugh that wasn't even that sad, and eventually let Noodle lead him away and back to Kong.

The next day was just like any other. He woke up late, but upon finding Dents still asleep he gleefully threw full cans of energy drink into the man's bed until the singer got up shouting.

Downstairs Noodle and Russ were already missing, and Murdoc considered when exactly he would begin drinking: before a cup of tea, or after. Or with?

"Shit," Dents was stood on the stairwell.

"What."

"I forgot I have an appointment in like an hour, and my sister was gonna drive me."

Murdoc stared at the kettle that was just beginning to boil, thought about his grand plan of getting blitzed and locking himself in the sound booth until he wasn't sad any longer, then stood.

"Fucking- Right. Okay. If you can just not talk the whole way there, I'll drive."

"Really?" Dents looked pleased and surprised and already exhausting.

"Starting now," Murdoc said, plucking keys from the rack at random.

After standing in the garage clicking the fob a few times, it turned out that they were borrowing Noodle's car, and it ALSO turned out that Dents could only make it a mile without yammering on. Noodle had left the second Crystal Castles album in her CD player, so Murdoc was easily able to drown the other man out, though 2D was still smiling annoyingly by the time they parked.

"Oh, right, can you hang onto my phone and wallet and stuff? I fink I gotta change clothes for the MRI bit and I dun wanna lose em."

"Fucking hell," Murdoc said, watching Dents unload his pockets into the glove compartment like he was a magician pulling infinite bandannas from a sleeve.

After the singer left, Murdoc sat in the car, unable to resist going through Dents shit. He had no cash in his wallet, a shame, but a several punchcards from the local record shop that were completed. Murdoc nicked those, free records were always a win. A similar disappointment, the man's phone was locked. Murdoc spent a few minutes trying to guess the password before it rang with a private number.

Murdoc grinned.

"Wet Jimmy's gourmet assmeats, home of the-" He began.

"Muds?"

"Oh," Shit, it was you. "Yeah?"

"I called Stu?"

"I'm babysitting his phone while he's at the docs."

"You took him to the doctor?"

"Yeah."

"It's entirely-"

"To impress upon you that I, uh. That. To impress you, yeah."

"Alright, more self awareness, this is. Weird. Okay, well I have to go, I just wanted to be sure Stu remembered his appointment but. I guess-"

"To be fair he remembered fine on his own. I'm just the ride," why the fuck had he said that?

"That's seriously so great to hear. Okay, I really have to-"

"Yeah," he wanted to say it so badly, or to hear you say it first, or-

You were quiet for a long moment, "We should talk. I'll call you tonight?"

"Yeah."

"When would be-"

"Anytime," fuck that sounded desperate, didn't it? "I be free anytime tonight. I'll even be sober."

"Really now," he could hear your smile.

"I know there's a time difference, and don't quite known when evening is for you, so keep in mind that by promising to be sober I'm essentially saying I'll be boring and responsible for a whole 24 hours."

"Am I meant to be impressed?"

"Are you not?"

"No, I absolutely am- I am totally. Okay,I have to go. Good morning Muds."

When Dents came back to the car his phone and wallet were still in the glovebox, and he shoved both back into his pockets awkwardly while already seated in the car.

"Thanks for waiting, Muds. I'll buy you lunch?"

"I'm not hungry," Murdoc growled, and peeled out of the parking lot, testing the upper limits on Noodle's speakers the whole way back to the studio.

You actually did call him back that night, which surprised him to no end. He'd been sitting in the dark, alone, fiddling with a pool ball that had somehow made it's way to the floor.

"Hey, I wanted to. To talk, I guess." You sounded tired.

"Yeah," he said. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just. Long day. Long few days."

"I didn't make them any easier, did I? Sorry for that."

"No. I mean, yeah, not easier, but… Thank you for apologizing."

"And I didn't mean to grab your wrist. You seemed…"

"Fucking pissed?"

"Yeah. I apologize. Wasn't thinking. Was an ass. Won't happen again."

"Good. And listen, I do want to talk about that thing. What happened after, uhm-"

"You kissing me?"

"Oh, that's the important bit? Really?"

He struggled to keep the amusement from his voice, "Felt pretty important to me."

"It did," you didn't sound incredulous, but maybe surprised. "I mean what you said last week in the kitchen."

"Ah."

Murdoc picked his nails and juggled the phone and realized he was trying to act casual when you couldn't even see him. He didn't know what to say, or how to say it, and felt like a gasping fish. He wanted to come off as charming, he wanted to be smooth as a snake, he wanted to have you moaning into the phone, but all that felt so disingenuous.

"Hey, I can hear you overthinking."

That broke through his glazed brain, "All the way from there?"

"I have a rule. New rule. Remember how I said you were my best friend?"

"Yeah," he nodded without thinking.

"Being friends comes before anything else, okay?" You exhaled shakily, and he felt himself grip the phone too tightly. He transferred his frustration to the pool ball instead as you went on, "I mean, I don't want to lose you as a friend. I don't. Finding Stu has been amazing, and I think we're way better friends than most siblings get a chance to be. But I also really value the time I've spent with… With you. I don't want to lose that."

"Normally that's the speech you given when you're turning a bloke down, but-"

"I'm not. I think, listen. I think we should talk more when I see you again."

"When will that be?" He tried not to let the frustration into his tone.

"I don't know."

"So we can't talk about this now, but we have rules about it?" The frustration had leaked through.

You were silent for a long moment, then, "Muds, I don't want to fight."

Murdoc released his vice like grip on the pool ball and exhaled, "We've never fought."

"No." You sounded relieved.

"Friends first, hmm?"

"Yeah," you agreed.

"Alright. As your friend," he let the word drip revulsion but went on, "I have to advise that you take care of your family, and ignore any selfish bastards vying for your attention."

"Okay."

"And take care of yourself."

"Yeah."

"I want you to know it is causing my physical discomfort to be this mature and altruistic."

Your chuckle was still halfhearted, but it was something.

"Goodnight Muds."

Four days later, Murdoc decided that couldn't stomach drinking at home alone one more day, so he was going to go do it in public at bar with a live band.

It wasn't really late yet, but with the live music over Murdoc felt out of place and like he was being observed. He tried to blend in at two other bars near the river, but no decrease in paranoia could be found at either, and now was slowly winding his way home through misty streets and wondering if maybe he was being followed by some shady cartel.

You phoned him when he was passing a particularly dark park, and he leaned against the fence to answer, only realizing he was very drunk when it took several tries to press the "accept" button on the cracked screen.

"Hello doll."

"Hey Muds. How's your night?"

"I am absolutely pissed."

"You sound it. I was going to asking you wanted to go on a late night shop run with me and catch up, but I'm guessing you're too far gone."

"Oh, oh, yes. Verrrry likely too far. Also not at home."

"Still out?"

"Walking back," he said, and resumed doing just that.

"Need a lift?"

"Nah."

"Well, have fun."

"Wait," Murdoc thought something, then had to catch the thought, and the act of catching it felt like hard labor. "Wait. A shop run?"

"Yeah."

"You're in London?!"

You sounded far too amused, "Yeah?"

"Early?"

"Obviously."

"Changed my mind, you should absolutely come get me. I need a ride- er, a- a lift," he stuttered at the innuendo.

You laughed, "Kinky. And okay."

Fifteen minutes and three dropped pins sent via text later you found him in a park, unsuccessfully trying to lure a stray cat closer with some laurel leaves.

"Oh my god, what the hell Muds?"

"Well he turned up his nose when I offered crisps."

"Do you even like cats?"

"Nah, but j-just look at em! He's huge, absolutely a monster, could maul a horse!" Murdoc sat back on his heels. You made some sort of soft noise and the cat approached you, which seemed like magic to Murdoc, “What, how? What did you do just there?”

“I made a ‘pstpstpst’ noise?”

“And that just worked?”

You didn’t answer, just let the cat sniff your fingers for a moment before gently scratching behind his ears. Murdoc edged closer, which the cat allowed, but was only permitted to lightly touch the cat’s shoulders before being scratched.

“We should get you home,” you said, watching the way Murdoc stared at his now bloody hand before wiping it off on his jeans as the cat meandered into the darkness.

“No, hey, shop run! I just gave away all my crisps after all."

"Okay, but we're just getting snacks," you said. "Not liquor."

Thirty minutes later you were sitting on the roof of Kong with Murdoc, eating pretzels and watching the sky. You'd just settled with your legal stretched out on the gritty slate of the roof, leaning against the ledge that ran like a battlement around the roof, when you heard the distinctive hiss of a can of beer being opened.

Murdoc looked up in time to see your glare.

"What? It's not liquor, it's cider. Hardly even counts, really. 'S like soda."

"I had been hoping to sober you up to talk," you flicked a pretzel at him.

"I had been hoping to stay smashed, to be frank, so as to minimize the effects of the Conversation, as it were."

"Minimize?"

"Mh," Murdoc sipped his drink, tried to find the words. "Charming and dashing as I may well be, and I know I am, no need to feed my ego, love. Charming and dashing as m-may be, I am aware I have some minor, tiny really, insignificant but- alright some not insignificant character flaws. Mostly around being too much of a badass jet setting rrrockstar to have any kind of stability, b-but regardless…"

You waited.

Fuck, he was really doing this now? Pissed? I mean, it sort of proved his point didn't it, "Sort of proves my point, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Can barely talk about this sober, real catch of a gent having to do it drunk." Murdoc waved a hand when you looked about to speak, "Nah, okay, let me just- Okay. I'm in love with you. I don't have much to offer in the way of, uhm, what Russ would call emotional maturity I guess? Or really anything except being dead sexy and fabulously wealthy. And really there are lots of folks for whom that'd be enough, but you're not one of them, so I get it if- Anyway. I think you ought to let me take you out, on just like. A series of extravagant dates. You should."

You made a hand gesture he didn't recognize at first, hand tipping side to side, "Okay, but what if I don't like extravagant?"

That wasn't a 'no.'

"Uh, well. Uh, okay, what about a less extravagant but still incredibly romantic night in?"

"Mh, not sure," you didn't sound like that was a 'no' so he had to just ask.

"Well what's your ideal date then, Ms Hard-To-Please?"

"Sitting on a roof drinking and talking." You moved closer, until your legs were touching from hip to knee.

"Oh," Murdoc finished his cider and set the can aside. He hefted the remainder of the package and offered it to you, "Care for a date?"

You laughed, detached a can, and popped the tab. "Absolutely, yes please."

"So how was your family?" he asked.

Which led to you explaining family drama and nonsense until you were just sad and frustrated. He didn't know what to do, so he settled for ineffectually patting your knee. You chugged half the beer after that, then burped with wide eyes, which caused Murdoc to laugh with a snort, which made you laugh, and you both elbowed each other, until you were a tangle or arms and smiles. He threw an arm over your shoulder and was pleased when you leaned into his chest. It was a nice tonal shift after the doom and gloom of family drama, but was that all he could offer, just something different? A distraction?

Murdoc had only just begun to overthink things when you poked him in the ribs, "What'cha thinking?" He was about to shake his head, tell you it was nothing, when you picked up his hand in both of yours, slipped your fingers over his knuckles as you had before, "Hey, this is a date: you basically have to tell me. You owe me, like, awkward conversation and weird trains of thought and at least one instance of embarrassment."

"Fair. Okay, I was uhm. Thinkin that I haven't really dated in a long time. Like, been on multiple dates, with the same person," he glanced over. "Ya know."

"Yeah, it's been a bit for me too."

"What if we're really bad at it?"

"We'll just have to rely on our friendship to support the bulk of our relationship?"

"Ooh, smart: knew I liked you for a reason."

"So you like smart girls, noted."

"Apparently. I thought I just liked D cupssss…" he trailed off, eyes wide, glanced at you.

You were laughing as you pulled out from under his arm and stood, "And you have provided the instance of embarrassment, date successful! Now I'm absolutely putting you to bed."

"Kinky," Murdoc replied, then took a second look at you as you helped him stand. "Unless that was actually meant to be innuendo, in which case you should, uh, give me a moment to think of something more suave and less flippant to say."

"To sleep! You're too drunk to fuck," you seemed a little flushed as you allowed him to swing an arm over your shoulder, ostensibly to help him balance.

"I promise you, I'm not," Murdoc couldn't help but grin, all teeth and probably a little shark-like, at your blush. After a moment he let it go, "But it is the first date, you're not that kinda girl, I get it."

The two of you staggered back to his room (him holding two water bottles you insisted upon retrieving from the kitchen) when you paused at the door.

He let himself into the room, then turned to lean in the doorway, "You headed home? It's only past eleven."

You paused, "No, I had a few too many ciders. I'm gonna go sleep on the sofa for now."

"You could, uh, you could stay here," Murdoc wasn't sure if he did or didn't want to make eye contact as he said it since he wasn't sure if he'd leer or not. He stood up straighter and settled on looking at your lips.

"Not tonight," you said. "First date and all."

"Right, right."

"Goodnight Muds," you hesitated.

"Night love."

He didn't see the kiss coming, somehow, though he realized after a moment that he had closed his eyes and was kissing you back. The lack of real forewarning meant that his hardwired instincts to pin you to the wall and snog you senseless did almost kick in, his body wanting to use all the easy and simple tricks to drive you crazy, drive you right into his bed-

A minute later you indeed had your back against the doorframe, moved by surprisingly gentle arms, and your fingers had tangled themselves into Murdoc's hair. He had slipped a hand behind the small of your back at some point, brushing your chests together, and you moaned against his lips, only allowing him to make the kiss deeper, sloppier, more desperate. Your hands had slipped under his shirt, nails scratching harmlessly up his back but teasing and delicious all the same.

Murdoc slowed gradually, pulled your bodies a few excruciating inches apart while he buried his face behind your ear, trying not to sweet talk you into his room. You felt your own face go crimson as you realized how easily you had gone from a kiss to a frenzied makeout.

"Oh," you said weakly.

Murdoc chuckled, breath warm on your skin, "Yeah."

You laughed too, hands on his hips, steadying you both now, "In case you were worried we wouldn't have chemistry, well, that's not a problem."

"Oh I never thought it might be," Murdoc leaned back and tipped your chin up with a finger to take the sight of you in, lips swollen from his kisses, hair wild from his hands, pupils wide with arousal that he caused. "I am going to get addicted to that view." He nodded.

You grinned and brushed your lips against his once, twice, trailed along his jaw, then slipped away. He stood once more in the open doorway, watching as you straightened your clothing.

"Sleep well," Murdoc grinned. "Sweet dreams."

You flipped him off but he was sure you were smiling.

At 3am Murdoc woke without a hangover and dragged himself into the kitchenette for more water. He mistook vagie sounds of movement in the living room for Ace until he saw you from the corner of his eye, lying along the sofa with skin illuminated by the window before you. Murdoc glanced from you to the counter to the door to his water, all with wide eyes, trying to determine what to do about this situation. You were just there, scant feet away, in a shorter tank top than he thought you had on last night, wearing a pair of shorts he did recognize as having been Stu's at one point.

Ah, you'd borrowed some clothing. It wasn't very much clothing, the strip of skin below the tattered top was absolutely mouthwatering. To be fair he wasn't wearing very much either but was probably far less delicious looking.

"Muds?" You were blinking, pulling yourself to sit on the arm of the sofa itself, feet brushing the floor. He padded closer.

"Yeah," Murdoc realized his voice was rough with sleep despite the quickly downed glass of water, and considered trying the word again, only somehow he was now standing beside the couch, so close to you. It was hard to see your face in the dark, hard to read your expression, but your posture had something reserved behind it. He leaned closer, tipped your chin up gently, "You alright?"

"I'm great," you said, and for a moment he thought you sounded shakey, but no, you sounded breathy. "It's tomorrow now."

"Sure is."

"New day."

"Correct."

You twisted until you were kneeling precariously on the sofa's arm, leaving you just a little below his eye level, and said, "So it's not our first date."

Your sleep shirt was so thin, the material wanted to snag on his fingertips when he traced the shape of you shoulders with a feather light touch. You arched your back, and he wanted to kiss you, leave you senseless and overwhelmed, but he also felt like doubting his instincts had served him pretty well with you. You weren't a quick catch, and the things that got women into his bed didn't tend to keep them there.

"It's the witching hour," he said, and let you pull him closer. "Almost doesn't count as a part of today or yesterday."

"Yeah?" Your hands were not feather light on his spine.

"Like a leap day. Like a gap year. Like a-"

"Murdoc, shut up," you smiled, let him nod before you kissed him.

After a moment he pulled back, spoke against your lips, "I was about to tell you that I'm starting to overthink this again, and was starting to wonder if this is just a plain old kiss but…"

"But?"

"But then I realized it was an invitation, wasn't it?" He waited a beat for you to protest, and when you didn't he grinned and gently toppled you back onto the sofa, crawling over the arm of the couch after you just moments later, watching your face go from the surprise of the fall to a grin that matched his.

It would have been predictable to pin you down, grind into you, kiss you madly, but he had been thinking about that line of skin below your shirt since he saw it. After crawling only halfway up the length of you he stopped, hiking that shirt up to press kisses along your hips, nipping at your sides, trailing his tongue slowly up along with his fingers, from belly button to the bottom of your ribs.

Your hands suddenly pulled him higher, legs akimbo to make room for his body, as you kissed him fiercely once then held him by the shoulders.

"I want-" you paused and tensed.

He stared, waiting for a moment, then couldn't contain it, "Please, by everything dark and holy, finish that fucking sentence, love."

You laughed, relaxed. "I want you, but not on a sofa?"

"Oh thank fuck," Murdoc rolled off you, off the sofa, then scrambled to his feet to pull you upright. "Come on."

He didn't let go of your hand until the door to his room, then let go abruptly as he opened the door, stepped in and to the side. If you wanted to change your mind, now was an obvious time, and he was trying so fuckin hard to be on his best behavior, not to fuck up by being too pushy or desperate (but god he felt drowningly desperate).

He hadn't considered what you saw, what your view was. He was trying his hardest, he was, but he'd accepted the bizarre and outré years ago when he'd taken the first steps that would lead to Gorillaz. He'd never had a banal life before this, had never considered any other life than this.

And what you saw, what you now had to consider, was a black doorway into a black void of a room, and Murdoc standing like a smiling gargoyle, inviting you to fall.

You didn't often ponder good and evil or light and dark or sin and virtue, not since finding Stu and meeting the band and befriending Muds. You knew abstractly that Murdoc had been violent, vile, occasionally sexist, and that he felt no guilt about those things. True, he had never been any of those things to you personally, but even Stu's most candy-coated versions of the band's history painted a disjointed and dysfunctional image of drug use and self absorption from some or all of the members. But that wasn't exactly something that you cared about one way or the other, everyone had a past, everyone had a series of persons they had been before today, god knows you had. Murdoc certainly had.

And Murdoc now stood literally beckoning from the dark, both wild and caring, jagged angles and open palm, the softest sin hiding nothing and without disguise. Didn't they say that darkness would disguise itself, that it would come with a beautiful face? Wasn't that what those people, those others who cared about goodness, wasn't that what they feared, a trick? Maybe this dark room was a fall, was a mistake or a sin or a poison.

You decided in that moment that you didn't care about the dark, you weren't going there anyway, that wasn't the goal. You were going to Murdoc instead, any place he was with open arms was a place you wanted to be.

And so you stepped forward, not really entering the room inasmuch as pursuing him, chasing soft kisses from his lips, palms on his face, pressing into him until he had to swing the door shut behind you just to ensure he had both hands for all the skin he absolutely must touch, now, immediately.

It was delicious, kissing you backward to the bed, lips on your jaw and throat, hands pulling your shirt up and off entirely so that he could palm your breasts greedily. The room was dark, pitchy and blind, so when the two of you tripped and tumbled onto the bed it was surprising.

"Hold on," Murdoc mumbled, then peeled himself away to find a light, realized he'd broken the main bulb ages ago and never fixed it, then stumbled for his phone, couldn't find it, and ended by finally grabbing his lighter and flicking it on.

By even just the light of a single flame you looked like perfection spread out on his sheets. He forgot that the lighter above his head was a open flame and promptly burned himself, throwing the room into darkness.

"Shit, fuck, come on," after a moment he had the lighter back, then a few candles lit, half illuminating the room, throwing dancing shadows. He cringed, hoping the fact that the lights revealed a variety of posters, knives, and skulls wouldn't send you running. Hell, the candles were mostly in a half circle on an altar, there was a non-zero chance that would trigger some questions from you.

When he looked, though, you were laughing, eyes only for him, arms open, wearing nothing but very short shorts.

"Where was I?" He grinned as he resumed his position over your hips, pressing his lips to the round of your stomach, nipping the side of your waist, open kisses along the curve of your ribs before licking up and up a breast to suck a mark beside your nipple.

You writhed slightly under the fleeting pain of that, and Murdoc instinctively held you still, pinned you by a wrist and elbow with his own hands, lowered his weight down, and the movement left him straddling one of your legs. Just when his brain realized that you might not appreciate being restrained, that you'd never actually agreed to this, you let out a lewd moan and writhed slightly, grinding against him, pressing up and into his mouth.

He drew his mouth from your skin with a pop, licked the newly red mark, and glanced up to your face, your eyes fluttering shut, lip bitten.

"Like that did you?" He asked, shifting up, bringing your hips together in a slow delicious promise of later actions. He had to know, had to clarify some basic preferences, but could hear that his voice was dark when he asked, "Was it the pain? Or was it the restraint?"

You looked up at him, lip still bitten, and when you didn't answer he made a tsking noise.

"Now now, love, you have to say it."

"Both," you admitted, smiling.

"Good girl," he knew he had a crooked smile, knew he probably looked predatory and unhinged, but your pupils widened slightly as you grinned back, your gaze flitted to his mouth. Hell, when he glanced down your breasts were even perked up, blooming mark and all.

And on that note, Murdoc shifted and used one hand to hold both your wrists about your head, then spent several more minutes leaving bruises and bite marks along your chest, eventually straddling both your thighs as you squirmed below him. Between breathless moans and litanies of his name you were giving excellent feedback, little gasps of 'higher' and 'harder' and 'teeth'. The last one he'd thought was an admonishment for biting, but when he muttered an apology you shook your head.

"No, more!"

And really who was he to deny you anything you ever wanted?

After a few minutes you were an absolute mess, though he was panting just as hard as you, fast gasps in time to his movements. Murdoc paused, lifted each of your hands, pressed his lips to the crook of your elbows, the inside of your wrists, you palms. Hands now free, you used the opportunity to caress his jaw, run a fingertip along his lower lip, then when he opened his mouth to breathe pressed the pad of that finger gently against the curl of his tongue.

And that was absolutely something he was going to explore later, but for now he tongued between your fingers once, then pressed your hands to the bed above you before releasing your wrists.

While you were lying still (probably still processing just what his tongue had done wrapped around your finger) Murdoc quickly kissed down your body and along the skin just above the waistband of those damn shorts. He was just considering asking, saying something, when you reached down to hook your fingers under that waistband.

"Here, let me just get these right out of the way," you sounded amused.

After the first inch Murdoc swatted your hands away, "Fucks sake, let me open my own present, yeah?"

You laughed, and he pressed lips to your hips as he peeled your shorts and underwear off in one drag of his arm. Clothing flung into the dark, Murdoc brought his hand back to wrap behind your knee, bending your leg up and out, making room for him to kiss gently down the soft crease of your inner thigh. Your hand carded through his hair, and he took that as permission, throwing your other leg over his shoulder and licking into your folds hungrily, fingers pumping shallowly into your core. You shuddered, and the shiver in your thighs only drove him further. With one hand on your mons he held you down, using the side of his thumb to roll tight circles on your clit, and moved his other hand out of the way for now to instead prove the usefulness of his tongue with sloppy abandon.

After not nearly long enough you tapped his shoulder, "Stop, stop." You had sounded like you'd been more than enjoying yourself, but hadn't come, and Murdoc paused, sat up, wiped his face on the back of his hand, grinned at you. The hand on your clit slipped lower, two fingers massaging at you folds, thrusting slowly into you after a moment.

"What, did you have feedback? Constructive criticism?"

"No, I just know I won't be able to come from just that," you said.

You sat up as well, meeting him in the middle to kiss him, licking into his mouth and slanting his jaw with a grip on the hair at the back of his head. His fingers slipped further into you, pumping twice before you tugged him by the hair gently. Murdoc moaned into your mouth, again that was something the two of you would need to revisit later and in depth, but then you were pulling his hand from between your legs with a grip around his wrist, and slipping his still wet fingers into your mouth. You held him still by the hair as you licked and sucked every trace of yourself from his fingers, leaving them shiny with spit, and your grip on his hair ensured he could only watch from scant inches away.

After you had finished, tracing the dip of your tongue with a last digit, you turned to face him, lips wet.

Murdoc whined, and you smiled and kissed him, tasting like bliss. As the kiss intensified your grip on his hair gentled, arms eventually sliding around his neck as you shifted and straddled his lap. His hands slid up thighs to hips, until he could get a grip on you, roll his own hips gently upward, and you caught his lower lip in a tug of teeth at the sensation, leaving him with a spark of pain that he savored.

"Oh, fuck, Murdoc," you sounded delirious. "Do, uh, do you have protection?"

He managed to keep you where you were while flopping onto his back and dragging a pack of condoms from beside the bed, then sat back up into your arms, shaking the box like a prize.

You laughed while rolling off of him, helping him shimmy out of his clothing, and ended up kneeling just before Murdoc, fingers dragging up his thighs. It was a really lovely sight, you smiling, and Murdoc realized slowly that this wasn't the frenzied rush he'd expected, wasn't a desperate race to an orgasmic high, and that was a little uncommon. It wasn't that all the sex had had in recent memory had been a frenzy of passion, now that he thought about it the probability seemed higher that all the sex he'd had recently had been with people whom he didn't really desperately want to see smiling. And you had a pretty satisfying smile.

"Lovely," he mused, caressing your cheek gently.

You leaned into his hand for a moment, then bent your head on to kiss a trail up his thigh, to then shoulder his knees apart, palming his cock and pumping it several times before licking curving lines up and around his length. Murdoc found his hands in your hair, and when you slid him into your mouth, bobbing up and down as you coated him with spit, he found his grip tighten. You paused, and he let go.

"Sorry love," he said as you sat up, climbed up him to once more straddle his lap.

"No, you're fine, it was just unexpected. But if you're going to hold me down and fuck my mouth, it'd be easier flat on my back," you said this easily like it wasn't the filthiest and hottest thing you had ever said to him, and then were opening a condom. "And right now I want you inside me."

Murdoc suppressed a gleeful cackle so that it was just normal sane sounding laughter (at least he hoped it was) and leaned back to pluck the condom from your fingers and roll it on.

The moment his hands were free you took advantage and pressed a palm to his chest until he was flat on his back. You had lifted up on your knees, reached down to find the right angle, and sank onto his length before Murdoc was able to even get a good grip on your hips.

"Fuck," he hissed.

"Too fast?" You paused.

"Yes, but don't stop on my account."

You rolled your hips, your face relaxing, eyelids closing as you found a rhythm to your motions. You were setting a faster pace than he had expected, leaving all of your best parts bouncing beautifully, and Murdoc spent long minutes running hands all over you appreciatively. Eventually his thumb found your clit again, rolling circles in time to your movements.

"I want you to come for me, can you come like this?" He asked, grinning up, and you nodded, still moving above him.

“Fuck,” you sighed, kept your hands spread wide on his chest for support.

Below you Murdoc was rapt, eyes darting all over, taking you in and trying to thrust up into you, to meet your motions with his own. You gave him a burning gaze through your lashes and smiled, then leaned back to palm our own breasts. His focus was shaky at best, trying to keep one thumb rolling tight circles, keep the other hand from bruising you with his grip, keep his upward motions timed to yours, and now you were putting on a show.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked.

“Careful now, dear, or I’ll think you’re being a tease,” Murdoc punctuated the last word with a snap of his hips.

“And what if I am? What on earth will you do about it?”

He pulled you down to his chest with a growl, lifting his knees to push your hips forward, drive deeply into you, then stilled and kissed you roughly.

When you were whimpering into his mouth and writhing he asked, “Can you come like this, on top of me?”

“Not sure,” you panted, but ground down anyway, as though you wanted to try either way.

“I want to watch you come apart, love,” he purred. “Do you think if I flipped you over, held you down, and fucked you into the mattress while you rubbed your clit, do you think you could come for me then? That you could be good for me, show me how you fall apart?”

You nodded furiously, and he smiled.

“Good,” he said, and rolled you both over, kept rolling you until you were facedown.

When you tried to get hands and knees under you, tried to get onto all fours, Murdoc placed one hand between your shoulder blades and pushed, leaving you ass in the air. Your skin was smeared wet aong your sex and thighs, and he used his free hand to touch you, press fingers into you, and when you bucked backward, to fuck you roughly. He left open kisses up your back, the hand on your shoulders applying light pressure anytime you moved too much for his liking. You writhed under him when he nipped at your skin, and the needy noises you made had him suddenly withdrawing his fingers from within you and instead sliding his length slowly in.

“Oh my god,” you were muffled by the mattress.

“Am I?” he joked, but you were almost too far gone to understand or joke back. He squeezed your hip gently with his still-slick fingers and reminded you, “Touch yourself, love.”

You shifted, his hand on your shoulders light enough for you to shift them as you slipped a hand between your own thighs, and he felt you run curious fingers along your folds, tracing around the skin where his cock was pressed deep into you. You moaned something unintelligible and he smirked and snapped his hips into yours, beginning a harsh pace until you were close, legs shaking, rubbing at your clit in time to his motions. He dragged his nails gently across your back, watching the gleam of a light sheen of sweat on that skin glimmer in the candlelight.

Murdoc felt far too close, worried he wouldn't last, and so leaned forward to curl around your back, and moved the hand on your shoulders to fist in your hair again, pulling your head back and whispering in your ear.

"Come for me, love," he crooned, and when you whimpered he slammed into you roughly and repeated himself in a growl. "I said come."

And you cried out and, swore, and were suddenly a shuddering mess beneath him and he felt his own orgasm roll through him and leave him gasping and thrusting into you, and trying not to collapse.

If felt like an eternity later when he looked over, still half breathless, and caught your eye, saw your blissful exhausted smile.

"You alright?" He asked.

You just nodded, then flopped closer to him, threw an arm over his chest. After a moment he slowly heaved himself up to deal with the condom.

"Ugh," you made a very put out noise. "I have to put clothing on to go to the bathroom."

"En suite," Murdoc pointed to the bathroom. "Just uh. Do me a favor and assume that the stains in the bathtub are rust."

"Are they?" You asked.

"I mean, they're oxidized iron, so yes." He started pinching out the remaining candles with callused fingertips. After a few minutes he was down to one votive candle by the bedside, was sitting on the edge of the mattress, and you emerged from the darkness drawn like a moth. The scant light still caught on the shine in your hair, the whites of your eyes and smile.

"Hello," you said.

You had padded up silently, a goddess or demon of the dark, naked and apparently unabashed, and stood before him unselfconsciously. Murdoc opened his mouth, maybe to say something back, but your hand reached out, brushed his cheek, and your affection felt like some awful burning benediction he'd never asked for. You leaned down and pressed an open kiss to his parted lips lazily, and when he pulled you into bed you came with soft touches and sighs.

"Stay," was all he could say, letting you wrap arms around him, tangle your legs together.

You nodded into the hollow of his shoulder lazily and that was the last thing Murdoc knew until dawn.

Two things became immediately apparent to Murdoc at about eight in the morning. The first was that the blackout curtains he had nailed up had apparently come down at some point, and the second was that you were a fairly deep sleeper. Well, if not a deep sleeper, then he had simply worn you out, and that was a very satisfying conclusion as well.

Luckily for both of you the window in this room was west-facing, and so while it was brighter than it had any right to be, the sun wouldn't actually be poking its head in anytime soon. The two of you had shifted several times throughout the night, but had become less entangled so it only took removing his hand from over your chest to get free. Murdoc rose as quietly as he could manage, but watched you stir all the same. You settled after a moment, but he leaned in, pressing a kiss just in front of your ear.

The kitchenette was predictably empty, and Murdoc rushed through making two mugs of tea, fighting the warring desires of wanting to wake you with something lovely and wanting to be back in bed with you already.

When he returned you were tugging back on the sleep clothing that he'd flung away from you last night, and he may have panicked a little.

"Hey, no, there's tea, get back in bed. Being conscious is strictly forbidden, absolutely not, lay down," he tried not to gesture with said tea for fear of scalding someone.

You crawled back into the bed, looked around in confusion for a moment, and then leaned over the edge to heave up a pair of wayward blankets from the ground. You spent several minutes trying to shove and punch the mess into a pile, which you then leaned into so you could sit upright and make grabbing motions toward the tea. Murdoc handed it over without comment, as you didn't seem quite up for words just yet, and you held your cup steady as he climbed in next to you. You managed to once more shove and wiggle your way over, and made it under Murdoc's arm while he tried not to spill tea. He sipped at his cup while you spent several breaths with your face buried in his neck, then you finally sat up enough to take a sip of your own mug.

"S too sweet," you finally said after considering that one mouthful.

"Oh. Thought something was off," he switched cups with you.

"Was that just syrup?" you asked.

"Ooh, that really stings, that mockery from a woman with a cat in a gimp mask on her shirt."

"Noodle loaned me some clothes last time I couch surfed." A few minutes later you turned your face up to look at him and paused, considered, "I want to see you again soon. Are you free tonight?"

"I'm free right now."

"I have to clean the flat, have errands to run-" you began.

"Let it wait another day."

"I have to clean," you said halfheartedly.

"You're back early, right? What, four days?" He thought there was a good chance you'd tell him to get bent, but still. He wanted to try, wanted terribly to try, which felt bizarre.

"Yeah." You were still holding your tea, not drinking it.

"Go on holiday with me. Pretend you're not home. Do you have any engagements?"

"No…"

"So great, you're not needed here: let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Up the coast, Bali, California. Not, er, Mexico though. Or Chile or Peru. Ibeza should probably wait a year or two as well…"

You laughed as he trailed off.

"Anywhere not those places though?"

"In the whole world," Murdoc set his cup on the dresser, and instead trailed his hand along your outer thigh where those sleep shorts ridden up, glancing between your leg eyes in an attempt to read your mood. He wondered if you could hear his heart, pressed against his chest that way.

"Okay," you nodded, eyes locked on his. "Okay, yes. Yeah."