Mistakes Like This (2D x Murdoc)

2

***

2D, still very much unsure of his choice, gave a barely visible nod to his drunk band mate. A small smirk appeared on Murdoc's face at the singer's compliance.

Not long afterwards, with his arm still draped around 2D's shoulders, he stumbled towards his mobile home, using Stuart as his crutch.

The minute they reach the Winnebago, the bluenette let out a shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. At this point, he really hoped that whatever Murdoc had would really let him sleep. Stuart was so shaken by their current situation, he'd need it. It seemed like a good idea at first when the Satanist offered it to him; but all he wanted to do now was get in, get out, and hope to whatever god was out there that Murdoc didn't remember a thing in the morning.

Once the bassist fumbled his door open, he lead them both over to his dining area where he took a seat and invited 2D to as well.

After dodging dirty thongs, record sleeves, burnt out cigarettes, and the other treasures Murdoc happened to posses; 2D reluctantly did so, sitting less than a foot from his drunk friend in a musty red chair.

After letting out a few incoherent grumbles, Murdoc reached over to a small end table not far from where they sat and retrieved what looked like an orange prescription pill bottle.

He ungracefully twisted off the cap and emptied a few of the white pill capsules from the bottle into the palm of his hand.

The Satanist passed them over to the bluenette, not giving him anything to help swallow it down with. But 2D didn't mind. After a lifetime of taking pills, he had learned to do it dry.

2D picked up and inspected the three pills Murdoc had passed him, they looked like average store bought drugs. Melatonin to be exact. He was no stranger to the pill. He'd taken it many times before as a child and even now when he couldn't manage to go to sleep.

As he gathered the pills in the palm of his hand, 2D couldn't help but notice Murdoc's eyes intensely on him as he brought his hand to his mouth, dry swallowing them soon after.

The bluenette sits patiently for the next few minutes. He desperately wants to leave, but is unsure if it would be considered 'rude' to do so. To his surprise, the bassist hadn't said one negative or unsightly thing to him since this whole dilemma began. Usually, Murdoc was an angry drunk; throwing tantrums, destroying property (no matter if it was his or not), and beating up poor bystanders, namely 2D.

However, tonight he was... (dare he say it) nice. Slightly pushy, but nice nonetheless. 

But no amount of drunk charm was enough to fool 2D of Murdoc's true nature. The bluenette might've not been the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was bright enough to know him being in there was already strike one. Why push his luck?

Stuart climbed to his feet, feeling an instant drowsiness hit him and nearly knock him back down into the chair. He wasn't mad about it though. If he made a clean escape, he could book it back to his room, fall into a deep sleep, and pretend that tonight never happened. Hopefully Murdoc would do the same.

Just as he began to walk away, avoiding Murdoc's copious amount of clutter once more (not that he could say much), he heard a quiet voice call his name.

"Stu."

His tone was by no means demanding or angry, but rather... desolate instead. 

Against his better judgement, he turned around. He already had one hand planted on the handle of the Winnebago, but something inside of himself told him he couldn't just leave his best mate. 

"What is it, Muds?" 

Murdoc looked at Stuart with a longing stare, eyes still half-lidded and only able to focus on the vibrant blue that the singer's hair emitted.

"You aren't... gonna... stay?"

There's a pregnant pause as 2D racks his mind around what Murdoc just purposed. 

No way.

No way in hell was he going to spend the night with a drunk Satanist who was most likely just going to gut him in the morning if he saw him. This little trip to the Winnebago wasn't supposed to be a damn suicide mission. He just wanted to get some sleep. So much for that.

The bluenette sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He tries his hardest to think of a way to just simply worm his way out of this terrible situation he's in; but nothing is coming to him.

When he doesn't answer in a reasonable amount of time, he offers Murdoc a sympathetic look, hoping he catches on.

But, of course, he's too far gone to notice.

Stuart sighs again, wanting so desperately to face palm at Murdoc's obliviousness, but refrains from doing.

He was cornered. Not literally of course; but metaphorically, the Satanist was holding him in a vice grip. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that that statement was false.

Murdoc wasn't keeping him here.

Sure, he had asked if 2D was going to stay, but didn't force him to do so.

An average person would've said he was a drunk bastard and left soon after, so why couldn't he do that? He had no reason- no right to be in there, so why was he? Why didn't he just leave?

Upon looking back up at Murdoc, he found his answer.

The mismatched eyes that were piercing into him, usually so full of spite and hate, now made Stuart's heart beat slightly faster. He didn't know why at first. 

But the longer he looked into the beautiful, lonely eyes, everything became clear.

And he instantly hated what it made him realize.

Despite years of poor treatment and abuse, Stuart Pot was quickly developing feelings for his best mate.

***