Mistakes Like This (2D x Murdoc)

4

It was eight o' clock in the morning when Stuart was awoken by a rough slap to the face. It wasn't like he wasn't expecting it the moment he decided it was a brilliant plan to spend the night with the Satanist; but he had been sleeping so damn good he nearly forgot about his horrible mistake in the first place. Nearly.

The bluenette immediately shot up in the bed, clutching Murdoc's real Egyptian silk sheets to his body as if they could protect him. His eyes were frantic, meeting those of the enraged bassist's with alarm and panic as he glared down at him.

"What the bloody hell are you doin' in my bed?!" He shouted, ready to hit the intruding dullard once more.

2D's heart raced at an absurd rate at his question- he thought he might even be in the midst of having a heart attack. He knew if he told Murdoc the truth it would only make him more infuriated. But what other option did he have? No matter what he said, he wouldn't listen to it anyway.

"Y-Y-You invited me ta s-stay las' nigh', Mu'doc. I-I needed sleepin' pills a-and you said tha'-"

2D was slapped once more, cutting off whatever explanation he could've tried to give.

"Get out of my fuckin' Winnebago. I don't want to see you for the rest of the week."

Just as Stuart scrambled to his feet, his trembling hands brushing past his now bruised cheek, he had a thought. 

Why was he being punished for something that wasn't his fault?

2D knew it was dumb to even think that. It was (partially) his fault for invading Murdoc's privacy when he was completely out of it; BUT, Murdoc was the one who invited him in the first place! While he normally just would've backed off and heeded the Satanist's warning, that wasn't his plan this time.

He was finally going to stand up for himself.

"It wasn't my fault tha' you invited me in, Muds. You forced me ta stay."

Murdoc growled at 2D's defiance, clutching his hands into tight fists as he tried his best not to loss it.

"Listen 'ere you shit stain, I was drunk off my fuckin' rocker last nigh' and I don't recall tellin' you any of tha' bullshit. So unless you want a third dent in that useless head of yours, I suggest you get a move on."

The bassist's harsh words and cruel tone cut deep into the poor bluenette. But he knew if he gave up here, his efforts would be for nothing. So he pushed his luck.

"Jus' because you don't rememba' doesn't mean tha' you can blame me for it! I was jus' doin' wha' you told me to!"

This enraged the bassist even more. He had no idea why 2D was suddenly being so obstinate, but he hated it. No one disobeyed him.

Murdoc reached for the collar of Stuart's tank top and yanked him down to his level, snarling in his face.

"I know you're not the brightest crayon in the pack, dullard; but to mess with me when I'm drunk is a fuckin' mistake. Let alone defy my orders. If I catch as much as glimpse of your dumb ass after this I'm gonna run over you with my Winne, got it?"

The Satanist released his vice grip on the taller man's shirt and shove him towards the exit. As the singer clambered out of his mobile home, a sense of relief washed over him.

Murdoc sat down in his dining area, running a hand through his greasy, black hair as he tried to recall the previous night. He couldn't remember a damned thing. Even if he had gotten absolutely wasted, he couldn't believe that he would ever invite 2D into his Winnebago, let alone give him some form of medication and then allow him to stay the night.

When he woke up with his face nuzzled into a white tank top and arms wrapped around a small torso, it scared the living shit out of him. But he stayed for a few minutes. The person smelled like sweet butterscotch and fresh peppermint and he couldn't help but feel attracted to whoever it was. However, when he caught a glimpse of blue hair out of his peripheral view, he almost lost it.

He was quick to unlace himself from the sleeping Stuart, being suspiciously careful as if not to wake him. And when he was finally free, he stood above the singer with multiple emotions racing through his system.

If he was being honest with himself (which he never was), watching him sleep was a peaceful sight. For once the dullard wasn't tripping over himself or his words, he was just... there. His arms were wrapped around one of Murdoc's pillows, snuggling into it as he mumbled incoherently about something the bassist couldn't make out.

He quickly snapped out of it, however. It was then that he punished 2D, forced him out of his Winnebago, and was brought back to where he was now.

The Satanist clutched his head. With recalling this morning's events and trying to remember those of the previous night, he nearly had forgotten about his killer hangover. His head throbbed uncontrollably and his stomach turned with undigested alcohol. Needless to say, it was unpleasant day and would continue to be one until he got his shit together.

He needed to get out of here. If he was left to sit and rot in his Winnebago all day, he'd go insane. And after everything that happened with 2D, he really didn't want Russel breathing down his neck if the damned dullard told him.

A drive. That's what he needed. Just to get away from everything and everyone for a little bit.

Not a minute later, Murdoc got himself properly dressed in a black turtleneck, blue jeans, and his staple Cuban heeled boots before grabbed the keys to the Geep and exiting his Winnebago.

It wasn't long before the Satanist exited Kong and headed out onto the streets. 

And just like that, he was gone.