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Chichikuru	By : Moonchild10 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Gorillaz Views: 4538 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Gorillaz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Chichikuru
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Jesus Christ, did it hurt. 2D hammered a fist against his chest, trying to stop the sting that permeated his entire torso. The soles of his shoes slapped against the soaked pavement beneath him, each step that propelled him forward making enough noise to attract the attention of passerby.

As usual, 2D lagged behind Murdoc as he hailed a cab, running along the wet, bustling New York sidewalk. Murdoc was a rather comical sight; hair plastered against his scalp from the persistent rain, designer cape flapping in the breeze behind him like some diseased version of Superman, arm outstretched over his head, suitcase clutched under one arm like a football. 2D’s struggle to keep up with his companion was made more difficult by the distracting throbbing in the side of his head (he hadn’t listened to the warnings about being careful opening overhead baggage compartments a few days ago, and it still hurt like hell) and the fact that every step he took sent his suitcase slamming painfully into the back of his thigh. He finally managed to catch up to Murdoc when he stopped at a corner, still frantically signaling for a cab.

2D leaned gratefully against the traffic light post, struggling to catch his breath. The city around him spun for a few seconds and when it came back into focus, Murdoc was staring at him with one eyebrow raised and his teeth clenched, that signature look of annoyance that could mean far worse than whatever might happen when one evoked Russel’s ‘The Face‘.

“Well jes’ keel over at the corner, why don’ you?” Murdoc asked sarcastically, wetting his lips with one flick of his long tongue. “And then we can be even later for the fucking concert.”

2D felt compelled to make a snappy comment back, but his shallow breath wouldn’t allow it at the moment. So he was reduced to clutching the pole for dear life and wheezing like an asthmatic dog while mentally giving Murdoc some genius comebacks… or at least, as close to genius as his mind would allow, which to be fair wasn’t all that impressive.

“Satan, what are you doing, coughing up your lungs?” Murdoc asked. “We’ve got an appearance at the Apollo in-” he glanced at his watch. “An hour and a half, and you’re here exorcising your organs on the street…”

“I can’t help it, Murdoc,” 2D whimpered through clenched teeth. “Maybe if you weren’t running so fast I wouldn’t-”

“You expect me not to run? By the time we get there and set up, that leaves us about forty minutes to get to 253 West 125th Street… and are we anywhere near Harlem?” Murdoc gave 2D a patronizing look, as though daring him to answer. “No, we’re not. Instead, we’re freezing our arses off on the street corner and-”

A taxi was approaching with someone already inside, but Murdoc abruptly stepped off of the curb and straight into its path. The driver slammed on the brakes, sending the cab screeching toward him, the rainwater flying from the tires like a million beads of glass.

The car skidded to a stop feet in front of Murdoc, and the driver stuck his head out the window. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, exasperated, casting Murdoc a look that was a mixture between anger, irritation, and fear. Murdoc ignored him.

“Come on, 2D,” he said, and 2D followed him obediently as he wrenched open the back door of the cab closest to him. As 2D approached, he gave a sharp yelp as Murdoc shoved him inside and then followed. The elderly woman who was already in the cab took one look at the odd pair and quickly slid out the opposite door, heading for the sidewalk.

“What’s the big idea?” the cab driver asked, looking at Murdoc with an ‘are you crazy?’ expression through the rearview mirror. 2D could have sworn he heard Murdoc mumble something about ‘fucking idiot Americans’ before he answered.

“Look mate, we’re scheduled for an important performance at the Apollo in about ninety minutes, and if we’re late, there’s going to be a fucking riot. So can you jes’ get us to Harlem without pissing about it?” Murdoc asked calmly, shoving several hundred-dollar bills over the driver’s shoulder and fastening his seatbelt. 2D was grateful that Murdoc had remembered to exchange enough money to get around for American currency, or they would most definitely have both died of pneumonia by now. He fastened his seatbelt before that inevitable utterance of ‘put on your fucking seatbelt, dullard’ came and directed his attention to the blurry view of the city through the smudged window.

The air in the cab was thick and silent, and there was nothing to think about but the extreme discomfort of his situation. The rain outside had been freezing, something 2D hadn’t noticed while trying to chase Murdoc down. The rain had soaked through his clothes and through his hair down to his sensitive scalp. It felt as though he had just taken a dive into a bucket of ice, and his teeth were starting to make loud clacking sounds as they chattered faster. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to stop his body’s shivering, but it was useless.

“Sweet Satan, you’re going to knock the rest of your teeth out,” Murdoc said, digging into his suitcase, pulling out one of his jackets and wrapping it around 2D’s shoulders before pulling out one of his shirts and handing it to 2D, who looked at him quizzically. “Dry your hair with it,” Murdoc explained impatiently.

“Oh. Thanks, Murdoc,” 2D said, a bit taken aback by the sudden act of kindness, especially given their present situation. Murdoc grunted in reply. 2D rubbed his hair silently for a few minutes, and then abandoned the now-damp shirt back inside Murdoc’s suitcase and wrapped the jacket more closely around himself. “S’cold,” he said with another shiver. Murdoc ignored him, his blank gaze staring straight out through the windshield, not really seeing the city, not really seeing anything. A blank stare like a dead fish that looked straight through everything at the moment. “Murdoc?” 2D asked him finally.

“Eh?”

“Um… I think maybe we should… talk?” 2D wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, but the words are already out of his mouth.

“About what?” Murdoc’s dead fish expression was gone.

“About… us?” the words came out so timid that 2D wondered if Murdoc even heard them at all.

“Us?” Murdoc shook his head, sending droplets of water pelting down onto his shoulders from his drenched hair. “There is no us, 2D. Do we have to go through this?”

2D shook his head and gave a bitter laugh, his awkwardness disappearing. Molten disappointment flowed into the spaces it left, although he had imagined it would turn out like this, anyway.. “No us, eh? You really expect me to listen to that bullshit? After what you said? After what you did?”

Murdoc turned and looked him in the eye. “Why the hell would you think there’s an us, face-ache?”

“Well if what happened between us is any indication-”

“Well it’s not!” Murdoc snapped forcefully, giving 2D a very dangerous look. “I don’t know if you think any of that meant something. Who knows what goes on in that fucked up head of yours? But whatever you think… just forget it, alright?” Murdoc turned his head back toward the window so 2D couldn’t stare him down. “Just forget it.”

“Murdoc-”

“Shut up!” the bassist snapped. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you, alright? This is the last stop on the tour. Let’s just get through the concert like professionals and then we can all go back to Kong and forget any of that ever happened.”

2D tried to keep quiet, but his mouth wasn’t obeying. Words, waves of garbled, tangled, desperate words fought their way past his defenses and his judgment. “But it did happen!”

“Shut up!”

“Acting like it never happened doesn’t change the fact that it happened! Nothing can change that!”

“I said shut-”

“You can pretend it didn’t happen and try to forget it happened and act like it never happened, but it did! You can’t change it!”

Murdoc’s knuckles connected with 2D’s cheekbone with a dull, hard thud, sending a jet of pain through 2D’s face. He whimpered, hand flying to his cheek as Murdoc drew his fist back and turned away, rotating his entire body away from the singer. 2D huddled down deeper inside the jacket, keeping his eyes fixed on the city outside his window.

If I think about the rain, I won’t have to think about him.

The air around his face was musty and constricting, and 2D pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to keep his mind off of the mildewed interior of the cab and Murdoc all at once. As he squeezed his eyes shut, there it was, inevitably, it began playing back in his mind like a record. And so rather than fight it, 2D went limp, surrendering to the thoughts tugging at the faintest corners of his mind, and allowed the events of the past forty-eight hours to consume his thoughts.

XXX

By the time two days ago when Murdoc and 2D finally made it to New York, they were both extremely cross. The plane ride had been downright hellish without Noodle to make peace whenever an argument (usually Murdoc’s fault) arose. Noodle and Russel were staying behind in Vermont for two extras days to visit Noodle’s pen pal, and, the way Murdoc put it, he “didn’t feel like hanging around with some snot-nosed American brat for two straight days when he could be in New York”. And, as usual, 2D just agreed to accompany Murdoc without really thinking of the consequences (namely, being jabbed in the ribs every time he was just starting to nod off on the plane). And so, after several very unfriendly, very grumpy hours on the plane, they had arrived at the airport. Murdoc arranged for a car to come and pick them up, but it turned out not being much of a better bet than a cab, because as they soon found out, the car inched through traffic just as slowly. Murdoc nearly went mad the whole ride to the hotel, tapping his jagged nails on the rim of the ashtray installed in the car’s back door and fidgeting. When the car stopped in front of the hotel, it was a welcome sight, though the two were both still grumbling even after they’d received the keys to their rooms and were on their way. The grumbling only stopped when they were finally inside the suite, which included two bedrooms and a rather enormous bathroom. Everything was decorated with a lavish color scheme of crimson and gold.

“My God,” 2D said, standing in the center of the first bedroom he entered and staring around with his mouth agape. “This place is… huge!”

Murdoc chuckled, heaving his suitcase onto the bed and flipping it open, picking out a dry change of clothes. “Of course it‘s huge. This is how rock stars live, D.” he cracked his neck and slipped out of his wet clothes, exchanging their coldness for the soft, fluffy feel of a newly laundered outfit. The warm fabric felt welcome against his icy skin.

“But… we’ve been rock stars for years and I’ve never seen anything… like this,” mouth still hanging open, he took in the deep red velvet curtains on the windows. “The curtains match the carpet! And everything’s so… so…fluffy!”

“It’s the Plaza, 2D. It’s supposed to be fancy.” Murdoc couldn’t help but feel amused at 2D’s childlike excitement about the place. He had to admit that the whole place was indeed impressive, though, and he fully planned to throw himself onto his bed like a teenage girl the moment 2D was out of the room. “But it is pretty nice, isn’t it?”

“Nice? It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” 2D couldn’t seem to keep his mouth from hanging agape as he looked around the room, the large dark pits of his eyes stretched even wider than usual.

“You should change, you know, or you’ll end up freezing to death,” Murdoc reminded him; he sure as hell wasn’t going to remember on his own.

“Awright,” 2D said with a nod, still looking around the room in awe. He lugged his suitcase through the amazing bathroom that separated the two rooms, slipping on a damp spot on the tile because he wasn’t watching the floor.

His room turned out to be just as posh as Murdoc’s, but with a balcony and the entire wall that it came out of made mostly of windows. Though it had been gray and rainy in New York since they’d arrived, the view of the city, albeit dreary, was still spectacular. After 2D took in the sights of his room (a fully-stocked minibar, a large television set complete with a video game system, a sound system built into one wall, and a miniature refrigerator), he stepped out onto the balcony for some air. This was nothing like the balcony back at Kong Studios. Back at home, the view was of the spooky old landfill, and occasionally you could see a zombie crawling up out of the filth, its empty eye sockets and the holes in its rotting flesh crammed with garbage. But here, there was a view of Manhattan, spread out like a map before him. The buildings rose in endless turrets as far as he could see.

2D flopped himself down on the bed, the silky scarlet sheets billowing under him and capturing him in a glossy embrace of warmth. He couldn’t resist the impulse to bounce a bit on the soft, cushiony bed. It was like being in a fairy tale; everything was so rich and so full of the palpable feeling of magic that it gave him delicious goosebumps.

But 2D came to find that after he had finished ogling the beautiful room and bouncing on the bed, there wasn’t much else to do… unless you counted experimenting with the contents of the minibar, but he wasn’t in the mood to get drunk. He wandered through the plush room for a bit and then spent a few minutes sliding around in his socks on the tile of the bathroom floor before sitting down on the edge of the tub. God, it was a splendid tub; the kind he would have killed people to take a bath in when he was a kid. He decided it was big enough to comfortably house a small whale… or all four of the Gorillaz, at least, and there would still be leg room.

He flicked on both taps as high as they would go and put the stopper in the drain, watching the water splash into the vast tub for a few minutes before moving, watching it fill almost to the rim before he turned off the taps. He already had his shirt off and was about to undo his fly when he happened to glance around. There was a small stack of bars of soap on the long marble countertop, and there was also a bottle of bubble bath. But there was no shampoo. He checked in the medicine cabinet and in the cupboard beneath the sink, but there was none to be found. Discouraged, he strayed reluctantly into Murdoc’s bedroom. Murdoc was stretched on his back on that huge bed like the king of the universe, a bottle of something or other from the minibar dangling from his lips.

“How may I be of assistance?” he asked sarcastically as 2D entered the room. It became obvious almost immediately that he was in one of those moods again; those shifty moods where he could be downright jovial with 2D one minute and then shove a crawdad down his knickers the next. It was obvious by the set of his jaw, the glitter in those mismatched eyes, the way the obnoxious smile tugged involuntarily at the corners of his mouth when he spoke. Those who knew Murdoc knew that they had to be on their toes when he was in one of those moods, and 2D knew him better than anyone.

“Er… I was gonna take a bath, but there in’t any shampoo,” the vocalist explained, looking expectantly at Murdoc. Murdoc raised himself up on his elbows and took a long pull from the bottle in his hand before he answered.

“Did ye’ look around for some?” another swig.

“’Course I did.”

“Well, I don’t know what te tell you, then.”

“Can I use yours?”

“What?”

“Can I use your shampoo?”

Murdoc gave a slightly sadistic chuckle and took a delicate sip from his bottle, showing a sense of tenderness that he rarely used toward people. 2D had seen Murdoc fuck; he’d brought plenty women in and then started in on his business directly in the living room while 2D was watching television late at night, and from what he’d seen of that before hastily making a quick getaway all those times, there had never been any showing of tenderness or even anything beyond that kind of primal, furious state that he seemed to get into almost immediately. “Good luck finding it, if I even happened to bring some this time.”

2D guessed that there was little chance of that, but he bent over Murdoc’s suitcase anyway and began rifling through in search of the shampoo. He finally found a bottle wrapped in the tangled soup of clothing, CD’s, and condoms. The shampoo was of the masculine variety, which didn’t surprise 2D, although he himself was partial to any shampoo that was brightly colored and fragrant, and often used Noodle’s without her knowledge. He had managed to pull it out of the labyrinth of shirts when he felt a sudden burst of hot breath on his neck. Shaking, he turned his head slightly, and was surprised to see Murdoc directly behind him, leaning down and breathing on his neck. He had that sadistic grin he wore when he was in the process of making 2D uncomfortable just for the fun of it.

“Muds, wot’re you doin’?” he asked nervously, because this was just the kind of thing he‘d been dreading, turning around and scooting a few inches back to escape the bassist’s invasive presence. Murdoc was still giving him that hazardous look, and he gave a small, raspy chuckle, his pointed, greenish teeth bared in that ghoulish smile that made the hair on the back of 2D’s neck stand up. There was a long, tense pause, 2D unwilling to take his eyes off of Murdoc for even a second, lest he try something that would ultimately result in bruises. Neither talked, neither moved, and 2D sensed that Murdoc was only trying to torture him by doing nothing and making him squirm. And so it was rather unexpected when Murdoc’s hand shot out and twisted his left nipple painfully. 2D squealed, wishing he would have put his shirt back on, and toppled backward, landing on Murdoc’s suitcase.

“Ouch! Murdoc, that hurt!” he whimpered, rubbing his chest where the sharp sting was just starting to ebb. Murdoc gave his unsettling, hoarse laugh and repeated the painful action, making 2D whine again. “Knock it off!” he attempted to shove his offender.

“Oh come on Stu-pot, don’t be such a pussy,” he said with that unpleasant smile playing across his face again. He gave his nipple another jerk, and 2D kicked at his stomach, misjudging his aim and hitting Murdoc’s arm instead. The kick knocked Murdoc’s arm out from under him, throwing off his balance. He slipped, and with a strangled yell he fell directly on top of 2D. His head went over 2D’s shoulder and hit the suitcase behind him, and Murdoc yelped. Rubbing his forehead, Murdoc lifted his head, grumbling under his breath. He was distracted by his head, and so 2D was alone in his realization that Murdoc was lying completely on top of him in a very strange and oddly intimate position, and that this was very, very awkward. “Son of a bitch,” Murdoc muttered, dropping his hand from his head and looking at 2D, suddenly very, very silent.

2D looked back, blinking obliviously for a moment before he realized that Murdoc was not just looking at him. Murdoc was staring at him. He was staring intently, obviously, making no attempt to hide it. There was something like a warm curiosity in his mismatched eyes, something that burned its desperate nature into 2D’s very core and made it impossible for him to look away. A shiver went through his body.

“M-Murdoc?” his voice came out soft, almost getting lost in the space between them. There was something floating there, something strange, something new, something unexplainable. 2D was staring so intently into the Satanist’s eyes that he barely noticed his face moving toward his own until Murdoc’s warm mouth closed over his lips. Electric shocks shot down his spine and he shivered again. This is wrong. This is so wrong…but his eyes slowly fluttered shut, one hand automatically snaking up the back of Murdoc’s neck and entwining in his hair. He could feel something-- oh God, was that what he thought it was?-- in the front of Murdoc’s pants, pressing down against his groin, and he could feel himself, to his own surprise, starting to become aroused. The kiss was surprisingly gentle, surprisingly natural, and surprisingly satisfying. It was-- shit, what were they doing? Jolting back into reality, 2D pushed Murdoc back a few inches, disengaging their lips.

“Muds, this can’t happen!” he said. Murdoc sat up, still on top of him, watching him with a slightly amused expression on his face. “We’re both blokes!”

“No!” Murdoc said in mock surprise. “And all this time I thought you were a woman!”

“I’m serious! Don’ you notice anyfin’ wrong wif this? We’re not gay!”

“No shit, D,” Murdoc said, shaking his head. 2D wiggled out from under him, and Murdoc let him up.

“But it’s not righ’!” he stood up, pacing back and forth across a section of the room. “We can’t do that!” he turned, and Murdoc was standing directly behind him.

“Why not?” Murdoc’s face was offering him a challenge, inches from his own.

“Because… because you hate me!” 2D blurted lamely, throwing his hands into the air and letting them flop back down at his sides. In one sudden motion Murdoc grabbed him by the backs of the shoulders, pulling him closer. Their faces were centimeters apart. 2D felt that electricity again as their eyes met.

“If I hated you, would I be standing here like this trying to convince you otherwise?” Murdoc’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. 2D couldn’t recall the Satanist ever being quite so considerate with him before.

“I… er…” 2D stammered softly, looking down into the bassist’s eyes. Murdoc stared straight back, their eyes making something that 2D could have sworn was like a soul connection, a deeper bond… something that made his legs threaten to go weak beneath him… and he didn’t like the feeling. But there was something about that feeling that was irresistible. He couldn’t quite explain the flutters in his stomach… previously in his life only females had given him those flutters. And he also couldn’t explain why the way Murdoc was looking at him right now made him feel like the most important person in the whole world, or why it was making that familiar warmth gather in his lower regions. Something about Murdoc right then made 2D want to hold onto him and never let go, made him want to be close, made him want to feel his warmth… desperately so. As the seconds passed, his power to resist what his body was telling him grew weaker and weaker, and finally fizzled into nothing.

We can’t do this… we’re both men… he hates me… neither of us are gay… this can’t happen… 2D lunged forward in spite of himself, ignoring all sense of reason, closing the small gap between their lips with one desperate motion. This is so wrong… this shouldn’t be happening… Murdoc returned the kiss with considerably more enthusiasm than before. 2D was aware of his body trembling as he clutched the Satanist tightly by the shoulders. Murdoc’s hand found a slow path down from 2D’s neck into the small of his bare back, and 2D’s mouth opened a fraction as he tugged gently on Murdoc’s bottom lip. But who gives a shit? Murdoc made a small, strange noise and ran his tongue along 2D’s lip before sliding into the warm cavern of his mouth. Murdoc tasted like coffee and cigarettes and the alcohol he had been drinking. It was a strangely pleasant combination; it was clear that Murdoc had actually brushed his teeth sometime in the immediate past.

2D was beginning to become uncomfortably hard, and it didn’t help matters that Murdoc’s hand had found its way down to his ass and was exploring the area vigorously. Those pleasing but still invasive hands worked their way slowly across 2D’s body, stroking in a painstakingly lingering way, and then sliding between his legs without warning and clenching. 2D moaned softly into Murdoc‘s mouth, squeezing his shoulders a bit too tightly as the bassist continued clench and release. 2D broke away from the kiss and let his cheek rest on the top of Murdoc’s head, breathing far heavier than normal. He had no idea how the fuck Murdoc could do this; how he could be so quick in pleasing him, how he seemed to be able to read his mind with the things he did with his hand down there. 2D had done this with women countless times before, many times that he didn’t care to remember, but it had never been like this. The heat between them had never been this intense, and he had never been touched this way, in a way that went beyond the physical touch. He was sure Murdoc wasn’t aware of it, because for Murdoc, sex was just sex. But 2D felt it, and it was impossible to ignore. He lowered his head to rest his forehead against Murdoc’s, no longer breathing so much as panting, and it was a bit embarrassing to be this much in need.

2D whimpered softly as Murdoc’s hand continued its work, sliding under the waistband of his pants and brushing lightly over the space just above where he really needed to be touched, teasing him, coming almost close enough…there…but it was gone before it got started, back up to the patch of hair just above…please…2D could feel himself shaking involuntarily, wanting the touch, needing it. He couldn’t recall ever being so desperate before, and he wasn’t sure what it was about Murdoc that made him this way. The Satanist’s face was close to his, lips almost touching, but only a fiber apart, brushing occasionally and igniting those electric shocks again. Murdoc’s breathing was shallow, his breath hot against 2D’s lips, making him shake even harder. Unable to stand it, he shoved his mouth violently against Murdoc’s, kissing him hard in attempt to kill some of the knot of want that had settled itself in his body, opening his mouth and meeting Murdoc’s tongue frantically as it slid into his mouth, trying again and again before he broke the kiss and clutched Murdoc tighter, struggling to catch his breath, and embarrassingly near to tears with craving.

“Bed?” Murdoc asked in a hoarse voice, the mere sound of his voice making the singer shiver.

“Yeah,” 2D replied breathlessly with a vigorous nod. “Bed.”
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Chichikuru