Chapter Text
"NOOODLE!"
Murdoc's furious voice reverberated through the first floor of the studio. Russel and Noodle covered their mouths, trying to stifle their laughter as they approached the kitchen. Russel entered first, with Noodle close behind.
"What's up, Mudz?"
Murdoc stood near the kitchen table, clutching an expensive looking bottle of whiskey and absolutely fuming. The kitchen linoleum was covered in the now spit-out golden liquid from the bottle, Murdoc standing in the middle of the spill. "Where is she?! I know she did this!"
"Did what? You're the one that made a mess in here." Russel's poker face was impeccable as he crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at the bassist.
"She replaced my bloody whiskey with apple juice! This crap cost me a pretty penny!"
At this point, neither Russel or Noodle could contain their laughter anymore. They started cracking up as Murdoc slammed the bottle on the kitchen table, approaching the both of them as he scowled sourly. "It was the both of you, wasn't it? I swear to Satan, you two are paying me back for this!"
Between laughs, Noodle managed to form a sentence. "That's for tripping me yesterday!"
Murdoc grit his teeth and clenched his fists up tightly. "It was an accident! How about you watch where you're walking next time?"
"How about you pick up your shit next time, Murdoc? Noodle could've fallen down the stairs." Russel wiped his eyes, tears forming at the corners of them from his laughing fit.
"Oh, sod off. That's the only time I've left my Cuban heels out, alright? Besides, Noodle can take a tumble. She's definitely been through worse." Murdoc gave her a cocky smirk, his eyebrows furrowed as he snatched a towel off a nearby rack to clean the apple juice up with.
"You better be quiet before I plan something else, geezer. Actually, you're lucky that's all I did. How many times do we have to remind you to pick up after yourself?" Noodle stuck out her tongue while grinning playfully at Murdoc, her revenge fulfilled. This was her own way of teaching the bassist a lesson when he was irresponsible, haven given up on using words like a normal adult a long time ago. He was a lot better at doing the bare minimum nowadays, though he clearly needed more growing to do. "Also, you're insane if you think I'm going to waste my money getting another bottle of that stuff."
Russel wasn't one for pranks himself, but he didn't want to miss an opportunity to put Murdoc in his place every once in a while. He knew Noodle would give him back whatever he deserved ten-fold, and it usually resulted in the satanist sulking for a few days afterwards. "Me either, man. I'm tired of having to have to nag at you. Isn't it about damn time you pull yourself together?"
"You're telling me to pull myself together? After playing a stupid prank on me like a couple of toddlers? Priceless." Murdoc didn't look up as he cleaned the whiskey up on all fours, and Russel couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
"Yeah, I am. You're gettin'a taste of your own medicine."
Noodle set her hands on her hips triumphantly, watching Murdoc with that same grin still plastered on her face. "This is nothing in comparison to all you've done just this week. Do you know how many cans of beer you drink daily? And leave everywhere? Even when they're half-empty?"
"At least five. That's being generous, though." Murdoc chuckled, finishing up with cleaning the kitchen tiles and getting back up on his feet. Noodle scoffed, and Russel rolled the white of his eyes.
"I'm gonna start dumping them all in your room. Let's see how you like seeing all of them in one place." She flipped her hair dramatically, beginning to walk out the kitchen. "I gotta go take Katsu to the groomers now. またね. Make sure he leaves it spotless, Russ!" She laughed, giving Russel a pat on the shoulder as she left.
"Oh, I will. It's amazing to see him clean anything in the first place, might as well make him do it right."
The bassist threw the bottle of "whiskey" away, narrowing his eyes at the drummer. "You can thank me later. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important things to attend to. I'm a verry, verrrry busy man." He slapped down the dirty and unfolded rag back on the rack it was on previously, rushing to leave before Russel could say anything else.
"Thank you for what? Leavin' this here?" Russel couldn't hold back a grin as he grabbed Murdoc by the back of his gray, long-sleeved shirt, dragging him back into the kitchen. Murdoc struggled against his tug, adamant to leave, but was overpowered by Russel's considerably stronger grip.
"Uurgh, Satan. What more do you want from me?" He whined playfully, trying to push Russel away from himself.
"Remind me how old you are again?" Russel only gave him a stronger pull while chuckling at Murdoc's intentional childishness.
"Woah there. Careful with the merchandise. I could cost you a pretty penny."
The drummer, still holding on to Murdoc's shirt, swiped the dirty towel up, dropping it right on top of Murdoc's head. "It's like you do this shit on purpose." In a disgusted panic, Murdoc shook his head to get the cloth off him as Russel laughed, letting him go.
"You're targeting me today, aren't you?" Murdoc said with an irritated expression, dropping the wet piece of fabric on a marble counter that sat behind Russel.
"Maybe I am, maybe I ain't."
"If you're afraid that I'll forget our little date, I won't."
"I bet you could." Russel raised an eyebrow curiously, but maintained a pleased expression. "So it's a date now, huh?"
There had always been a weird attraction between the two band members. Neither could really place why, since they seemed to be polar opposites, but maybe that in itself was the answer: Russel was the main anchor of the group, keeping Murdoc's wild unpredictability in check for them all. Especially after what happened at Plastic Beach. None of them could see it being any other way, which is likely what brought the two of them together like this. They had never specified their outings as "dates," though.
"Figured we'd start to call it how it is. Unless you don't like that." Murdoc leaned against Russel, his chest pressed against the other man's with his short stature forcing him to tilt his head up.
Russ couldn't help but blush in response. Neither of them were much into cheesy stuff, but this moment, whether it was honest or not, flustered him."... Naw. That's fine with me."
"Good, just gotta wait until later. Think you can keep your paws offa me till then?" Murdoc joked, teasing by leaning his face uncomfortably close to the drummer's.
"Oh, I'll be aight. Don't you worry 'bout that." Russel turned his head to look away, seemingly unfazed by the shorter one's advances.
"Hmph. Suit yourself, but you're missing out…."
Russel cut him off by pulling him in by the shoulders, kissing him abruptly. Murdoc went wide-eyed for a second before reciprocating and wrapping his arms around the other's large frame. They kept the kiss long and slow until Murdoc started trying to heat things up by biting Russel's lower lip, which made him pull away. "You're so damn needy," he chided, just as a way to pull on Murdoc's chain.
"Me? Needy? Pfft. Yeah, right. I never chase, FYI."
"Because YOU hitting on ME all week was me chasin', huh? Don't think I didn't notice."
"Hush up. Let me have my fun."
"Fun. That's all I am to ya?"
"Hey now, when'd I say that? You are quite fun, though."
"Thanks, I'm absolutely flattered." The taller one retorted dryly, not offended by the vagueness of the green man's answer. Their kitchen wasn't really the place to discuss the complicated nature of the odd, undefined relationship they had going on.
"I know I'm irresistible, but don't lose your head over it, mate. You'll get a piece of me soon enough. '' Murdoc's previously stationary hands moved down to Russel's chest in a sensual motion, moving in for another kiss.
"Good thing I'm patient."
"Just put those lips to good use already, will you?"
Before Russel could respond with another snarky quip, they were interrupted by the sound of a crash coming downstairs followed by a loud groan. Murdoc instinctively backed away due to the sudden noise, grumbling as he knew that it was 2D that had just fallen.
"I swear, if he tripped 'cause of somethin' you left on the floor…" Russel mumbled, as he made his way towards the stairs to go help Stuart.
"So are we just going to blame everything on me now? I'm 78% sure Dents stepped on his own shoelaces. And yes, I've done the math to figure that out."
The drummer, knowing that was probably true, looked back at the bassist before leaving the room. "After helpin' Dee, I'm gonna go run some errands. Don't miss me too much."
"Please. I should be the one saying that to you."
Russel only gave him a chuckle as he walked away. "Wash the towel, Mudz. N' take a shower, you reek of apple juice."
"Tch, whatever…"
5:18 p.m. ——————————————
Russel observed himself in his full length mirror, turning around to make sure he looked okay. Of course he cared what he looked like, all the time. But he wanted to look good tonight, uncharacteristically so. It was funny, wanting to appear attractive for someone, especially when that someone was Murdoc, who wasn't exactly known for being put together. The drummer sighed, bending down to tie his sneakers, thinking about just how much the group's attitude towards each other had changed over the years. In the beginning, it was completely unhealthy: seeing as all the members were new to each other, there were no boundaries, arguments were commonplace, and by the time the events at Plastic Beach rolled around they didn't feel like a proper band anymore. Lots of friendship had gone down the drain; everyone was in a dark place of their own. The memories were always there. Sometimes Russel still had nightmares about it, even if it had been a while since it happened.
The empty space Del had left behind in his heart would never truly go away, but as friends, the four members had honestly been doing better than ever. Of course things weren't perfect yet, but healing is a process, one that had changed Murdoc a lot in Russel's eyes. It was a growth he grew to admire.
The mix of drugs and alcoholism didn't do Murdoc any favors. Plus, the additional years of unchecked issues left it feeling like he'd been puppeteering the band when Gorillaz started out. The way he constantly lashed out made Russel feel like he had to be some kind of protector, especially for 2D, who was the satanist's main target. He never bothered asking Murdoc why he was like that in the first place, because Murdoc would've rather died than be honest with him for 5 minutes, so what was the point? Eventually, when the trouble left behind on Plastic Beach blew over, the members were pretty much stuck with each other in their home on Wobble Street. No other choice than to finally talk things out.
Russel rose up to fix his light pink button up shirt. He could still remember the first time he and Murdoc had some sincere communication. It was awkward for the both of them, sure, but it was something they had both needed.
"I'm a knobhead, like my old man. Guess I embraced that a little too much."
"It's okay to ask us when you need someone to talk to."
"I know, I know…" Murdoc sighed, not facing the other man as they laid next to each other in Russel's bed, "It's bloody weird, though."
"Once you warm up to it, it won't be so bad."
They were both aware that that was a long way down the road. The bassist stayed quiet as he held himself, while Russel could only stare at the outline of his back in the dimly-lit bedroom. Even if the silence was uncomfortable, it was also thick with understanding, a vulnerability fragile enough that the wrong words would shatter it immediately. So they laid like that for a while before exchanging goodnights and parting ways.
The drummer could feel his heart begin to swell with emotion, the way it always did when reflecting on that night. It's not like they wanted to take things in an intimate direction, but one thing led to another, and, well…
Now he was walking down the stairs of the terraced house pensively. It was, and still often is, difficult to get a read on Murdoc's feelings. A date? Did that mean he wanted to get… Serious? How serious? Or was he just playing around? Did Russel even want to get serious? He sat down in their bizarrely decorated den while twiddling his thumbs. Date. Probably one of the last things he'd think he'd hear out of the green man's mouth today.
He's probably just screwin' around. No biggie… Yeah.
The drummer's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the green man's thumping footsteps approaching him. The time to tackle the subject wouldn't be long now, he supposed.
"Ready to go, big lug?" Murdoc seemed chipper than earlier, a folded up wad of paper sticking out of the stylish leather jacket he was wearing. His hair was brushed for once, and his Cuban heels were clearly recently shined.
"I've been ready for the past half-hour," Russel said in a jokey way, looking Murdoc up and down a few times in surprise. It was shocking that he cleaned up so well (in the best way possible).
"What can I say… Perfection takes time." The bassist dug into the pockets of his pants, looking for the Geep's keys.
Russel knew he didn't have them, but he checked his own to be sure anyway. ``Uh… You lose 'em, Mudz?"
"No, of course not, how could you think that? Just can't find them right now." The bassist re-dug through all of his pockets with increasing agitation.
"That's kind of what losing things is."
"Oh, bugger… Wait, wait, wait, wait. They're hung up in the kitchen, right. Let me go get them." The shorter of the two dashed to the kitchen, and the drummer waited near the front door. Murdoc returned, quicker than Russel thought he would, and the bassist gave him a surprise nudge in the back. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's go."
"Someone’s pushy. What's gotten into you?" Russel questioned with a smile.
"Just feel like getting out today. Thought you could look over some lyrics I've been writing. They're absolutely golden, let me tell you," Murdoc gloated proudly. It had been three years since any of them had sat down to make any music, so the revelation that Murdoc had been writing lyrics took Russel aback.
"Lyrics? S'been a while, huh."
"Mm, yeah, but I think I'm ready to get back into the game."
The larger of the two scratched the back of his neck. He'd be lying if he said he didn't agree."I think so too. We should have a meeting tomorrow."
"Sureee, but just for tonight, read my stuff. I trust you understand my genius," the bassist jested, putting his hand on the doorknob leading outside.
Russel stooped down to give him a quick peck on the cheek, which left Murdoc visibly flushed. "Whatever you say."
At that moment, their home's obnoxiously loud doorbell rang, and the two men stood in shock. The band never really got company, so neither of them had the slightest idea of who it could be.
"Might be a package or something,"Russel suggested as he leaned over to look out their front window.
"Horrible timing for a package…" Murdoc opened the door without a second thought, and when the realization of who was standing in front of the doorway hit him, his stomach dropped.
Before him was his decrepit father, Sebastian Niccals.
Russel couldn't see the bassists' face, but he knew he was mortified.
Sebastian looked wildly different from the pictures Murdoc used to have hanging around at the old Kong Studios. Time truly had not been kind to his appearance. His face was greener, more wrinkly, he had an unshaven stubble, his hair was gray... He wasn't even wearing the same kind of gothic clothes. Instead, he wore a generic-looking coat with dirty khaki slacks.
"Oh, Murdoc, my lad! How long has it been?" He had the voice of someone who smoked a pack of cigarettes everyday, and his annoyingly bright tone that was inappropriate for the situation made it sound more unpleasant than it actually was.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Murdoc became highly defensive, sourness replacing the previous playfulness he displayed not even three minutes ago.
Sebastian gave an ugly, short cackle in response. "Down, boy. I came here to see you, don't be so prickly." He glanced over at Russel, who was directly behind Murdoc, and raised an eyebrow. "Was I interrupting?
Murdoc, exasperated, started shutting the door on his father."Yes, you were. We were about to go do something, so if you don't mind pissing off-"
Sebastian put his hands up, cutting him off and preventing him from ending the conversation. "Sorry, lad, I need to talk with you. Private conversation. It's urgent."
Despite the fact that it had been years since they last saw each other, the way Murdoc was raised had been ingrained into him, and he knew whatever Sebastian wanted to talk to him one-on-one about couldn't be anything good. "... Is this about Hannibal?"
"Yeh, but I'll tell you in a bit. Just come with me for a moment, then I'll be out yer way."
The satanist glared at him intensely. This whole thing was awfully fishy. Why was he here after years of complete silence? After Murdoc had gotten comfortable pretending he didn't exist? And Hannibal… His relationship to Hannibal was complicated, to say the least, but his older half-brother was the reason he got into music at all. If he was in some kind of trouble…
He turned to Russel, giving him a perplexed look before making his decision. "I'm gonna go. I'll be back in a few. Sorry, Russ."
Russel didn't like this at all. However, he was aware of the weird family situation and was in no position to stop Murdoc from wanting to know about his long-missing sibling. "It's aight," the drummer lowered his voice to a hushed mumble, "but you don't have to go if you don't want to."
"I know." Murdoc dropped the Geep's keys into Russel's hands, heading out to Sebastian's car. Russel locked the door and bolted over to look through the windows discreetly, watching as the two got into an old, beat up Ford Thunderbird with a broken window. A sense of intense anxiety washed over him. There was nothing he could do but wait.