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The Pots had agreed
Stuart was to live with Murdoc.
It was mostly the young man's decision, after all. He immediately took a liking to Murdoc for who knows why.
"He's got a character," Stuart said slowly,"He played me something good, too. We're gonna make great music," and then he gave a gap toothed smile.
That was the most sure Stuart had ever seemed in his thick headed life.
Murdoc Niccals and Stuart Pot lived in run down apartments and basements of a friend of a friend, mostly. Moving from damp, gross closets to damper, grosser couches. It didn't take long for Murdoc to win the infamous Winny in a rigged poker game.
It became their safe haven, their home. The rickety old winnebago staved off the permanent chill in the English air and kept unwanted people away, the sight of it made most of Murdocs ladies cringe and wrinkle their noses once they stepped foot inside, but Stuart took to it naturally.
They were both perpetual night owls, sleeping late and staying up later, rambling, drinking, smoking, you name it. Sometimes, though, it was Stuart staying quiet, stuck inside his head. He would just curl up into a ball, covering his head with an arm, and go back into his own little world brought on by painkillers and migraines.
Stuart struggled with words and thoughts and a stutter that came from his uncertainty about everything.
It felt like he was in a dream, like none of it had actually happened. and somewhere he was snoring away in his bed. When would he wake up from this? The coma, the car crash, that couldn't have actually happened. Had it really been a year? Sometimes he wished that Uncle Norms would reopen, just so he could latch onto something and tear his way back into the real world, the one without his long mind slips.
Well, Murdoc had been with him the whole time, but he was still trying to learn about the Satanist. Murdoc hurt him sometimes, really bad, but Stuart couldn't care less about the small scars and bruises littering his body at any one moment. He felt numb and Murdoc was beating him back into the real world.
"Oi, two dents."
Murdoc had started using the nickname only recently.
The bassist had gotten up at the bright shine of the lousy bathroom light, only to find Stuart lost in thought. 2D's stare was glued to the bathroom mirror. Well, maybe. His gaze didn't have a direction without distinguished pupils.
Murdoc curled his lip, clawing at 2D's shoulder with a vice like grip.
"Come on now stop being such a space cadet and get back to bed, you're really turning the whole house 'round with this nonsense."
Murdoc could feel 2D trembling under his grip and his brow wrinkled slightly, but he was still under a spell. There was a slight sheen on his forehead and his face was pale. Murdoc raised a brow.
"Stuart? Come on mate stop messing around. Let's get you back to bed, alright?"
Murdoc didn't worry about Stuart, and if you asked, he would definitely deny it. He had only taken the boy in for a front man that the crowds would love for his looks and his charm.
"Come on Stu, have a seat right down here,"
Murdoc sat 2D down and went to turn the light off, returning with a pack of cigarettes and a green bic lighter.
Murdoc definitely, never cared or worried for 2D. It's just that Murdoc needed to make money with a big band, and sex sells.
Murdoc lit up and dragged a deep breath in, easily reducing the cigarettes down to half of its size. He let the smoke slowly leak out the corners of his mouth and looked over to 2D, who was now blinking heavily in the darkness, slowly shaking his head.
"'ere, mate."
2D took the offered cigarette in clumsy hands and let Murdoc light it. Out of instinct he breathed the smoke in, letting it out with a shaky breath. The smoke seemed to undo him.
He folded up with his cigarette hand slung over his head, lightly shaking. Murdoc tossed the spent cigarette to the ground and sat in the silence.
Maybe it was the smoke, making the edges of his mind hazy and soft, but he wasn't in his usual mood to clobber 2D. Murdoc laid a hand on the younger man's back soothingly, just leaving it there.
2D whined slightly and dug around in his pockets. His hands shook as he took his pill Tim out of his pocket. 2D downed a generous amount and swallowed dry, only finishing them off with a breathe of smoke. 2D felt spent and tired, barely aware of his body, quickly going numb. Unable to feel when his shoulders sagged and his head dropped, 2D involuntarily knocked his forehead into Murdoc's shoulder.
"Murdoc," he said slowly and quietly,"Why do I feel like I'm not getting any better," 2D murmured, his voice childlike and sad. Murdoc shifted besides him, sneakily pulling 2D's freezing form closer to his warmer one.
"My head hurts so bad and Doc said...doc said my eyes might clear up by they're still ugly, Murdoc," he whimpered.
"Nah, don't say that. They're damn pretty."
"They're black."
"That's my favorite color."
2D chuckled a little at that. Murdoc contemplated the youngers form, still unbelievably skinny from being in the coma, for a minute.
"You know what, damn what those other blithering cocks say about accepting you no matter how you look and they'll love you no matter what, oh I hate the namby pamby bullshit."
Murdoc dragged Stuart's chin up to look him in the face.
"Because I won't, dammit," he ran his thumbs under the dark bags, and 2D closed his eyes with a soft sigh.
"I will only accept these, these portals. These deep fucking black holes that suck and suck and pull you in, that shock of blue hair and yer skinny arse. I'll be damned if you think you're ugly, Tusspot, because you're a pretty boy, and you're my pretty boy, and no one else has a right to say that you'll look any different in the future because," Murdocs nails dig into 2D's chin and the youngers eyes flew open," I'm gonna make sure nothing changes about your looks, faceache."
2D's heart hammered at the dangerous look in Murdoc's downcast face, the way he was grabbing his face with that strong grip in his calloused hands.
Murdoc let go, and 2D immediately sank down into the bed, head laying on one of Murdoc's legs.
2D's heart still beat frantically as Murdoc ran his fingers over his hair and his eyelids, his lips, misshapen from his new missing teeth, and over his large ears.
"You're my boy, dammit," Murdoc whispered to the exhausted 2D," and no bastard is gonna change how that is.
Murdoc definitely didn't care about 2D, not at all.