Work Text:
I The Post That Should’ve Stayed in Drafts
Noodle was doom-scrolling in the Kong kitchen at 2 a.m. (as one does) when the notification pinged.
@bluestuart2d:
20 years of putting up with the old man’s snoring and he still leaves his socks in the studio. love u anyway, ya gremlin xx
She blinked. Then blinked again.
Russel shuffled in for a midnight snack, saw her face, and immediately regretted existing.
“What now?”
Wordlessly, Noodle shoved the phone at him.
Russel read it twice. “...‘Old man’? That’s gotta be Murdoc.”
“Exactly.” Noodle’s eyes narrowed like a cat spotting a laser pointer. “He’s never posted anything this sappy. Ever.”
“Could be a joke.”
“2D doesn’t do subtle jokes. He once tried to microwave a whole pumpkin because ‘it looked lonely.’”
Russel rubbed his temples. “We’re overthinking this.”
But they weren’t. Because the next morning, 2D wandered in humming, wearing the same plain silver band he’d had since Demon Days, the one everyone assumed was just “aesthetic.”
Noodle stared. Russel stared harder.
2D waved cheerfully and stole Russel’s cereal.
II The Case of the Forbidden Hallway
Murdoc was out. Actually out. On errands.
With the basement tyrant temporarily MIA, Noodle and Russel did what any self-respecting bandmates would do: they broke into his room.
For science.
Murdoc’s side of Kong was exactly as expected, laundry piles that could achieve sentience, empty rum bottles, a suspiciously stained bass in the corner. But behind the wardrobe (because of course there was a secret wardrobe panel), they found a door.
A perfectly normal door. Painted 2D’s favorite shade of blue.
“...Huh,” Noodle said.
The door opened onto a narrow hallway lit by fairy lights (definitely 2D’s doing). It smelled faintly of lavender and old vinyl. At the end: another door.
Russel hesitated. “This feels like a trap.”
“Or a rom-com,” Noodle whispered, and pushed it open.
They stepped into 2D’s room.
Not a room that looked like 2D’s. His room. The one they’d all assumed was on the second floor. The one with the star-projector ceiling, the mountain of stuffed whales, the half finished lyric sheets.
Except now there was a second pillow on the bed. A second toothbrush in the en-suite. And on the nightstand, a framed photo: 2D and Murdoc in 2005, post-Demon Days chaos, arms slung around each other outside some grimy registrar’s office. Both wearing matching silver bands.
Noodle squeaked. Russel’s jaw dropped so fast it echoed.
III The Ring That Started the Apocalypse
They were still processing (read: having a silent panic attack in 2D’s sock drawer) when the man himself burst into the kitchen upstairs.
“Guys! Guys, have you seen my ring??”
2D was frantic. Hair wild, one sock missing, eyes wide as dinner plates. “It’s silver, plain, I never take it off, I woke up and it was gone and Murdoc’s gonna kill me-”
Noodle and Russel froze.
2D kept babbling. “It’s not just any ring, it’s, well, it’s the ring, y’know? From the thing. The marriage thing. Twenty years ago. In Brighton. There was a seagull. And a vicar who smelled like chips-”
He stopped. Looked at their faces. Realization dawned like a nuclear sunrise.
“...You weren’t supposed to know that,” he whispered.
Russel found his voice first. “You’ve been married. To Murdoc. For twenty years.”
2D winced. “Surprise?”
IV The Interrogation
Murdoc returned to find his bandmates holding an impromptu tribunal in the lounge. 2D sat in the middle like a very guilty blueberry.
“Alright,” Murdoc growled, dropping grocery bags. “Who nicked my wife’s ring?”
“YOUR WIFE?!” Noodle shrieked.
Murdoc froze. 2D facepalmed.
“...Hypothetically,” Murdoc tried.
Russel held up the Instagram screenshot. “Hypothetically posted this?”
Murdoc squinted. “That absolute pillock.”
2D raised a sheepish hand. “It was our anniversary…”
“TWENTY YEARS?!” Noodle again, voice cracking.
Murdoc sighed the sigh of a man who’d been outed by his husband’s inability to use technology. “Look. It was 2005. We were off our tits on adrenaline and cheap cider. Registrar said ‘kiss the bride,’ I said ‘which one’s the bride,’ 2D said ‘both,’ and somehow we signed the papers. Figured we’d tell you lot eventually. Then… didn’t.”
He shrugged like it was normal.
Russel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You hid a marriage. In plain sight. With matching rings.”
“They’re just silver bands!” 2D protested. “Could be anything!”
“You call him ‘love’ when you think we’re not listening,” Noodle deadpanned.
2D turned scarlet. Murdoc smirked.
V The Ring, Returned
They found the ring eventually, inside a box of Weetabix, because 2D had stress-eaten breakfast at 3 a.m. and forgotten.
Noodle made them take a new anniversary photo. Russel officiated a mock vow renewal in the kitchen, using a colander as a crown.
Murdoc grumbled the whole time.
2D cried happy tears into his cereal.
Later, Noodle updated the band’s private Discord:
@noodleguitarist:
secret’s out. they’re disgustingly in love. send help (and earplugs).
@bluestuart2d replied:
worth it
@murdocisgod replied:
delete this or i’ll hide your plectrums in the septic tank