Work Text:
The smoke from Murdoc’s cigarette drifted away from his fingers, curling upwards towards the hole in the ceiling where he had ripped the bus’ smoke alarm out. Blasted thing always used to go off when he had a cigarette. The burn of the tobacco glowed, casting a small glow across the fingers of his right hand. His left hand moved softly in a gentle movement, his fingers twisting and curling 2-D’s soft blue hair around his long digits.
The younger man was asleep on his chest, right ear pressed up against Murdoc’s chest, right above his beating heart; it was the sound of that which had sent the man to sleep an hour ago.
They were on tour, bus bumping down the road towards their next destination, and Murdoc couldn’t sleep. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, making him restless; but with 2-D on his chest, he couldn’t move.
Murdoc always found it rather sweet how 2-D was exhausted after performing a set. He’d always try to fight it when they got on the bus. He’d keep his shoes on, drink a coffee, and try to stifle his yawns behind his hands, but Murdoc always saw through the persona 2-D would put up.
Star performer he might be, but lying was not the singer’s forte.
Murdoc would have to convince the man to go the bunks, to get into his pyjamas – it always went the same; “only if we can cuddles, Muds”.
And of course, Murdoc would oblige because when 2-D was yawning and chewing on a too long sleeve, trying to blink his sleepy eyes, who was he to refuse?
The bus hit a pothole, making the bus lurch and causing 2-D to lurch up, head-butting Murdoc’s chin. The bassist swore and rubbed where there would no doubt be a bruise before turning his attention to 2-D rubbing his eyes.
“Wot time is it?”
Murdoc glanced at the small clock in the hall of the bunk room. “It’s 3am, Face Ache.”
“Why am I awake?” 2-D huffed and collapsed into Murdoc’s pillow. His hands clung to the sides, fingers twitching across the fabric, and Murdoc recognised the gentle movement enough to realise that were his hands together, 2-D would be doing his gentle, nervous finger tapping.
Murdoc ashed his cigarette one last time before stubbing it out in his ashtray before he finally settled down. Carefully, he lay down, shifting around to pull 2-D onto his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around the younger male, and his hands pulled the duvet up around them.
2-D hid his face into Murdoc’s chest, his left hand fiddling with the golden inverted cross around the bassist’s neck. They lay in silence, drinking each other in. They listened to each other’s breathing, taking in each other’s soft scent.
“Muds?”
“What, Face Ache?”
Murdoc felt 2-D’s lips pull up into a smile against the bare skin of his chest, causing a smile to pull over his own lips.
“Love ya, Muds.”
“I love you too, Stu.”
2-D shifted around, leaning up for a gentle kiss before he settled back down. Murdoc counted slowly down from ten – he didn’t even get to four before 2-D was asleep. Murdoc ruffled the singer’s hair gently, shifting around to press an ever so light kiss to his lips before he settled down himself.
Curled up under the duvet with 2-D, Murdoc found himself falling asleep quickly, a rare smile on his face.