[FIC] Rising Heat, Gorillaz, Murdoc/Noodle, G
Title: Rising Heat
Fandom: Gorillaz
Pairing: Murdoc/Noodle
Notes: For June fic-a-day
Requested by babel here (previously filled)
The night after finishing up shooting the footage for a new video was traditionally supposed to be spent partying. At least it was supposed to be for Murdoc; he never really gave a damn whether the others joined him or not.
But not this time. Russel, fat fucking bastard that he was, had planted his not inconsiderable bulk in front of the booze and refused to let Murdoc past. "Not a chance, Muds," he'd said, crossing his arms over his chest like he'd been hired to play bouncer. "I doubt SANDF's gonna forgive us if you stagger into one of their bases again, so you ain't getting any drunker than you are now until we're on the plane outta here."
He'd tried his best to get around him, but Russel was too fucking fat to move and too bloody pigheaded to convince he should give up his whole plan. Finally Murdoc gave up and stormed out into the desert, vowing to himself that he'd never again be stupid enough not to keep a private supply of liquor somewhere nobody else knew about when they were traveling. With nothing better to do with his night he decided to seek out the least objectionable person in the area.
It was easy enough to find her. All he had to do was follow the sound of a guitar playing until it lead him over the top of a dune to where she was sitting in the sand.
Her eyes were closed, her head tilted towards the sky with a serene expression on her face, and she didn't seem to hear him approaching over the sound of her own playing, so he sat down a little ways from her and enjoyed the chance to watch for awhile. As soon as filming had finished earlier that day she'd striped down to nothing but a little pair of shorts and a sports bra to try and beat the insane desert heat, and she was still dressed that way even though the temperature was dropping with the arrival of night. Aside from her hands drifting over strings of her guitar as she played the only part of her body that she was moving were her toes which were curling and uncurling in the sand, one second burying themselves completely and the next wriggling to the surface again.
When she reached the end of the song she was playing her hands stilled instead of moving on to another, and her eyes slowly slid open. A second later it looked like he'd been wrong about her not noticing his presence as she flopped her head sideways to look at him, night's shadows making her eyes look almost as dark as 2D's. She smiled at him lazily and it he didn't know better that way she was moving have almost started him wondering if she'd managed to get into the alcohol that had been barred to him. No chance of that though; he was sure that the brats they'd had on the set that day were more likely to crack open a bottle of rum and start to chug than she was.
"Doesn't the desert do wonderful things to sound?" she asked him, and, all right, that explained it. She plucked her B sting, the high clear sound ringing out into the night, and smiled again. "Listen to how it curves away. We should do something with that one day when we're making another album."
He snorted as he shifted closer to her. "Right love, do you really want to put up with the heat out here all though recording?"
"Perhaps not the entire thing, but a song or two? It could be a theme, to experiment with how different locations react with our music; return to the desert, go into the mountains, go... on the ocean maybe?" She strummed out a brief melody as she thought, her mind at times directly connected to her music, then stopped with a laugh and stretched out to hook her ankle over his bare shin and tap her toes against the back of his foot. "This is a good place for you to be anyway; for once you actually have an excuse take off all your clothing."
"I'm me, darling. That's all the excuse I need."
"Only within your own mind, Murdoc." She wiggled her foot, shaking his leg along with it, and changed the subject. "Hey, go and get El Diablo. Play with me."
"Not now, Noods. I refused to head back into the same building as that fat fucking bastard until he passes out for the night and I can get at the bar."
"Please try not to fight too much with Russel. It would be nice if we could avoid things getting quite as bad as they became after the last album," she gently chided him, though this time was entirely Lard Arse's fault. But before he could inform her of that she was passing her guitar to him, which quickly shut his mouth. He'd seen grown men cower away from the look she gave them for laying as much as a finger on the Telecaster she was now pressing into his arms, its body still warm with her heat. "Play for me, Muds," she told him softly, her eyes catching the moonlight to gleam at him through the night. "Let me hear how the desert takes your sound."
Well, how could he turn down a request like that. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his night anyway. "Whatever you want, love. Any requests?"
Fandom: Gorillaz
Pairing: Murdoc/Noodle
Notes: For June fic-a-day
Requested by babel here (previously filled)
The night after finishing up shooting the footage for a new video was traditionally supposed to be spent partying. At least it was supposed to be for Murdoc; he never really gave a damn whether the others joined him or not.
But not this time. Russel, fat fucking bastard that he was, had planted his not inconsiderable bulk in front of the booze and refused to let Murdoc past. "Not a chance, Muds," he'd said, crossing his arms over his chest like he'd been hired to play bouncer. "I doubt SANDF's gonna forgive us if you stagger into one of their bases again, so you ain't getting any drunker than you are now until we're on the plane outta here."
He'd tried his best to get around him, but Russel was too fucking fat to move and too bloody pigheaded to convince he should give up his whole plan. Finally Murdoc gave up and stormed out into the desert, vowing to himself that he'd never again be stupid enough not to keep a private supply of liquor somewhere nobody else knew about when they were traveling. With nothing better to do with his night he decided to seek out the least objectionable person in the area.
It was easy enough to find her. All he had to do was follow the sound of a guitar playing until it lead him over the top of a dune to where she was sitting in the sand.
Her eyes were closed, her head tilted towards the sky with a serene expression on her face, and she didn't seem to hear him approaching over the sound of her own playing, so he sat down a little ways from her and enjoyed the chance to watch for awhile. As soon as filming had finished earlier that day she'd striped down to nothing but a little pair of shorts and a sports bra to try and beat the insane desert heat, and she was still dressed that way even though the temperature was dropping with the arrival of night. Aside from her hands drifting over strings of her guitar as she played the only part of her body that she was moving were her toes which were curling and uncurling in the sand, one second burying themselves completely and the next wriggling to the surface again.
When she reached the end of the song she was playing her hands stilled instead of moving on to another, and her eyes slowly slid open. A second later it looked like he'd been wrong about her not noticing his presence as she flopped her head sideways to look at him, night's shadows making her eyes look almost as dark as 2D's. She smiled at him lazily and it he didn't know better that way she was moving have almost started him wondering if she'd managed to get into the alcohol that had been barred to him. No chance of that though; he was sure that the brats they'd had on the set that day were more likely to crack open a bottle of rum and start to chug than she was.
"Doesn't the desert do wonderful things to sound?" she asked him, and, all right, that explained it. She plucked her B sting, the high clear sound ringing out into the night, and smiled again. "Listen to how it curves away. We should do something with that one day when we're making another album."
He snorted as he shifted closer to her. "Right love, do you really want to put up with the heat out here all though recording?"
"Perhaps not the entire thing, but a song or two? It could be a theme, to experiment with how different locations react with our music; return to the desert, go into the mountains, go... on the ocean maybe?" She strummed out a brief melody as she thought, her mind at times directly connected to her music, then stopped with a laugh and stretched out to hook her ankle over his bare shin and tap her toes against the back of his foot. "This is a good place for you to be anyway; for once you actually have an excuse take off all your clothing."
"I'm me, darling. That's all the excuse I need."
"Only within your own mind, Murdoc." She wiggled her foot, shaking his leg along with it, and changed the subject. "Hey, go and get El Diablo. Play with me."
"Not now, Noods. I refused to head back into the same building as that fat fucking bastard until he passes out for the night and I can get at the bar."
"Please try not to fight too much with Russel. It would be nice if we could avoid things getting quite as bad as they became after the last album," she gently chided him, though this time was entirely Lard Arse's fault. But before he could inform her of that she was passing her guitar to him, which quickly shut his mouth. He'd seen grown men cower away from the look she gave them for laying as much as a finger on the Telecaster she was now pressing into his arms, its body still warm with her heat. "Play for me, Muds," she told him softly, her eyes catching the moonlight to gleam at him through the night. "Let me hear how the desert takes your sound."
Well, how could he turn down a request like that. It wasn't like he had anything better to do with his night anyway. "Whatever you want, love. Any requests?"