Disclaimer: I own neither the Gorillaz nor their characters. Woe is me.

Author's Note: So, this was written while I was in the car on my way home from the play 'Peter Pan'. It's short, and it probably doesn't make a lot of sense. This was written because I'm still testing the waters with the Gorillaz characters. Expect a lot more of these sort of things.

From what I've seen in this fandom, 2D hardly ever cries. Just so you know, I am aware of this.

As always, reviews and suggestions are always appreciated! Feedback is wonderful. Not only does it encourage my writing, but it boosts my self-esteem, too!

Warning: SLASH. 2D/Murdoc. Yeah. Also, prepare yourself for the vaguest and quickest sex OF YOUR LIFE.

Also: I really want to learn the character's entire backstory. If anyone knows where I can find the books, or anything that may help, please tell me! You might even get a present!

Anyways, enough from me. Enjoy!

xxoxxoxx

It's a tangled web we weave

a silky net of troubles.

xxoxxoxx

They don't love each other.

Really, they don't. What they have is a cycle born of raging libidos and circumstance, and it is fueled by the stagnant stench, heat, and boredom that is Plastic Beach.

When they have sex, they don't speak. Silence is heavy fog looming over them, sticking to their necks and shoulders, rolling down sweat-slicked backs in beads. The only noises allowed are panting and the labored squeals of the bed springs.

In, out, in.

One, two, three.

2D can't feel his toes.

In, out, in.

One, two, three.

He tightens his hold on Murdoc's barrel, wrapping his legs behind the small of his lightly furred back.

In, out, in.

One, two, three.

A tremor rockets up his spine; fire blossoms in his chest. A moan is perched on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it and bites his lip to keep it down. Murdoc's eyes are squeezed shut, locking him out, and judging by the way he keeps clawing at 2D's nipples, he's imagining that it's a girl beneath him, a bodacious blond with ginormous knockers instead of his bony, titless, bluehaired band mate.

Yeah. That's it. Probably.

Something in the back of 2D's mind twitches at this thought, but he pushes it away and embraces this momentary euphoria. Propping himself up on his elbows he arches his back, leaning into it. The Satanist cracks an eye to glance at him, but then it's gone and his eyes are shut in time for a sharp grunt before all motion ceases and they roll away from one another, avoiding eye contact.

2D hugs his legs to his chest, absently stroking his bare thigh in a phantom caress, as he watches the figure grab at shirt and jeans. He dresses quickly, roughly kicking his feet into his pants, thrashing around until his toes jut from the bottom. 2D remains in silence, staring out of a pale mask.

Murdoc pulls his shirt on at last, pauses at the door. For a moment 2D thinks he's going to say something, and this thought freezes him in terror and apprehension. But then the man is in motion again, opening and closing the door with a click and a snick, leaving 2D on his own.

Because nothing between them changes. Ever. Their interactions are those born amidst irritation and frustration, and they will always, always remain this way.

And he doesn't mind that. Really. He doesn't. He doesn't because he's just as bored and horny as Murdoc is. He doesn't have any feelings behind this. None at all.

So when 2D cries that night, he tells himself that it's because his bum hurts, and not because he's in love.