A/N I would like to thank four people, my darling friend Hiskubus/ Nina as always for aiding me in all my writing and help with ideas (and squealing over 2dxmurdoc in general), my wonderful Lucy for aiding with fan interpretations and general loveliness, Kegom for posting the original question as to why no one had written about their relationship as it would be seen if they were human ( e.g. domestic abuse/ violent) view post here ( gorillaz_ ) and therefore getting me thinking and luuurrve's ( . ) amazing fanfic Living Doll and fanfics in general which influenced me to write Gorillaz slash in the first place. I hope you like it :)
Fantasy is better than reality
Chapter one: August 14th/15th 1997 D-Day
2d: There used to be this kid in the fifth year at school when I was a junior called Roger and he was a punk, I always thought he was really cool. I didn't even mind when him and his gang, called the organ boys, stuck the five a side football posts down my shirt and out of my trouser leg and crucified me in the middle of the playing field."
What do you miss most when you're away?
2d: Hanging out in the arndale centre and bombing round car parks in shopping trolleys mashed of my clackers.
Interviewer:Back to the book i noticed that murdoc you mentioned a few bands that you were previously in?
Murdoc: Bobby Makeup was good
2d: oh Bobby Makeup was good
Murdoc: remember him?
Murdoc: yeah he was just a big headed tosser so we yeah another one, Bullworker
Murdoc: do you remember Bullworker?
2d; yeah i remember Bullworker!
Murdoc: *sings* that's the one boy ahohwaoh
2d: I liked 'Dave and the Daves', I liked it when you were in 'Dave and the Daves', that was good.
It's four pm and the weather is warm. Stuart Pot rests against the desk of the keyboard shop and sips the sugary lukewarm substance his boss had described as tea. He grimaces at the overt sweetness and picks at the threads of his ripped jeans.
Only two more hours. Two more hours then he would be out of there. He tried to feel pleased at the prospect but the concept of another night watching his mates get pissed or high, (or both) and him ending up in a similar condition rattling round the trolleys in tesco carpark before shagging one of the ugly birds working on the late shift there didn't really seem all that appealing.
A song came on the shops radio, something useless out of the current charts, he caught his manager humming along. There had to be better songs than this. Maybe not necessarily so different but better, surely?
He felt trapped and lost and fucking hell, so bored, all the time. Here he was eighteen, the height of his youth, whippet thin with spiky blue hair and some decent A levels he was finishing off and yet, he was stuck already. He could hear his Mum's voice in his head.
"You better watch it Stu honey, or you'll get really good at that job and end up as manager, and then what? Stuck in Crawley for the rest of your life? Forget what anybody else says, you're smart and you're kind. You deserve so much better than this love."
He bit his lip, staring into the swirling brown mess of his teacup.
Of course he wanted more than this, but what else was there?
The door opened with its metallic false bell and Stuart, startled dropped his teacup which landed at the new customer's feet spreading the remnants of his tea and the china all over the carpet.
"I am so sorry sir! I didn't really, I mean I wasn't. I wasn't thinking, well I was, I mean…" Stuart stopped speaking to the pair of Cuban heeled boots as he clenched the broken china in his hand and looked up at the man in front of him. He forgot to breathe.
Defined yet skinny, dressed for a funeral, an upside down cross glinted in the shops dim light; hung from the man's neck, mismatched black and red eyes glared into Stuart Pot's very being from under a razor sharp black fringe. He sat there momentarily stunned before the man coughed and spoke.
"Excuse me?" The man stared down at Stuart and Stuart stumbled realizing that his head had been directly facing his crotch the entire time. Tight black jeans, black jumper. Cuban heels. Stuart stood up quickly and tried to remember how to speak.
"You're bleeding mate" the man noted and Stuart looked down to see drops of blood fall from his finger, splashing the tea stained china in his hand and landing on his boots. He didn't move.
"Stuart! What do you think you're doing!? Clear that mess up and demonstrate some keyboards for the man! Jesus…" he placed a bin near Stuart who dumped the remains of the cup into it.
Stuart sucked his finger and smiled nervously at the man who grinned wickedly back, displaying fangs. Stuart shivered.
"So 'how can I help yew today sir?"
"I need some new instruments. Starting a new band, I'm thinking of a fresh start and all that."
"Err yeah, fresh. Err, how about you choose a keyboard and I'll demonstrate it for you sir?"
"Hmmm. That one looks alright." The man pointed at a random keyboard, Stuart
smiled, his favorite one.
" Yes sir! " he beamed and bent down to plug it in before playing Maxence Cyrin's unfinished sympathy cover.
"Mmmmhmmm. A Massive Attack fan eh?" the man smiled.
"Well" Stuart shrugged, "Among other things, I can play lots of different songs and sing..."
"So what are you, auditioning for me then eh?" he laughed and moved to stand beside Stuart so he could see the various buttons more clearly. Stuart didn't take his eyes of him.
"Well, maybe, yeah. So have you got a band already then?" Stuart asked demonstrating the various dub beats and drum rhythms the keyboard could play.
"I did have, was with this guy called Bobby makeup and then this band Bullworker"
"Oh I know them!" Stuart beamed. Bobby Makeup was good, and I've heard of Bullworker..."
"Well he was just a big tosser, so we split. I've got a new band we're playing a little gig tonight actually... You should come, see for yourself." He handed Stuart a flyer. The heading said CLUB PASSION in big bold red letters, with a list of bands underneath lastly stating "FEATURING MURDOC NICCALS' DAVE AND THE DAVES!"
"Murdoc…" Stuart whispered and Murdoc grinned.
"Murdoc Niccal's, and you are…? Stuart Pot?" he read from Stuart's name tag. "See you there eh Stu? And mate, I think I will consider it, the keyboard I mean" he motioned to Norm who nodded and smiled, before he turned and walked out of the shop leaving an excited yet extremely nervous Stuart clutching the flyer as if it were a holy scripture.
Maybe there were better songs after all.
The club was a mix of subcultures, punks stood at the bar drinking with Mods, new wavers laughed with ravers. Stuart stood in the opening beaming. It had taken him four hours to pick an outfit after work and he was nervous as hell, tight blue jeans, converse shoes (he was tall enough, flat trainers were probably best), his favourite Clash t-shirt and a black spiked wrist bands. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and stared through the crowd trying to search out the demon like musician he had encountered only a few hours prior.
Maybe he was just joking? Maybe he wouldn't meet him?
For fucks sake Stuart you're an idiot to believe anyone as cool as him would have an interest in you. He debated leaving, giving up now and turning tail but the lights were already dimming as the band entered the stage.
A moody looking rocker sat to the drums, two depressed young Goth posers wandered onto the stage and stood besides the keyboards and guitar.
Murdoc Nicalls walked into the light and grinned wickedly at the crowd, Stuart let out a sigh of relief. Holding a flying v bass guitar and standing before the crowd like a God he whispered in that dirty deliciously gravelly voice of his
"Hello. I am Murdoc Nicalls and we are Dave and the Daves." The crowd cheered. Stuart held his breath. And...
They were amazing. Well... Murdoc was, he played bass like a demon and despite his voice not being exactly... well right, the lyrics seemed to fit perfectly. Every other musician concentrated deeply obviously new to this yet the guitarist, to Murdoc's annoyance seemed more interested in posing about trying to impress the girls.
Murdoc paused a look of sheer satanic anger in his eyes, and turned round suddenly hitting the guitarist (currently flirting with a Goth girl in the front row and forgetting to play) full in the face with his bass knocking out two teeth and leaving an imprint of "flying v" forever on his forehead. The guitarist flew back and landed into the drum kit, pissing the drummer off who then started to scream at him. They broke out into a fight which then turned into a riot and Murdoc completely unscathed stood laughing at the mess he had created.
He turned his gaze across the room to Stuart and winked. Stuart shivered and watched as Murdoc waggled his finger in a "come this way" manner and motioned to follow out backstage the pretty boy grinned and followed the bassist out of the room while the sounds of "you fucking Nazi rocker c***!" were heard and smashes of glasses.
"What did you think then?" Murdoc stared at him as he packed up his bass and grabbed his coat in the make do changing room.
"Err... it was... brilliant actually"
"Until that twat of a guitarist started playing right?" Murdoc laughed as Stuart smiled embarrassedly and nodded.
"Yeah it was pretty bad mate."
"It's that sodding guitarist. And the drummer. And the keyboardist for that matter. Urgh. It's always the same, no one with any real talent." He held his head in his hands for a moment. There was a beat and he stared directly at Stuart.
"Why is your hair blue? Is it some crappy dye job that went wrong?"
Stuart laughed caught off guard by such a random question.
"It's always been like that. Ever since I fell out of a tree when I was like eleven..." Murdoc chuckled.
"You're an odd one Stuart. Although it doesn't really match, blue hair, brown eyes... blue eyebrows. It looks kind of strange. I like it. Strange is good" he smiled. There was an awkward pause when neither of them really spoke and just smiled at each other. Stuart suddenly realised how small the room was.
"Well... Not that this isn't fun but I gotta get going, which way you walking?" Murdoc stretched and stood up.
"I could be your singer!" Stuart blurted out. "I mean I can sing and play keyboards and i'm much much better than that lot and I want to do it.." he stared at his feet. "I don't really fit anywhere really but I love music. It's the only thing that makes sense to me like it's part of me or something. Oh I don't know that sounds crap. Just forget it.."
Murdoc stared at him for a long time and Stuart stared at his feet willing the ground to open up and swallow him whole. When he looked back up Murdoc had moved a lot closer to him piercing him with his mismatched gaze. Christ thought Stuart he's going to hit me.
Murdoc's face broke into another grin. Stuart smiled back weakly unsure how to react to this man.
"Yes. Ok. I'll think about it. You do have talent, I'll admit that. But I don't really need a singer…"
"Are you kidding me?! One girl said it sounded like a cat caught in a cement mixer!" Stuart then covered his mouth in shock. "Shit. I mean erm… it was alright I mean that was just her opinion not mine… and the lyrics were amazing..."
Murdoc stared at him some more, no longer smiling and then laughed.
"Alright, you might have a point there. My voice doesn't really appeal to the wider market; it's for the true connoisseurs. But if you want to be front man you'll have to do something about that look of yours, slicked back blue hair and a side fringe and those weird brown eyes of yours... Its just odd mate. In a sort of pretty boy way but you know-."
Stuart smiled. "I will I'll do something..."
"Maybe short? It might be kind of spike it? Cut it all off and put on a wig? Oh hell I don't know, we'll work on it." The bassist slung his bass over his shoulder and pushed the younger man forward.
"Now home! It's past your bedtime Saturday boy!"
Stuart and Murdoc walked out of the club as the police cars came round the corner of the road, various officers bundling Mods and fighting Rockers from the club into their vans.
They walked together and talked of their favourite bands, how shit the music in the charts was, how it's a shame that bands never really use a lot of genres and just stick to one thing and how much of a poser that lead singer of that band Blur was.
"I know where he lives though. He has some good parties; he lives with that bloke, whatshisname…. Hewl... Hewlett. Did some comics about birds with tanks..."
"Tank girl? OH John...Jeremy? No James. Jamie Hewlett!"
"That's the one!" Murdoc laughed "yeah, well my plan was make a new band and then go blackmailing him into getting us signed to a record label or something I want to this properly this time, no more crappy pub gigs. I've got some dirt on him so it should work perfectly."
"Nice one" Stuart smiled and then fell silent. They had reached the crossroad. Murdoc one way him the other. He turned to look at him, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.
"Ah well I guess I have to go, got college tomorrow."
"Waste of time" Murdoc smiled at him. "Here." He took out a piece of paper and scribbled down his name and phone number.
"Give us a bell at some point in the week and I'll audition you alright. I'll have the instruments by Monday. That shop of yours is open tomorrow right?" Stuart stared at the piece of paper beaming and stuck it in his pocket.
"Yeah from 10 to four though."
"Nice one" He turned to leave and then paused checking the surrounding area, they were alone shaded in darkness.
He grabbed Stuart's hand and pulled him into a kiss. Shocked and shaking with nerves he kissed back and even dared to run a hand through the mass of black hair. A surprisingly long tongue ran over his. They stood there for a few minutes, slowly testing each other, Stuart grabbed at Murdoc's jacket pulling him to him hard, when Murdoc pulled out for breath and stared into Stuart's eyes, smiling before ruffling Stuart's hair.
"Spikes mate. Definitely spikes" He grinned and turned leaving Stuart standing on the corner grinning and hard as fuck.
Rachel Pot looked up from the TV and smiled.
"How was it love?" Stuart stuck his coat on the rack and sighed happily.
"You met someone didn't you!" she grinned at him and gave him a hug. "I can tell you've gone all coy aww Stu! I haven't seen you like this since that punk boy said he liked your jacket! Who's the lucky lady!?"
"Mum! That was ages ago..." he laughed. "I got an audition for a band!"
"Aww that's wonderful dear. Oh before I forget Norm called. He wants you to work for a bit longer tomorrow."
Stuarts smile widened maybe he would see him tomorrow then as well?
"Are you ready? I don't want to fuck this up. I t has to be done right and once only."
"Yeah yeah yeah we hear ya Murdoc. Smash in, grab stuff drive off. Simple."
"Should be. They'll be no one on desk today since it's a Sunday. I've been watching that place all week, the busiest they get is Saturdays when that Saturday boys there..."
"Ooooooh the Saturday boy eh? The one you left the club with!"
"Awww" the two moody Goths cooed. One sporting a black left eye after last night's shenanigans.
"Look, he's a very good keyboardist and singer, much better than the likes of you. There's no point stealing this equipment for posery little pansies that can't even fucking play it understood?" he hissed into the face of the black eyed goth who gulped.
"Now. Masks on."
The Vauxhall astra swerved down the road at full speed and crashed into the shop window. Glass splayed over the kerb and as the town was virtually empty on a Sunday only one scream was heard, from under the car. Murdoc ran out to the front, grabbing keyboards and shoving them into the car before he saw it. Blue hair under the car.
He saw glass, the tea stain and a pool of blood seeping from wounds on legs, ripped up jeans. He knelt in the broken glass, piercing his skin, ripped his jacket and tied up the broken legs, tried to hold the blood flow. In the distance as though miles away he could hear his comrades screaming at him to leave, the sirens of the shop calling police cars. They ran in fear and Murdoc sat rooted to the spot. The one black eye staring through him right through to his soul.
The first good thing that had happened to him in all his life and he had broken it.
He laughed and didn't stop, holding onto the Saturday boy as tears fell down his cheeks choking on his laughter. He didn't stop as the police tried to take him into the van and as they drove him into the hospital. He had lost everything before it had even started and wasn't that just fucking hilarious?
So there you go first chapter ? hope you enjoyed and please no nasty homophobic reviews etc.
Oh by the way, when I write I listen to my music on my zen 3 , so the music tends to be the atmosphere of the piece or express what i'm thinking about, if that makes any sense lol. So yes technically speaking this fan fiction has a soundtrack ?
Blur: on the way to the club
(when you know who walks in ) : blur: good song
When 2d meets him at the club: The organ: brother ( I always imagined murdoc's band would sound like this but with awful singing.)
When they walk back together and the ending : Bat for Lashes: Daniel (radio one live lounge version