My Hot Kiss Ass Singer. 2d X Murdoc

Betty bee's tea party.

(2d's pov)

Murdoc seemed like he was in a good mood today, I couldn't help but notice the way he hummed to himself as he made himself a margarita. I mean it's a bit early in the morning to stomach a margarita in my opinion, but he's murdoc he can do anything.

  I turned my head to the clear slider as I took another sip of my peppermint tea. I was currently seated at the dinning room table surrounded by papers of scribbled notes and lyrics that I didn't feel quite right to me. Nothing felt quite right in my brain anymore. I haven't been able to write a song in weeks, I mean it's not something I need to be consurned about, the words will come eventually. Anyway the outside world was gloomy, like always. The metal table and chairs on the trashed patio were rusted, and the little red flowers that Russel helped noodle plant were growing soggy and sinking into the gravel which surrounded each stem.  

If I looked closely I could see murdocs reflection from his place in the kitchen. He had that margarita in one hand and was leaning against the white marble counter. The air vent was blowing, and it seemed like the air was making his bangs swish ever so slightly, I made a small miserable moan inside my mouth as I stared at it. Usually murdocs hair was greasy and gross, but lately he has been taking a lot of baths... don't know why, maybe he read a magazine and decided to take a trip to bath and body works. But what ever the reason it makes me keep staring at him, he's been cleaning himself up more often, and I think it's kinda........ turning me on????? Cringing a bit at the thought I adverted my eyes from the reflections on the slider and looked down at my notes. All of it was as short as crap, frustrated I set down my mug and crumbled up the piece of paper and started fresh with a new one. I stared down at the piece of paper and growled at it, it was mocking me. 

I looked away and glanced at the slider as I brought my mug of tea to my lips. I stopped short, the green mug resting on the tip of my bottom lip at the sight of that Bassists eyes staring at the back of my head, a small smirk growing on his lips. Nothing good can come from that green man when he's smirking, that usually means he's plotting something, I instantly whipped around, not wasting any time, making my tea swoosh out of my cup and splat on the floor. I ignored it and and stared at Murdoc, or gazes locked, and he didn't look away he just stared into my eyes without flinching or anything, like he expected me to turn around and stare back. But instead his smirk grew, as he slowly lifted his drink to his lips, taking a sip. 

I wrinkled my nose and focused, my gaze down at my spilled tea.                                    I liked that tea. 

"You should clean your room," Murdocs husky voice spoke, ringing through the silence. 

I tried not to roll my eyes, "I'd like to see you clean yours," I growled at the ground.

"Don't give me lip Dent head," he growled back.

I clamped my mouth shut and glanced at Murdoc who seemed to be in much more of a sour mood. He had looked away from me and was rubbing the side of his head, he seemed a little hungover, he probably had a headache, but I couldn't stop focusing on his hair. . .

Murdoc looked my way and his nostrils inflamed, "What are you staring at you faggot!" He yelled, grabbing the plastic salt shaker off the counter and throwing it at me. it successfully bounced off my head. 

I looked down, not willing to engage. 

Russel had dragged Noodle to one of Betty Bees tea parties, so it's just me and Muds...

A cold silence filled the space between us, making the situation just a bit awkward. Murdoc continued to sip at his margarita while I stared at my tea which was on the floor.  The herbal liquid seemed to be seeping into the cracks in the floor maybe I wouldn't need to clean it up. Maybe the floor would drink it. The floor was Like .... Wait what's the word? Hmmmmm (aggressive humming) ..........    I can't remember that word. I continued like this humming to myself, as I stared at my splattered tea, while scrunching my face up trying to remember what it was called.