ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ // ²ᵈᵒᶜ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉˢ

1

Prompt: 

After a long day, Murdoc is tense, and just wants a gentle back rub from 2D.

//

"What a day that was, huh lads?" Murdoc huffed, throwing his entire body weight onto the torn, and tattered sofa. He threw his clunky boots across the room, indirectly knocking over a deserted lamp that was collecting mountains of dust. Russel shook his head, mumbling a quick word under his breath, which Murdoc knew was not positive in any way, but luckily for Russel, he had no energy to retort. 

"I'm going to get changed, and then pass right out," Noodle announced, stretching her arms, yawning, "see you guys tomorrow."

"I gonna do a chill Minecraft session, you got the energy to join?" Russel asked Noodle, as they slumbered towards the stairs, "night you two," he added, throwing a quick glance, and smile towards Murdoc, and 2D. Russel, and Noodle continued their conversation, their voices getting quieter, and quieter by the second.

2D was hovering over the sofa; mind a million miles away. His body gently swayed to the static sound of nothing, causing Murdoc to roll his eyes, and mutter something much more vulgar than Russel did to him mere moments ago. 

"Oi, I heard that!" 2D whined, "I ain't completely braindead all the time,"

"You keep tellin' yourself that you mug," Murdoc teased. He patted the worn out cushion next to him, giving 2D a non-verbal invitation to sit next to him. As he did, he felt all the crumbs from many nights of drunkenly consuming any disgusting food combination they could make in the kitchen dig uncomfortably into his legs. Speaking of being drunk, he really hoped the wet puddle that had barely seeped into the sofa, and he put in hand in was just some spilt beer. 

"That's not beer mate."

2D moaned unpleasantly, shaking his hand rapidly; desperately hoping to get whatever ungodly fluid was dripping off of his fingers. The feeling of presumably piss flowing smoothly down his stiff, and bony fingers made the pit of his stomach grumble, and churn, all whilst Murdoc was holding his own stomach, which was tied in knots from laughing uncontrollably over the distress 2D was currently in. 

2D threw his body against the back of the sofa, exasperated with the events that had just unfolded. His whole day had been terrible- first thing in the morning he was vigorously spat on, not once, but twice, and then thrown into a hectic day that was incompletely inexplicable, and mentally draining. Finally, when he got home, and all he pleaded for was a moment of relaxation, he put his hand in fucking piss. Piss, of all things! He felt his jaw clenched tightly, and his sharp nails dig deeply into one palm of his hand. His eyes were rolled shut, covered up by his worn-out eyelids. The bags under his eyes- who were practically permanent residents- were more apparent than they'd ever been before. If anyone were to ask about just a tiny snippet of the day he'd had, they'd completely understand, and may even develop pesky eye-bags just as deep, and dismal as his own.

His mini-mental breakdown was swiftly, and noisily interrupted by a mumbling Murdoc, attempting to take off his own shirt, which was covered in cigarette burns, and crinkles, since it'd never seen a washing or drying machine in it's unfortunate days of living. 2D groaned, opening his eyes to see Murdoc shirtless, with his back turned towards him. He pulled out a cigarette from his torn, and worn trousers, pulling off the manoeuvre much easier than he did with his shirt. You would think, 2D wondered, that he'd be able to take his shirt off with ease after all the fucking he's done. 

2D started at Murdoc's back, taking in the faded scratches from whatever the fuck he's been doing over the years. Seconds ticked by; both the men sitting there waiting for each other to make a move. Murdoc's puffs got more agitated, and the bounce of his gangly legs got faster. It seemed like he was expecting 2D to do something, but he had no idea what.