Title: We Didn't Need to See That. Part 1
Summary: A young Gorillaz fan notices something very peculiar on vacation, that is not what she needed to see Murdoc doing.
Rating: Uh, lets give it a PG for many many slashy things and the scarring of the youth. But, really, isn't that what Gorillaz is about?
Pairing: 2DxMurdoc
Notes: I'm putting this up here just to see what some people think. If you read it, CRITISIZE ME CAPTAIN. I need to know my faults so that I may improve it. :D Thanks!
So give me a little more time, and one day when my parents aren't home, and i'll get it done:D
The little girl, barely more then twelve, sat, and grumpily so, on the high seat next to her mother and father at the Luau Bar on the Hotel's grounds. Her mother and father were drinking Pina Coladas and talking with the bartender, who had an interest in old cars, just like her father. There was a small group of shady looking teenagers sitting on towels in the sand. Laying, or sagging, around the pool were a group of wrinkling old people, they were complaining about the humidity and that the Hotel had bad room service.
The girl, whose name was Molly, couldn't help but think that, if they hated it here so much, why spend the money and come here? Molly popped another Peanut into her mouth and looked out over the beach. It was overcast, and on the horizon, far away, were the last dregs of pitch black storm clouds. The storm had waned off by nine o'clock that morning, but it had left the world in a haze of humidity and drizzles every so often. The air was sticky and the sky overcast with grey clouds. The majority of the people in the Hotel had decided to stay inside and in the air conditioned rooms. The casino was overflowing with middle aged gamblers, and the gameroom was full of small children and older siblings with pockets full of quarters. The restaurants were full, the tours were filled up for the day, and Molly was sitting at a bar eating stale peanuts while waiting for her parents to finish their drinks so they could return to the room and watch TV.
But of course, twelve year old's with ADHD cannot last that long.
"Ma? Ma can I go walking on the beach?" her mother looked down. "Please? It's boring here."
"Alright, hon. Take the cell though, I don't want you getting lost, this place is big."
"'Kay." she took the cellphone from her mother and tucked it into her shorts pocket. She grabbed her ball cap and camera and hurried down the wooden path to the sandy earth beneath the Cabanas. Molly briefly wondered, as her feet touched cool, wet sand, if the Hotel had a gift shop, she needed to pick up batteries for her CD Player.
Molly walked slowly down the beach, past the dark looking teenagers, three of them watched her as she walked down the beach. She glared back at them, two of them grinned and the third let out a thin bark of laughter. She clenched her hands into fists and stuffed them into her pockets. Older kids were so lame. They thought the stupidest stuff was funny.
About a hundred yards away was a cut-off section of the beach, the sand gave way to water, and about ten feet through the water sand reappeared. This spot of the beach was hidden behind small, grubby plants, palm trees, and huge, craggy rocks. She dipped her sandled feet into the water and wiggled her toes. Then, through the silence of the waves and the light flapping of palms, she heard a small yelp, and then a high voice yell something that sounded very much like; 'Muds'.
"Muds... Muds... Where have I heard that before?" she stood there, ankle deep in seawater and pondering where exactly she had heard that word, because she knew she had. Somewhere... Maybe if she saw who had said it she would get a better idea. So, Molly waded through the water and crouched down behind a rock and a palm tree. She peeked out from behind the rock and saw two people. Two men, to be exact, and they were both very familier.
"Gorillaz..." she breathed, face lighting up. "Maybe if I pretend I was jogging and just run through they'll give me their autograph!" she whispered to herself, a million different scenarios running through her adolescent mind. After several moments of daydreaming behind the rock, she shook her head and peeked over again. She identified them now, 2D and Murdoc. Oh 2D! She felt her stomach do a backflip. "He's so cute.." she smiled, a blissful expression overtaking her face. He was wearing blue swim trunks with little white Hibiscus prints all over it. Laying on a beach towel next to him was Murdoc Niccals, the basist. Her older sister liked Murdoc, though Molly couldn't fathom why. He was grimy, slimy, and gross! Murdoc had a cigarette tucked between his lips, and was wearing a leopard print speedo. She almost puked at the sight of it, but instead slipped farther behind the rock and gagged a little. Euuch... Though, braving through the sight of the speedo, she pulled her camera out of her pocket and wondered if she could get a picture of them. They were talking, the two of them, and she bet if she took the flash off they wouldn't notice the small click of the camera from this distance. She decided she'd watch them a little longer before attempting that.
She couldn't hear what they were saying from here, but occasionally she'd hear words that Murdoc would yell out. The majority of them were curses, mostly 'fuck' and 'hell'. And then... What happened next she would later say in life, was like watching an animal do something gross at the zoo. You didn't want to watch, you wanted to turn away, but you just couldn't.
Murdoc rolled right over on top of 2D, growled something, and then jammed his lips up against 2D's.
Now, Molly was young, she, at first, thought that Murdoc was attacking 2D. Was she witnessing the murder of a singer by the basist of the same band? Should she interfere, should she capture it on camera? It was the realization that Murdoc was snogging his singer that made her sit and watch, mortified and yet entranced at the same time. It was when Murdoc began to grind wildly up against 2D that made her jump up and run as fast as she could to the Luau Bar back at the hotel, not caring when she ran straight through the little circle of angsting teenagers and clung to her mothers leg, whilst yelling about men, bad images, and 'scary cheetah speedo jiggling'.
It was four days later, after days spent listening to her daughter prattling on and on about those topics, that Molly's mother decided to bring her daughter to a therapist.
Her therapist would recomend never letting her listen to the 'Gorillaz' ever again.