Disclaimer: I don't own the Gorillaz... sadly. But damn, if I did...

Author's Note: Well, well, FF-dot-net. We meet again, and this time, I've got a Gorillaz fic to post. XD MurdocX2D to be precise. GASP!

So, I started writing this before the Plastic Beach arc was in full swing, so it takes place during the Kong Studios era, alas. So just go with it. D: Also, the chapter lengths will vary A LOT, as I'm the kind of person who just goes, "uuuh, there should be a scene change about... HERE." So I divvied this up into several parts, which I'll be sure to post when I can.

I hope my writing is enjoyable to all who read! :3

"…You know, love, I'm in a band."

This is Murdoc's most superficial—yet sexy—pickup line. It's surefire, he knows, if he just throws in a couple of eyebrow and tongue waggles and, if those fail to please, a few drinks here and there. Then it's straight on to the Winnebago for a night of easy lovin' and well… it's best to be skimpy on the details and leave the rest to imagination.

And the girl this night is actually pretty good looking, especially for being the first girl he's spotted for the night. She had said somewhere along the line that her name was… uh… Amber? Amanda? …Sally?

As Murdoc's doing his best to recall her name, all while she says something along the lines of, "Oh, a band you say, what's it called?" 2D has placed himself into the adjacent corner, accompanied with a frothy beer and a bad temperament.

It's always like this, he thinks quietly to himself with a headache coming on, numbing yet stinging, like a child poking at his brain with a stick with quite the pointed end. Murdoc tells Russel and Noodle that he and 2D are going to have a "night out" (much to the chagrin of the other two), invites the blue-haired singer along, a girl finds 2D, and then the Satan-worshipping bassist completely overrides him, leaving 2D in a corner, sulking and feeling like some sort of broken, black-eyed third wheel. Murdoc always takes him into these pubs and acts like this genius—acts like this… fake.

Always.

"You know, I tried to be in a band once," the girl says—Ambermandally, as Murdoc has come to name her in his mind—"but then my boyfriend cheated on me with the fucking slut from Washington who was our guitarist, and I had to boot her out."

Murdoc crumbles.

"Boyfriend, eh?"

"Oh, yeah. He apologized, though, and now we're all lovey-dovey again. It's all cool," she says, taking a swill of her beer and batting her eyelashes. Suddenly her phone goes off like some sort of ironic trill from the heavens, and, throwing a quick "nice talking to ya," she walks off, giggling into the speaker about whatever to her boyfriend that she hadn't mentioned up until that point.

Murdoc, speechless, removes himself from his seat and plops beside 2D.

It's like this for a few moments, but 2D knows what's coming, and he simply waits for it.

"…Shiiit," the bassist says slowly, and it's like the air is slowly leaking out of his lungs. "Y'know, Americans fucking suck. In fact, girls in the whole world—they can all just go to bloody Hell! Why is it that every bimbo feels the need to have a damn boyfriend? I mean, I thought these pubs here were for picking up women, not for… for… whatever the Hell she was doing! Just… hanging around!! Like some fuckin'…"

He sort of trails off at this point, leaving the two in a steady silence. The sounds of the bar around them enfold them, and it's just the peachy scene. Clinking of glasses, yelling, the occasional foul burp: the general merriment of the mundane beer-shack.

However, the scene juxtaposes Murdoc's mood.

This is Murdoc's breaking point. When things go wrong, he quickly points fingers of blame to whoever the Hell he wants to, and right how, it's that Ambermandally's fault that he's not getting laid right now. Really, what is he going to do tonight now with this monster in his pants? Feed it peanuts and watch it grow bigger? Because that certainly is not how it works for Murdoc Niccals.

Not in the least.

"Seriously, though, wasn't she being such a fucking… twat?" Murdoc prods, checking for conformation from his mate, elbowing him a few times.

2D just sighs, resting his head on the table. He ruffles his blue hair in his arms, as though he's trying to tunnel his way into another dimension out the other side of his elbows.

"…Hey, what the Hell's wrong with you?" Murdoc asks, his voice gruff; it's not like he's really concerned about his punching bag, but it's just a reaction. "I was planning on giving you her when I was finished, if that makes you feel any better."

Of course it doesn't.

2D looks up to Murdoc for a split second, his eyes red-rimmed, and for a moment, there seems to pass between them a… sort of moment. 2D thinks seriously about giving a speech about how Murdoc should just sod off, about how he should stop using him as a girl-catcher and how he should stop using him as some kind of napkin to blow his nose on anytime he damn well pleases, how he should stop playing these…games… because… because…

But instead, he just merely manages this:

"…I think I'm gonna frow up."

He then narrowly manages to make it to the bathroom, followed by Murdoc's incredulous stare.