#so my first reaction was to be concerned about it. thank disoriented migraine brain

[bother-blame]

I woke up with a migraine, and then panicked when i tried to eat something to take ibuprofen bc I realized I couldn’t taste anything in the front of my mouth. then I remembered I burnt my mouth on miso soup last night and that’s probably the reason why 🫠

[our-smooty]

Take Me to Church Chapter 23: Forward

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

The First Session - Stuart

“And what are your goals for therapy?”

So far, this session with his new therapist was going well. It wasn’t much different from sessions he’d had in the past, she’d asked him for some information, he’d told her about his past, and now they were talking about goals. Only 2D hadn’t really thought about why he was going to therapy, aside from encouraging Murdoc to go.

“I uh, I don’t really know,” he admitted, biting a nail. “ I was mostly jus’ comin’ because Murdoc said he would.”

She added a note to her file. “OK. Well, is there anything you’d like to work on?”

Stu thought for a little while, before remembering the incident in the kitchen. “I get scared, sometimes. About Murdoc, but also other things.”

“Hmm, I understand. You feel that in certain situations, you’re more afraid than you should be?”

“Y-yeah! Even when I know I’m safe I jus’...” he trailed off with a shrug. Since the time in the kitchen, he’d been noticing other little reactions that didn’t always make sense. One time Murdoc laughed loudly at something on the TV, and he immediately tensed up, afraid. Another time, Russel had dropped a cup and the smashing glass nearly frightened Stu to tears.

“Alright, is there anything else?” 2D thought back again, but couldn’t really put his finger on a specific thing.

“I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t think of anything.”

She made a few more notes, then closed her book, smiling. “Well, that sounds like a good place to start then!” They talked for a few more minutes about things before time was up. 2D left feeling relatively relaxed and a little bit hopeful.

It wasn’t a very long drive home, and within an hour he was stepping through the front door of Wobble Street. He was greeted by Katsu, who wound his way between his legs, purring loudly.

“‘Ello little buddy,” he cooed, leaning down to scritch behind the cat’s ears. When he straightened up again he saw Murdoc at the foot of the stairs, leaning against the wall. “Hello to you too, Muds.”

“Hey there, Bluebird,” the bassist drawled. He was wearing trackies and a tight-fitting t-shirt, his hair still mussed from sleep. The corner of his lip twitched like he was suppressing a smile. 2D didn’t bother hiding his, beaming at the other as he walked forward to wrap his arms around him.

“Someone’s happy to see me,” the singer teased, letting one of his hand's fiddle with the ends of Murdoc’s hair. The bassist did smile at that, craning his head up to mouth at Stu’s neck and jaw.

“Very happy,” he growled before beginning to suck a hickey into the taller’s neck. 2D gasped, then groaned as Murdoc worked, giving himself over completely to the older’s whims.

“M-Murdoc!” Now the bassist had a hand at the front of Stu’s pants, kneading at the burgeoning hardness there. 2D really, really hoped Russel wasn’t home.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” 2D nodded fervently, letting Murdoc turn and pull him up the stairs. He felt a little bit like a teenager again, silly and randy without a care. It was nice, to let loose like that sometimes.

Murdoc’s room was closest. The door was only just closing behind them as Murdoc sank to his knees, expertly unbuttoning Stu’s jeans and nuzzling against his crotch.

“S-shit Muds! G-gimmie a warning next t-time!” he squeaked. Murdoc chuckled lowly, moving to mouth at the singer’s cock through his briefs. 2D made eye contact with him and moaned.

“Woke up and you weren’t here,” Murdoc murmured, working Stu’s jeans and pants down and over his feet. “Wanted to feel you so bad, I couldn’t help myself.”

The singer hissed as Murdoc took him into his mouth, devilish tongue squirming around the tip. To anchor himself he threaded his fingers through Murdoc’s dark hair, knowing the bassist wouldn’t mind. As expected, the slight tugging made Murdoc whine, his eyes slipping shut in bliss.

Between the hot suction and the lewd noises Murdoc was making, 2D was a groaning, shaking mess in no time. He started thrusting his hips a little, and to his delight Murdoc immediately gave up control, letting the singer set the pace.

“So good--oh God M-Mudoc You're making me cu--!” White-hot pleasure burst from his core, forcing a shout from his lips. Murdoc took it all with a moan, the vibrations making everyone so much sweeter. By the time he stopped shaking and had the brainpower to look down, Murdoc was gasping through his own orgasm, hand in his pants and face pressed into Stu’s thigh.

“Holy hell,” he laughed, running his hands through Murdoc’s hair fondly. The bassist echoed the laugh with his own, slightly out of breath but no less pleased. They rested there against the door for a while as they both caught their breath, the space between them warm and close.

The Second Session - Stuart

He was late for his second session. The night before he’d been having trouble sleeping, so he’d taken some of his sleeping pills and then slept through the alarm and Murdoc’s inquiries. Then he’d been groggy and disoriented through the whole morning, not to mention his head had been hurting more than usual. Since he’d run out of headache pills earlier in the week, and finally realized how much of a dependence he had on them, he’d been trying to take less but it was so hard.

By the time he got into the therapist’s office, he was 15 minutes late and nearly in tears from the stress. He walked in and immediately sat down with his knees drawn up and fingers tapping away on his knees. She didn’t seem surprised by his state and waited for him to say something.

“So I--” he started, before stopping again to think. What was he going to say? “I-I don’t--”

“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked. When he nodded she got up and went to the water cooler, handing him a paper cup filled with cool water. He drank, letting the chilly liquid calm him down. When he was done his breathing was more regular, and his shakes had stopped.

“Thanks,” he said, crushing the cup in his hands. “It’s been a rough mornin’.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Well,” he began ripping the paper cup into little bits, “I couldn’t sleep las’ night so I took some pills, and then I slep’ through my alarm. And my head was killin’ me, but I don’t wanna take my headache pills because I know I’ve been takin’ too many.” It all came out in a rush, like each word crawling over the next.

“You haven’t been taking your migraine medication at all?”

“Not really, unless it got so bad I couldn’t do nothing,” he answered, shrugging. Her eyebrows pinched together in concern. He’d had two headaches this week that had been so bad he couldn’t get up or move, and only then did he let Murdoc or Russel feed him his medication.

“Stuart, it’s dangerous to quite any medication so suddenly, especially if you’ve become addicted.” He looked down at his shoes, still shredding the cup.

“I-I didn’t think it was gonna be this bad,” he admitted quietly. Each time he’d gone without his pills he’d been knocked on his arse by chills, nausea, and pain until Murdoc or Russel stepped in. “I didn’t notice I-I was takin’ so many.”

“It would be much safer to taper down to an appropriate dose,” she suggested. He knew that too, but...

“I dunno if I can do that myself… and I don’t really wanna give all my pills to Muds.” The memory of Murdoc’s most recent overdose was still too fresh.

“What about Russel? I’m sure he’d be happy to help you.”

“I don’t really wanna bug him though..” he trailed off. 2D knew that if he asked Russel wouldn’t mind, but he was still worried about annoying him. Russel had so much going on with his own life, was it really fair to ask him to help even more?

“Why don’t you ask him, and then if he says no we’ll figure out what to do from there?” He nodded in hesitant agreement, mostly because he didn't see any other way. “How was your week, otherwise?”

2D thought back. “Alrigh’ I guess. We visited Noodle again, though Murdoc stayed home. He, uh, he seemed pretty worked up after his first visit here but he was mostly alrigh’.”

“That’s good to hear. How is Noodle doing, and how are you doing since she’s been in the hospital?”

They talked a little back and forth, Stu sharing a couple of things, his therapist making suggestions here or there for ways he could do things differently. They talked a lot about Murdoc, and how their relationship was going. When the session came to an end he was feeling pretty relaxed, if not a little worn out from his headache, and he was glad when she finally closed her notebook and walked him out.

“Stu I’d like you to try keeping a journal. You can write whatever you like in it, but I think it may be helpful for you to be able to look back on your feelings from time to time.” He shrugged and agreed. He already had a music journal, maybe he could just use that.

Outside he sat on the curb and pulled out his phone. Since he hadn’t been feeling so good Murdoc had offered to drive him, which was a miracle in itself. The bassist had been on his best behaviour, following the speed-signs and stopping at every stop sign. For Murdoc it was nearly an unheard of amount of courtesy, and 2D made a mental note to thanks him. Then he made a physical note in his phone, knowing that if left to its own devices his brain would almost certainly throw out that bit of information.

He sent a quick text to the bassist to let him know he was done, then lit a fag. A slightly more intense twinge behind his eyes made him wince. He didn’t want to have to ask Russel to manage his medication on top of everything the drummer was already doing. Russ had enough on his plate with Noodle and Murdoc to worry about without Stu adding himself to the pile.

But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from taking too many pills when the pain got bad. And from there it was a slippery slope to taking them when it was a little bad, then to taking them when he was feelin’ upset. He knew that if left to himself he’d go right back to popping his medication at any chance he got. So he’d have to ask the drummer for help.

Murdoc pulled up to the front of the building and honked the horn twice, jolting Stu out of his thoughts and making his head throb. He’d been to caught up in thought to notice the little headache he’d had was turning into a much larger problem. Crushing his smoke under his shoe, he ambled around to the passenger side, getting in. Murdoc shot him a questioning look at the way he curled forward in his seat.

“You ok there Stu?” he asked, keeping the car in park. 2D shook his head no and blindly reached to the dashboard, searching for the pills he knew Murdoc kept there. The bassist caught on quickly, finding the bottle and tossing a few into his hand and holding it out. The feeling of pills sliding down his throat dry was a familiar one.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, curling forward even more. The headache he’d had in the office was slowly turning into another migraine. It would take a while for the pills to kick in, and those weren’t going to address his nausea. The pills he usually took for that were back at home, but the idea of the car moving was enough to set his stomach rolling.

“Is it a bad one?” Stu grunted a yes. It was too bright out, and he pressed his palms into his eyes until all the light was blocked out. After a few seconds, he felt the car shut off, and heard Murdoc unlock his seat belt, followed by the feeling of cold hands against his scalp. It felt so good.

“Here, take my jacket and put it over your head,” Murdoc said, handing the leather over. “At least until those pills kick in." It wasn’t completely dark under the coat, but it was better than nothing. Murdoc kept his hands stroking through 2D’s hair and gently massaging the tight muscles in his neck. The jacket smelled like Murdoc, and Stu tried to focus on that as he let the pills dow their job.

Within an hour the medication kicked in and 2D felt safe buckling himself in for the ride home. Murdoc gave him a gentle half-smile and made sure to take the least bumpy paths. Stu watched the world outside his window go by in a medicated haze, feeling like he hadn’t really made any progress. Maybe after he asked Russel for help he’d feel better? It was worth a try.

The Third Session - Stuart

“You’ve mentioned Plastic Beach a few times since we first met. Could you tell me a little more about it?” Fuck. She knew, she had to. He’d tried to be sneaky about avoiding the topic, mentioning it here and there in passing, but she’d still picked up on his reluctance.

“I-I don’t know what you want me t’say,” he answered, looking away. He’d never been very good at lying. He already felt the word vomit creeping up his throat. “I-it was pretty b-bad, but i-it’s over. I’m o-over it.”

“What made it so bad?” his therapist asked, making a few notes. Fuck, fuck, fuck! He really didn’t want to talk about Plastic beach now; he wasn’t ready. He hadn’t prepared, he--

“M-Murdoc,” he stuttered out without meaning to. But once he’d started, it was difficult to stop. “H-he was h-horrible t’me, the w-whole time. H-he hurt me. A lot.”

Stu was breathing heavy now, the familiar prick of tears stinging his eyes. “A-and I know he w-wasn’t right then. H-he was sick. B-but…”

She was watching him now, he knew. It was pretty obvious she had some idea of how bad Plastic Beach had been, either from Murdoc or through the internet. “But I--I still t-think about it. I-I have dreams.”

“Does Murdoc still hurt you now?” she asked, voice a tiny bit harder than normal. He could see the relief on her face when he answered.

“N-no. He hasn’t since we came back, except for in one of our videos. B-but that was fake…” the hit with the shoe had still hurt a little, though not as much as it could have for sure.

“Have you talked to Murdoc about it?”

2D didn’t want to answer, because he knew that she’d tell him he should talk about it. Everyone was always pushing him to talk about it, to get over it, but he wasn’t ready--

“It’s OK, if you aren’t ready to yet,” she said instead. He snapped his head up to look at her and only then noticed he was crying.

“I-I,” Stu croaked. His throat wasn’t working, he wanted to talk about it so bad but he couldn’t yet. “It s-still hurts. I can’t y-yet.”

She nodded and handed him a box of tissues. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, Stuart. You’re the one who sets the limits.” It felt good to be told he didn’t have to be ok, that he didn’t have to be open and willing to talk about what were frankly the worst months of his life. “You are an adult, and if you trust Murdoc now to not do what he did then, that’s your choice.”

“T-thanks.” He blew his nose and sniffed a little, smiling just a bit. “I know I-I need to talk about it eventually, b-but… Not now.”

“Do you have anything else you want to talk about today?”

Later that night, long after he’d gotten home and crawled into his bed, Murdoc tiptoed through his door. Normally they spent most of the day together, but after the session he’d had, well he needed some time alone. It honestly surprised him that the bassist hadn’t come in before, knowing how Murdoc didn’t always respect personal space very well.

“You awake, D?” the bassist whispered into the dark space. 2D thought about not answering and continuing to wallow.

“...Yeah.”

He could hear Murdoc’s quiet breathing and the sound of bare feet against carpet. “Can I come in?”

The promise of warmth and comfort was enough to draw him out of the covers. “..Yeah.”

Murdoc closed the door and slid under the covers, right behind Stu. How could that warmth be both everything he needed and everything he didn’t want at the same time?

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

If Murdoc was surprised by his refusal, he didn’t show it. Instead, he gently slid an arm around the singer’s waist and pulled him close. “OK, Bluebird. OK. Why don’t I tell you what Russel and I got up to today instead?”

“OK,” Stu sighed, happy to listen to the other prattle on about whatever if it meant they could stay the way they were. He felt comfortable, and secure, and maybe a little bit hopeful. But he was also kind of sad, and a little bit angry. Maybe that was part of it, part of getting better.