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2-D punched in the pin to slide open the doors to Murdoc’s room, wordlessly walking in and crawling between Murdoc’s legs as the doors slammed shut again. Murdoc was messing with his Macbook on top of his bed, wearing a robe, still soft from showering, and 2-D suddenly grabbing his computer and pushing it aside had startled Murdoc, accidentally making him hit the capture button. A total of five photos were taken as 2-D rubbed his nose into the line of Murdoc’s jaw and boxed Murdoc into the bed, pushing one of Murdoc’s legs over his shoulder. “Whaddya want, ‘D?” Murdoc asked, hooking the other leg over the younger man’s hip, his hair fanning out against his pillow. 2-D didn’t respond, making Murdoc frown, a crease forming between his eyebrows, and in a second he flipped their positions, pinning 2-D down to his bed. “What do you want, Stuart?” He repeated again, slower. 2-D let out a squeak of surprise at the movement, not at all expecting it. Murdoc had been way more on edge lately, Stu had noticed. “I was- fuck, I was horny!” He exclaimed, slightly scared of the dark look that flashed in Murdoc’s eyes. “Oh,” the older man murmured, softening immediately, before crawling off Stuart and moving to the other side of the room to pour 2-D a drink. 2-D smiled when he saw what type of brandy it was, immediately forgetting his fear. “We drank that at my sister’s wedding,” he said as he stood up and came over to watch Murdoc pour Slivovica into two glasses, noting his shaking hands but not mentioning them. “Really?” Murdoc mused as he pushed a glass into 2-D’s hands. “One of my dad’s friends used to bring the shit over all the time during their poker games.” Murdoc knew his and 2-D’s lives were completely different, only ever just barely aligning. The kid was Jewish, played ice hockey and had a nice, comfortable life waiting him off the ship, probably with some highschool sweetheart who had been pining for him since sophomore year. Murdoc was a full-blown Satanist who smuggled booze and drugs onto the ship as a side job, and had nothing left for him outside accept maybe a mouthful of lead. Murdoc shuddered just thinking about the house he grew up in, taking a tentative sip of brandy. It was alright. Murdoc remembered the first time him and 2-D had fucked—Murdoc was still getting used to the rigor of the ship, still a low-ranking member, and still anxious as hell, to the point of being so jumpy and flinchy that he was flagged by the ship’s medic. Now, though he still worked below deck, he was practically worshipped by his crewmates, given respect and gifts and all that jazz. 2-D started out working above deck, hauling crates and doing grunt work, though he was fairly comfortable almost immediately. The young man was charming, and within a few weeks he’d made buddies with some of the other deck hands, and laughed easily. Murdoc didn’t remember how exactly they’d ended up together, since both of them were severely inebriated at the time. All he knew was that all the above deck crew had flooded below in celebration for the captain’s birthday, and somewhere between singing “Happy Birthday” and Elijah getting pantsed, 2-D had noticed Murdoc, probably sitting in a corner or off to the side smoking, and fell for him immediately. His attempts to hit on Murdoc were mediocre at best, but Murdoc hadn’t had a shag since he’d come aboard, and thought, eh, fuck it. Kid’s handsome and I probably won’t see him ever again since he works above deck. Oh, how wrong he was. Murdoc had dragged 2-D into his old dorm, the one with barely enough space to take two steps in, and things led to other things and by morning Murdoc was covered in bruises and couldn’t walk straight, and 2-D had gnarly scratches all the way down his back and a few epic-looking hickeys. 2-D had risen blearily to the reveille, and Murdoc had sent him off with a kiss on the side of his mouth, his black lip tint leaving a mark that 2-D didn’t notice until one of his mates told him at breakfast. Sometimes Murdoc missed his old, small room. There was only so much he could do, so much he could overthink, and all in all his life seemed much more simple back when he inhabited that dorm. The change wasn’t all bad, though. Murdoc’s new room came with all the amenities that you got when you were a drug lord aboard a big ship like this, a private shower, a steady booze supply, time alone… “You should come above deck sometime,” 2-D said, having watched Murdoc’s face the whole time as he zoned out, his drink already half finished. “Would be good for you.” 2-D had noticed how Murdoc’s tan had faded, and didn’t know if it was him or if Murdoc looked gaunter. Murdoc’s eyelashes fluttered as he blinked himself out of his reverie, a small, disgruntled noise escaping his chapped lips. “Me? You’re shitting me, Stu,” Murdoc insisted, shaking his head before downing his drink in one go. “Nah, ‘m not,” 2-D murmured, leaving his drink unfinished in favour of slowly herding Murdoc back towards the bed again, pushing the fabric of his robe off his shoulders. “Some vitamin D would do you good, and it’s not like the people up there would hate you. I’ve talked you up too much for that,” 2-D convinced as he quietly ordered Murdoc to get on his front, putting a pillow beneath the older man’s hips before pulling away for a moment to take off his own clothes. “I’m about to get some “D” in me,” Murdoc protested, even as his body instinctually tensed when 2-D came back and pressed against his back, before going lax and pliant.