Chapter Text
A draft grazes its frigid hands across Murdoc’s skin, and he recoils his leg back under the blanket. The walls of the Winnebago don’t do much to keep the English cold out— not a problem with another warm body involved, but it doesn’t make the morning any more inviting. He pulls the blanket up on autopilot and his arm brushes against someone beside him. Right, her. As his brain begins to stir from sleep, he can’t help but feel like he’s being watched. He creaks one eye open like a rusty door to see a face hovering above him. He blinks it into focus, and the woman’s freckled, angular face manifests in the dark— The rugged, bawdy, Harley-driving, Scottish bartender.
“Do yae have a deviated septum? Yae snore really loud.”
Murdoc inhales deeply and rubs his palm into his eye. “Eh? What?”
“Aye, it sounds like yae do. It’s when the wall between yer nostrils is off-center.”
Murdoc grunts a non-response and rolls over. “Urghhh, probably. ’S been broken so many times. Haven’t been able to smell hardly anything since I was a lad.”
“That explains the state of this place.”
Murdoc turns his head to give her a look almost as dirty as the camper he takes up residence in despite Kong Studios sporting numerous, perfectly usable rooms.
“Christ on a bike, I bet if yae took a black light in here yae could pass it off as a planetarium.”
“Wasn’t bad enough for you to pass, now was it?” Murdoc scratches the back of his head before letting his hand fall back down. “Speaking of, why are you still here?”
She wraps herself around him, snaking her arm under his and across his chest. Her boyish, heather-gray haircut tickles the side of his neck, making him reflexively scrunch his shoulder. “Am I such bad company yae want to get rid of me already? At least tell me yae remember my name.”
“Didn’t know it would be on the test. Shit, don’t tell me, I know it. Sigourney.”
“Siggy’s fine, we ken each other well enough, I think.”
“Alright, Siggy. How about you pipe down and let me go back to sleep?”
“What about me ? Yer a window rattler, boy.” She props herself up with one arm and plants a rough but playful slap on his ass, which fails to rouse him, but he buries his face deeper in his stale pillow.
“They mae throw in a nose job if yae get it fixed,” she adds.
At this, Murdoc lifts his head from the pillow to give her another sour look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I dinnae mean anything bad by it, just saying they can dae both in one go if yae wanted ‘em to.”
“What’s wrong with my nose?”
“Nothing, I like your nose. It’s cute.”
Insulting his nose is one thing, cute is another dig altogether.
Murdoc flops back down and points to the door. “Right. Either stop talking and let me sleep, or make yourself scarce.”
Siggy rolls her eyes and tosses the blanket off, once again exposing Murdoc’s backside to the cold. “Sorry, I dinnae mean to have it come across that way.” She picks up her denim cutoffs from the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and slips them on, searching for the rest of her clothes. “I should get going anyway, I gotta go feed my cat.” She tugs on the rest of her clothes from the night before, smelling of her boozy workplace mixed with Murdoc’s cologne and dirty laundry. “I’ll see yae at the pub later.”
Murdoc lifts his hand one last time to give her a lazy three-fingered wave. The door creaks open and slaps shut, letting in a brief breath of icy air that makes him shiver. Siggy’s motorcycle roars to life before peeling out of the parking garage where Murdoc’s lair resides.
The nerve of that bird.
Murdoc leans his chin on his palm, elbow propped on the kitchen table, eyeing his side profile in the reflection of the greasy oven door. His bandmates yak on about something he can’t be bothered to engage with. The other Murdoc side-eyes him back in silent conversation about their shared features— his brother’s curt mouth, his father’s resentful brow, a nose that belongs to no one else. His mother wasn’t in the picture, and her presence is hardly known in his face either— though, from what he knows of her, she had a graceful aquiline nose he likely would have inherited had it not been for his early impromptu nose job from Tony Chopper. And the subsequent ones by Hannibal. Then Russel.
There’s something to be said about its personal nature, the way a handful of clay will never share the same character when molded in the palms of two different people. It’s strange, sure, but to change it would be like changing the smirk on the Mona Lisa. Alright, dial it back a little . Cleaning the grime off ol’ Mona might be more accurate. Sure, it might look prettier, but everyone pays to ogle the one they know and love. One of their many differences, however, is that Mona Lisa bird doesn’t have sleep apnea.
“Oi, ‘ave I shown you guys this picture my folks sent me? They were cleaning out the attic and found these photo albums. That’s me on my first Christmas!”
Noodle squeals as she yanks the phone from 2D and claps her hand to her cheek. “That’s so cuuuute! Oh my God, look at your little suspenders!”
“Oh, yeah, I have one too,” Russel says. “I took a picture of the one on my auntie’s mantle last time I visited for this occasion. I completely forgot about it.” Russel presents his phone to the group and Noodle gasps.
“OOOOOOOOHHH THE CHEEKS! I’m gonna fucking pass away!”
Murdoc pulls his attention away from his reflection and snorts. “Let’s see Paul Allen’s baby picture,” he says.
“What about you Murdoc, did they even have cameras back then?” Noodle teases.
“His first baby picture was prolly a mugshot,” 2D chimes in.
Murdoc gives a laugh dripping with disdain. “ Hawhawhaw . I’ll have you know I was a perfect, ruddy-cheeked little babe— the Jonbenet Rrrrrrrramsey of Stoke-on-Trent.”
“You think they would’ve tried looking for you?” Russel retorts.
“Right, you lot have your fun taking the piss out of me. I can go back to my Winnie where I’m respected!”
“Aw, come on, Muds, I’m sure you were adorable.”
Murdoc tilts his head back to look up at Russel standing behind him. “You know, I probably would’ve had a fine nose had it not been bashed in on numerous occasions,” He jabs his pointer finger up at him. “No thanks to you, either.”
“I like your nose, Murdoc,” 2D says, beaming at him with his missing front teeth.
Murdoc twists his face at him. He has no problem taking compliments, and less of a problem brushing off the affections of 2D, but something about the sentiment coming from this dopey pretty boy hit him with a pang of irritation. He bares his teeth and points a talon-tipped finger in his direction. “Fuck right off with that, I don’t need your ssssssap.”
2D slouches apologetically and knits his fingers together. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were sore about it.”
“I’m not!”
“Hey, relax, man.” Russel puts his hands on Murdoc’s shoulders, enveloping them like football pads. “What are you buggin’ about?”
Murdoc scoffs. “This bird woke me up this morning to tell me I snore. That I have a… a deviant septic or something.”
Noodle, Russel, and 2D share glances and shrugs of well, yeah, no shit .
“That’s it? You’re bothered that someone told you you snore?” Noodle asks. “You’ve woken yourself up before.”
“It was the fact she had the gall to say,” Murdoc continues, adding Siggy’s Scottish lilt: “ Aye yae ken they mae throw in a nose job if yae get it fixed! ’” He throws his hands up. “Who bloody asked!”
2D tilts his head inquisitively. “The bartender? At the Churchill?”
“That’s not important. It’s just insulting, really. To suggest plastic surgery to someone who just gave ya an Aussie kiss?”
Noodle scrunches her face in disgust.
“It’s a bit uncouth, yes,” Russel says, electing to ignore Murdoc’s oversharing. “You don’t gotta let it get to ya, Muds.”
“I don’t care, it’s my goddamn nose. Besides, I could get a nose job, Veneers, Botox, and all the fixins’, but that wouldn’t change the fact that I’m green , now would it?”
Noodle shudders. “I can’t even imagine. It’d be so weird.”
“Although,” Murdoc says, crossing his arms and slouching in his chair. “Would be nice to smell for once.”
“You smell all the time,” 2D says.
“You’re really pushing it, Stuart,” Murdoc hisses.
“Fixing the deviated septum might be a good idea,” Noodle says, as gently as she can. “It won’t change the look of your nose all that much, but you’d be able to breathe. I’ve heard it’s good for your health to breathe air, actually. People who breathe live twice as long as people who don’t.”
“I fink I read that article too, somewhere,” 2D adds.
“Of course, it’s up to you. A nose job, yeah, that’s a rude suggestion, but fixing your breathing would be a good thing,” Russel says, patting Murdoc’s shoulders. “For your sake. But also it’ll make sharing a tour bus or a hotel room better for everyone. Mostly for your sake, though.”
“Maybe,” Murdoc mutters. “I’ll consider it.”
2D smiles devilishly. “And when you’re done with that, you should get your boobs done next.”
Russel and Noodle grab Murdoc before he can lunge across the table to attack. Murdoc swipes at the air while 2D shields himself with the chair he toppled over.
“I’m done now! I’m done now!”
“You’re done alright! Come here! Let’s see how you look with a deviant septic!”