Hooking up wasn't something you normally did. If you weren't....well....you, you'd probably do it a bit more. But being a famous singer meant that every time you hooked up with someone, there was a chance of some nosy weirdo with a camera posting it to every social media site and tabloid in existence. So....yeah. You didn't hook up much.

Last night, you got invited to some awards ceremony. It was just like all the others, except there was a band you'd never met in-person before. Gorillaz. You'd obviously heard of them (at this point, who hasn't?), but the most you'd ever seen of them was pictures and videos online. You didn't care much about it, though. Their music was good, sure, but you weren't dying to meet any of them.

At the afterparty, you were drinking. Everyone was. That's when Stuart Pot, the lead singer and keyboardist of Gorillaz, approached you. He was obviously flirting with you. Even a deaf person would be able to figure that much out. He was a definitely nervous and probably a bit drunk, but....you were drunk too. What was the harm in flirting a bit? It's not like you'd take him back to your place or anything.

You woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit. Your fault for getting drunk at an afterparty instead of just going home. Something was off, though. You felt tired and had a headache, but you also felt....worn out? Like you'd done some kind of intense workout last night. Didn't know hangovers could do that.

Reluctantly, you sat up in bed, realising that....oh. You were definitely less clothed than you were last night. Even though you were alone, you quickly brought up your duvet to cover up your bare chest. After waking up a bit more, you realised something else. Something was wrapped around your waist.

Immediately, you snapped your head over to the side where you saw....oh no. Stuart Pot himself asleep in your bed. You could only see a sliver of his bare chest from how the duvet was covering him, but if you were properly guessing what happened last night, he was probably just as naked as you were.

You kinda just....sat there for a minute staring directly in front of you. How did this happen? Did you really have that much to drink? Are drunk words (or actions in this case) really sober thoughts?? Luckily, you were interrupted before you could have an absolute breakdown at, like ten in the morning.

2D shifted under the duvet, his messy blue hair even more chaotic than usual. One of his long arms was still loosely wrapped around your waist like it belonged there. He blinked slowly, eyelids heavy, those big dark eyes hazy with sleep and leftover alcohol. For a second he just stared at the ceiling, like he was piecing the night back together too.

Then his head turned toward you. A slow, crooked little smile tugged at his lips."...Mornin', luv," he mumbled, voice rough and quiet, still thick with sleep. He didn't pull his arm away. If anything, his fingers gave the tiniest unconscious squeeze against your side.

His eyes traced your face for a beat longer than necessary, like he was memorizing it in the daylight. "You look proper nice in the morning, y'know that?" he added, quieter. "Even with the... yeah." He gestured vaguely at both of you, clearly referring to the whole naked-and-hungover situation. "Bit of a mess, but....nice."

2D swallowed, the nervousness from last night flickering back in, but gentler now. He didn't move to get up. Didn't make any jokes about leaving. Instead he just kept looking at you, thumb absently brushing against your waist under the covers."...Last night was... really good," he murmured, almost like he was testing the words. "Not just the, y'know....the shaggin'. I mean that too, obviously, but....I liked talkin' to you."

He paused for a moment, his black eyes never leaving your face. Jesus, he was attractive for a 48 year old. "I-I can piss off right now if thas' what y'want, but....I don't really want to, if thas' alright." His fingers stayed pressed lightly against your waist, like he was secretly hoping you'd tell him to stay.