Chapter Text
misassumption: noun [ C ] /ˌmɪs.əˈsʌmp.ʃən/
something that is accepted as true without question or proof, but that is false or wrong.
That's what the Oxford dictionary says, ‘cos apparently hotels don't leave magazines in the rooms anymore, or even a normal fucking book, they leave a fucking dictionary. Maybe they thought Noel looked a bit daft and the manager decided it was for the best to give him a bit of education. Or perhaps they couldn't understand his accent so they left Oxford’s greatest there, to see if some of that civilized language stuck to him. Well, it fucking hasn't. He's staring at the word with narrowed eyes. It ain't a fucking word, let him tell you that. In his twenty nine years of life, he's never heard anyone say that. They say mistake, error, maybe. Most of the time you just say cock up and that's it. What's the fuck is that, misassumption, anyway?
Well, what Noel did, is what it is. ‘Cos he thought, right, since Liam had shoved his tongue down his throat earlier, then the kid obviously fancied him. At least. Because normal people don't go licking geezers’ tonsils for no fucking reason, you see. But apparently his brother does. Noel rubs his eyes with the heel of his palms, the pressure making his vision blurry as his hands fall to his sides. Fucking Christ.
He resists the urge of throwing the fucking dictionary through the window and just leaves it there, the little words mixing into each other in his blurred gaze. Between the booze and the gak and everything else, the room seems to sway just a little, and the words on the page move like they're dancing, almost mocking Noel. Like they know something he doesn't. Maybe they do. Maybe it was obvious his brother was just mad, but not ill. Noel is ill, though. He's sick in the head, but perfectly sane. There's nothing wrong with his reasoning, it's everything else that's just the tiniest bit crooked. Like that shelf back in Burnage, the one he hung up for his mam: sturdy, would never fall, but you couldn't trust to put anything on it without it sliding off. So what was it even good for?
He lets out a trembling breath as he pulls out a fag from his pocket. Doesn't know if he has a light, but just the feeling of the cigarette between his fingers makes him feel a bit more solid, less like he's going to be blown by the wind at any minute. Or maybe he'll sink, down and down until he hits rock bottom. His hand rummages through his clothes and finds a light, and the fire feels warm as he lights the fag in his mouth. He's cold, he realises. It's fucking cold here. It always is, in Scotland. Maybe he oughta get a fluffy coat like the one Liam was wearing.
He chokes on the smoke a bit, feeling the burn in his lungs. He sees it in the forefront of his mind then, like a flash, the way blue eyes widened in something like surprise and fear and Noel wants to retch. He curls over himself, like the sight pains him. His brother looked confused at first, and maybe that's when Noel should've stopped talking and pretended he was taking the piss; but no, he had to push until Liam was staring at him like he'd killed his puppy or summat. His brother had never looked at him like that.
And the worst part is that Noel hadn't even done anything. Hadn't touched him or nothing like that, no. He simply made a proposition, lowering his voice like the birds love he does, and stood perhaps a bit too close to him to be brotherly. At first Liam hadn't really understood, bless him, he was always daft as a brush. But then you could see the little cogs in his head turning as he realised what Noel was insinuating. When he took a step back, the light of the room was reflecting on the wedding ring, the glint of gold hitting Noel's eyes— one final humiliation.
No, the actual worst part of this is that his brother doesn't even like her. Well, he fancies her, and he probably has a good time shagging and all; but once they're living in a house, ready made family sitting by the fire, dear William is going to run for the hills. He's not made for that, you see. He can't sit still for more than twenty minutes, much less stay with the same bird for the rest of his life. Noel's almost certain he's already cheated on her with some Scottish groupie or something. He hadn't seen him with one, but he's sure he has. Or at least, it won't be long until he does.
Noel rubs the bruise forming on his cheekbone, right where his brother had popped him one. To be fair, he probably could've hit him a lot harder— he's seen blokes fall on their arse from Liam's right hook, but Noel didn't even stumble. The tender skin hurts where his fingers graze it and he hisses, drawing his hand away. He doesn't know how they're going to come back from this. His index and middle fingers tremble as they hold the fag. He could pretend everything's alright, fuck that, he could probably convince himself the whole thing was a dream if he lied for long enough. That's how you become a good liar, in case you didn't know. You just need to believe the lie yourself.
But Liam. Fucking Liam. The bastard can't pretend, can he? He's many things, his brother, but he's no liar. He's going to look at Noel like he's got two sets of noses for the rest of their lives. And they have a fucking gig tomorrow as well, fuck. If—
There's a knock on the door that makes Noel’s soul almost jump out of his body. He flinches when there's another knock, this time more insistent. He doesn't need to see who it is. He looks over to the watch on the nightstand, reading 1:37 am. He can't be fucking serious. Well, maybe he's come to beat the living daylights out of Noel. Properly, this time. He'd deserve it as well.
Letting out a groan, he gets up from the bed and drags his feet to the door. When he opens the door, he finds Liam, still wearing the same clothes from the gig, hood on and everything. He doesn't meet his eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets as he wordlessly walks in, marching past Noel.
He closes the door, hearing the shuffle of his brother sitting on the bed behind him. He stares at the white paint of the door, the little lines and blemishes on it— probably by some poor bastard that weren't paid enough to care about painting it properly. If he strains his ears, he can hear some muffled voices coming from the hallway and into the hotel lift. He could do a runner, delay this particular chat at least for a little while. But from behind him, he hears the slightly ragged breaths puffing out of his brother's mouth. He's waiting for him.
With whatever remains of dignity he has left, Noel turns around, facing him. Liam doesn't look at him, though, too fascinated by his own shoes. He's hunched over, forearms resting on his thighs as he faces the floor, skin pale and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. The gold band on his ring finger also shines, more than the sun itself. Noel stares at it, stepping forward.
“You come here to stare at the fuckin' floor, then?” Noel questions, voice firm and chin raised as if he's not two seconds away from legging it.
“Am I fuck?” Liam croaks out. “Came here to see if you’d run off again.”
Again. Of course. His brother could fuck off in the middle of gigs however many times he wanted, but the one time Noel does it suddenly is the fucking Armageddon.
“We have a gig tomorrow, mate, dunno if you noticed.” He says, debating if he should sit on the bed as well or not. There's something safe in staying on his feet, not too far from the door.
“Hasn't stopped you before, mate,” His brother spits when he pronounces the ‘t’ in ‘mate’ like the word repulses him or summat. “Dunno why you keep callin’ me that. Am yer brother, not yer mate, and you— you don't fuckin' see me as a mate, anyway. You don't call a bird you fancy ‘mate’.”
“You are not a bird I fancy, you fuckin' cunt.”
“Right. I'm a bloke you fancy. Yer br—”
“Shuddup.” Noel hisses, suddenly right in his brother's face, looking down at him with what's surely a fucking manic expression. “Just shut the fuck up.”
Liam finally meets his eyes, then. He has dark circles under the pair of baby blues, and the pale skin looks clammy with a bit of redness on the nose. He looks like shit. Or he would, if he wasn't so beautiful. Even whatever fucking turmoil he's got going on at the minute agrees with his brother.
“Is this why you fucked off to Chicago back then?” Liam asks, eyebrow furrowed. “‘Cos we did meth and shagged that bird together?”
Noel scoffs. “I fucked off ‘cos we done the most appalling gig of our lives, you fuckin'—”
“You were looking at me when you came in her gob.” He cuts Noel off.
“Fuckin' hell, you're fuckin' disgusting—”
“But you did, I saw you, I saw you.”
“Did you fuck?” Noel snaps, pushing him, even though Liam's on the bed so it's useless. But he did. The girl had been fit and very, how to put it, accommodating to both of them, even though they were off their head in meth and talking nonsense all the way through. Yet his eyes were on Liam when he finished. Locked onto his body, on that drop of sweat sliding down his chest, then his abdomen and finally the faint v line of his waist. Fucking sinful, it was. He'd wished to lick it up, to sink his rotten teeth into that milky white skin.
Suddenly, a realisation shakes him out of his thoughts. “You saw me?” Noel questions. “Why were you looking at me and not the bird, then?”
He sees the twitch on Liam's eyebrow, and he manages to hear the little hitch in his breath.
“‘cos I felt you looking at me.” Liam excuses himself, sniffing and rubbing his nose. Noel wonders how many lines he'd done before coming here.
A bitter laugh escapes Noel. “Right. See, I don't fuckin' believe you,” He steps forward, now standing between his brother's legs. “I think you're the same as me, kidda.”
“Get to fuck, I like shagging birds— my missus, who I'm going to marry, by the way,” His brother snaps, raising his hands and pointing to his ring with his index finger. “I like a pair of tits mate, not yer ugly mug. You— you’re the fuckin’ weirdo, you oughta give your head a wobble.”
Noel's nostrils flare at the thought of Patsy, with her annoying voice, her ugly clothes. Like she knows anything, following Liam around all loved up like his dick doesn't smell of every bird's fanny in the country. She probably knows, as well. She's just pathetic like that, crawling on all fours for him. Noel doesn't have to do that. Liam's always followed him, not the other way around.
“Does your dear missus know about the first song you ever wrote?”
Liam’s frown deepens. “What are you on about?”
“Y'know the one. The one you played at the Boardwalk, fuckin' staring at me while you pranced around the little stage,” He snickers. “Take me when I'm young and true, take me when I start to cry…”
“That's just words.” Liam snaps. “Nowt to do with having the hots for— nah, mate. Just some fuckin' words. Wanted a tune with guitars like the Roses and words like Morrissey's tunes ‘cos I knew you'd join the band then.”
“That's fuckin’ bollocks and y’know it.”
“It's just the fuckin' truth, you mad cunt. The problem ‘ere, right, is that you're seeing shit that ain't there ‘cos you wanna shag me. I don't, yeah? I'm sound.”
Noel falters for a moment. His lips stay parted for a few seconds, as he tries to think of something to say. Maybe his kid is saying the truth and Noel's gone too fucking far, where his brother can't follow. But he's certain Liam's like him. How could he not? They grew up the same way, the same place, less than two meters apart. He's seen the first time the kid had a wank, he's seen him having his first hangover, he even bought him his first bit of pot. And Liam had seen all of Noel. He'd seen Noel messing about with nonexistent chords with a guitar out of tune in the middle of the night, he'd seen him bloody and bruised on the floor after their da’ had wacked him, and he'd seen him on the stage, both watching each other in a way only they understood.
He saw that look today, before he bent down to rest his lips on Liam's. He knew it when he felt the tongue poking between his lips before licking the inside of his mouth. His brother tasted like lager and, faintly, like Yorkshire tea. He felt him licking Noel's rotten teeth, the point of his tongue digging into the dents where there were little pieces missing. He thought— he was so certain, for a moment, that his brother felt the same way. That he'd seen everything and therefore wanted everything. Even if it was disgusting, even if it was terrifying.
And he needed that, needed to know his brother would have him, ‘cos they were on the edge of doing the biggest gigs of their lives, ‘cos Liam's about to get fucking married, suddenly, and Noel was just sulking around when he saw a poor bloke die right in front of his eyes. It's all too fucking much, too fucking fast. He needs to know this, at least. Needs to know, for certain, that Liam won't fucking leave him. Maybe everything else will change and disappear but not this.
“You didn't push me away today,” He mutters, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. If he makes an effort, he can still taste the lager from Liam's tongue. “you kept going.”
Liam is staring up at him with his massive pupils, flinching at the touch on his shoulder. His eyes are wide, eyelashes fluttering as his face contorts to a weird expression. He doesn't know what it means. “I was jus’ following you, Noely.” He breathes out, words barely audible.
Ah, well. He is his little brother, innit. Always just a tad behind Noel, you see. Same thing happened with music really, but he got there eventually. Perhaps it's the same with this, ‘cos he's clearly not come to his room to punch him again. And now, even though Noel's grip on his shoulder tightens, Liam doesn't move, doesn't run away. Even when Noel bends over enough to breathe the same air as him, tilting Liam's face up with his left hand. His brother lets himself be moved, swallowing thickly as he stares up at him.
With trembling hands, he cups Liam's face. Bile rises in his throat, an instinctive repulsion at himself for pushing his brother this way, for being this perverted, this sick. Whatever left of him that's not rotten curls up in a desperate scream, begging himself to stop. For some reason the image that comes to mind is Liam in a white robe, singing in the church choir back when he was a little ‘un. Maybe that's his catholic side giving one last desperate flailing. But he still doesn't pull away, for the same reason he does one more line even when his heart's jackrabbiting against his ribcage, and the same reason he keeps going to the studio after already selling tens of millions of records. Always more.
He closes the distance then, eyes open as his lips meet Liam's. The lips are warm and soft— not chapped anymore, probably ‘cos his missus keeps insisting on having him wear lip balm. Noel frowns, deepening the kiss as he shoves his tongue between the kid's parted lips. There's a splayed palm on Noel's chest, then. Not pushing away, just holding there. He doesn't pay it any mind as he clutches Liam's jaw with his hand, biting at the bottom lip and drawing a small gasp from him.
“Noel,” He breathes into the kiss, the hand holding Noel back now, a solid pressure on his chest. “now hold on a minute—”
“I can't.” Noel croaks out, one hand snaking around his brother's back until he's holding the back of his neck, right where the ends of his hair start to curl up.
The hand stays on his chest, firm. “I have a fuckin' missus now. And a son.”
“Not your son and not your fuckin' missus yet,” He hisses, diving down to bite at the boy's jaw. “Fuckin' family man, are you? You're not, you're not. You'll be shagging the first bird you see after a week.”
“I fuckin' won't, I wanna look after them, wanna be good, man.” It's fucking childish it is, the way his brother whines the words like it's his right to have a wife, two kids, a big house and a fucking dog. As if that's the life meant for him.
“You're me brother.” Noel says, and that is what's meant for him, what Liam's always been from the minute he was born.
At some point he must've sat on the bed, right by his side because now their eyes are level with each other, even though Liam tries not to meet his gaze. Noel's left hand finds itself on his brother's waist, sliding down to his thighs as he mouths at the skin of Liam's neck. The meat of the thigh gives way below his fingers, digging into the fabric as he squeezes and he knows it's going to leave a mark.
A soft groan spills from his brother's mouth, and Noel makes his choice. He knows he can make it good. He knows it, deep down, that no one knows his brother like he does— not even the kid himself. His hand leaves his thigh to grab at the front of Liam's trousers, feeling the shape under the jeans.
Liam's hand flies to hold his wrist, trying to push the hand off, but Noel slaps the hand away. “Fuckin'— that's too much, oi! Cut it out, you fuckin’ dickhead,” Liam snaps. “I ain't no poof, ‘m not letting a bloke fuckin’ touch me or whatever.”
“I ain't a fuckin' bloke, you twat, I'm your brother.”
“Exactly,” He breathes, squirming as Noel palms him through the trousers. “Fuck— Noel, you've gone fuckin' mental, you— you're not right on the head, mate.”
It's funny, he says all that but his voice is soft and his hand is just resting over Noel’s, not pushing it off or slapping it away, while the other stays on the mattress, unmoving.
“You stuck your tongue down me throat in front of fifty thousand geezers but I'm not right in the head?” He breathes against Liam's neck.
He gives it a squeeze, just to hear the yelp his brother makes, his right leg twitching; it's like a puppy kicking its leg all excited when you scratch its belly. It makes Noel want to squeeze him, or bite him. So he does, sinking his teeth in the wide expanse of Liam's neck. He can feel the pulse of a vein right where his tongue licks, at the same time his brother makes a choked off sound. The noise sends a thrill through him, already seared in his mind. He wants to bite down harder, leave a mark, break skin— but not to hurt him, mind you. He'd like to leave his teeth sinked in, finally inside of Liam, even if it's just a small part of him; until they somehow mold together. If he's being honest, he'd like to crawl inside him, make space right in his ribcage, until both their hearts beat in tandem and there's not a millimetre of Liam that he doesn't know. Until he can map him out from memory.
“Ow— don't fuckin' bite me, you weird cunt.”
Noel pulls away, his jaw aching slightly, and he licks his lips without stopping the movements of his hand. “You're hard.” He hums, rubbing the hardness inside his brother's jeans.
“You're— you're fuckin' touching me dick, what d'you expect?”
Exactly that. Or maybe a slap on the jaw and a slammed door, followed by a restraining order. That's what a normal bloke would do, right, but Liam's not normal. Otherwise this wouldn't have happened.
“Am I doin’ it how you like it, kidda?”
Liam glares at him, then, finally meeting his eyes. Even though there's anger mixed with the want in them.
His other hand reaches for the belt holding his brother's trousers and then Liam finally tenses, shuffling away with a bewildered expression. Like he wasn't expecting Noel to do more than this. Was he that daft?
His brother shakes his head. “Fuckin' kisses is one thing, yeah? But shagging it's too much, mate, fuckin’ hell.”
“Dont’t remember saying anything ‘bout shagging. Just tossing you off, yeah?”
Liam's eyes narrow. “I'm not a fuckin' idiot, I know you're— Fuckin’ hell. Are you really into me? Like, you'd rather do me than a fit bird? Or a fit bloke?”
Noel palms him through the fabric again, drawing a little gasp. “Yes, Liam.” He says, as slowly and as clearly as he can manage with a voice that's growing rougher by the minute. He picks up Liam's hand and places it on his own, matching hard on. “You're the one doin’ this to me, see?”
His brother's eyes widen, his breath hitching in shock like it finally clicked in his head, proper fucking clicked this time. There's a bit of horror in his eyes as well, as he swallows thickly. Yet his hand stays there, feeling the warmth coming from Noel's crotch.
“‘s too much.” He repeats, dumbly as his hand goes limp and falls on the bed.
Noel clicks his tongue. “You say that, but I remember you fuckin' humping your pillow back home when I was right on the bed next to yours— fuckin' naughty that, kidda. That wasn't too much?”
The image still burns through his eyelids, but the sounds are the what stayed with him the most. He remembers the little sharp breaths coming from the other bed, the bed creaking from sloppy movements. It was too dark to see, but surely he heard Noel tossing himself off as well, eyes locked in his little brother’s silhouette moving with a desperation that only a teenage boy could have. Nevertheless, Noel hadn't said anything, and neither had Liam. Even when he should've grown out of the habit.
His brother bites his lips, eyes squeezing shut. Noel wonders if it's shame or something else. “Jus’ wanted you to look at me, Noely.”
“I am looking at you.” Noel coos, unbuckling his brother's belt and shivering at the metallic sound. It's been so long since he's done this, he's almost salivating for it. He shoves a hand inside the trousers and wraps his hand around Liam's prick, burning hot in his palm. This time the kid doesn't push him off, doesn't curse at him. Just lets out a deep moan, his hips thrusting up into Noel's fist.
It's rather dry and he hears the kid hiss as he slides his hand up and down. He stops to spit on his palm, and then takes hold of Liam again, slicking the length up. It's very similar to his own prick, unsurprisingly, just a tad smaller. Not too much, just average, he supposes. It fits perfectly with the rest of him, he reckons, as he starts quick strokes. It makes that unmistakable wet sound and it only serves to spur him further, the memory of late nights in Burnage burning in his memory.
Back then, he couldn't touch, couldn't really look, he couldn't even breathe too loud. As long as it was dark and quiet, they had plausible deniability, they could pretend they didn't know. But now all the lights are on and Liam is letting out little breathy moans as Noel tosses him off, because it doesn't matter, does it? They're the biggest thing around, and Noel kissed him in front of dozens of thousands today and no one cared. No one even threw shit at the stage. They cheered, even, as they pulled away. They're above the rules, you see, so there's no point in holding back now. And maybe everything will go downhill after this week ends, maybe they'll crash and burn like everyone expects them to; but at least they can have this. Even if one one else is allowed, they are. They're above being allowed, now.
“Noel.” Liam grounds out, hiding his face on the crook of Noel's shoulder.
“Yeah? Feel good?”
His brother just whines, his hips rocking into Noel's hand. Noel holds him in place though, grabbing him by the hip while he slows his strokes, thumbing at the tip and enjoying the shiver that sends through his brother's frame. It's funny how Liam likes it the same way Noel does. He wonders if it's coincidence or if his little brother had been paying attention back then. Maybe he had stared through the bedroom’s darkness like Noel had done, watching his big brother's hand slide up and down his own prick.
A groan escapes Noel at the thought, speeding up his strokes even if his wrist’s starting to ache a little. He feels his hand getting slicker with pre-come, and knows his brother's getting close. Of course. That hasn't changed, at least, still as eager as when he was a boy. Still is, though; money and a ring on his finger don't make him a man yet. Especially with the way he clings onto Noel's shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of the jacket.
A small whimper drips from Liam's mouth, lips parted as he breathes against Noel's neck. “Fuck, I'm gonna—”
“Yeah? You gonna come in your keks, like a fuckin' teenager, hmm?”
His brother shakes his head, gasping when Noel flicks his wrist at the same time he holds him down, his fingers digging into the boney hip as he stops the kid from thrusting up. He's at the mercy of Noel's hand then, which is sliding up and down the length, squeezing when he reaches the tip. He feels the prick twitch in his fist, and spit pools in Noel's mouth knowing Liam is about to finish ‘cos of his hand, because it's Noel touching him and making him feel good— not a groupie or a model or an actress, not his missus, but his big brother, with nothing but spit and a calloused hand. Nothing more than whatever there's between them.
Liam is practically curled at Noel's side, face hidden in the crook of his neck as his breath quickens, “That's it, let it out, kidda.” Noel whispers, Liam's hair tickling his mouth.
The prick twitches in his grip and suddenly his brother's frame tenses, going taut with a sharp intake of breath. And then there's the warm liquid staining Noel's fist as Liam comes, his body going lax as he lets out a high pitched moan. Christ. Noel couldn't even see his face, and still it was the best fucking thing he's ever seen. He strokes him through the aftershocks, his hand wet and slippery as Liam twitches.
He feels small this way, his body slack as he leans on Noel, practically slumping over him. Noel draws his hand back, finding it stained with white. He turns his hand to show it to Liam, but his brother is still hiding in the safety of Noel's neck. Well. He stares at his own hand, looking at the white drops on his skin and decides to lick them off, just to see. It tastes a bit salty and a bit sour, and Liam must've seen him because he curses under his breath and pulls away from him.
Then he's dropping on the bed, laying starfished on his back as his breath starts to slow down. Noel stares at him, the way his chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his face red and practically wet with sweat— he should probably take that coat off, Noel realises.
“Why don't you take your coat off?” He says, then.
He hears a groan and Liam doesn't move. “Fuck off. You just wan’ me to strip for you, fuckin’ pervert.”
Noel says nothing. What the fuck could he say, anyway. It's all gone wrong today, and the only thing that's made him feel better was having Liam, kissing him, holding him, making him feel good. What kind of big brother is he, then? If he needs to have his little brother like this, if it's the only thing that seems to care about these days. That and music. And now his brother is going away to live his own life, and what's Noel supposed to do? The same thing, get married, have a kid, get a dog and a big house with a garden for the little twats to run around in?
He looks around him, watching the fucking disaster that is his hotel room. Usually it's not this bad — he's an organised lad, thank you very much — but now there's clothes and sheets of paper everywhere, there's lager and charlie lying around on the little table, and some cigarette smoke still floats in the air. And of course, his little brother splayed in the bed with his trousers still unzipped and unbuttoned, staring at the ceiling. Neither of them look like husbands, or fathers. They look like walking hurricanes smashing everything in their way.
With the heels of his hands Noel rubs his eyes, feeling them sting just a little. He doesn't know what to do, his whole body aches with exhaustion and yet he feels like crawling the walls, too unsettled in his own head. What the fuck is he supposed to do now?
“Noel, oi,” His brother calls from somewhere, and Noel realises his nails are digging into the skin of his own face. “Ey, fuckin' quit that. What's going on? Ey, look at me.”
He blinks, the figure of his brother slowly coming into focus. Liam doesn't have his coat anymore, some strands of hair are still sticking to his sweaty forehead.
“C'mon, breathe mate— fuckin' hell, how many lines did you do, then?” Liam huffs, but even through the mind fog, Noel can hear some concern laced in his words.
He doesn't remember. He never remembers, these days. Sometimes his memory skips entire days, or just makes up memories for days that never happened. Maybe Liam looking up at him with those beautiful eyes and opening his lips for him hadn't actually happened, and it was all in Noel's head. Maybe he's ruined them for nothing.
“Okay, okay, fuckin', calm down, alright— don't fuckin' do that, put your hands down.” Liam says, firmer this time, and suddenly Noel finds himself surrounded by a pair of arms, his own getting pinned at the sides of his torso. “That's it, c'mon, don't freak out on me, Noel. Can't really call anyone now, can we?”
He supposes that's true, considering how many drugs are in the room. And the fact that it fuckin' reeks of sex, and there's only them in the room— and oh, Liam's got an angry red bite mark right below the jaw. That's his own, Noel notes, watching the two rows of little dents on the skin, and sees that lots of them are a bit crooked. He wonders if people would notice it's Noel's just by the fucked up teeth marks, and the thought makes him snort.
“Oh so you've gone mad then, that's brilliant. Fucking brilliant, that.” Liam mutters, blowing warm air against the side of Noel's face as he speaks. "Pulling yer hair and looking like you're gonna puke one minute and the next you're laughing. Did you get hit on the fuckin' head when I wasn't looking?”
He clears his throat. “Why d'you care? Fuckin’ knobhead, go back to your missus or summat, I'm sure she's looking for you.”
Liam's hold falters then, and there's a beat of silence. Noel waits, expecting his brother to tell him to fuck off or finally walk away, but he only shifts a bit, until he can look at Noel properly. “That's what it's all about, then? You're angry at me ‘cos I'm gonna get married and that?”
“I'm angry ‘cos I had to find out through the fuckin' papers— and ‘cos one of our roadies fuckin' died in the middle of the soundcheck and no one gave a fuck. Not even you. Did you even hear?”
“I heard,” Liam mutters, his fingers rubbing circles on Noel's side. “I won't leave the band, y'know.”
Noel doesn't answer.
“I'm still your brother, d'you know what I mean? Want you to be my best man and all that tackle.”
He lets out a dry laugh at that. “Me, the best man? You think your missus will like that?”
Liam frowns. “I dunno. Didn't think about it.”
Of course he didn't. Liam wants to have his cake and eat it you see, he wants the wife and the kids, but he also wants the booze and the drugs and the groupies; and Noel. But he can't have it all, can he. There's a weight on his shoulder then, and Noel turns to find Liam resting his head on his shoulder. He's looking at something far away, his brow furrowing like he's in deep thought. Nothing good can come from that.
“You did the same shite with Cerice,” Liam muses. “How long have you been…? Y'know.”
Noel shrugs. He doesn't know, really. Maybe it was the day he came back home and found Liam all grown up and suddenly a singer, or maybe it was a lot earlier, back when they were both sharing a bedroom and taking turns on who picked what record to listen to. Perhaps it was always like this.
“I don't— I should probably be fuckin' angry, yeah? But am not,” His brother says, so low it's almost a whisper. “I dunno. It's just love, innit? You love me, you like me. Nowt wrong with that.”
There's so much wrong with it, Noel sighs as he squeezes his eyes shut.
“I don't shag blokes. Don't fuckin' like ‘em, mate,” Liam shakes his head. “They fuckin’ smell bad, they don't have tits, and dicks are fuckin' ugly as well. And the big hands, nah,” He rambles on, grimacing as he talks. “But I like kissing you and that. Feels good, yeah? And it's different, d'you know what I mean?”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.”
He wants to turn around fully, have Liam's eyes level with his own, but at the same he's afraid. He doesn't want to find pity in them, or something worse. He's hanging onto Liam's words and at the same time he's on the verge of covering his ears and running off.
“I— y'know. I wouldn't mind.” Liam finally says, voice barely a murmur.
And perhaps that's the worst thing he could've said. Because Noel is a selfish, selfish bastard. He shifts until he's facing his brother, looking right into those baby blues. “Yeah?”
“If you want to, I mean.”
Noel clicks his tongue. “‘course I want to.” At this point a better question would be who doesn't want to do Liam. He can probably count on the fingers of one hand the amount of people who'd say no to him.
His brother nods, pressing his lips together. “D'you just wan’ a shag, then? Get it out of your system and that?”
Noel blinks. Until it hits him. “No, kidda,” He says against his brother's temple, like a promise. “Don't want it to be a one-off thing, yeah?” He wishes he had the words to tell him how much he means to Noel, that love in itself falls short to the fucking hurricane of feelings he has inside for his brother. If it was only a physical thing maybe then this would be easier, less painful.
Liam's eyelashes flutter, staring up at him, and his lips are curled down, still uncertain as he shuffles in place. It's quite ironic how it's not a deal breaker to sleep with his own blood, or even a bloke, but what makes him doubt is whether Noel loves him.
He dives down to leave a kiss on his brother's forehead, and then on his cheek, then on the other cheek. “I—I can't.” Noel stutters. He has to. He owes him this, at least. “It's all in the songs, all I— y'know it is. That's why you have to sing them, yeah?”
His brother trembles below him, but he nods fervently, and maybe it's the lack of sleep or the booze or the drugs, but he could swear Liam's eyes become a bit glassy. “Alright, Noely.”
And isn't he the sweetest boy? The rags can write as much nonsense as they'd like, calling him a hooligan, calling him violent, but Noel knows his brother. Knows the neverending pouring of love he is, all giver and all taker. If anything, Liam loves too much for his own good.
Noel leaves one last kiss, right at the corner of his lip, and whispers: “I'll make it so good for you, promise. Better than anything you've ever felt, yeah?”
With a gentle hand on his chest, Noel pushes him flat on the bed, watching the way his hair rests around Liam's head like a halo. He's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and he finally gets him all to himself. The mere idea sends a shiver through Noel, and he feels like his hands are going to stark shaking if he doesn't touch him. So he does, he starts by slipping his hands under his brother's shirt, feeling the warm skin there.
He'd like to take his time, memorize every mole, every scar and nook of Liam's body, but something in the back of his head doesn't allow it. Like a ticking of a clock reminding him, tick tock, tick tock— every minute until Liam leaves, until he's walking down the aisle with the bird, until the band finishes this tour and then what? It's all up to Noel. It's up to Noel to make another record that's somehow better than the other ones, up to him to show at the wedding and clap as Liam swears to give his heart to someone else. Even the gig they have tomorrow is up to him. He could just not show up. Or he could give up, after Knebworth. Say his thanks and down go the curtains. Then nothing would be on him.
“Noel,” A voice shakes him out of his head, at the same time his shirt is pulled over his head, leaving him shirtless. “C'mon mate, don't go fuckin' wandering. You want me like this, right?”
Somehow he missed Liam taking off his own shirt as well, and now he feels a slight whiplash at the sight of his brother's bare torso, even if he's seen it dozens of times before. It's different, in his defense. Now he can slide his eyes over the skin, and can touch at his leisure. He reaches a hand and paws at Liam's waist, and he's so warm. He's always been, even as a lad; to the point mam used to get paranoid he was feverish. He dives his head down, nosing at the collarbone and when his lips brush the skin, it makes it rise in goosebumps.
There's a hand on the back of Noel's head then, pulling him even closer. “That's it, Noely, stay with us, let me help you, yeah?” Liam murmurs as Noel bends down to mouth at his nipple. “Yeah, c'mon, I'll get you sorted.”
He shimmies closer to Liam and his brother parts his legs open, leaving a space for him. Noel groans and shuffles until he's kneeling between his brother's thighs, knowing the image of Liam opening his legs for him will be seared into his retina forever. So good to him, his brother.
So he does his best to focus on this, on the warmth of his brother's skin, on the little whispered words and the feeling of his chest between Noel's teeth; and not on whatever is coming on the horizon. Maybe tomorrow he'll have a thousand fucking problems again, but today Liam's giving himself to Noel. With clumsy hands they get rid of Liam's trousers, tossing them somewhere on the floor. He takes a moment to look at the lovely curve of his legs, the way his skin goes paler on his thighs. And the growing bulge on the front of his keks, ‘course. He's seen his brother do a few birds on the same day so he's not really surprised.
Liam lifts his hips to take his pants off, but Noel stops him. “Let me.” He breathes, grabbing the elastic. His brother nods, his hands falling at his sides again. As he lowers the underwear down the legs, he finds quite a bit of hair as he expected leading to what he was after, and saliva pools in his mouth at the sight of Liam's prick.
He takes it in his hand before he can think of anything, giving it a few pumps, his hand sliding easily with how wet it is. “Christ, you're leaking like a bird.” He says, amazed.
His brother just groans, shaking his head as he reaches a hand to cover himself. “No, no. Wanna see you, kidda,” Noel rushes out, shamelessly staring at him. The way Liam tries to cover up, his body contorting with a bit of self-consciousness that his brother rarely shows, it only makes him even more enticing. Only Noel will have him like this, only he gets to see him in this way. He bites his lip. He's gonna start foaming at the mouth if he doesn't have him. “Right, stay right there, then.”
Noel shuffles on his knees towards the nightstand, opening the drawer and rummaging through it until he finds the little bottle of lube. Not that he's had a lot of blokes around lately, but his years as a roadie gave him a habit of carrying around lube and johnnies wherever he went. So there's probably a nice, perfectly functional condom inside of the drawer as well. He grabs the lube and closes the drawer wordlessly, shaking the bottle as he shows it to Liam.
He watches his brother's eyes widen. “Er, I— how are we doing this, then?” He asks, rather nervously.
“C'mon ‘r’kid, y'know,” Noel huffs. “You have no clue on how to do it. So just let me, yeah?”
“Hold on, mate, I've never—”
“I know. But I have, yeah? I know what I'm doing.” He reassures him, brushing a strand of Liam's behind his ear. “I'll make it so good for you, hmm? It'll blow your fuckin’ mind, love. Better than any bird, promise.”
Liam's biting his lip, frowning as Noel pours some lube on his fingers. “Does it hurt?”
“It does if you don't know how to do it properly.” Noel says as he tosses the little bottle on the bed. “If you go too fast you could tear summat, y'know?”
The kid shakes his head, ‘course. Noel can almost see the scenario play out in his brother's head, him hurting Noel because he doesn't know any better. He watches him grimace, biting the inside of his cheek. “Alright.” Liam nods, shifting on the bed.
That's a good lad. He pushes Liam's legs open, settling between them as slides his hands over the inside of the thighs. The skin is rather smooth there, and when Noel squeezes a bit, he leaves red marks in the shape of his fingers. He hopes they turn into bruises tomorrow. He starts sliding one hand lower, past his brother's cock, while he lazily tosses him off with the other. He can feel Liam flinch when Noel's fingers finally touch his entrance, even if hasn't done anything yet. And that won't do, the lad’s too fucking tense.
Well, he's got an idea on how to fix that. Noel backs up just a tad, before he bends down to lick Liam's prick. It was only a little lick, barely grazing the underside of it, but apparently it was enough to draw a yelp from his brother. Noel holds back a giggle and takes the cock in his mouth, fighting his gag reflex. It's been a while since he's done this, but that doesn't mean he's forgotten how to do it, mind you. So he swallows more of his brother's length, feeling the warm weight on his tongue.
He feels him twitch on his mouth while he's tracing the veins with his tongue, and he hears a few groans in response. Noel hums as he sucks, knowing the vibration will only make it better, and finally he gets a loud moan as a reward. He looks up to the very source of the lewd sounds, and finds Liam quite flushed, eyes half lidded and fluttering as he seemingly tries to focus his gaze.
“Noel— fuckin' hell.” He grounds out, voice breaking like it's the best someone's ever sucked his dick— it probably is, considering the divvy birds he always shags. They don't know him like Noel does.
Liam's frame goes lax, his mouth hanging agape as he gets his mind blown, and Noel hums contentedly, glad his brother's finally fucking relaxed a bit. Therefore, he brings his hand back to the tight entrance, teasing the rim with the pad of his finger.
There's no reaction, no tensing or insult, so he pushes a finger in. It's a tight fit, but he keeps pushing, only getting a gasp in response. Noel sucks harder, hollowing his cheeks as he pushes his finger all the way to the knuckle; hoping it's enough of a distraction. There's a hand on his head then, grabbing him by the hair or at least trying to. He takes it as a good sign and starts moving his finger, looking for his brother's spot— until Liam tenses, his torso arching off from the bed like he's been tasered, and that must be it. He tries again, just softly jabbing at it, and his brother gargles.
“Noel— ah fuck, Noel—” He gasps. “What the fuck’s that?”
Noel chuckles, as much as he can with his mouth full, and the rumble of it only spurs his brother on. Little by little, he can feel Liam loosening up, so he starts to bob his head up and down faster, a bit of spit spilling from the side of his mouth as he gets another finger in. The entrance tightens around his fingers and he can feel Liam tensing, so he does his best to relax his throat to take the length all the way at the same time he starts moving his fingers in scissoring motions.
It feels like his brain is starting to melt, having to suck Liam while fingering him all while trying to ignore his own hard on straining in his trousers. He shifts until he can rock his hips against the mattress, slightly relieved by the friction, but it's not enough. He can't be satisfied humping the fucking bed when he could have the beautiful boy that's laid up in front of him, naked and ready for him. Only thing he's missing is a bow on top.
He's panting as Liam's cock slips off his mouth, jaw aching. Been too long since he's done that. He looks up to find his brother staring down at him, mouth agape and lips swollen from biting them too much. Noel groans as he thrusts against the mattress, the action completely fucking useless. He feels like screaming, surely this is enough for Liam, he hopes it is, ‘cos he can't hold off anymore, he needs to have him now.
His brother hisses when the fingers are slowly pulled out, leaving his entrance empty and clenching around nothing. Noel sits up on his knees, eyes locked on the puffy rim, slightly wet with lube. He unbuckles his belt with rushed hands and quickly unzips his trousers, pulling his aching cock out with a relieved sigh. He pumps himself a few times, his eyes sliding over Liam's body. His kid is only laying there, hands at the sides of his head, as he stares up at Noel with an expression he's never seen before in his brother. He doesn't know what it is, and maybe the coke and the booze are getting to him ‘cos he can't tell what it means, either. It looks like the expression of those typical pretty boys in old paintings, the ones that look like birds, with long hair and sad eyes. Pretty as a picture, his brother.
After pouring a bit of lube on his hand, he slicks up his cock, not bothering to take off his jeans, only lowering them a bit along with his underwear. He shuffles closer to his brother, if that's even possible, and lines himself up with Liam's entrance.
Slowly, he starts to push inside. He grabs onto his brother's thighs, plush skin soft beneath his fingers. When he manages to get the head in, Liam hisses, hands flying to grasp at Noel, whatever he could reach— his shoulders, his hair. So Noel bends down, almost laying on top of the kid, and lets Liam wrap his arms around his neck.
The movement shoves him further inside and he can see his brother gritting his teeth. Noel's pretty sure doing the same thing himself, but only ‘cos it's taking every bit of his good will not to push all the way in right now. He shouldn't be surprised his brother's this tight, almost painful in its grip around Noel's cock, ‘cos of course it is. Liam hasn't had anything or anyone inside of him, wouldn't anyone even touch his arse. He's the hard man of Rock'n'roll after all, and a fucking womanizer as well— but now he's supposed to be a family man, isn't he?
Not too much of either of things now, ey. Not when Noel has half his cock inside of him, and Liam is not yelling curse words or punching or nothing. He's shaking like a leaf bless him, his arms wrapped around Noel as he lets out very faint noises when he gets another centimetre inside.
“Noel.” Liam grits out, legs tensing at the sides of Noel's hips, like he's not sure he wants to wrap them around him or kick him off.
He leaves a small kiss on his brother's temple. “C'mon kidda, relax for me.”
The walls are still clenching around his cock, scorching hot, and he has to take a deep breath not to come right there and then. His brother's frame is still taut, arms locked around him, but Noel can't do anything else. No way out of this but through. He shifts in place, placing his arms on each side of Liam's head, and finally pushes in all the way to the hilt.
The scream that's ripped out of Liam rings in his ears, and Noel has to cover his mouth with his hand, even if it's still a bit wet with lube and dried come. He can't have people knocking on the door ‘cos they think there's a murder going on. There's a low rumble and Noel belatedly realises it's coming from him, groaning as he bottoms out. It feels like Liam's arse is sucking him in, the walls clenching around his cock like a vice. Fucking hell. He tries rocking his hips and he feels like it drags his brother's entire frame with him, both letting out a deep moan.
His brother writhes below him, his arms flailing around, switching between pulling on Noel's hair and clutching the sheets. He catches the wild arms and pins them to the bed, right above Liam's head. Something people don't know it's that his brother likes being held down, or squeezed, always has. For some reason he used to ask Noel to lay on top of him when they were back in Burnage, something about the weight making him sleepy. So he does, he lays his weight on top of his brother, stopping his squirming. “‘s alright, you’re alright, love.” Noel pants, slowly starting to pull out before thrusting in again.
Under his fingers he feels the pulse of Liam's wrist, blood far too fast through the veins. Noel rubs circles with his thumbs on the skin as he rocks his hips, getting a rhythm going. “You're bein’ so good, kidda. So fuckin' good, fuckin’ hell.” He grounds out, and it must do something, ‘cos Liam's legs fall limply on the bed. He looks at his brother, then, and finds him with his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Look at me, Liam, c'mon,” He coos, nuzzling against his cheek. Thick eyelashes flutter and slowly those beautiful blue eyes are staring at him, quite glassy and hazy as he meets Noel's own gaze. “That's it, there's a good la’.” And finally the entrance is not as taut, Liam's frame going lax in his arms.
Noel speeds up, the slide of his cock easier now, because Liam is made to bend, to please; you only need a bit of patience and a gentle hand. With every thrust there's a little whimper punched out of his brother, but he doesn't complain or wriggle, just wraps his legs around Noel's waist.
The feeling of the thighs around his waist along with the white hot entrance around his cock — squelching every time he pushes in, as well— is driving Noel slightly mad, his mouth going dry with how long he's been panting for. He feels like he's run from Manchester all the way here to Scotland, and yet he also feels like he could run all the way back, with all this heat pooling in his stomach, in his arms, like a million ants crawling up his body and needing to do something to shake them off. He feels like he's just done a line, but he hasn't, he's doing something much better, which is the boy that he's shagging through the mattress right now. God. He feels like softly kissing him all over and tearing him apart with his teeth all at once. He shakes his head, sniffing as he pulls out all the way out and then thrusts in, making his brother gargle a moan.
His hands slide down to take hold of Liam's hips, gripping at him with his thumbs pressing into the divots of his pelvis as he pins him down to the bed. It makes him rabid, having Liam’s body all to himself to grope and kiss as he pleases— not his missus, not any fucking groupies or even the other geezers in the band or any band. It's him, Noel has him, Noel is the one shoving his cock inside of Liam, pulling little breathy ah, ah, ah’s out of him.
“Noel, ah— N-Noel, fuck.” He whimpers, eyes watering as Noel thrusts get a bit rougher, the slap of skin against skin growing louder in the room.
Noel grunts. “Yeah? Like havin’ your big brother inside you?”
He can see a bit of spit falling from the side of his brother's parted lips, the mouth hanging open in a constant stream of breathy moans and whines. He looks fucking out of it, ‘course he is, it's his first time ever doing this. “Fuckin' right, having me pop your cherry,” He grounds out with a sharp thrust. “You wouldn't let anyone else do it, yeah? Fuck— you wouldn't let another geezer touch you, right kidda?”
Little shining tears slide down Liam's cheeks, some of the drops getting stuck on the dark eyelashes. “N-no, Noely, jus’ you.” He slurs, his breath catching with every snap of his hips.
“Yeah, so fuckin' good for me, always such a good boy for me.”
It's going to fuck his singer's voice up tomorrow, he's almost certain of it, but Noel shifts until he gets the angle right and the head of his cock is hitting his brother's prostate. He feels Liam spasm at the sensation, and Noel bites down on his neck, like he could hold him down with his jaw. Before his brother can complain about the teeth digging into his skin, he starts drilling against that spot. It makes his brother quiver under him as Noel's thrusts push him up the bed, loud moans echoing off the hotel walls.
Who even cares about the band, at this point. This is what they should be doing this all the time, he reckons as the skin of his thighs start to burn from clashing into Liam's. He couldn't have this just one time. He'd need to have it all the time, now. He’ll need to do it after every gig, when all that energy from adrenaline and adoration is buzzing up in his head, he could bend Liam over a fucking amp and give it to him, both of them pent up and excited until the energy melted away. The rest of them could watch, maybe Bonehead and Guigsy could sit there with their mouths agape while Liam shouted himself raw with how hard Noel would give it to him. And he's not trying to hurt him, again. He's not, he couldn't. He just needs to be inside him, as far as he could. If it were possible, he'd carve a place for himself and live under Liam's skim, where his brother couldn't go anywhere without him and Noel couldn't go anywhere that wasn't his brother.
He loosens his jaw, letting go and sits up, the angle allowing him to go even deeper. Liam's sounds get more high pitched and breathier, and he's so close, he must be as the walls tighten around Noel, and the mouth opens in a perfect ‘o’ shape. And Noel can't help himself. He spits.
It lands right on Liam's tongue, and suddenly his brother's body jerks off the bed, clenching tighter around Noel's cock as he comes in white ropes across his stomach. Christ, there's something wrong with his kid. And there's something much, much worse that's irreparably wrong with Noel, because the sight of his brother coming untouched, just by— Fuck.
His grip on Liam's hips turns tight, perhaps too much, because there's a pained whine coming from below him, but he doesn't pay it any mind. The snap of his hips quickens, growing more and more sloppy as he loses himself. He's panting as he practically ruts into Liam, the bed clashing against the wall every few thrusts.
There's a hand on Noel's stomach then, weakly trying to push him or slow him down, and Noel realises at some point he must've shut his eyes. He opens them to find Liam withering, mumbling something as his hands push Noel's pelvis. “‘s too much,” He hiccups. “Noely, ah— fuck, please.”
His voice is so sweet, and he seems so small and pliant in Noel's grip, just slurring little pleas. Noel bites his lips, almost drawing blood as he does. “‘m sorry kidda, just a bit more, yeah? ‘m sorry, that's it,” He pants, “It’s gonna hurt a bit but you'll be alright, you're— fuck ‘s so good, I can't—”
The aftershocks keep making Liam clench and tighten around Noel's cock, almost like he's trying to milk him, fucking hell. He's getting dizzy as he thrusts go even faster, making an awful wet sound as his cock goes in and out of the puffy entrance. He watches it, then, entranced by how it stretches around his shaft, the rim rather red and irritated. He pulls all the way out, watching the little thread of lube and pre-come that pours out, and thrusts back in in a single snap of his hips. Liam cries out and Noel shushes him, laying back down on top of him. “Sh, sh, ‘s alright love, be good for me, just a bit more, just, stay there, yeah? You're so good to me, such a good boy.” He rambles, right against Liam's neck.
“‘s good?” His brother slurs, voice rough and yet so small and shy it reminds him of when they were kids.
“Yeah,” Noel pants, heat pooling in his stomach as his breath quickens. “Best I've ever had— fuckin’ better than any bird, yeah?”
His brother nods, his face a mess of tears, spit and a bit of snot, all red and splotchy as his half lidded eyes stare at Noel, but Noel stares back, his lips brushing Liam's as they breathe the same air. “I love you, Noely.” Liam breathes out, voice breaking.
Noel buries his cock as deep as he can, his whole body trembling as he does. “I love you too, so much, so— fuck, take it, that's it, fuck.” He groans, spilling inside of Liam. The last rational of his brain that's left tells him it's gonna be a pain in the arse to take out his spent, but he only pumps his hips, making sure he shoots all of it inside his brother. He hopes he can't take it out, hopes it goes right to his stomach and stays there. For a delirious few seconds, he imagines it takes and he gets his little brother up the duff. The thought makes him dizzy and he lets himself fall on top of Liam, just dead weight.
They stay like that for a bit, just letting their breaths slow down. He must've dozed off for a few minutes, ‘cos when he opens his eyes he's laying face down on the bed, not buried in Liam anymore. He swallows, mouth painfully dry and his throat hoarse— he can't imagine how his kid feels, then. When he looks at his brother, he finds him laying on the other side of the bed, hands over his stomach, staring into the distance with puffy eyes that seem empty. He's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and he'd given himself to Noel, ‘cos he was made for him.
“You feel better, yeah?” Liam croaks out.
Noel blinks, suddenly remembering his panic and dread from earlier today. He wouldn't have felt so bad if he knew Liam would do this for him in the first place. “Yeah. Cheers.” He doesn't know what else to say. Should he ask if he enjoyed it? If something hurts? It probably does, but the first time up the arse always aches a bit. He wonders if there's come leaking out of Liam. Maybe if he asked nicely he could check.
“I'm still gonna get married, though.” Liam says then, cutting through his line of thought.
Noel doesn't have it in him to be angry, just faintly annoyed. “She won't make you happy, mate.”
“Maybe.” Liam shrugs. “We don't know. But I love her, d'you know what I mean? Wanna look after her and James.” He shifts until he's facing Noel. “You're going to be my best man, then?”
“Dunno. Have to think about it, yeah? I don't want to right now.” Noel sighs, draping an arm over his brother.
“Noel,” He whispers. “You're not gonna leave the band, right? Even if I get married and that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Would you not get married if I told you I would?”
His brother blinks, pressing his lips together. A car passes outside, and someone slams a door shut in the hallway. There's voices outside, maybe it's close to morning. “Yeah,” Liam ends up saying. It sounds tired, maybe disappointed. Probably of himself, ‘cos he's come from swallowing Noel's spit and now he's realising what he really wants, innit. “But don't— don't fuckin' make me choose, Noel, c'mon.”
Liam's voice sounds just plain shot, and the bags under his eyes don't help either. Noel's pretty sure they weren't there yesterday. There's bruises forming all over his body— the bite marks on his neck and collarbone, fingerprints on his hips, the waist, the wrists. He won't be able to explain this to Patsy, he'll have to say they had a fight and even that is not entirely believable. Maybe it'll be the straw to break the camel’s back and she'll finally leave. He's certain that if he asked that of Liam, he would call the entire thing off. He'd be angry, ‘course, he'd kick and scream and curse him, but he would give in, in the end. His brother has more love than survival instinct in him, and that'll do him one day. One day, he will do something for love that goes too far, he'll give something of himself he can't give back and then he'll regret it. Or maybe he won't, ‘cos his love is too big to leave room for resentment.
Noel brushes his brother's hair out of his face, smiling when Liam's eyes flutter. No one will love Noel like his brother does, he realises. No one will leave everything behind like Liam would, just because he asked. There's nobody who will give themselves to Noel like his brother does.
“Nah, mate. Not going anywhere, me,” Noel reassures him, his breath blowing some strands of his brother's hair. “Oasis ‘till the fucking wheels come off, yeah?”
His brother gives him a shining grin then, eyes crinkling as he does. If his kid wants the music, then Noel will give him the music, and they'll be the best fucking tunes anyone's ever heard. He will give it all to him, and Liam will give all of him to Noel. He grabs him by the jaw, his brother going easily as Noel pulls him towards himself, catching his lips in a kiss. He'd thought his brother would be a bit more pushy in a kiss, just swallow his whole mouth like he does with birds, but instead he just stays there, mouth open as Noel nibbles on his bottom lip.
When they pull apart, he looks at Liam, who just stares back, blinking slowly like he's sleepy. “Right. D'you wanna do a few lines and go down to the pub or you wanna have some kip, then?” Noel asks, rubbing his arm.
“Whatever you want, Noely.”
Noel smiles and kisses him again, deciding they should have some rest before tomorrow's gig. No one will look after Liam like Noel does either, so when his divvy bird leaves him, he'll be here waiting for him with open arms and a few I told you so’s. He grabs the bed covers and covers them both before wrapping his arms around his brother, expecting a bit of a struggle, maybe an elbow in the ribs; but Liam just closes his eyes, unmoving in Noel's hold.