26 Fics in 26 Minutes

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A story for a song by a band starting with every letter of the alphabet. Ranging from angst to fluff to humour to porn to general whimsy. Encompassing Boosh, RPS, Nathan Barley, Robots in Disguise, and Asylum, and probably a few other things too.

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Length: words

Tom Jones – Delilah

Contents

Tom Jones – Delilah

Noel sat up in bed, and his hair stayed on the pillow. He blinked a couple of times, lay back down, and took a fistful of it in each hand. Slowly, he sat back up, clutching his hair carefully, and he had… two handfuls of hair. Which, when he brought his hands around to look at them, weren’t attached to his head. Just a clump of black, like the sweepings off a hairdresser’s floor.

Julian ran into the room, a tube of superglue in his hand, and saw Noel sitting up. He stopped, his eyes wide, and quickly hid the superglue. “Hi! You’re awake!” he said with unconvincing jollity.

Noel stared at him, still clutching his hair, his mouth open and his head uncommonly cold.

“Um.” Julian took a step forward, one hand outstretched. “Don’t get up. Would you like a cup of tea? I’ll make you one. And some breakfast in bed. Just stay there, lie down.” He backed out of the room hurriedly, and Noel heard him bashing crockery around in the kitchen.

He felt sick, really sick, and weak, like he was going to throw up any minute, and when he threw back the covers to get out of bed he caught sight of his pillow. In a perfect head-shaped oval was his hair. Long, soft black tresses, laid out with reverence, brushed and laid flat. Just no longer attached to his head. He got up, stumbled over to the mirror.

There, in the mirror, was Noel Fielding. With a perfectly ordinary crew cut. He reached up to his head, tried to brush his fingers through it but couldn’t because it was just so short. Shorter than Julian’s. Shorter than Dave’s. He looked like his dad.

Julian hurried into the room with a mug in one hand, and made a small squeaking sound when he saw the bed empty. He turned to the mirror, and Noel made the same sound, gesturing at his head.

“Don’t freak out, okay?” Julian held both hands up, and slopped boiling hot tea onto his wrist, yelping.

“W-what?”

“Okay. Okay.” Julian put the mug down on the floor and wiped his hands on his shirt. “Look, this morning, I got a little… I was up first, and I was just looking down at you, lying there, asleep, your hair all spread out, and I thought… well, I’m not sure.” He swallowed. “I sort of, wondered. What you’d look like. And I only meant to sort of pretend, right? But the next thing I know, is, I’ve got these scissors, and your hair’s all uneven, and the more I tried to even it up, the more–”

“You cut off my hair?“

Julian crossed the room, biting his lip, and stood behind Noel, hands hovering around his head. “We can fix this.”

“How?”

Julian held up the tube of superglue.

“Okay.” Noel backed away. “That’s not going to happen.”

“It’ll be fine! I know where it all goes, I kept it all, we can just stick it back on! No one will ever know the difference.” He started scooping Noel’s hair up off the pillow, holding it carefully by one end, strand by strand.

“I can’t believe you did this! You know how I feel about my hair, it’d be like… like…” He caught sight of Julian’s childhood stuffed toy on top of the wardrobe, and had evil thoughts for a moment, but dismissed them. “It’d be like me shaving off your moustache.”

Julian’s hands flew to his upper lip, but containing as they did Noel’s divorced locks it just made him look like a Chinese opium dealer from a bad 1920s film.

Noel rubbed his hands over his head again, stubbly and itchy like a bad wax. (So he’d heard.) “Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to grow this back?”

“Can’t you get extensions?”

“I could, if there was anything for them to graft them onto! I mean, this…” He wandered over to the mirror again. “I look like a lesbian. I can’t style this, there’s nothing to work with!”

“I’ll get you some gel.”

Noel stared at him like he’d said he was going to slash his Bryan Ferry poster.

“No gel. We don’t… like gel? We’re against it?”

Noel pointed at the door furiously. “Get out. Now.”

Julian laid the hair carefully down on the pillow and hurried out of the room, which was kicked closed behind him. He took a deep breath, and started hunting around for the number of a salon that dealt specifically in both short hair and repair work.

Julian turned the sound off on the football match as Noel wandered into the room, phone clamped to his ear.

“Yeah, just came out of nowhere.” He sat on the arm of the sofa, watching the television vaguely. “Like a stomach bug, pretty much. Sorry. I know, I was looking forward… yeah, but you know. If I’m going to vomit all over you, might be a bit… exactly.” He shifted, rubbed the back of his head. “Next time, right? Okay. See ya.”

He flipped it shut with a flick of his wrist, and slid off the arm of the sofa onto the cushions next to Julian, cross-legged.

Julian bit his lip. “Sorry.”

“Eh?” Noel didn’t turn his attention away from the screen.

“About you missing the party. It’s my fault.”

Noel glanced at him and shrugged, looking only a little annoyed. “It’s alright. I didn’t really want to go anyway. Who’s playing?”

Julian blinked. “Uh, it’s the World Cup. France against Italy. What do you mean you don’t care? You’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

Noel shrugged again. “Just didn’t really feel like going out. France are in blue, are they?”

“No, that’s Italy. I thought… you said Paul Weller might be at this thing, this album launch, didn’t you? I remember you being all excited.”

“There’ll be other parties.” Noel uncrossed his legs and sat forward. “Do you have the remote?”

Julian looked at the screen wistfully. The final. Still, he had done wrong, and he needed to be punished. Reluctantly he handed the remote control over and got to his feet, planning to switch on the radio in his room.

Noel flicked the volume back on and turned it up, watching the game intently. “If you’re going to the fridge, I’ll have a beer,” he called over one shoulder.

Julian tripped over the leg of the coffee table in shock.

“Can I borrow this?”

Julian looked over the top of his newspaper at Noel’s expectant face, and at the shirt he was holding.

“Why?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Maybe he wanted to destroy it, destroy Julian’s favourite shirt. Maybe he was going to customise it with holes and sequins and force him to wear it out about town. Or chop it up into little dusters and–

“I just like it.” Noel was already taking his pyjama top off and pulling his arms through the sleeves, about half an inch too long.

Julian almost choked on his coffee. “I seem to recall you have an entire wardrobe filled with your own clothes. If not two wardrobes.”

“Yeah, but… I dunno. It all seems a bit… tight.”

“Tight?” Noel was having trouble with the buttons, so Julian motioned him closer and helped him, working his way up from the bottom.

“Yeah. I just wanted something a bit simpler.”

“Simpler?“

“Yeah, you know.” Noel rolled up the sleeves to the elbow, and undid the top button. “Less busy.”

Julian gaped. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.” He pulled on his trainers. “I’m just going to pop out for a packet of cigarettes, want anything?”

“You’re not even wearing eyeliner!”

“To go to the shop?” Noel laughed, rubbing a hand over the top of his head and making his short hair stick up. “I think I’ll survive.”

“Noel. Noel. Noel. Noel? Noel. Noel.“

“What?”

“This jacket.”

“Yeah?”

“Or this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Which one do you prefer?”

“God, I dunno. They’re the same colour, aren’t they?”

“Well, yeah. But they’re not the same.“

“… no?”

“They look different.”

“Yeah.”

“So which one? Which is nicer?”

“Uh huh. Great.”

“Noel.“

“What?”

“You’re not even listening.”

“I’m bored.“

“We’re shopping!“

“Yeah, and I’m bored off my arse. How much longer is this going to take?”

“You don’t want to be shopping?”

“Who does?”

“You love shopping.”

“Yeah, apparently not.“

“… I said I was sorry about a million times, you know. I’m really not sure what you want me to do.”

“Eh? Look, can we go to the pub? I’m dying for a pint. And some crisps.”

“A pint?“

“Get both jackets, what does it matter? And then let’s get drunk.”

*

Julian rifled through the shopping bags, putting the frozen food away first. He reached in and pulled out a packet of white chocolate Magnums. He frowned, put it to one side, and emptied the rest of the bag.

Two boxes of strawberry Mini Milks. A frozen pepperoni pizza. McCain’s oven chips. And hamburgers.

“NOEL!”

Noel elbowed open the front door, hands filled with the rest of the shopping bags. “Yeah? What?”

“What’s all this?”

Noel dumped the shopping on the kitchen counter, and dusted off his hands on his trousers. “It’s food.” His mouth fell open. “Shit, did you want dark chocolate? Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Julian started to pack all the ice cream into the freezer, shaking his head. “Did you buy any salad? Any vegetables?”

“Yeah, course! What do you think all this is?” He opened one of the bags to reveal a kilo of white potatoes, which he hefted into the cupboard with one hand.

“And who’s going to eat all this stuff?”

Noel looked confused. “Well, I sort of thought I might. We might, I mean. You can too. Unless… you don’t want to?”

Julian opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and resigned himself to simply closing the freezer, full for maybe the first time ever.

Noel passed him a bottle of milk, and Julian frowned. “Full fat?”

“Is it?” Noel muttered. “Did you want something else? I just grabbed the first thing I saw, sorry.”

Julian held the rapidly warming milk in his hand, condensation forming on the bottle. “You haven’t had full fat anything since the early nineties.”

“Milk’s milk. I’m only gonna sling it in a cup of tea, aren’t I? Who cares?” He handed Julian what looked like a can of hairspray, and he winced at the memory.

“What’s this?”

Noel waggled his eyebrows at him. “Whipped cream. That’s full fat, too.”

Okay, thought Julian, maybe there were benefits to this new Noel.

He missed tangling his hands in Noel’s hair, fingers scraping through and around. Grabbing a fistful of it and pulling back, exposing his neck.

But without it… he didn’t miss the stupid bloody spitting noise Noel would make every few minutes as he got a mouthful of his own hair. Or how it would hang down and flick into his eyes if Noel went on top, bending down to kiss him and only succeeding in making Julian sneeze by getting it up his nose.

Noel straddled him, face oddly naked without his hair flicking around it, framing it. He leaned in and kissed him, and Julian pulled him down, momentary physical memory confused when his fingers met only bristles. Noel’s tongue was in his mouth, pushing and tasting, and his hand was on Julian’s nipple, brilliantly cruel.

Noel pulled back from the kiss and sat up, raising his hips, pushing at Julian’s side with his knee.

Julian furrowed his brow, and tried to roll them both, so that Noel was on his back and he was on top.

Noel stayed firm, and pushed harder.

“What are you doing?” Julian murmured.

“Trying to get you to turn over, what do you think?” Noel sat back down and kissed Julian fiercely, one hand on his chest, pinning him down. “Unless you’re not up for it, tonight,” he muttered against his lips. “Which would be a shame.“

“Up for what?” Noel’s hands were roaming everywhere, and he was so up for this, but he couldn’t work out why Noel was still on top of him. If he was going for a new position he could at least say.

“Ahhh…” Noel said, like he’d working something out, and he reached down, shifting slightly, taking hold of Julian’s ankles. He tried to force them upwards, tried to tuck Julian’s legs around his back, cock nudging forward to reach Julian’s arse.

Julian froze. “What?“

Noel pulled back, let go. “No? Sorry.” He swallowed, breathing deep. “I just thought, I mean the signals… if you’re tired, really, it’s fine. I’ll go to the loo for a bit.”

Julian took tight hold of his wrist. “No, I don’t… it’s just… we haven’t. I mean, you don’t. I do.”

Noel stared at him, completely serious. “Well, isn’t it my turn, then?”

“I… I… do you… want to?”

“Do you want me to?”

Julian let out a breath he’d apparently been holding for a year and a half. “Absolutely. It’s just… you never said. Did you want to before?”

Noel kissed him again, and Julian wrapped his legs around him, heart beating fast. “Who cares? I want to now.“

It was fantastic. Mind-blowingly fantastic. It had been so long with Noel, so long since he’d had sex where he hadn’t had to top, and it was like having sex for the first time. Like regaining an arm, or finding an old diary, or… he was incredibly incoherent as he tried to explain it to himself, aching and sticky afterwards, painful in a way he hadn’t been in years, Noel wrapped around him from behind. It was new.

He stared at Noel, hand hovering over his head but not touching. “I don’t understand.”

Noel stared at the floor sullenly. “What? I went to the hairdressers.”

“But your hair’s shorter.“

“Yeah?” Noel made a ‘duh’ face. “That usually happens when you get it cut.”

“But… but… why?“

Noel scuffed the floor with his trainer, sniffing loudly. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “It was getting too mullet-y.”

“But now it’s short again.” Julian petted it lightly.

“Yes.” Noel smacked his hand away. “It’s was getting too long, and I had it cut, and now it’s short. Okay?”

Julian shoved his hands in his pockets. “I thought you were going to grow your hair back.”

Noel sighed. “Well, it turns out I like it like this. Don’t you?”

Julian chewed on the inside of his cheek. He thought about not being dragged out to Topshop every weekend, or to some pretentious party. Watching the football with a beer. Being able to get into the bathroom whenever he wanted.

“Are you happy?” he asked tentatively.

Noel rubbed the back of his head briskly, making part of it stick up. “I… yeah. I am.”

Julian grinned. “Then so am I.”

Noel smirked, leaned in for a kiss. Grabbed Julian’s arse with both hands, then smacked it, hard. “Get us a Magnum, then.”