26 Fics in 26 Minutes
Category: The Mighty Boosh, Real Person Fic, Femmeslash, Nathan Barley
Characters: Dee Plume, Howard Moon, Jones, Julian Barratt, Nathan Barley, Noel Fielding, Other, Rudi, Spider, Sue Denim, Vince Noir
Pairing: Femmeslash, Bob Fossil/Dixon Bainbridge, Howard Moon/Vince Noir, Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding/Other, Rudi/Spider, Ultra/Neon
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Character Study/Reflection, Crossover, Drabble - Under 500 Words, Drama, Episodic/Missing Scene, Fluff, Humour, PWP (porn without plot), Romance
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Character Death, Smut (graphic sex scenes), Violence - Mild, Unspecified Warning
Status: Complete
Length: 20-30k words
The Champs – Tequila
Contents
The Champs – Tequila
“I still don’t get it.”
“Look, it’s easy. Tequila tastes foul, yeah?”
“So do salt and lime.”
“You lick your hand…”
“Which one?”
“Ideally, the one you’re not using to drink. Whichever one you don’t write with.”
“… Noel…”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t remember which hand I write with.”
“Just pick up the fucking glass.”
“Okay.”
“No, that’s my glass.”
“Fuck, where’s mine?”
“On the floor somewhere? How many have you fucking had, Julian?”
“Look, we’re… you know, off tomorrow. Off away. Edinburgh. And people, people I know, I’m a popular guy. Drinks were bought.”
“I’ll grab another glass. Stay here. Don’t throw up.”
“I’m not a child.”
“Right, here’s a glass. Here’s tequila. Now, just… no, I’ll pour it, now I think about it. Okay. And pick up the glass.”
“Right.”
“Try again.”
“I can do it!”
“So you’re right-handed, tonight, whatever. Great. You put salt on your left hand then. Your left hand. Julian. The one not holding the glass. The other one.”
“It won’t stay.”
“Goddamn.”
“…”
“There.”
“Noel?”
“And now, you pour a bit of salt on it, not too much…”
“Did you just lick my hand?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to sit here for four hours watching you try and do it.”
“You licked my hand?”
“Don’t – freak – out. For fuck’s sake. I haven’t even got to the lime yet.”
“Why did you lick my hand?”
“It’s what you do. It makes the salt stick, so you can lick it off.”
“Is this a fetish thing?”
“The… the salt? Or the licking?”
“What?”
“On second thoughts, maybe more alcohol is not what you need, right now. If you remember, you’re the one who’s supposed to be driving us up tomorrow.”
“I want to go back to the part where you started licking me.”
“I’ll bet.”
“What?”
“I think. As fun as this is. I might go… over there. And talk to Dave. Or anyone.”
“Are you going to lick them too?”
“Julian, as soon as I come off these fucking antibiotics, I swear. I’m going to get completely trashed, and then lick you all over, and let you fucking deal with a drunk me.”
“You’re going to what?“
“On your hand, you have salt, stuck there, okay? And next to you, is a wedge of lime. You lick the salt off your hand–”
“I knew it was a fetish thing.”
“You lick the fucking salt off your cunting hand, you drink the arsemunching tequila, you bite the cocksucking motherfucking bloody lime. Do not make me go through this again.”
“… what?”
“I’m going home.”