All Change
Category: Real Person Fic
Characters: Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding
Pairing: Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt
Rating: PG-13
Status: WIP
Length: 1-5k words
Disclaimer: I get nothing from this except the challenge of writing it and the fun of playing in the Boosh sandpit.
[nextpage title=”Role Reversal”]
Role Reversal
Author’s Notes: For the first time in a long while, I have a story longer than 1.5k words in my head!
And, as ever, I have my hour bus journey to work to thank for this idea.
The doorbell worked fine, as far as Noel knew. It had worked earlier when Mike came round to drop off some fresh paints for his brother’s latest artwork; bismuth yellow, pyrole red and phthalo blue stark against the ivory black. Stark like the arrhythmic pounding on the door that had started to repeat itself.
Praying that the only goal of the match wouldn’t adhere to Murphy’s Law, Noel pushed himself off the sofa and padded to the door. Whoever was on the other side had started to giggle in a drunken hysteria that Noel knew all too well. He fumbled a little in the semi-darkness as the knocking came again, as slurred as the ‘Lemme in’ that accompanied it. A male voice, dripping with alcohol.
“You’ve got a girlfriend, Mike, surely she should be the one putting up with you like—”
The door now open, Noel stopped short. Julian was grinning like an idiot, swaying a little despite having one arm wedged against the doorway to prop himself up.
“Good evening sir!” he declared loudly, affecting as posh a voice as he could manage before bursting into a fresh wave of giggles.
Noel grinned, surpressing a laugh. “Had a good night out, mate?” He gave his friend a quick look over-the rumpled white shirt told of a boisterous night’s drinking, stains of a myriad of different drinks making a strange design. There was a tie roughly stuffed into an inside pocket of his black jacket-mud splatters and bits of leaf suggesting he’d had an interesting journey across town.
“Impecunable,” was Julian’s pompous answer, attempting to draw himself up to his full height. And failing, as he teetered dangerously on the doorstep. Noel lunged forward and managed to grab one windmilling arm.
“Get inside, you drunken berk,” he managed through his own laughter. Julian promptly pushed himself off the doorframe and straight into Noel, almost sending them both flying across the hall. Up close and personal, Noel could smell the heavy scent of beer on Julian’s breath amongst the sweat of a long night. Mixed it with it all was that Julian smell-he’d never been able to pin down what it was, but it was unmistakable in all its Northern glory.
It took almost five minutes to get from the hall to the living room, Noel taking most of the taller man’s weight. Julian didn’t make it any easier by attempting to sway along in time to a raucous rendition of a song he’d heard in the Arms earlier; Noel almost lost his footing a couple of times, overpowered by the drunk mass around his shoulders. Despite it all, he was trying his best to hold back the peals of laughter-it had been too long since he’d seen Julian like this, happily Brahms and Liszt. With a small twinge of guilt, he wondered how many times it had been he who needed half-carrying to a place of rest-he knew for a fact it was far more than his partner, and would bet his life that it was far often than it should be. As he shrugged Julian off his back and felt him flop onto the sofa, he wondered how many times it took before the funny side of things wore off.
“Ju, drink?”
“Lots.” Less of a giggle and more of a snigger this time. Noel rolled his eyes with a smile.
“Tea or water?”
Julian pulled a face. Noel’s grin returned. “That’ll be tea then!”
Fifteen minutes later, Noel’s mug was cradled in his hands while Julian’s was abandoned on the table after he’d spilt some of the offending hot drink on his leg. He’d even gone so far as to give it the finger in retort, which had prompted Noel to give a snort of laughter into his own drink. The football match was still playing, but had been relegated to background noise as Noel tried to keep up with Julian’s rapid topic-changing conversation, made that much harder by the alcohol-induced return of his thick Leeds accent.
“—and I pity his missus, well she’ll BE his missus next weekend, stupid bastard. Hah.”
He fell quiet, ethanol energy spent. Noel had been watching him throughout his animated monologue, seeing things he’d never noticed before. Thin lines of crows feet were definitely starting to tug at the man’s notoriously small eyes, but they suited him in some strange way. Julian had always been the wise owl of the pair, an ‘old head on young shoulders’ as someone had once commented. He’d never been overly concern with his appearance, unlike his younger counterpart, but that only helped give him a kind of Bohemian look that both stuck out and fitted in at the same time.
Noel’s musings were brought to an abrupt end as the face he was looking at so intently disappeared from view. His jolt of surprise was perfectly timed with a weight crashing into his ribs as Julian let himself fall sideways, shoulder jarring painfully with Noel’s hip.
“Tired?” he asked as his mug joined Julian’s on the coffee table.
“Comfy,” was the murmured response from somewhere near his navel. A small shiver ran down his spine, an electric tingle of excitement. Noel could picture himself doing to other people what Julian was doing right now,-but had never thought it would be the other way round. Before he’d realised he was doing it, his hand had dropped to Julain’s head and was teasing at his hair fondly. Julian gave a happy murmur and snuggled his head deeper into Noel’s ribs.
This is weird, Noel thought. There was something… soothing about this. As his fingers gently pulled apart the windswept knots, Julian summoned up the strength to raise one of his arms and let it snake over Noel’s chest, pulling him into a pillow-like hug. Feeling a smile tug at his lips, Noel tapped his friend on the head lightly. No response. He tried again, rewarded this time by a low grunt.
“Come on, bedtime for you.”
Grunt.
“Now.”
Sighing dramatically, Julian pushed himself out of his comfortable position and, slowly, pulled himself to a shaky upright position. It took a few seconds for his eyes to focus on Noel’s hand, directing that Julian could take his bed as he wanted to stay up and watch the rest of the football. He babbled his way through a ‘thank you’ and stumbled over his own shoes as he trod the gap between the coffee table and the sofa.
Halfway across the room, he stopped and turned. Noel looked up, expecting the start of another nonsensical ramble. Instead, he watched as Julian swayed his way to Noel’s end of the sofa and bent down so the two were face to face.
With not a word spoken, Julian planted a warm, and slightly soggy, kiss on Noel’s cheek before making his way to the bedroom and shutting the door.
A roar of cheers came from the TV as West Ham scored.
“Gooooooooooooooaaaalll!”
End Notes: I was surprised to find that ‘impecunable’ is not a real word, just a corruption of ‘impeccable’. Which worked even better than I thought, as ‘impeccable’ was the word I wanted Julian to get wrong!
Oh, and for those unaccustomed to Cockney rhyming slang, ‘Brahms and Liszt’ means ‘pissed’.
[nextpage title=”Man and Wife”]
Man and Wife
Author’s Notes: Thanks to those on the LJ community who commented on this 🙂 And I agree, drunk Julian is fun!
It was the London ‘dawn’ chorus that eventually woke him up. Some idiot gunning his car outside, threatening to shake itself apart with the deep resonating thuds of a bassline coming from ridiculously oversized speakers.
Grumbling a sleepy curse upon the ‘Southern twat’, Julian rolled onto his back; immediately regretting it as the sudden movement brought up waves of nausea and disorientation to add to the thick pounding at the front of his skull. So Ken’s stag night had been a success.
Against his better judgement, he slowly opened one eye against the glaring sunlight. The other opened with a quick flick of panic when he realised the room was in a muted semi-darkness thanks to the blackout linings on the curtains. He didn’t own blackout curtains-he usually enjoyed getting natural light into his room. The roaring in his head beat the urge to bolt upright for a better look at where he’s ended up, leaving him to try and piece together last night’s drink-clouded memories. He remembered leaving the Arms when the lock-in petered out to the last three capable of speech. A dull ache in the soles of his feet reminded him of his walk through the city-but to where?
It took the surreal empty stare of a black-eyed neon skull to shock Julian into realisation. How the hell could Noel wake up to that… thing every morning. Things, he had to correct himself as he looked round the room into more acrylic black gazes. The white walls served to perfectly set off the bright reds, blues and yellows that Noel seemed to love using. They had always reminded Julian of pots of primary finger paints; so it had come to no surprise when he’d watched Noel swirl yellow into blue with the tip of one long, arty finger. But then that was Noel all over-hands-on and physical, active and not bound by convention.
A twinge of urgency from his bladder elicited another unhappy groan. Julian swung himself round to sit on the edge of the bed as fast as he dared, not wishing to add his own palette of internal colour to his friend’s room. He was missing one sock, but still wearing both his shirt (buttons mostly undone, as if he’d started the job but been too tired or drunk to finish it) and trousers. The grottiness of dried sweat added to the overall lousy feeling he was having, so he shucked off the crumpled white linen as he padded a slow course to the adjoining bathroom.
As he expected, he looked a mess under the harsh strip light over the bathroom mirror as he passed it. Not that he could see much of the lower half of the mirror, as a myriad of bottles and cans and tubs created a strange kind of cityscape along the shelf just below. Product-he should have expected nothing less. A fond smile played on his lips as he relieved himself; despite how often he teased his younger friend with jibes of narcissism, he had to admit that Noel’s pride in his appearance only served to add to his androgynous charm. He got a lot of attention for it, which suited him fine-but sometimes left Julian feeling pushed out.
Did it?
No, it was probably just jealousy at how laid back and natural Noel was in front of a crowd. Nothing to do with wanting to have all of the cheeky Londoner’s attention to himself. Never.
Oh, he thought suddenly as his brain dredged up another memory of the previous night from the depths of Lake Lager. A slightly distorted mental video played-Noel ordering him to bed, Julian standing up with less than his usual grace, walking towards the bedroom—
Then turning back and planting his lips gently on Noel’s cheek.
Oh.
A rattle of keys snapped him back to the here-and-now with a jolt. Probably Noel, he told himself in an effort to get his heart back in rhythm. It occurred to him that, though he knew it was daylight, he had no idea what the time was. Twisting his left hand over, he quickly noticed the absence of his watch. He hoped he hadn’t lost it in the adventures of last night’s moonlit stroll.
It was one that Noel had bought him for his last birthday.
“And the dead arose and appeared to many. Mornin’!”
Venturing out from the bedroom had earned Julian a cheery greeting and a mug of tea. Noel was, as ever, smiles and sunshine, bobbing his head along to music only he could hear as he fished a loaf of bread from a carrier bag. Julian was content to lean on the counter and watch as his friend danced across the kitchen, chattering animatedly about who he’d bumped into on the way to the nearest convenience shop.
“—so I reckon I’m going to go. You up for a night out?” Noel was sporting his most impish grin, knowing too well that his closing comment would goad the older man into recalling his antics of the previous night. Julian gave a wry smile in reply, choosing to play it cool and take a sip of his tea. As the scalding liquid hit his tongue, he reflexively jumped back away from the mug. The sudden movement jerked the mug even more, sending more of the drink flooding over his hand.
Far from showing concern, Noel was wracked with laughter. “Second time in twenty-four hours!” he managed to say between giggles. Julian scowled, realising now where the red mark on his leg had come from. This was why he didn’t go out on the razz too often.
“Here.” The soothing coolness of the damp towel was a welcome feeling on his scathed skin. Noel swiftly relieved Julian of the renegade mug and set about dabbing at the burn mark gently. “I wouldn’t try the same thing on your tongue though!” he joked, his smile more sympathetic this time. Those startling blue eyes held the gaze of the deep-set brown for just a fraction too long, and a quick squeeze in Julian’s chest added to the list of today’s maladies. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just-exciting?
Julian opened his mouth, but ended up guppying as the words fled from his head.
Um, about last night… Sorry I kissed you, it was stupid.
He couldn’t say that. ‘Stupid’ just seemed too harsh.
I didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did I?
Noel would know he was playing the innocent. Noel always did.
How bad was I last night?
That just gave the opportunity for an answer Julian wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.
Noel was grinning again. “What would you do without me, eh?” he beamed as he studied his friend’s hand. Satisfied with his handiwork, he flicked the towel into the sink carelessly. “I feel like a proper wife now!”
With a brief pause but without a word, Noel raised Julian’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Like his eyes, his lips lingered a little longer than they should.
But Julian wasn’t going to complain.
End Notes: This is nothing like the first draft I wrote. I got to work this morning, re-read what I’d written and promptly scrapped it and started it again! This flows a lot better, in my opinion.
[nextpage title=”Long Days and Longing”]
Long Days and Longing
Author’s Notes: Many thanks to those who’ve R&R’d 🙂 Your comments are keeping me going!
As the shout went out of ‘Let’s call it a day’, the whole studio resounded with grateful, tired sighs. Dave immediately started pulling at the strap holding the tangle of ‘flames’ to his head, leaving behind an impressive halo of hat-hair. Noel couldn’t help laughing, and had to dodge quickly to avoid the spindly red flame fingers headed for his own two-tone locks.
Julian’s smile was warm but weary as the younger man ducked behind him for safety. He could barely feel the grip of thin fingers on his arm as waves of exhaustion finally hit him, bursting through the mental dam he’d set up to keep him going through the long day of filming. He should have been used to this by now.
“You look dead,” Noel astutely noted, releasing his grin and looking Julian up and down.
“Thanks,” he replied in as much a deadpan as he could muster. Somehow, it prompted the return of a cheeky smile to Noel’s lips, and Julian felt a small part of him ease. There was something both infectious and calming to Noel’s seemingly endless energy. There had been times when the last thing Julian had wanted to do was spend another day cooped up in a room trying to write ‘unique comedy’; there’d been times when he’d just wanted to stay at home, listening to his music and picking out abstract rhythms on one of his many instruments, quiet comfortable in the his own company. But five minutes with Noel always seemed to refuel him, giving him the boost he needed to get on with things; and, more often than not, to enjoy it.
Noel could tell Julian was starting to feel the pressure; if he was honest it was starting to take a toll on him too, but his near-permanent state of effortless relaxation was working its magic and taking the edge off it. He didn’t think either of them had known what they were getting in to when they had received the green light for the TV series from the BBC. They’d both done TV shows before, but this was theirs, their baby. Being able to take all the fantastic ideas and pictures in their minds and share them with millions of others was ace-but it took time. Far too much of it, it seemed. Noel had often wondered if the world of television would be better if days had more than 24 hours while filming was going on-stupidly early mornings and ridiculously late nights had started to make one day blur into the next.
“Come on,” he declared, reaching up a little to put one arm round the taller man’s shoulders. “Chillout time back at mine.”
Mike, Dave, Matt and Rich had tried their best to drag the duo to the pub with them, but had relented when Noel plainly stated he was likely to fall asleep in his drink. Julian had been more than grateful, happy to let himself be led back to Noel’s flat where relative quiet and a comfortable sofa were waiting.
“Tea?” Noel had asked as Julian dropped heavily onto one end of the sofa. “Something stronger?” had been his hopeful reply. A couple of minutes later, Noel reappeared with a bottle of vodka and another of lemonade, prompting a satisfied sigh from the older man.
“Halfway through, at least,” Noel chirped as he poured his own drink. Holding his glass tightly with both hands, he perched himself in the middle of the sofa, legs curled to one side. His feet, free of boots at last, brushed Julian’s leg as they passed.
“It’s gone pretty well so far,” Julian had to admit after taking a long draught of his drink. “One of the more fun things I’ve done.”
“One of?” Noel echoed, a hint of mock offence playing in his tone. The incredulous pout and wide eyes were too much for Julian, who split into a grin. Less than five minutes, the spell still works, he thought, giving the Londoner a playful shove with his knee. Noel kicked out playfully in response, and a mini-war of lower limbs was waged for a moment. It ended as both glasses were threatening to spill their contents as the motions grew larger and more boisterous; a flash of memory reminded Julian of one other time they’d sat here drinking.
As if reading his mind, Noel suddenly let himself fall sideways onto Julian’s shoulder with a dramatic sigh. Julian’s arm moved of its own volition, raising itself and allowing Noel to settle into the top of his chest. It was only as it hung awkwardly in the air that Julian wondered where to put it. Draped along the back of the sofa? Or-
Sod it, he thought, bringing it down to rest across Noel’s side. The prickle of awkwardness he expected never came, and he could have sworn he felt Noel’s cheekbones rise in a smile.
As ever, Noel couldn’t sit in silence for long. “Tired?”
With an acute sense of deja vu, Julian replied “Comfy.” Noel giggled.
“I remember the last time you said that.”
So do I, thought Julian. Unable to stop himself, he pulled his friend a little closer in to him. It was just… nice, having someone else there, a physical warmth that went beyond company. Between that and the drink, he swore he could actually feel his weariness ebbing away. He didn’t care if it ‘wasn’t right’ or if it seemed ‘weird’. There was a time when that’s exactly how he would have viewed it; he would never have allowed himself to get into this position.
And anyway—it’s not like it meant anything serious.
Some small part of Noel jumped for joy as he felt Julian’s arm settle on his ribs. When the two first met, Julian seemed to be petrified of physical contact. Noel could never understand it-it was just friendly, affectionate, playful, natural; what was so scary about that? But he also knew that Julian was a bit more grounded than he was, literally older, and probably more than a little wiser. So he’d pushed the contact thing as far as he dared, but always backed down when Julian seem too uncomfortable.
He’d been both amazed and strangely grateful when he’d been allowed to kiss Julian’s burnt hand all those months ago. He’d fully expected to be gently pushed away, or to have the hand pulled out from his. And now this, Julian actually accepting and initiating contact. It made Noel happy-proud-happy, with a deeper and almost… sensual happiness eddying below it.
Noel’s head rose and fell as his human pillow took a deep breath in and let it out in a long sigh. A gentle twinge near the nape of his neck confused him-looking up as far as his eyes could move, he just caught the side of Julian’s hand in his peripheral vision, toying with a strand of mid-brown and blond. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, not aware he was doing it. Noel knew that feeling; strangely well, he mused absently.
He didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until the pound of bass from a passing car snatched him from his dreams. Pale, thin shafts of light were just beginning to slip beneath the curtains, another early dawn. And why was his pillow moving?
Every five seconds Noel’s head rose and fell, accompanied by soft murmurs of a still-sleeping Julian-a strand of Noel’s hair still wrapped round his finger. With contented Cheshire-cat smile, he closed his eyes again.
“Love you too, big man.”
[nextpage title=”Ebony and Ivory”]
Ebony and Ivory
“Wow.”
“You like it?”
“It’s… different.”
Noel looked crestfallen, and Julian hurried to reconcile things. “But different good. It’s a good contrast, style suits you.” Noel’s eyes lit up again, one hand rising to ruffle the part in question-his newly-dyed hair, raven black and feathered all the way to his shoulders. Julian had done a double-take on entering the dressing room, as had the assembled early-arrived crew when they’d first seen the new Noel. Everywhere he went today, at least three pairs of eyes were following him; but Julian knew that Noel wouldn’t mind. He’d be loving it, attention and connecting to people through his newest spur-of-the-moment decision.
The more Julian looked, the more he realised how accurate his hasty comments were. Soft black curls brushed against pale, angular cheekbones, providing a beautiful contrast akin to the keys on Julian’s keyboard. A symphony of distraction through asymmetry, but melding to create an almost doll-like elegance. Ebony and ivory, hair and skin.
“Didn’t half scare our mum,” came Mike’s soft murmur from somewhere near Julian’s elbow. The younger Fielding had already been through makeup and costume, only spoiling the shaman illusion by baring his natural hairstyle and glasses instead of Naboo’s silky bob. That looked more out-of-place than his older brother’s new image, Julian thought absently. “Anyway,” Mike started again. “Christine’s waiting for you with a big paintbrush.”
Julian chuckled, though he could easily picture the cheery makeup artist waving her paintbrush around, conjouring their characters into being like Mickey Mouse enchanting those brooms in Fantasia. “Can’t wait til Chris gets a look at him,” he said glibly.
The hours in makeup to become Dennis the Head Shaman (it was always capitalised in his head-professional, like) seemed to pass far quicker today. Maybe it was because Christine’s new paintbrush drew out the intricate lines smoothly first time round, or perhaps he’d been lulled into a deep, zen-like relaxation by her up-beat banter and chiding of the man behind the big news on set.
“..I mean, what a difference! He looks his age more now, but still doesn’t quite look like a bloke. That’s probably the feathering though, looks more like…”
The long day of filming didn’t seem as long today either, even though they were only just starting out on this second series. Everyone was in a lighthearted mood, and there were more than a few slip-ups to give them all a good chuckle. Before they knew it Paul was calling time and the set was being dressed for the next day’s scenes. Julian drifted back to makeup, eyes starting to itch from the contact lenses that whited out his irises.
“Alright Dennis?”
The room was empty save for Noel, sitting innocently in what was usually Julian’s chair. And grinning that wolfish grin of his. After all these years, that grin could still slay any unrest with just one look.
“Not so bad thanks, Joan Jett,” he retorted, eliciting a belt of laughter from the wry young man. Moving to stand behind the chair, Julian pulled at various strands with a quizzical look. Noel yelped a ‘gerroff me hair!’ and squirmed, complaining that he’d ‘mess up the carefully shaped layers and destroy an hour’s worth of hard work’.
“Hard work!” Julian scoffed, giving the black crop a final ruffle. “All you need to do is rake your fingers through it like you do a thousand times a day anyway and you’d do.”
“As if!” was Noel’s indignant response, softened by that grin. “If anything it takes longer now-fringe has to be straight, layers not too curly but all defined and stuff. It’s serious business!”
The stopped, realising they’d fallen into a typical Howard-Vince conversation again. They shared a laugh, looking at one another in the mirror.
“It does work though,” Julian said quietly. Noel chewed his lip slightly.
“You think?”
“Yeah. Look a bit more like your age now.”
“You nicked that off Christine.”
“Maybe I did, but its true.”
“Not too old though?”
“Hmm….”
Noel reached over the back of the chair and slapped Julian’s arm playfully. “Cheeky sod!”
Silence followed, the two of them going back to looking at each other in the mirror.
“Scary seeing you with those contacts in.”
Obediently, Julian leant closer in to his reflective and toyed with them until they lay in his hand. Noel plucked them from his palm and dropped them into their pods of solution, then looked back into the mirror with a satisfied nod.
“Much better. I like the real you better.”
Julian smiled, but at the same time felt that same aching feeling low in his chest that he’d felt the morning after that fateful stag party. Was it a squirm of discomfort as the open compliment, some strange reaction towards this vocalised affection?
Noel was standing up, studying Julian’s face closely. “You alright?”
It took him a few seconds, but he replied “Yeah, fine.” Noel was laughing again.
“Can’t even take a compliment! What are you like!”
In one fluid movement he’d knelt back on the chair and spun it round to face the still-bemused Julian.
“You’re such a tease,” Noel added coyly, stretching up to give his friend a poke-as Julian bent down to ruffle Noel’s hair for the insult.
They crashed in the middle. But it wasn’t the slow-motion vignetted film meeting that Noel found ‘sweet’ while it made Julian squirm. It was a collision that just seemed to linger, Noel staring up into wide brown eyes and Julian surprised at the softness of the young man’s lips. Each waited for the other to pull away in horror-but neither did. Both succumbed to the longing of feeling their lips moving against each other in a gentle kiss, teasing and tentative, exploring.
Noel broke away first, blue eyes alight. Julian straightened up, lips still tingling.
“I’m a tease?” Julian asked softly.
