Ten Thirty Wake up Call… Nine Thirty Confrontation
- a fic i wrote rather drunk, turned out better than i thought and relates to Noel breaking in that nice red jacket a couple of days ago. (N/R)
Category: Real Person Fic
Characters: Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding
Pairing: Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt, Noel Fielding/Other
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Drug Use, Unspecified Warning
Status: Complete
Length: 1-5k words
Notes: I was coming down from a nice drunk bender when i wrote this, my friend passed out in the room next door and my other friend downstairs watching Forgetting Sarah marshall and writing about Darleks.
interesting friday anyway.
Again, i apologise to the boys for messing around with their lives in my head.
Ten Thirty Wake up Call… Nine Thirty Confrontation by SilverFalcon
It’s not something I’d normally do. Sitting here, regretting not going after him. Usually I would have. The moment he disappeared out the door I would have been after him. Chasing him down the street. Yelling for him to come back. To look at me again. Normally I’m not quite that needy. Yes I’m needy. I’m not that delusional to deny that I can’t withstand people looking at me. Taking me in, wanting me. But he’s different. Julian’s always been different. He’s always known me. Me, not the shit everyone else thinks they know. Julian knows the real me. The one that only he and Dave and Dee and Mike know. The one I hide from everyone else.
I’m not a shy person. Fucking hell, I’m possibly one of THE most extroverted people on the planet. But it’s not about that. It’s not about what you show. But who, and I always show Julian. He’s the one of few who I know wont judge. Who wont look and just see a complete dickhead, but see me. See me and know that while I am a dickhead, that what they see is me. Noel.
But today has been different. Today I was different. Today I said things I’ve never said before. Today I said things I thought I’d never say. Things i’ve thought but never had the courage or enough booze to tell him.
Today I crossed the line we drew and he’s right to have walked out. He’s right to have ignored me. To have shut me out and treated me like the tit I am. But I know that tomorrow he’ll still call, like usual. Ten thirty. Julia and the kids have left, he’s finished his morning coffee and the paper. He knows everything that I can’t remember from ast night, and I’m finally awake and have ingested enough tea and aspirin to combat the bottle of Stoli I downed last night, either that or the copious beers. Either way we’re both awake by then, I’m relatively focussed and Julian’s been shown enough of last night’s antics to have some understanding of what went on, and what I need to be aware of. Today was different though. Today instead of the ten thirty phone call I get a nine thirty knock on the door. I’m not exactly sober or awake enough for house calls at that hour and when I open the door I know for a fact that Julian hasn’t had enough time to fully digest the paper. Obviously I stuffed up last night, something to get me in the front section. I must have done something he’s not too happy with. And by the fact he threw a paper in my hand as he barged in the door I knew that it was spread through all the newspapers. Apparently I stuffed up last night – really badly. Not that I don’t usually. It’s just that whatever it was last night really got Julian’s knickers in a twist.
I look down at the paper again. The journo’s must be mighty proud of themselves for getting that picture. It’s not half bad. Sure, they didn’t get Dee in the background, I was wasted last night but I know for a fact that I held onto Dee like a limpet. She’s not exactly someone I like letting go of. But still, the image is something to be proud of. Sure, they didn’t get Rich’s reaction, or mine following it. But the picture of the main event is enough in itself. Noel Fielding kisses co-star outside the Groucho. I bet the Forums are having a field day. They always enjoy something like this. The after effects of season three were enough to kill me through laughter alone. I don’t know what Julian thinks, but it was easy enough to realise that they really enjoyed ‘Party’. I know that I enjoyed filming. It was enough of a reminder. I don’t know what it was like for Julian, but I know it was harder to look him in the eyes once we’d written it, knowing the old feelings would resurface. It was a whole lot harder during filming, trying to keep it professional. But we did it, and i loved every second.
I was surprised at how brash we were though. I mean we did agree not to discuss it again. But still, somehow, we managed to convince ourselves that if we did it, then so must our alter egos. If we’ve experienced each other and the rules of our lives determines that we can’t do it again, what determines that Vince and Howard can’t? Who says they can’t fall in love in the same way we did? Who says that we can’t use them to get one last chance to kiss? To feel each other’s bodies pressed against our own and register that feeling again. What we’re doing now is right. Julian has Julia and the kids to think of and I have Dee, my perfect woman. But still, somewhere inside me it’s not enough. Somewhere, hidden, I still want what me and Julian had. I told him this morning. I told him that I love him. That i want to start again. That kissing Rich was the chance to try and feel something again. I do love Dee, I mean who couldn’t? But it’s not enough. Something’s missing. I want more. I mean there’s not much more that she can give me. But in the end, she’s not… Julian. Rich isn’t Julian. There’s only one person that I know understands me properly. Julian.
The one person who I forced to walk back out the door this morning, the one person who I know will come back. Who I know will call tomorrow morning and who I know I’ll be able to corner into telling me what he really feels. Corner into telling me the truth. That my kissing Rich last night made him jealous. That despite it all he still wants me. That he misses me in the same way that I miss him. In the way that sends me out clubbing last night and all the nights before that. Sends me clubbing, sends me drinking , sends me into situations where I do something stupid like what I did with Rich. So what if he’s not Ju, I know it achieved everything it possibly could have. Dee loves it when I show her that I’m into guys. She actually wants me to kiss them when she’s drunk, and I’m not going to deny that we weren’t drunk last night – or the night before. It’s fun that way. Better that way. She knows, she understands, at least I think she does. But she’s like that.
Even still, I’m still coming home to her. She’s still the one I fuck till my brain wants to explode. Even when I was with Julian we were still at it. She’s not one to be ignored. I have to admit I was torn, but then Julian told me off. He told me to forget it, told me I was a tit. That we were both idiots to put what we had on the line for something different. Something impulsive. Something that didn’t need to happen. Still, for something that didn’t need to happen, waking up to find Julian Barratt standing on your doorstep in the rain with this morning’s newspaper in his hands, completely furious – but utterly denying his jealousy, will send a different picture. He’s not exactly happy I told him that either. He simply made another stupid claim that I was ruining our act. Giving us a bad name. Making the Boosh famous for my indiscretions rather than our “collective genius” not that they were the words he used this morning. Instead his were more like “You’re objectifying the show and ruining our credibility. You’re steering it in a direction we don’t want to go.” – my reply? “What fucking credibility? Why deny what we are Ju? Why deny what we’ve done, Why ignore what we want to do? Besides you were perfectly fine with us kissing, on screen!” it wasn’t that moment that he walked out. No, that came later when I asked him why he continued to ignore what we had. Asked him why he didn’t want to admit it. I mean these days all the fan base wants is us fucking. All I want is us fucking.
But Ju doesn’t want that, or at least that’s what he tells himself.
Turning up at my place at half past nine in the morning, in the rain, with the newspaper in utter jealous denial tells a different story.
I told him that.
That’s when he walked out.
But he’ll be back. I know he will. Tomorrow he’ll call at ten forty five instead of ten thirty and by the weeks out we’ll have ‘forgotten’ it all. I wont say anything, and Ju, he’ll ignore it ever happened. Deny it.
And it will be forgotten.
That picture won’t ever disappear though, I know that much, and therefore neither will Ju’s jealousy – not that I’m complaining. It is something that’s fun to play with. Something that means I’ll get one more kiss. One more lingering memory of what we’re giving up for the fame.
But still, there’s always next time. I can’t wait to see what he does next, depends on what I should do though…
Wonder what his reaction would be if I kissed Dave….?
