The Arty Boosh

Category: Real Person Fic

Characters: Chris Corner, Dave Brown, Dee Plume, Julian Barratt, Mike Fielding, Noel Fielding, Other, Sue Denim

Pairing: Noel Fielding/Julian Barratt

Genre: Drama, Humour, Romance

Rating: R

Status: WIP

Length: 10-20k words

Notes: Unbetaed thus far, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone 😉

---

The Arty Boosh by fecklesslyfine

[nextpage title=”I: And So It Begins…”]

I: And So It Begins…

It’s always the most mundane, unsuspecting of days that you’ve got to watch out for. Nothing ever happens on Thursdays, really—just one more hurdle between you and the weekend. By all rights, nothing should happen on Thursdays, but today, one Noel Fielding was going to find out firsthand that this is not a hard and fast rule.

The studio echoed with sounds of chairs and easels scraping the concrete floor as students filed in and got settled, chattering and laughing as they shed their coats and sat down their drawing boards. Noel was one of them—happy, stupid, not a care in the world.

Until someone new walked in—someone marked by his attire and lack of supplies as clearly not part of the class, and therefore, clearly the life model. Except that wasn’t right, because Noel had seen him before. Two nights before, to be precise.

Noel’s brain fuzzed a bit and he blinked a few times to try and focus the abstract dancing of his eyes as he tried to make sense of the situation. No, there wasn’t any doubt about it. The model was definitely the same bloke he’d seen the other night at the pub—playing his guitar, and singing, and generally being sexy. Noel had wanted to talk to him, to say something to him, but he’d hesitated that moment too long and let the other man walk right by him, right out the door. He’d been banking on a second chance, scolding himself for being such a pussy. But now…

Noel felt a cactus of despair suddenly growing in his throat. Well fuck, now the whole thing was completely cocked up, wasn’t it? How could he ever talk to the man now that he was about to draw him nude? The guy would surely think he was a complete freak, would probably sock him a good one if he attempted it. At the very least, it would be deathly awkward—you don’t chat up the model, and if you do happen to say a few words to them, you definitely don’t mention that you say them the other night at an open mic and thought they were quite good and by the way, would they like to grab a coffee sometime? It just wasn’t done.

Noel huffed to himself in frustration as he set up his newsprint pad on the easel. This was all wrong; he was supposed to go back on another night, and the same man would be playing again, and Noel would introduce himself, and then if the tall, handsome stranger just happened to model for Noel’s life drawing class later on… well, that’s a perfectly good catalyst right there, if he played his cards properly. But it needed the proper set-up, right—this was completely no good. He tried not to fidget in annoyance, distracted himself by pulling his charcoals from his supply box.

They were supposed to be using the soft vine charcoal today, he was cheerfully informed by his instructor, but that seemed wrong. This fellow would be all strong lines and hard geometry, not those loose, diuretic squiggles that oozed out of crumbling, flimsy ash. He slipped a hard, compressed black stick from its package instead, wondering if his instructor would notice or care.

“All right everyone,” his short, slightly rotund professor clapped her hands together once, trying to focus the class’s attention. “Julian is going to be our wonderful model for today, so be nice to him or he might not want to come back.” Noel snuck a look at the man—Julian, eh? He’d never have guessed it, but somehow, it fit him. He noted the soft smirk on Julian’s face as he took his place on the platform in the center of the room, robed but barefooted.

“Now, we’re starting with gesture studies, two to a sheet, twenty seconds each… And… what was I saying? Oh, oh yes. Does everyone have their charcoal today?”

She asked this every single class, but without fail, there was always someone who didn’t. It always took a minute or two to sort out, which might give Noel an extra moment to compose himself and get focused on the task at hand before he had to stare at Julian in earnest.

No such luck, as it turned out.

Julian slid his robe from his shoulders and dropped it off to the side of the platform, where it wouldn’t get in the way. Noel tried not to make an undignified squeak as the lithe, nude form was revealed, coughed a little to mask any unusual noises that may or may not have escaped. His pants felt just a little tighter than they had a minute ago and he surreptitiously crossed his legs on his stool, just in case.

God, he was bloody gorgeous. Noel wasn’t normally a fan of anything beyond plain old stubble, but Julian’s ‘tache suited him, as did his short, ruffled hair. He’d thought the other night that Julian looked different from most other people he knew, as if he followed what he liked, not what was in vogue at the moment—because, let’s face it, ‘taches weren’t exactly at the height of popularity. For Noel, to whom this was an issue of great importance, it was a rather appealing characteristic.

Ah, Christy, this was going to be ridiculous, trying to draw him in a room full of people without getting a hard-on. It was embarrassing, too; he’d never once had this problem with any of the other models, even the fairly attractive ones. (Though they didn’t get many of those, to be fair.)

Thing was, all the painting and drawing students were well used to working from live models at this point—nudity wasn’t anything special, just another set of shapes and forms to translate onto the canvas, just a light source and some color, all musculature and structure. It was a detached thing, drawing from life. It wasn’t a person, really. Just a bunch of shapes, a subject for their artistic diagnosis. Except now, that whole theory was being utterly shot to hell because Noel had suddenly turned into a horrible fucking perv.

“All right, first pose! Twenty seconds, go!”

Julian struck a fairly typical contrapposto stance, weight mostly on his left leg, pelvis cocked slightly with one hand reaching back to hold his shoulder, the other resting at his side. Despite the way his eyes curiously flicked around the room, he looked at ease.

As Noel started scribbling, he tried to focus on getting the gesture and weight of the pose, but all he could think of was how nice it would be to grasp those broad shoulders and pull Julian close, how the slight swell of Julian’s stomach would feel warm and smooth against his own. Wondered how the sinew of Julian’s taut thighs would feel when they were wrapped around his—

“Next!” Called his instructor, and Julian turned to face the other side of the room, adopting a stance similar to a lunge that made Noel suck in a shallow breath. Just as he’d thought, the man’s arse was nothing short of godly. He started sketching again, grumbling in his head. This was so unfair. Clearly, he was in the wrong business, having to sit back and try to objectify this man, with his glorious body and equally as glorious voice. Not to mention his hands.

As the twenty seconds passed and everyone turned over a new sheet of paper to begin the next study, Noel watched Julian’s hands closely. That had been it, truly—he’d been done for, the minute he’d seen those fingers sensitively coaxing the sweetest sounds from the steel strings of his guitar. It had been somewhat like watching Julian make love in the middle of a crowded room. And now Noel was watching him cock his hips and swivel about in the buff, again in a crowded room.

This really was just torturous. The man was probably as straight as an arrow, but at least his feverish imagination could take care of that. His classmates, on the other hand, were a little less easily dispelled.

They whipped through the gesture studies, each one making Noel a little more flustered. He hoped his lack of concentration wouldn’t be obvious from his drawings—after all, they were just loose sketches, still. He had time to get it together.

Or perhaps not. Next was contour drawings, two minutes each. Noel mentally sighed, willing himself to focus. It would be more obvious with these if his mind were elsewhere.

Julian’s next great idea was to put both hands on his hips and lean back from the waist, legs spread for balance. Of course, he would be facing Noel directly, presenting himself like an offering. Noel gulped, feeling his cock stir as he tried to adequately follow the contours of Julian’s body with his charcoal stick. The jut of his hips at this angle was delicious, with those big hands splayed over his own abdomen, long fingers leading the eye down to where Julian’s not-unimpressive cock rested amidst a forest of dark curls. Noel’s brain, unbidden, conjured up an image of Julian laying back on the platform, back arched luxuriously as one of his hands pumped up and down his hard dick, the other teasing a pert nipple.

Noel shook himself. All right, brain—that was more than enough. He still had over two hours of class left. The last thing he needed was to get painfully hard in a room full of the people he would have to spend the next two years with, day in and day out. It was a small school, after all. He didn’t want to be known as more of a freak than he already was.

“Remember,” his instructor was saying as she walked around the outside of the circle of easels, passing behind Noel. “Don’t let your hand move faster than your eyes. Follow what you see with your hand. Pretend you are actually touching what you are seeing.”

Noel squirmed on his stool. No problem there, Teach. Ten steps ahead of you.

Finally, the warm-ups were over, and the instructor was arranging a seat for Julian to use during their extended pose.

Trying to casually scan the room and catch a glimpse of Julian on the sly—because staring at the models when you’re not drawing them is also just not on—Noel was quite startled to make eye contact.

His first instinct was to look away and play it off, but Noel ignored his gut and realized after a moment that Julian was looking at him with something akin to… recognition? He tried to mirror the expression, wondering vaguely, what were the chances? Julian gave him a small nod and one of those grins that’s more like a bit of a grimace. The kind you give to people to be polite, when a fully toothy smile is too forward, but no smile is a bit standoffish.

But that was all right with Noel, because that meant Julian had seen him at the pub. And might even talk to him now. And it might not even be weird, after all.

Well, no… knowing him, it would still be weird. Maybe Julian liked weird.

He could only hope.

---

[nextpage title=”II: Distractions”]

II: Distractions

He didn’t see Julian again that week, but thoughts of him constantly plagued Noel at the most inopportune moments; usually when he was sitting in the bedroom he shared with Dave, trying to concentrate on an assignment. He’d get to thinking about how he’d much rather be drawing Julian than the pile of shoes on his floor, and then he’d think about how he’d rather be sucking Julian’s cock than drawing him, and then he’d have to take a break to have a quick wank. It was becoming a bit of a habit at this point, and Noel was vaguely aware he wasn’t half becoming creepy and obsessive.

He didn’t mean to be a perv, honestly. Just… you didn’t usually see someone you fancy in the nude right away unless your date went really well, or you were both quite wasted. And in both instances, you’re generally allowed to do something about said nudity, right? But not this time. It was all a bit backwards, this sort of pathetic, mediaeval adoration, and it was throwing him off a bit. Noel wasn’t the chivalrous sort; he’d rather speak up and face rejection than nobly pine in silence. But he could barely figure out how to strike up a conversation with the man without being unbelievably awkward, much less anything beyond that. And that was frustrating, because he did want to get to know Julian, he truly did. In more than just the Biblical sense. Honest.

Noel sighed as he realised his pencil had worn down to just the wood. It must have been like that for a while; the study of a bowl of oranges and one lone, spotty banana he was supposed to be doing was largely just grooves imprinted into the paper. Was he really that distracted? When he wasn’t actually thinking about Julian, he was thinking about how he shouldn’t be thinking about Julian. Frustrated, Noel tossed his pencil, not caring where it landed, and rose abruptly from his desk. He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. He really needed some fresh air and a smoke. He barely even smoked unless it was with others, but today was a special case, clearly.

Noel slung on his leather jacket and grabbed his wallet—and on second thought, a scarf, because it was fucking Baltic even this late into March. As he made his way out of his apartment, sliding the carabiner that held his keys through a belt-loop, he took the stairs two at a time, breathing a sigh of relief as the frigid air hit his face. Looping the scarf around his neck and zipping up his jacket, Noel slipped his hand into his pocket, pleased his lighter and cigars were still there as he’d remembered. He smoked peach-flavoured Swishers, much to the amusement of most of his mates, but he liked the taste better than cigarettes and didn’t really give a shit if they thought he was girly for it. It was worth not having to wash cig stench out of his hair.

Lighting up, Noel took a drag, exhaling slowly as he wondered where he ought to go. Down the pub? No. Julian might be there. Noel set off in that direction anyway, not even thinking to call Dave or Matt or somebody and see if they might want to come along. It was only eight on a Wednesday, anyway; they’d probably still be working or in class. As his trainers crunched along on the cold sidewalk, Noel contemplated the situation.

His drawing class was Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, and his instructor had said they’d have a model again this week. Julian had modeled last Thursday, so there was a good possibility he’d be there again tomorrow.

Hence, Noel had to get it together. And quick.

He shivered as he walked, wishing he’d thought to bring his fingerless gloves. Made smoking in the cold that much more bearable. Luckily, the Swan Dive wasn’t that far; it was centrally located so students from all about could walk home to their dormitories and flats completely off their faces without too much difficulty. And it wasn’t a bad crowd; most if not all his age, a decent mix of cliques so nobody predominated too heavily. Somebody you knew was always bound to be there. Overall, a good place for Noel, as he preferred to frequent places where the occasional dab of kohl wouldn’t get his head kicked in.

And that open-mic night they’d started didn’t hurt. Not if it brought in people like Julian, who he’d never seen there at all in the last year.

Noel was grateful when he finally reached the entrance of the pub, was just about to pull open the door when—

“Noel!”

The cheerful female voice reached his ears just before he saw her face, and Noel grinned, tossing the butt of his cigar to the ground and crushing it under his heel before pulling Dee in for a hug. “Hey! I en’t seen you all week, where’ve you been, ya little minx?” He lifted her just barely off her feet, delighting as she squealed. How he loved her, his little Deedee.

“I’ll tell you if you put me down!” She squeaked in outrage, giggling as he spun her a bit and kissed her on the cheek. Her fringe was pink now, he noticed, as he set her down and she moved to whack him on the arm, punishment for manhandling her.

“Nice hair, doll,” he complimented, even as she playfully huffed at him.

“Yeah, yeah, trying to get on my good side after that little stunt?” She stuck her tongue out at him, ever the child, but he could match her for that.

“I’m already on your good side, you crazy cow,” Noel retorted, moving her out of the way as a group of people approached the door.

They’d dated, once. Met during Fresher’s week and hit it right off; the painter and the musician-turned-film student. He’d fallen for her almost instantly, once he’d stopped being scared she might kick his arse without any warning.

The actual relationship had only lasted three months, but it ended amicably, after they both realised Dee was a little too much woman for Noel to handle, whereas Noel was a little more of a man than Dee was looking for. Besides, they were almost too much alike for it to work; loved being social butterflies, the center of attention. Between the two of them, commitment was near impossible, but they had just about the perfect friendship now, dotted here and there with occasional drunken fumbles—after all, the sex had never been the problem.

Bottom line, it was always nice to know you had somebody to give you a cuddle when you really needed it. He didn’t really know what he’d do without her.

“So where’ve you been?” He persisted. “I was a utter wreck without you.”

Dee snickered. “I bet you were.” She fished into his pockets, helping herself to one of his cigars. “I was helping Sue move in with Chris over the weekend, and then I had this insane animation project I forgot was due tomorrow morning, so all Monday and Tuesday was me skiving off to work on that.” She tucked his pack and lighter back into his jacket, grinning. “Just finished an hour ago, so this is me celebrating my amazing procrastination skills. I was actually waiting for the Wonder Twins when you strolled on up.”

“My powers of timing are legendary ‘round these parts,” Noel acknowledged, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s wait inside though, yeah? My balls are going to freeze and shatter into a million little pieces if I stay out here any longer.”

“Heaven forbid, you might want progeny someday.” Dee shook her head with a snort, exhaling sweet smoke. “Come along then, Princess Peach, let’s get you warmed up.” She pulled the heavy door open and ducked out from underneath his arm, pushing him inside.

“S’not my fault I don’t have a natural layer of fat to protect me from the cold,” Noel couldn’t help adding as he let himself be propelled inside, savoring the look of horror on her face.

“Oh, you are so in for it, Fielding.”

Two drinks later, Noel was feeling pleasantly warm and relaxed. They’d managed to secure a booth and Dee was happily chattering away about her latest film project and potential upcoming drama with Chris and Sue’s new roommate, or something.

“I guess they’re bringing him along tonight, Sue just said he was a bit of a stick in the mud. I dunno, just be nice to him, I’m sure he’s not as much of a prick as she said. You know how Suzy exaggerates everything.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Noel chuckled, leaning back against the plush seat. “So her and Chris must’ve patched things up all right, then? Obviously, if they’re living together now…” Noel took another swallow of his beer, letting the thought trail off.

“Yeah, apparently? For now, I guess.” Dee rolled her eyes. “I mean, they drive each other mental sometimes, but I think they’ve gotten past the biggest hump.” She shrugged, spinning her Bacardi around and giving him a lazy grin. “But yeah, it’s gonna be the two of them, plus Rich, plus this new guy, all in one flat. Sounds like fun?”

Noel shook his head, laughing. “I thought having me, Dave, Richard, and Matt all in one flat was the worst possible combination ever, but I think that one just might trump it. Let me know when the plates start flying, yeah?”

Dee snorted, accidentally kicking him under the table as she swung a leg, restlessly. “Yeah, whatever they don’t break by throwing at each other, they’re gonna break by fucking on every possible surface. If they find a way to shag on top of the telly set, you know they’re going to.”

Noel just groaned. “Ughhh, I really don’t want to think about them doing it, ever. Nothing against them, they’re both lovely, just…” He pulled a disgusted face. “Ugh, they’re both just so bony, it sounds painful. Like two fucking cadavers going at it! Augghh, me brittle bones!” He adopted a husky, geriatric tone, flailing his arms with panache. “We’ve lost me toe tag, the coroner’ll have me hide for this!”

Dee had a laughing fit at that, choking on her drink. She covered her mouth with her arm as she coughed, face flushing pink as she tried to catch her breath. Noel made a sheepish face.

“Sorry Deedee, I forget how funny I am, sometimes.”

Dee rolled her eyes, giving a last cough. “Whew. Yeah, everyone’s a comedian when they’ve got a few drinks down ‘em. And speak of the devil…”

Noel turned to look at the door, seeing a familiar tall blonde, followed by a gaggle of boys; Chris, Dave, Matt, Rich, and… oh fuck.

“Shit,” he hissed, turning back to Dee and trying to get her attention as she waved them over.

“What?” She asked, confused as she settled back down. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“I know that guy. He’s… he’s a model for my drawing class.” Noel gulped. “I—oh shit. What do I do, Dee?” He looked at her helplessly, knowing she would understand.

Dee just snorted, shaking her head. “Wankin’ yourself raw over him, ain’t you?”

Noel nodded, miserably. Dee just sighed, amusement written all over her face. “Just play it cool, Romeo. I’ll bail you out if you need it.”

“Thanks,” Noel would’ve said more, but the others had reached their table by then, and everything was all a commotion, a flurry of greetings being exchanged.

“Noelly!” Rich shouted, tackling him sideways across the booth, rattling the table and nearly spilling the rest of their drinks.

“Oof!” Said Noel, disoriented by the sudden onslaught. “Christ, Rich, you don’t half nearly fuckin’ kill me every time I see you!”

Rich just cackled, righting himself and patting the seat next to him. “Pile in, Scoobies, there’s enough room for all of us.” He tried to get Noel to scoot over by wiggling against his side, adding, “Come on, Fielding, move that pumpkin ass.”

“I’m sure there was a compliment in there somewhere,” Noel snorted, sliding over closer to Dee, who promptly stood up.

“I wanna be by Rich!” She announced, standing up and giving hugs to Sue and Dave before Matt pointed out she’d be there all night at that rate. Laughter erupted as she flipped him off, then slid in, followed by Sue, Chris, Matt, and Dave. Noel realized belatedly that the only spot left was on the end next to him. He’d been avoiding looking at Julian so far, but now was rather forced to as the other man made to sit next to him.

Their eyes met for a moment, and Noel nodded, giving him a hesitant smile. “Alright?”

Julian opened his mouth to answer, but Rich interrupted, “Last one down gets the first round!” Conversation immediately erupted; Sue chiding him for making the new guy go up first, Matt defending that he was right, really; that was the way they always did it, someone else would pick up the next one. Noel couldn’t make sense of the rest.

“It’s all right, I don’t mind,” Julian’s soft voice floated over the cacophony, and everyone turned to look at him as he rose. “What’s everyone having?”

“Noel, you should help him,” Dee volunteered, smirking at him when he glared at her. But to refuse now would be a dick move, so Noel slid out of the booth after Julian, smoothing down the front of his jeans, wondering if his hair looked okay now that Rich had probably mussed it all over the place.

“All right, you’re all having mimosas,” He declared, steering Julian away by the arm as the expected chorus of protests and jibes erupted behind them. Realising perhaps he was being a bit too familiar, Noel dropped his hand after a few steps, looking sidelong at Julian and laughing under his breath. Julian turned to him, then looked back at the table, snorting.

“How’d you get mixed up with that motley bunch, anyway?” Noel asked, nerves calming as his default conversational skills kicked in. Besides, he was rather curious as to why Julian suddenly seemed to have popped up everywhere on his radar.

“Just by chance, really.” Julian shrugged a shoulder as they approached the bar and Noel attempted to get the bartender’s attention. “Met Chris at a house party when I was down here visiting a friend.” He seemed to think that was a thorough explanation, and Noel turned back to him, giving him a look.

“That’s not a very compelling story mate, you’ve gotta jazz it up a bit.”

Julian raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I mentioned I was looking to move down here and… he had a room open?”

Noel just shook his head as he finally managed to catch the bartender’s eye. “You’re hopeless.”

Part of him was rather surprised at how coolly, even flippantly he was talking to Julian, but then again, when he wasn’t naked, it was unsurprisingly much easier to concentrate on the matter at hand. Plus, talking to him was actually a bit underwhelming, and for this, he was sort of grateful. Could take him down off the pedestal now.

“Why do you ask?” Julian countered, once Noel had rattled off the well-learned drink order. Fishing his wallet from his back pocket, Noel shrugged a shoulder, motioning for Julian not to worry about it when he made to do the same.

“Just that you’d have to be mental to live with Suzy, Chris, and Rich. I figured you probably didn’t know them all that well. You’re from up North?” He gave Julian a wry grin, tossing some bills on the counter and leaning against it to face him. He was tall, and Noel found himself wishing he’d been wearing taller boots today, of all days.

“Leeds.” Julian stated, voice carefully neutral. “And I’ve only been there about a week so far, but… yeah.” Julian snorted softly, looking back at the table before shifting his gaze to Noel once more. “Don’t mind, I’ve lived in worse. At least they’re not all complete wreckheads trying to stab each other up every other day.”

“Ah, give them time,” Noel laughed, brushing his fringe from his eyes. It was getting a little long, but he sort of halfheartedly hoped it made him look mysterious, rather than slobby. “Things get a little out of hand when they have their jam sessions. I think somebody almost got pushed out the window last time. Of a different flat.”

Julian chuckled, reaching over as the round of beers arrived. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing stories. D’you play?”

Damn.

“Er… not really. I tried to pick up the bass once, but uh…” Noel trailed off, shrugging as he gathered up what drinks Julian hadn’t managed to fit in his large hands. The cold, slippery bottles served to ground him, and the words flowed once more. “I’m more of a painter, I guess. Though I never say no to karaoke.”

Julian nodded, seemingly lost in his own head as they headed back to the table. “Shame. You should try it again.”

Noel felt a bit slighted by this, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. Wasn’t it meant to be an encouraging remark? Dee was right, this guy was different, that was for sure. Damn confusing, to start.

“About time,” Dave teased as they approached, and Noel’s thoughts were swiftly pulled in the opposite direction as he was drawn back into the conversation that had somehow drifted to fucking puppets, of all things. He tried not to think overmuch about Julian’s presence next to him; wasn’t terribly hard, as Julian wasn’t nearly as talkative as everyone else, but seemed to pick and choose his comments with a certain amount of consideration.

Okay, so maybe he was thinking overmuch about him. Noel downed his third beer all too quickly, laughing as he touched his nose to avoid being it. Matt was the victim this time, and as they all teased him, trying to get him to crawl under the table so they wouldn’t have to get their lazy arses up, Julian turned to him.

“It’s Noel, right?”

Noel, confused, turned and blinked at him for a moment, before nodding. “Oh, yeah… that’s me. Sorry, I forgot nobody introduced us.”

“It’s all right. I knew your face, just didn’t know if I had the name right.” Julian nodded, seemingly to himself, then added. “Yeah, you should try the bass again. I was gonna say, Chris and Sue were talking of having a jam session tomorrow night.”

Noel blinked at him, not sure where Julian was going with that. “I don’t have an instrument.” He protested, not sure why he was trying to pass up a chance to simultaneously be around Julian and watch him play. He must be a complete fool idiot, no two ways about it. But he also didn’t want to humiliate himself, either. Other opportunities would surely arise, given a little patience and old-fashioned willpower on his part?

Julian shrugged so eloquently in response that Noel realised he must talk rather frequently in gestures, because that one simple move clearly just said something to the effect of, “So? I’m not going to make fun of you, we all had to start somewhere. It’s just among friends, more yours than mine, anyway, so what’s there to worry about?”

Or maybe he was just shrugging.

“You can borrow mine,” Julian added as an afterthought, polishing off the last of his beer. “You don’t seem too manic, I think I could trust you with it.”

Noel snorted. “You don’t know me all that well, clearly. But, erm… I guess I could give it a go?” He points an accusing finger at Julian, adding, “Though you’d better not do that patronizing ‘telling-me-I’d-be-halfway-decent-with-some-practice’ rubbish. I’ve seen you play. You’ll be laughing inside and trust me, it will hurt to keep it in.”

Julian snorted, looking at him oddly. It was likely the look you give someone who was a complete mentalist. Or maybe, just possibly, potentially maybe, it was the look you give someone who thinks exactly like you and you’re now wondering how they just transcribed your thought patterns so effortlessly. Noel couldn’t quite determine which, at this point. Tougher nut to crack than he was used to. Should get a bigger beak for this case; Polly got a cracker.

“It’s all right. I know you’ll be shit.” Julian nodded, encouragingly, but with such unquestioning acceptance that Noel was a bit annoyed that he apparently hadn’t even entertained the thought that Noel might just be playing it modest.

Noel shifted in his seat and went to take a drink from his bottle before he realised it was empty. Scoffing, he retorted, “Don’t try and disagree or anything, hell.”

But it was rather funny, and he cracked a smile as Matt returned with Dave—he didn’t even recall Dave getting up, maybe he should start paying more attention to the rest of the group before it became obvious to those who knew him best that he was a little… intrigued by the newcomer. Could just throw them off by claiming he was trying to foster cultural understanding with the North. When in doubt, fall back on the tried-and-true. Make ‘em laugh, ha ha.

Taking a swig of whatever had just been set in front of him—thankfully not a Revenge Mimosa—Noel clicked his tongue.

“Say oblong.”

Julian had been making a comment to Rich, but he turned back to Noel at this. “Say what?”

“Oblong. Say it.”

Julian’s brow wrinkled, as if Noel had just requested he jump up on the table and do a striptease to a rousing version of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah as performed by a mariachi band of blind crickets.

“Why?”

Noel smirked. “Can’t do it, can you?”

Julian just shook his head at him—either uncomfortable, weirded out, or bored with the conversation—and Noel sank down against the booth, jeering half-heartedly at Chris, who was currently busy spilling his drink down his front.

He felt oddly triumphant, in a way, that he’d managed to convince Julian he was a complete wanker in the space of five minutes. That seemed like a noteworthy accomplishment. Perhaps he ought to perform a celebratory jig on the table. Then again, he could also shrink down and crawl inside his beer bottle, because nobody really needed to see him die of embarrassment.

Decisions, decisions.

---

[nextpage title=”III: Reconsideration”]

III: Reconsideration

Noel found himself walking to Chris and Sue’s flat the following night—all too aware that he was turning into one hell of a saddo. It might have been the fact that Julian had fucking smirked at him all through drawing class that morning, but suddenly Noel was a bit over it. He liked the element of surprise, anyway—no fun if you’ve already seen all the bits before you got to play. If Julian was too good for him, well fine, Noel could care less. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the wankjob keep him from enjoying his friends’ company—far from it.

If anything, he might just hang around more. Show Julian that he didn’t care, he wasn’t fussed.

A small part of him protested weakly that really, he was drawing quite a few conclusions from very little evidence, and he did have a gift for self-sabotage, after all. He quieted it by recalling the taunt that had played on Julian’s lips as he’d looked right at Noel, who was forced to try and ignore the stare as he nearly broke his charcoal on the shading of Julian’s left shin, pressing just a bit harder than necessary. Rip, went the paper. Tsk, went his instructor. Whoops.

Cocky, arrogant, strange fucking bastard. No, he wasn’t fussed.

Noel punched in the code to the front door of Chris and Sue’s building, letting himself in and rubbing his hands in the almost steamy warmth of the dingy foyer. The corridors smelt a bit musty, as always, and damp from footsteps of those daring or foolish enough to brave the outdoors on a night like this. Made the previous day look like hols in Trinidad.

Noel squeaked his way down the hall, wondering (as always) when was the last time the wooden floor was replaced—all bets were on 1908, at the latest. He could hear the hum and bustle of activity before he even opened the front door to the flat, which swung easily under his touch.

Inside there lay a veritable cornucopia of people, instruments, drink, and drugs; Noel stepped over Ayoade’s legs and those of the unfamiliar brunette sitting next to him in the entry, exchanging a short greeting as he made his way into the living room. On the sofa, Dee lay across Sue’s lap, smoking a joint and attempting to finger the chords for Sue as she strummed her guitar, painted cheekbones catching the light with their laughter. Next to them, Chris was gesticulating excitedly to Dave—geeking out over his latest synth purchase, most likely—and there was Julian, sitting quietly in the loveseat across. He had a lit cig in his mouth and guitar in his hand, was picking some melody out to himself. He looked oddly relaxed and content.

Before Noel had decided what he ought to do, the girls caught sight of him and let out twin shrieks of joy—it’d become a bit of an annoying ritual at some point, but he shouldn’t complain. Good to be loved, and all. He swooped in and bestowed hugs and kisses on the both of them, stealing a drag from Dee before smacking Dave on the arm and giving Chris a grin. And oh, he’d sat himself next to Julian now—he definitely didn’t recall giving the okay on that one, but too late now, might as well play it off as intentional.

“Ahh, your rapt audience, they’re hanging onto your every note,” He observed earnestly to Julian as he surveyed the room, saw Rich demonstrating one of his weird dances in the kitchen, Matt and Paul egging him on. Julian gave him a sidelong look, snorted with laughter as he exhaled around his cigarette.

“It’s a skill, what can I say,” he said gingerly through his teeth. Noel grinned, shedding his leather jacket and leaning back into the loveseat. He supposed he didn’t have to make up his mind about Julian just yet.

Twenty minutes, one beer, and two shots of vodka later, he thinks maybe he should’ve just left well enough alone. Julian had pulled a bass from his room and was now trying to coax him into playing it as they sat cross-legged in front of the open doorway, side by side.

Noel pulled a face as he struggled to stretch his stubby, uncooperative fingers over a span of four frets. “I don’t think my monkey paws were cut out for this. They’re all gnarled and deformed from holding a pencil too long, look—” He held up his other hand to Julian’s scrutiny, fingers contorted into an uncomfortable-looking fist. “See? They’re more like nubs, ent they? You’d have better luck teaching a whale, and they don’t even have opposable thumbs, just fucking flippers.”

Julian just snorted.

“Just try it again. You might be missing your true calling, Free Willy.” He leaned over, adjusted Noel’s death-grip on the fretboard. “Just relax your hand a bit, you’re not trying to wank it off.”

“Think it might like me a bit more if I did,” Noel wrinkled his nose, exhaling sharply in distaste. “How’s this?” He circled his hand round the fretboard, giving a few lazy flicks of his wrist. “Figure I might as well give it somethin’ for its trouble.”

Julian’s already shrewd gaze narrowed even more as he evaluated Noel’s technique. “Revolutionary,” he frowned, as if in concentration. “Like you’re taking thousands of years of musical practice and theory, looking it squarely in the face, and telling it to fuck right off.”

Noel grinned over at him, pleased.

“That good, yeah?”

Julian considered this for a moment, eyes flicking up to tangle with Noel’s line of vision. Something in Noel’s stomach flip-flopped and his grin got even stupider.

“Yeah,” Julian conceded. “All right.”

Another thirty minutes and two and a half beers later, Noel was tediously plucking out the rhythm to Boys Don’t Cry while Julian had abandoned his guitar to his lap. He was now trying to explain why the Internet was the real infinite abyss that would one day usurp the need for a physical attachment to the universe. Or something.

“I mean, if it’s growing forever, and there’s no real limit to its scope, you sort of got to ask yourself—I mean, what’s the point anymore, we’re all gods now,” Julian paused to let a small rumble in his throat escape before continuing, doggedly, “We should just all get our skins off. Just get ‘em right off.”

“You’re a nutjob,” Noel informed him, voice feeling all chewy and stuck in his throat like corn syrup. “You’ve probably named all sixteen of your toes already, I bet you all have swell debates.” He messed up the bass riff and started over, faltering with each note on the fat strings.

Julian blew a puff of air up at his scruffy fringe, nodding in agreement.

“They seem to enjoy Sartre. God knows why.”

Noel decided to take a risk then. His sore, throbbing fingers fell still on the strings as he leaned forward to delicately blurt out, “Sometimes I reckon I’ve got ram’s legs. And not even the right way round, they’re back-to-front.” He shoved the hot tip of a finger into his mouth to soothe it, and to keep himself from releasing any more nonsense into the warm air.

Julian looked at him like he was actually making sense. “Useless on stairs, I reckon.” He licked his lips and the movement was so minute, so utterly innocent, that Noel had to bite down hard on the tip of his tongue and force his knuckles not to whiten.

“Rubbish on stairs, yeah.” His sticky voice clung to the insides of his mouth and when Julian didn’t respond, Noel had to wonder if he’d actually said anything at all. He shifted, hugging the heavy body of the bass closer to himself so Julian wouldn’t notice any incriminating evidence that had arisen in his trousers.

To Noel’s sudden horror, or perhaps his delight, one broad hand reached out and snatched his up—a rough, hard fingertip prodding his own soft, fleshy pink digits, each imprinted with a string-width groove. Julian nodded to himself, as if Noel had passed a test of some sort. “Got a long way to go, but it’s a start.”

“What?” He said, stupidly.

“Callouses,” Julian explained, patiently. “You didn’t think it would hurt that much forever, did you?”

Noel scoffed, wondering when it was that his cheeks decided it was okay for them to go red without his permission. He wasn’t that embarrassed, really. “Course not.” Or that caught off guard. “I weren’t born yesterday!” Or that turned on over essentially nothing.

At least he could admit he was in denial, however. That was a start.

Julian was politely pretending not to be amused, but he really wasn’t putting all that much effort into it. He could’ve hidden it if he really wanted to. Surely.

“D’you want to come over to mine?” Noel asked, so suddenly, then immediately wondered why he just said that. He quickly amended, “I need a cuppa tea to sort out all this beer.” Because that makes sense. And really, he doesn’t mind that every five minutes, someone is coming over to try and talk to him, or to offer him another drink, or to try and distract Julian, when all Noel really wants to do is have Julian attempt to teach him the bass line to some obscure Smiths’ song so he can smell Julian’s cologne again and maybe and maybe and—no, he really doesn’t mind that. Honest.

Julian actually seemed to be considering the idea.

“All right. Why not?” He extended one of his legs out, stretching from his rather cramped position, looking eager to be up and moving.

Noel blinked at him. “Really?” He’d always had a knack for asking too many questions, but Julian didn’t seem concerned by this. Noel suddenly wondered what Julian would think of his flat. Then he wondered why he hadn’t paid more notice to Julian’s room, because you can tell a lot about a person by their living arrangement. On the other hand, perhaps that was a bit weird, to be over interested in such things—regardless, the light was turned off, so all the warm glow of the hallway revealed was the outline of a bed and a desk and some boxes.

Julian took the bass from him, and Noel didn’t want to give it up because that meant lessons were over, but he relinquished his grip so Julian could stumble the instrument back into the room as gracefully as a tall stork man with seven-odd lagers in him can. Noel gave a quick glance down toward the vicinity of his fly, and breathed a little easier upon confirmation that nothing appeared out of place anymore.

Looking back up, Julian’s denim-encased legs entered his line of vision, and then a large hand offering him help up, so he took it. Found himself standing next to Julian in the doorway, eye-level with the other man’s chest. He was stood close enough to see all the pills on Julian’s cardigan—and he fancied if Julian had stood there just a moment longer, he could’ve seen them tremble with a heartbeat. But Julian moved toward the kitchen, disappearing for a moment and returning with his heavy winter coat in tow.

Noel looked about, feeling indistinct and scattered as he tried to remember where he’d left his own coat.

“On the loveseat,” Julian read his mind, and Noel laughed, trying to pretend he’d known all along. He made his way back into the room with all the sofas, peppering kisses and hugs upon its occupants and liberally handing out apologies for leaving so early, promises to meet up soon and see you later’s. Finally, his leather jacket had been pried from between the cushions of the loveseat and he was walking out the door after Julian, out into the humid, uncomfortably warm hallway, and then beyond it to the great unknown.

---

[nextpage title=”IV: Something of a Connection”]

IV: Something of a Connection

The frigid air was an unwelcome shock to Noel’s system, banishing the warm, comfortable hold the apartment had on him. Things were less hazy now, the outline of Julian’s body haloed by street lamps and shop signs—crisp against the darkness. Noel worried the pad of his thumb, wondering why he hadn’t brought gloves and if Julian would also suddenly realise the flimsiness of their new plot line. The jet-black sky felt sharp enough to cut their tenuous bond in half, if the cold didn’t shatter it first.

“S’good to get out of there,” Julian spoke first, and Noel remembered that he’d better take the lead before Julian discovered they’d just been wandering aimlessly, feet crunching twin paths to nowhere on the sidewalk.

“Why’s that?” He asked, a small flicker of hope warming his bones.

“M’ not used to so many people all at once, all the time,” Julian’s breath billowed from his lips. “I don’t think there’s been less than five people there at any given hour. Just takes some getting accustomed to.”

The tiny flame inside Noel almost extinguished, until he reminded himself that Julian had elected to stay with him, out of all the others. “Mate, you came to the wrong city if you were trying t’get away from everybody.” He gave Julian a grin, pulling the collar of his jacket tighter against his neck. “And you definitely came to the wrong flat. But they’re great people, yeah? You’ll get used to it.”

Julian didn’t seem entirely convinced, judging by the silence that followed, so Noel tried again. “Small family, yeah?”

Julian smiled over at him, eyes crinkling. “Yeah. Not you?”

Noel shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “No, mine’s small too. Just me mum, dad, and little brother. But I’m used to being ‘round lots of people constantly; I dunno why, but it feels a bit weird if I’m not. City boy in me, I reckon.” He turned toward Julian, curious. “You don’t like it here, then?”

Julian coughed a little, shaking his head. “No, no… I like it. I knew I didn’t want t’ stay up there forever. It’s just… knowing something and living it are two different things.”

Noel crunched an aluminium can under his heel, skidding a little and laughing as he tried to regain his balance. “Well, looks like you’re stuck now, might as well enjoy it. S’good to get some time to yourself though, I reckon I’d never get anything done if I didn’t kick ‘em all out a few times a week.” He gives a bit of a giggle. “I’m like a proper mum, I got my pinny on and everything, shooin’ the kids outside to play so I can watch me soaps.”

Julian cracked a grin at that, which turned into a proper laugh shortly thereafter, and Noel added a few more logs to the fire now pleasantly warming his insides. “And you live with… Dave, right?” Julian asked, once his chuckles had subsided.

“And Richard and Matt. They can be a rowdy bunch of lads, believe me,” Noel affirmed, running ahead a bit to try and slide on the kerb, with mixed results. “Oi!” He called back to Julian, nearly falling arse over tit as he managed to stagger into a very cold puddle. “That one nearly fuckin’ had me! Shit.”

“I thought Rich lived with me?” Julian’s voice started out soft and got louder as he trod through the puddle in pursuit. Noel just barely jumped out of the way in time to avoid being splashed, but he didn’t mind, because they were having a proper conversation and some things were worth not protesting over.

“No, Richard. Ayoade,” Noel clarified, falling in line with Julian once more. “He’s the tall, skinny black bloke. You live with the squatty, white, American Rich.”

“Ah, the loud one,” Julian nodded seriously, so deadpan that Noel couldn’t tell for the life of him whether he was serious or taking the piss. He couldn’t help a cackle from escaping—because really, it was funny either way.

“Yeah, the loud one. God bless America!”

He flicked his fringe out of his face, then instantly flicked it back as his forehead protested the sudden chill. “Though I guess it’s all the same, really—” Noel added, laughing breathlessly, “We all practically live in the same flat, anyway. It’s like a constant orgy.” Looking around, he discovered they’d come further than he’d thought. Good thing, because now his trousers were soaked up past the ankle and his toes were starting to freeze.

Noel never let such things dampen his enthusiasm, however. He spied a thin slick of ice coating the sidewalk and ran ahead a few paces to spin in a circle on it, enthralled and completely forgetting he was supposed to be impressing Julian, not acting like a five year old. “They should just install ice as a permanent feature, you’d get everywhere in half the time!”

Julian snorted. “With twice as many broken bones…” he remarked idly as he kicked a stray pebble down the street, its rattling echo almost lost with the noise of traffic and other people across the street. His trousers, Noel noted, were also looking a bit damp around the ankles.

“It’s a calculated risk,” Noel admitted, skidding off the small ice patch to follow Julian once more “Expediency over safety. I think they’ll go for it.”

“Hmm, yeah. You could just be disassembled and covered with bubble wrap to create a sort of small, watertight package, then sent on your way.” Julian was warming to the idea, it showed in his voice. His hands were no longer in his pockets, instead creating an animated series of gestures. “Get to the other end, they put you back together with a bit of glue, and whoop! Off you go.”

“Do you get in-flight packing peanuts?” Noel quipped, feeling it as his heart leapt up into his throat and swung from his vocal chords. Julian was speaking his language now.

“Ah, that costs extra,” Julian paused, letting his thoughts trail off as he slowed and looked around. “Where are we, anyway?”

Noel grinned, lightly putting his hands on Julian’s hips for a fraction of a second as he snuck around from behind him—just a habit, mind—and carefully bounded a few more paces until he was at the front step of his building.

“Voila!” He turned around, outstretching his arms and grinning down at Julian, whose approach was a little more measured. “My humble abode. It’s not up a tree or in a skip, but it’s what I’ve got to work with.”

Julian grinned up at him widely, teeth gleaming bright in the light cast off the front of the building, and Noel’s heart nearly swung right out his mouth. He bit the inside of his lip hard to keep it from escaping. “S’ a nice place,” Julian was saying, and Noel snapped out of it, hoping the other man hadn’t noticed he’d been somewhat unabashedly staring.

“I must warn you though,” Noel paused for effect as Julian reached the bottom of the stairs. “If you come in, you can never leave.”

He didn’t know why he’d said it, what had possessed his mouth in that moment, and there was a brief, terrifying moment of silence wherein Noel’s brain went into panic mode and Julian stood still on the stair, considering.

“S’all right,” He said, after a pause. “I haven’t got much on.”

And then Julian grinned again as he walked up the steps, and Noel laughed far too loudly, decided perhaps he’d better focus on getting the key in the lock before he actually swooned. There is, after all, only so much you can ask a man to tolerate.

He didn’t quite remember getting inside the building or even opening his apartment door, but Noel was now somehow in the kitchen with Julian, rummaging about for tea while the other man quietly surveyed the messy apartment. Scraps of artwork and old flyers and shoes were strewn about everywhere. Dave had left part of a well-used mannequin on the table, its disembodied, plastic legs arcing gracefully into the air. There was a pile of dishes on the counter that couldn’t really be classified as either dirty or clean, there was crepe paper hanging from the light fixture that they’d forgotten to clean up after a party three weeks ago, and books and magazines were stacked on every available surface. Including on top of the goldfish bowl, which held nothing alive except for a lone hermit crab whose origins they still had not puzzled out.

“S’nice,” Julian said after a few minutes, by which time Noel had already gotten the kettle on and clean mugs—at least, he hoped they were clean—from the cupboard next to the window.

“S’not really, but thanks anyway,” Noel laughed, turning to survey the squalor. “Yeah, I guess I’m not a proper maternal figure, or this place might be a bit tidier. I’m one of them estate mums, apparently.”

Julian gave one of those snorty laughs through the nose, turning to look around the kitchen. “So, what is it you do?” He asked, hands in his pockets despite the relative warmth of the flat. “Just painting?”

Noel nodded, leaning back against the counter. Normally, he might consider this an awkward situation, but somehow he was strangely at ease with Julian. Not that it made the situation any less awkward, mind, just more that it didn’t seem Julian was really bothered by such things. Nice change, that.

“Yeah, just painting, I suppose. Am I supposed to do anythin’ else?” Noel fired back easily, grinning. “Do a bit of stand-up sometimes. Pretty shit at it, but you’ve got to get your kicks somehow. And I write, I guess. Just weird bits of nonsense.” He remembered he still hadn’t located the tea and turned back to the cupboard, determined to locate something that didn’t taste like arse. Talking over his shoulder, Noel added “Don’t really have a job to speak of. What about you?”

Julian’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “You do stand-up?” He asked, completely ignoring Noel’s question.

Noel paused, turning back to look at him. “Yeah?” He bit his tongue to keep from saying any more. He shouldn’t have said that, everyone always took the piss out of him for it.

Julian nodded, a barely-perceptible smile coming to his face. “Same here.”

Noel almost dropped the bag of Green Pekoe he was holding. “What?! Shit off!” He looked at Julian with new eyes. “You’re not jokin’? Are you sure—” He realised as that last sentence flew out of his mouth just how ridiculous he sounded, but thankfully, Julian just laughed.

“Yeah, what? You think I’m not funny or something?” His eyes glinted with humour, and Noel just swore, shaking his head.

“No, sorry, s’just… caught me off-guard, that’s all. You just didn’t seem like that’d be your kind of gig. I mean, I seen you play an’ all…” He trailed off, wondering if he’d already told Julian that. It had been a bit of a whirlwind few days, at least in his head.

“I like both,” Julian shrugged a broad shoulder, finally becoming comfortable enough to lean against the counter opposite Noel. “My stand-up’s a bit weird, probably not what you’re thinking. So… it’s understandable.”

Noel quirked his mouth, wondering if this was too good to be true. “How weird? Like, talking about a ginger cat dressed as a barracuda dressed as a ginger cat that just keeps gettin’ smaller and smaller as you go down like little Russian nesting dolls? Or living at the top of a lighthouse with a magical otter named Lionel what emits blue steam from his arse when he gets excited?”

Julian tilted his head slightly, lips pursing ever so. “Think your tea’s about done.”

Noel’s brows furrowed, then turned as he started to hear the tell-tale whistle of the kettle emerging. “Ah, yeah—” He turned around quickly to hide his instant embarrassment, going through the motions of taking the kettle off the hot burner, turning off the hob and dropping the tea ball in. God, when would he learn just to put a bloody sock in it?

“When’s your next gig?” Julian asked from behind him, voice neutral. Noel furrowed his brow, turning around again. He didn’t seem to be taking the piss.

“What, serious?” Noel asked, voice squeaking slightly, not sure exactly what was going on. He crossed, then uncrossed his arms in front of him as he waited impatiently for the tea to steep. Just to have a cup to hide behind.

“Why not?” Julian seemed oblivious to the havoc he was currently wreaking on Noel’s sanity. “I want to see. Fair’s fair.”

Noel poured their tea, still confused. “Y’mean, you actually think listening to me ramble’s gonna be decent?” He gave a nervous laugh. Oh, Fielding. You couldn’t play it cool if your life depended on it.

Julian accepted his cup with a quiet ‘thanks.’ Shrugging again, “Why not?” He repeated. “Why should you care what I think, anyway? Y’don’t even know me.”

Noel did laugh at that. “Exactly, mate. People I want to get to know, I don’t let ‘em see me at my finest right away, yeah? Gotta give ‘em some incentive to hang around.” His smile was self-deprecating this time, feeling back on more familiar soil. Course he wasn’t actually going to tell Julian just why he gave a toss about his opinion, but he could blag this well enough. Sipping his tea gingerly, he nodded toward the door that led from the kitchen and dining nook into the rest of the flat.

“Wanna sketch out the rest of the place? That way when you need to come hide from the insanity of your flatmates, you’ll have an idea of what fabulous hiding places we have on offer.” He walked past Julian toward the other end of the room, expecting him to follow.

“You didn’t answer my question about your next gig,” Julian pointed out, his footsteps following after a moment. Noel audibly scoffed.

“Whatever, you haven’t even answered half of mine. Fair’s fair.” He mimicked Julian, amused.

“Which questions?” Now it was Julian who seemed genuinely confused as he took a seat on the sofa that wasn’t covered in plastic sheets and still-life props. Noel had found his footing once more.He turned to face Julian from the middle of the living room, smiling enigmatically as he took another sip of his tea.

“The ones I haven’t asked yet, of course.”

“Ah,” said Julian. “Of course.”