Chapter Text
There's no cracks in the ceiling, Liam notices. It shouldn't have any, considering how fucking expensive the hotel is and that. But he's not used to seeing a clear white ceiling, is all. Back in Burnage, there were little dark spots— his mam used to say they were from the humidity and the rain— and some cracks that grew bigger every year. Not by much, but Liam noticed them, ‘cos he used to stare at the ceiling when he couldn't sleep. And when they first moved, he couldn't sleep at all, ‘cos every time he closed his eyes he saw his old man knocking the door down and coming to whack his mam and his brothers again. So he used to stay awake, just in case.
He shifts in place but he can't move much with Noel's arm still wrapped around him. His brother smells a bit of lager and fags, and like he's just had a shag, and it feels familiar but at the same time it doesn't. In Liam's head, right, Noel smells like that posh aftershave he always buys, and the same soap their mam used to get. A bit like lavender. He wants to turn around and bury his nose in Noel's neck, see if any of his actual scent is still there, or if this is just how they are now. Just sex and drugs— and Rock'n'roll, he supposes. It's what it says in the tin, isn't it. Not like Liam should've expected anything different.
Also it's not the first time they done something a bit mad like this. Maybe it wasn't as mad as this, but it was a bit naughty and that. He presses his lips together, hissing when he presses too hard over a little wound on his bottom lip.
It was a hot and humid fucking night. The kind he tossed and turned, got up to the bathroom a hundred times, and ended up soiling the sheets with his sweat. He had no clue what time it was, or how much time did he have until he had to get up. His brother was snoring on the other bed, dead to the rest of the world, ‘cos he'd just returned from some gigs with the Carpets outside of the country, so he couldn't even complain with Noel about the summer heat. He was left suffering all alone, you see.
He let out a deep sigh, trying to rest his face on the cool side of the pillow and finding it damp with sweat. He grimaced, crawling up the bed and leaving the pillow somewhere below his body as he squirmed around, looking for a cool spot on the bed. He ended belly down, chin digging on the mattress as he frowned. Fucking summer. He liked the sun and that, but this was rubbish. Once he’d gone out with a bird who had an air conditioner so it was never hot in her gaff— he probably should've dated her for longer.
Suddenly his mouth felt dry, and as he swallowed, a weird, rather tingly feeling started to creep up on him. In the bottom of his stomach, and lower. It wasn't butterflies like the movies say though, it felt more like electricity, or maybe like loads of little spiders running down his body. It made him feel like he needed to move, to shake off whatever was in him.
The pillow was already between his legs, and he swears he didn't do it on purpose, it just ended up there. And Liam assumed that it was a sign of the universe that staying cool wasn't an option, but maybe tiring himself enough to finally have some kip was. And what better way to tire himself?
That's why he started rocking his hips, as slow as he could. Just enough to feel the pressure on his cock. It made the feeling worse, and better, somehow. Like when you drink a sip of soda and it doesn't really stop from you being thirsty— it just makes you want to drink more, y'know? So he kept at it, speeding up a bit. He had to bite his lip to keep quiet, feeling his dick hardening as he moved his hips. He spared a look towards Noel to check if he was still asleep, and even if he couldn't see much in the dark, he saw the slow rise and fall of his chest and could hear the soft snores.
Liam closed his eyes then, feeling a bit safer. He tried to imagine a fit bird, someone who could be below him as he thrusted— like that actress from the film his mam was watching the other day. She was wearing this thin dress that wasn't too short but it was thin, thin enough you could see her tits through it. He imagined getting his hand under her dress, touching her through the knickers until his fingers were drenched. He reckoned he would shag her like this, on her back with Liam between his legs, ‘cos she was too pretty not to look at her; and also ‘cos that way he could suck on her tits as he fucked her. Fucking hell.
His hands were clutching the sheets as he humped the pillow, his mouth hanging open. He should've closed it, ‘cos he looks like a fucking idiot when he breathes through his mouth, and he drools. Well, maybe this bird would like it. Maybe if any of his spit fell on her she'd be into it, she would open her gob and swallow it happily ‘cos she's really into him. Liam would do it the other way round as well, he wouldn't mind.
Some drool fell on the mattress, the thin thread of spit shining in the dark of the room. The bed was squeaking from his thrusts and even if it wasn't so loud, it seemed like ‘cos it was the only sound in the room. He tried to imagine how the bird would sound, he imagined a girl like that would have little breathy moans, maybe a few little yelps when he went a bit too hard. But he wouldn't though, he'd be well nice. Unless the bird liked it, ‘course. If she wanted him to be rough and that, he could be, he'd give it to her nice and hard ‘till she was screaming.
He was panting then, imagining the tits bouncing in his face as he gave it to her, trying to imagine the sounds, but he could only hear the squeak of the bed and his own breathing and— and nothing more. He couldn't hear Noel snoring.
His eyes snapped open then, and it was pointless ‘cos it was fucking dark, and he was breathing too hard. Maybe if he stopped he could've checked better, but the feeling of the soft pillow as he rocked against it was too good to stop. He squinted, trying to see, but his brother's silhouette was in the same position as before. Surely if he woke up he would've gotten up and given Liam a slap around the jaw for doing this around him and for waking him up.
Deciding he should fucking hurry up before he woke up, he shuffled on the bed until he was fucking into a little nook in the bundled pillow. He snapped his hips faster, panting with the effort as sweat slid off his face. It was still too fucking hot, but at least this way he was passing the time. He could almost see the bird, then, and he licked his lips as he imagined sucking on her nipple as he shoved his dick inside her. He always loved doing that, just holding on to the bird’s tits with his mouth, maybe biting them. His own thumb was on his bottom lip then, the salty sweat mixing with the spit. He closed his eyes again, right before he pushed his finger inside, past his teeth. He sucked around it, ignoring the taste and the shape— he imagined it was the tit then, that he was sucking on while as he shagged the girl so hard the bed was banging against the wall.
There was a wet sound, and he frowned at the fact there was so much spit in his mouth it made this fucking squelch— but after a beat, he realised the noise was coming from somewhere else. The other bed. He should've let go of the thumb then, but instead he bit into it, letting out a small whine at the pain. And the sound kept going, so quick and quiet, but there. He only dared to open one eye, for some reason. And he saw it. The silhouette was the same, same position, same place. Yet you could see the arm moving just a tiny bit.
Maybe Noel just had the same idea. To be fair, if anyone is as daft as him, it's his kid. And he was doing it in a more discreet way, he wasn't making all the racket Liam was. He didn't even move. He probably only pulled his dick out and started stroking it.
Liam's hand was sliding under his keks before he could think about it, his other hand still holding his thumb inside his mouth. He licked at the pad of his finger, trying to picture the girl again, but he couldn't really remember her face. He wrapped his fist around his cock, pulling it out and guiding into the little nook that was in his pillow. It was wet and tight around him, and his hips were moving on their own, then. It felt so good, he didn't remember ever feeling that good before.
He was properly moaning now, and he sounded more like a bird than he'd like, or like a dog whining. Pathetic it's what it was. But he still kept snapping his hips, the soft cotton tingling his skin just on the right of too much. And his brother was still tossing off, Liam could hear his hand going up and down quicker, and maybe some little pants. Or maybe that was him. Either way, they were both almost there. He wondered if Noel was thinking of a fit bird as well, a blonde one just like Liam was picturing. Maybe they were thinking of the same one.
Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach, growing hotter and bigger like a wave about to break— and his hands ached from clutching the sheets too hard, same as his thighs burned from the effort. He was rutting like a dog and maybe Noel would take the piss out of him in the morning for being this sloppy but he couldn't give less of a fuck right then.
A loud moan escaped him, far too fucking loud as his body went taut, and then he was spilling against the pillow. His knees wobbled as the ropes of cum stained the cotton, gasping as he tried to hold himself up. His vision was blurred, and fucking hell everything hurt, his whole body shaking. And even with the loud hearbeat drumming in his ears, he could hear it, a small hitch of breath, followed by the quietest groan. He knew Noel had come too. Probably all over his hand as well, sticky fingers stroking himself as he finished.
As much as he tries, he can't remember what he did then. He probably fell asleep right after, or he went to the bathroom to clean up. Or maybe Noel had gone for a shower and that was that.
Liam feels himself growing stiff beneath the sheets, and he tries to wriggle a bit, but Noel's arm is holding him in place. Even in his sleep the cunt is still holding him back. But then again, if he woke his brother up, he'd probably want to go again. And Liam's here, all naked and still open. Well, not open, but he guesses he's still stretched from before. So it's only fair he'd let Noel take him for a spin.
He moves his leg, just a bit, and even that makes him hiss. Everything aches, properly, this time. He doesn't think there's a spot of him that's not turned into a bruise. Even his throat is probably all swollen from screaming. But that's his own fault for being a loud cunt. Can't keep his gob shut and that. Neither of them can, that's why they ended up here.
But maybe that's good, ‘cos at least now he knows what's going on inside Noel's head. After fucking years of trying to guess whatever had crawled up his arse, it feels like he's gotten the last piece of the puzzle. It all makes sense now, finally. The tunes, all the closed off bollocks. Only Noel could try to hide his songs while still giving them to Liam to sing for the rest of the world. He doesn't know if it's genius or the daftest idea anyone's ever had. Probably both.
And now surely is going to work. Liam's been having thoughts, you see. They've been going up, up and up— surely at some point they ought to come down. Everyone who's been in a band has told Liam that, like a warning. John had said that to him, even. And it was true. He could feel it, the fights, the lies, the ring on his finger and Noel's cold stare. But now he knows. And it's not rivalry or envy or hatred like the papers thought, it's love. He can do love, he loves his brother more than anything. So it's going to work. If Noel hated him, if what he felt was whatever was in him when he hit Liam with that cricket bat or when he fucked otf to Chicago, then he couldn't have dealt with it. But if it's love, then he will.
He'll let him take the wheel right now, ‘cos that's what his kid needs, and everything will get in its right place. Even today's gig was fucking brilliant after their kiss, better than any they'd done before. And it was a nice kiss. It feels weird, kissing lips that were a bit chapped, with the shadow of a beard grazing his skin, and the hands same as his own holding him down. But it's not bad. It's new, that's all. And it makes that feeling rise in Liam again, the one with the spiders and electricity crawling up his insides, making him all giddy and shaky, like he's about to take off.
They've figured it out, Liam muses, and a small smile tugs on his cheeks. All the other bands crumbled ‘cos they didn't love each other enough, y'know? They loved each other, right, but not enough to keep them together. McCartney and Lennon wouldn't have dared to do this, or Ian Brown and John, they wouldn't do this either— nevermind the fucking Pistols. But Liam and his brother were. They would hold together to the end of time ‘cos there’s no secret, and no hatred. All Liam has is love and he'll give it all to Noel, and he'll take all the love Noel gives him, no matter its shape.
He feels a warm puff of breath on the back of his neck as his brother shuffles on his sleep, his arm still draped over Liam. He turns, slowly so as to not wake him up, and finds Noel's face, his expression all peaceful in his sleep. He smells like lager and fags and it's brilliant. He buries his nose right in his kid's hair, inhaling, and it smells faintly like lavender. Liam smiles widens, and he doesn't think he's ever felt this good, this at peace. His throat may be fucked and perhaps it'll show at tomorrow's gig, but he doesn't think it will. He doesn't even know what time the gig is, and he doesn't see the clock from here and he feels too comfortable to go check. He should've put an alarm, if he's being honest. His eyelids are starting to droop with sleepyness so he snuggles closer to Noel, breathing the same air as him, and the arm around him pulls Liam even closer. It doesn't matter really, Noel will wake him up and it'll be alright.