Chapter Text
Liam’s breath comes out in big wet puffs, wreathing around him like one of them scent trails that wafts over cartoon pies.
His mam, on her way to the shops, had taken one look at him, gone back inside and returned with one of the many thick scarves she’d labored over in his childhood. He looks like a right knobhead, wrapped in a scarf two sizes too small for him but he knows better than to argue.
He’d rather look like a knobhead than have two boxed ears.
‘He’s coming whether you sit out here or not, you daft thing. No sense in catching your death waiting in the chill.’
When Liam had simply replied with a mute shrug, she’d clicked her tongue in disapproval but made no further comment, having long since accepted Liam’s steadfastness when it came to what she referred to as him ‘acting the maggot’.
Paul had been less merciful, tweaking nose in passing. ‘Afraid he’ll swing in for a bite and hit the road again before you can catch ‘im?’
‘He wouldn't!’ Liam yipped, swatting his brother’s hand away and reassuming his post on the curb—eyes forward, back straight. Paul had laughed at his air of self importance and given him a mock salute before climbing into the car after their mam.
That had been an hour ago. Liam hasn’t moved much since.
It’s snowing now, the crisp breeze becoming sharp and mean in the waning light.
Liam’s stinging eyes survey the silent street for what must be the millionth time today. The windows of the surrounding houses glow like little suns; each brick building its own independent solar system bustling with life. The thought of a kip in his own warm, cozy room causes his jaws to part in a massive yawn.
As his eyelids droop, Liam thinks about how he and Noel are sort of like a solar system. Liam running around Noel in huge circles. Noel, the lazy cunt, content to watch him tire himself out…
Just as his chin is dropping to his chest, Liam is jolted awake by the faint sound of tires crunching on ice.
He’s on his feet in an instant, wobbling on his tiptoes. He expects he looks like one of them fuckin’ African mirror-cats from the nature shows; nose in the air, straining for a glimpse of something on the far horizon.
The cab’s high beams precede it, lighting up the furthest house on their street in a wash of pale yellow. Then the cab itself crawls painfully slow around the corner.
Liam can feel his heartbeat in his tongue.
Here ‘e comes, here ‘e comes.
He looks around, suddenly desperate for a mirror. His hands shake a little as he dusts snowflakes off his jumper and ruffles his hair into what he hopes is a presentable shape.
Too late, Liam realizes that he’s still wrapped in the absurdly small scarf and then there’s no time to take it off. He can see Noel through the cab’s dark window and Noel can see him. He stands frozen. As rigid as the ugly gnomes that line their neighbor’s lawn.
Noel's door opens and Liam's lips part in the beginnings of an exclamation.
‘Alright, William?’
Liam's jaws snap shut. He blinks, dumbstruck. Instead of looking into Noel’s familiar face, he finds himself gazing at his brother’s mate–-Cliff something or other.
Remembering his manners, Liam ducks his head and makes a noise that could be discerned as friendly.
‘It’s Liam, you wanker,’ Noel barks from the rear of the vehicle. He lifts his bag out of the trunk with the deft arm of an experienced roadie, moving too quickly for Liam to get a good look at him.
‘Ah, right. Liam. Sorry, mate.’
Noel, shaking his head, saunters up to the pair and drops his suitcase at his side. ‘He’s only William when he’s being a cheeky brat.’
Liam's cheeks burn. He opens his mouth to protest but he can’t think of anything to say. Not when Noel is there. Really there. Close enough for Liam to see snowflakes gathering in his dark lashes and thick hair. It's longer now, hanging over his eyes like a dark cloud.
Makes him look dead cool. Liam silently bemoans the fact he'd cut his own hair short, the way Noel had it when he'd left last year.
‘And he’s being nice as you please—right now, at least.’ Noel continues cheerily, wrapping his free arm around Liam’s shoulder to give him a brief one-armed hug. Warmth seems to spread from the point of contact all throughout Liam’s body.
Then Noel’s pale gaze drops to Liam’s scarf. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips and Liam scrambles to unravel it, practically strangling himself in the process. Thankfully, Noel’s attention has returned to Clint. The two clap their palms together in a rough shake before embracing.
‘Don’t get too comfortable. We’ll be back on the road in the New Year and–-’
‘I’ll get as comfortable as I like, thanks.’
‘Well in case you need an incentive to return to work.’
Liam watches in horror as Clint presses a chaste kiss to Noel’s mouth.
Tensing, Liam waits for Noel to rear back, give the sorry bumbag a good crack in the jaw. He clenches and unclenches his hands, eyes flitting from each man in anticipation, itching to get in on the inevitable scrap.
But Noel simply laughs. And not just any laugh, the high and genuine one—the one Liam had always thought was reserved for him.
With a string of good natured curses, Noel shoves the other man into the car, waving as it trundles back the way it came.
And then it’s just them.
And everything feels wrong.
Liam stares at Noel as if he’s some dirty geezer on the street who’s just asked him for a quid. Whatever warmth he’d felt a moment ago has been snuffed out like a weak candle. His legs ache and his cheeks sting. For the first time today, he can feel the cold.
‘You look half frozen. Were you waiting for me out here all day?’ Noel shuffles closer, bag in tow. Liam swallows thickly, feeling for all the world like a massive twat.
‘Nah.’ He thumbs his nose and raises one shoulder to his ear in a dismissive half-shrug. ’Was just checking the post when you lot rolled up.’
Noel’s shrewd little eyes dart to the only spot on the curb that has been shielded from snowfall thanks to Liam’s arse, planted there since this afternoon.
‘That right?’ Noel’s warm breath fans against his face and Liam can’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut as he drinks in the familiar scent. With a dry chuckle, Noel brushes past him, stomping his feet on the welcome mat before entering their own little yellow square of warmth.
‘Cept it don’t feel too warm no more...