Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a dark, twisted, gruesome thing about Noel Gallagher.

One that scratched the doors and peered through the windows since he could remember. At first, Thomas saw it. His mom did, too, although she tried a different approach to it. Paul did not see it, but then again, there was very little Paul tried to see. Schoolmates detected most of the time.
When he was a roadie, people would often say he was the “scariest 20-pound around”. Meg was not interested. Sara was — very.

But Liam.
Liam saw and tasted it quite often.
And he'd still smile and love Noel.
It was maddening.

When Oasis ended, Noel felt like that dark thing had lost. He was free now! Or that's what Sara frequently said to him. He seemed so happy and carefree!

Lasted maybe a year.

“He's there” the assistant said. She texted on the phone and never looked Noel in the eyes. He actually liked her a lot for that.

Of course, he is. I told him to be there on time, or it would be over. He didn't answer her.

In the Oasis years, the dark thing came out more than ever. Drugs are a key, as he would often say to the kids. He had more than once, more than twice, more than ten times hit Liam. When they were arguing, the dark thing could come out too. Saying vicious things Noel still dreamt about.

At times, that dark thing would come out when they were having sex.

Some might say having sex with your brother is the dark thing, but most of them don't know Liam. They've never seen him on his knees, pliant and sweet. Never kissed his alcoholic lips or tasted his abundant sweat.

Most people are fucking idiots.

The dark thing was not that.
Maybe some specialist could explain. Formerly abused children turns violent and evil was not an uncommon thing. And Noel wouldn't describe himself like that, he was much more refined. Worst.

The place was unassuming enough. The sky was gray and gloomy, but Noel was… Happy. He rolled his eyes at himself, he could not be this happy just to see his imbecile little old brother.

The security guard and the assistant walked with him. They took the lift and as soon as the doors opened Liam appeared. He was waiting by the lift door like a little dog the owner left alone for the day. He smiled wildly.

“Noely” He waved his head and started to walk towards the trio with open arms.

It was Liam, not just a guilty dream and he was going to make a scene already. Noel let it happen. He hugged his brother tightly for just a bit. He smelled citrusy and fresh, his hair was short and his jacket looked like a garbage bag. It was him alright.

Noel held him by the waist and separated them manually.

“Let's get to it?”

Liam made a happier, more hopeful face than anyone his age should.

“Smelling proper mint, Noely”

He hooked his arm on Noel's shoulders like the last fifteen years never happened and took him inside.

“Debbie's 'ere.” He warned, his mouth close to Noel's ear. “Just her.”

“Good. You’re always out with the bloody kids.”

“Come on, they’re buzzin’ to see ya.”

Noel would postpone that meeting as far as he could. No sane person who loved Liam would be happy to see him, as Debbie demonstrated seconds later when she shook Noel's hand like a ruddy butcher.

“Glad to see you Noel” She was not glad at all.

She wore a horrid blue blouse and black trousers. Her hair was very dark and straight. She had youthful cheeks Noel had called squirrel cheeks many times, but that in-person were quite nice.

“Glad to see you too Deborah”

“Debbie please” Her eyes softened.

“Debbie” Noel tried. He didn't like Deborah or Debbie, so whatever.

“Now maybe he will let me sleep” She said and Noel could tell she was trying to bond by shit-talking Liam. “Noel this and Noel that."

"He always had a one-track mind.” He denoted.

“The one track in me mind is Live Forever” Liam said putting more of his weight on Noel's shoulders.

The makeup guy was eyeing them so intensely that Noel felt it from the next room.

“Is this necessary?” He asked the assistant.

“It's just powder, innit? They don’t want us greasy.” Liam answered, leading them to the make-up room.

It was just powder. Noel was still old and wrinkly in the mirror. Liam was being powdered second and looking at Noel, making the make-up guy very mad.

“Ya're looking sharp, yeah.”

“I already agreed to reform Oasis. No need for more flattery.” Reform Oasis as in I agreed to be your brother again.

“No. I mean it.” Liam looked at the mirror momentarily. “Ya look like me, y'know what I mean?”

Noel laughed before he could contain himself. It was something he would say to little scared-pain-in-the-ass-kid Liam. He remembered.

They stared at each other. They had done a lot of it in France. The last time they saw each other. “Make up camp” as Paul called it. They were in make-up chairs now. Liam was smiling smugly.

He got up and put a hand on Noel's shoulder.

"Told ya we'd be back, didn't I?”

And before Noel could say anything, he left the room.

The photo room was cold. Uncomfortable. It reminded Noel of all his doubts. Simon and Liam were chatting friendly. He had photographed Liam before, Noel knew, the photos were good. He was a competent photographer of “great personalities”, Liam fussed when he said “celebrity” on the phone.

Noel made his way to the pair. Debbie and the assistant were chatting in the back. So few people knew and probably just one person was truly happy with the reunion. Noel looked at Liam doing that open-mouthed confirmation “yeah yeah yeah”.

Two people. Two people were happy.

Noel introduced himself. Simon looked like a nice guy, a nice gay guy. He had a calm, commanding aura that did well for Liam.

“Just do what you want to do.” He told them.

Liam broke into his model face which looked like he was very serious about it and Noel did his serious “I hold all the truths” look he always did. He managed to not look concerned or ashamed, he would have to hide for months after that went public. Simon came to show them the photos.

“Send to Liam, he'll post on Twitter” Noel joked, it was still a joke although loaded.

Liam broke the Face™. He was in a fantastic mood.

“Geezers’ll say it’s fookin’ fake, man.” He looked at Noel. “More chance of bein’ the Queen”

Simon and Noel looked at each other thinking maybe the same thing: Did Liam know the queen was dead?

Liam scoffed.

“I meant the band, dickheads.”

Noel let out a rare, audible laugh.

“Right… Thought you’d finally gone royalist on us.”

They took more photos. Noel's favorite was the one he was looking up and Liam was looking down, but the PR guys would use the first one for sure. It screamed Oasis unreal reunion like no other and they took some photos alone too. In case one of them tapped out or died in the meantime, Noel guessed.

They didn’t linger afterward. Liam was already striding off toward his wife, practically bouncing like a kid after a playdate. Noel had things to do… Lawyers to see.

“Call!” Liam pointed at Noel, who was half-listening to Simon ramble about Adele and Pelé “Dinner thursday?”

"What, ya cookin’? Fookin’ hell, might pass.”

“As if. Got a chef, mate. Proper fancy shite.”

Noel smirked.

“Yeah? Bet it’s all fookin’ quinoa and avocados.”

Liam flipped him off.

“Better than that shite you eat in LA. See you Thursday, dickhead.”

They would probably not see each other on Thursday, but he let Liam have that one. They took the same lift down, Liam was talking about the Sex Pistols for some reason.

“You can't beat that energy.”

“Yeah, a bunch of kids screaming into a mic. That's music.”

“It’s not about being perfect. It’s about havin’ attitude." Liam rubbed their shoulders together. He was in Noel's space.

"They were a mess. But fair play, they got the whole country talking.” The lift stopped.

“But we’ll do the same. We’ll make the country talk, mark my fookin' words.”

The country will laugh at me. A big sad desperate joke.

Liam looked at him the way 91 Liam looked at him. “Join us” meaning join me.
Noel's security guy was holding the door and Debbie was staring at them. She's reading Noel's mind and not liking his train of thought.

They leave the lift and walk still unnecessarily close through the garage.
When they get to Noel's car Liam looks ready to invite himself in.

"Alright, I’ll see ya." He says sadly.

"Yeah, see ya, knobhead."

Liam goes for another quick hug and pats Noel on the back slightly too hard. Noel side-eyes him when they part, he's unfortunately smiling.

"What? Thought I’d try something different." Liam smiles too.

"Next time, keep yer hands to yourself.” He waves Debbie off. “Nice to meet you, Debbie.”

“Till thursday” She waves too.

Noel enters the car. Liam puts his arm around Debbie's shoulders and she holds his hand. They kiss like a normal couple. Noel suppresses the urge to roll the window down and call everything off.

He doesn't show up on Thursday and doesn't answer the phone.
The dark thing grins. And Noel lets it.

Chapter Text

A couple weeks later the announcement hit the world. The PR team does that thing where they announce that they will announce something, but by the point the photo is in bus stops and train stations everyone already knows. 

 Oasis is back. 

One last tour before… ?

At first, the happy crowd is massive. Everyone and their moms are mad for a ticket. Bloody hell… They are so old now Moms and Dads would be their crowd. Then slowly people think they are allowed to make jokes and finally, they're saying Noel Gallagher “just said his brother and Trump should collide in high-velocity cars” and “it's obviously a cash grab” and he's “jealous of Liam's Knebworth” and he “underestimated Liam, kids don't dream of being Noel” Thank you very much, Paul. 

It dawns on Noel that he'll never do a normal interview ever again. 

Sarah calls and calls and leaves messages he doesn't answer. The kids seem apprehensive, but happy for him. Anäis says “ I'm happy for you Dad ” and she means it. Donovan and Sonny seem eager to meet the rest of the family, but that is as complicated as walking on glass or marrying Sarah McDonald. Friends call and he promptly ignores them. Then Liam calls and he has to answer because God knows what he will say on Twitter if he ignores him one more day. 

Noel's having lunch with Kate in a ridiculously expensive place in Notting Hill and she as per usual has not arrived yet. He munches on the antipasto and accepts the call. 

“What?”

“What? ” hearing Liam speak directly with him still sounds like a dream or a nightmare. “Fook me, ya’re a right romantic, Noely.”

“Didn’t save yer number.” Don't go soft on him. 

“Bullshit.”

Noel smirks. He takes a sip of the expensive wine they brought without him asking. It's marvelous. 

“So, what now? ”

“What d’you mean, what now?”

“We announced it, didn’t we?"

“Yeah, and?”

“And now I wanna know if ya’re gonna fookin’ run away again or if ya’re actually in it.”

Noel should be angry, but it's Liam. He has to be reassured. 

“Jesus, you’re needy.”

“Always was.”

There’s a silence. A familiar one. A silence that means more than anything they’ve said so far.

Noel rubs his face.

“It’s just a few shows.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s it.”

“ Sure .”

Noel knows that tone. It’s the one Liam uses when he knows Noel is lying to himself. And he only dares to use when…

“You been drinking?”

“A bit. Thought I’d celebrate. Ya? ”

“I don’t celebrate things that haven’t happened yet.”

“Miserable bastard.”

Noel sighs.

“Gonna be fookin’ biblical.”

Get used to this. He'll say ‘biblical’ every 3 sentences.  

“Been thinking about it, y’know? About us. On stage again. About how it’ll feel.”

Noel doesn’t answer.

“How it used to feel.”

Noel grips his glass a little tighter. Used to feel like the most perfect thing on the planet, until it didn't. 

“It’s not the ‘90s anymore, Liam.”

“Nah. But it’s still ya. And it’s still me.”

Now Noel really wants to hang up. 

“Whatever that means.”

Liam’s tone shifts, still light, but edged.

“Y’know… I’ve been gettin’ calls, too. People askin’ why I’m doin’ this. After everythin’.”

Noel knows what’s coming.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Keep askin’ if I actually wanna be around ya again. Proper concerned, like.”

Noel sighs.

“I can't see why. I've only been slagging you publicly for what? 15 years?” 

“More like 30.” 

Noel smirks, just a little.

“Christ. That long? Should’ve gotten a hobby.”

“Ya did. Bein’ a miserable twat and singin’ about mountains .” 

Noel clicks his tongue. 

"Cheers."

There’s a pause, the kind that could be an end to the conversation but isn’t.

Liam’s tone softens. Just a bit.

"So why’d ya say yes, then?"

Noel doesn’t answer straight away,  staring at his wine glass. He knows the real answer. It's obvious, right? 

"Because I’m bored." He lies. 

Liam lets out a sharp breath. A laugh, but not really.

"Right. Bored."

Noel can hear him biting back a real answer.

Another beat of silence.

"Let’s hope we don’t bore each other to fookin’ death, then."

And he hangs up first.

Noel exhales through his nose. Slow. Controlled. He drinks his wine. It doesn’t taste as good anymore.

"You’re in the most talked-about band at the moment, and I come here to hear you fighting with Liam?" Kate’s voice is smooth, teasing. Her hands settle on his shoulders from behind. "Maybe it is the ‘90s again."

Noel huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

He stands up, and she measures him with a smile. Knowing, amused. She’s so gorgeous it still flusters him. He hates that. 

They hug tightly.

She smells expensive. Looks like someone who’s never had a sleepless night over her brother.  

"Regretting it already?"

Noel pulls back just enough to meet her eyes.

“Which part?"

Kate smirks. 

“Any of it.”

“Not yet.”

He doesn’t say “Give it time” or “Ask me again after the first rehearsal” or “Ask me again after the first fight.”  

She presses a kiss to his cheek, then slides into the seat across from him. 

“Well, good. Because I already placed a bet on you two imploding after the tour starts, and I’d hate to lose money.”

Noel scoffs, taking his seat again.  

“Real fookin’ supportive.”

Kate shrugs.

“I didn’t bet against you. Just hedging my expectations.”

A waiter appears with another bottle of wine. Noel watches the deep red swirl into his glass.  

Kate lifts hers in a toast. 

“To the future.”

Noel clicks his tongue.

“To inevitable disasters.”

They clink glasses.

Liam is not sad. No, he’s buzzing. He’s running at twice his normal speed, but everything is fine. There’s triple the usual mob behind him, cameras flashing, voices shouting, but everything is okay. He wants a drink so bad, and it’s only 6 PM. All is well.  

Maybe he’s already screwed this up. 

This thing, this newfound peace, it’s so fookin’ fragile, and he just had to hang up on Noel… No! The bastard didn’t speak to him for 15 years so he deserves it!...(?)!!

He stops running, hands braced on his knees, chest rising and falling too fast. He has to get a grip before someone asks about the reunion.

If he leaves ya again… Ya’ll have nothing.

"Shut it!"  

There’s a squeal.  

"I’m sorry, Mr. Gallagher!"  

It's a girl, very young, clutching a notebook, before he can say anything, she bolts.  

Great . Now he’s a prick scaring fans.  

He loses the crowd and walks the rest of the way home, unusually quiet. What would John do? He and Paul never went 15 years without talking. But Noel isn’t Paul. He’s Yoko. Oooh Yooookooo my love will turn- Not now. He tried calling Noel earlier. It's been a week of dead silence. 

Liam should leave it. Let things play out. That’s what someone with patience would do. They will have to talk eventually. 

Instead, he spins on his heel, marches straight into the gate cabin, and grabs the landline.  

His driver picks up on the second ring.  

He doesn’t have his phone. He smells like sweat and city grime. His calves are killing him. Debbie will be worried. A faint this is a bad idea flickers through his mind, but he smothers it easily with he’s definitely missing me . 

Like he always did.  

Getting back with Noel had a way of making him feel young again in all the best and worst ways.

It’s a long drive, but for Liam, it feels like the blink of an eye. He thinks maybe he slept but he's not rested or relaxed. His hands are sweating. 

Noel’s house in Maida Vale looks like something out of a film. A big, multi-story townhouse tucked behind a high, wrought-iron gate. The stone façade is elegant, and seemingly old, but there’s a sharpness to the design that hints at the sophistication within. The building is tall, the dark brickwork contrasting against the lush greenery of well-kept plants lining the entrance, with ivy creeping up the side of the house, softening its edges.

It's the kind of place where you’d expect a bit of peace, or a lot of tension depending on who’s inside. 

Noel is always tension. 

Ivan stops at the gate, and Liam stares at the security camera that stares right back. It’s been a while since he’s been in this part of Noel’s world. This clean, buttoned-up version of reality where nothing’s left to chance. The old days, when he could just show up uninvited, feel like another lifetime. The days where they lived in the same house feel like another dimension. 

The security staff aren’t daft. They know who he is. They’ve seen him before, and they’ve heard the stories. But just because they recognize him doesn’t mean they’ll let him in without the proper clearance. He’s not exactly on Noel’s "guest list." He's not Matt Morgan. Thank God.

A couple of moments pass, and Liam’s patience starts to run thin. He should’ve thought this through, maybe he should’ve called again... No second guessing! He might be a bit of a mess, but he's determined.

"Oi," he calls to the guard through the intercom, trying to keep his tone steady. "It's Liam. I'm here to see Noel. Let me in."

The voice on the other end is flat, professional: 

"Mr. Gallagher. Sir, I’ll need confirmation from Mr. Gallagher himself before I can grant you access." The Double Mr. Gallagher's are funny, but not enough to better Liam’s mood. 

He runs a hand through his hair. This is ridiculous. He doesn’t have time for this.

After a moment, the gate creaks open. A quick call from Noel presumably, the only one who could get him in. When the car parks Liam steps out, impatient, the gravel crunching under his running shoes feeling so wrong, as if he’s treading on sacred ground with a pentagram tattoo. But Liam has done unholiest things.

“Don't wait up, mam.” He tells Ivan after lingering on his side of the car. He tries to sound casual and cool like always, but Ivan knows. 

Anyone within a hundred miles of Liam could tell he was a nervous wreck. He counts steps to the imposing door that looms like a silent sentinel. 53 steps. 

Liam stands there for a moment, staring at the massive door. He’s not sure why he’s even that nervous. His hand hovers for a second before he knocks. Melodic quick raps. As if that’ll make things any easier.

The door creaks open, and there he is. 

Liam takes in Noel as he stands in the doorway, his eyes scanning him quickly but taking in every detail. Noel looks... well, like Noel. Still wearing that same fookin’ air of too-cool-for-anyone, his hair’s a bit longer now, scruffy in a way that’s probably meant to look deliberate. He's not quite dressed up, but there's something about him that’s put together, even in the way he stands: arms crossed, that little smirk still hanging around, like he's always a step ahead of everyone else.

Noel’s eyes are sharp, calculating. He always had that look, like he's already figured out what Liam was going to say before he says it. The years haven’t softened him. If anything, he's got more of that edge now. More lines around his eyes, but they just make him look... harder like he's spent too much time guarding whatever it is he keeps locked away in there. 

Lock all the doors, maybe they'll never find us.

Noel’s turned into a man who knows exactly what he’s doing, and who doesn’t give a toss who sees it. Liam has been given a lot of shit from this Noel, but he also gave Liam a chance. 

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” Noel says, his voice sharp but not entirely unwelcoming. 

He's looking at Liam's running attire with skepticism. His arms are folded across his chest like he’s holding everything in, waiting to see how Liam will react. 

“What’s this? A visit, or a bloody ambush?”

“Nah, mate. Just thought I’d drop by. No big deal.” His lips twitch with a grin that’s more defiant than relaxed.

But he knows Noel’s not buying it. He never has. And Liam’s pretty sure he hasn’t changed enough for Noel to let that guard down.

Liam’s voice drops lower, almost like a challenge.

“Got a minute, or are you too busy for me again?”

There’s a long pause, like Noel’s weighing him, deciding whether to invite him in or kick him back out onto the street. Then, finally, he steps back, just enough for Liam to slip inside the eye of his mind.

“Come on then,” Noel mutters, the door clicking shut behind him. "Let’s get this over with."  

Liam walks through the entryway, eyes rolling at the posh surroundings. Bloody hell. The place is massive, too clean for his liking, with floors that shine like they're trying to blind you and walls hung with some fancy crap. Everything’s in its proper place, like some college prick has been perfecting every bloody detail. To Liam it just feels like a sterile showroom, lacking the real tm.

He glances around and shakes his head. Noel’s built himself a fortress of expensive taste. It’s neat, it’s rich, and it’s all a load of pretentious bollocks if you ask him.

“It’s just a house, Liam. It ain’t my home,” Noel reads his mind as he often did, it's a bit reassuring that he can still do it so easily. 

He walks to the living room expecting Liam to follow. He lags a few steps behind, his eyes still rolling at the surroundings. 

Inside, the living room is a sea of minimalist design, heavy leather couches, and glass coffee tables. He has a big marble fireplace and above it a painting of colorful big patterns that looks a bit gay. Has a rainbow in it and everything. 

“It's from Peter Blake” Noel explains it like it solves everything.“Aren't you a Beatle-manic? It's the bloke who did the 'Sgt. Pepper's' album cover."

Liam shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

"Cool.”

Noel doesn't wait for a response. He never does. He just nods towards the couch like Liam's some stray dog he's debating whether to let in. Liam rolls his shoulders, shakes off the weird tension in the air, and drops himself onto the leather like he owns the place.  

The couch is too stiff. Typical.  

Noel stays standing, arms crossed, watching him. 

"So, what’s this then?" Noel finally asks. "You turnin’ up here ‘cause you miss me, or ‘cause you can’t handle a bit of silence?"  

Liam smirks, rubbing his hands together. He can't handle silence.

"What, can’t a brother just pop round for a chinwag?"  

Noel exhales sharply. Half laugh, half disbelief. 

"You never just pop round"  

Liam leans back, kicking one foot up on the coffee table just to piss Noel off. 

A beat of silence. Then, Noel shakes his head and walks over to the drinks cabinet.

"You want one?"  

Liam watches as Noel pours himself a whiskey, neat. He should say no. He should remember why he came here in the first place. It is still quite early. 

But his mouth is already moving before his brain can catch up.  

“Yeah.”

Liam squints at the painting again, tilting his head.

"Still looks a bit gay."

Noel huffs, handling the glass to Liam and settling onto one of the pristine leather couches, away from his brother. Liam would feel powerful if he didn't felt sad about it. 

“It’s art, you caveman. Thought you’d matured a bit, but nah, still the same gobshite.” He has a joking tone. 

“Matured loads, me. Just not enough to pretend I like posh bollocks.”

“Came for offering interior design tips, did ya?” Noel sips.“What’s the emergency? You got lost in yer own head again?”

Liam watches Noel closely, searching for a crack in that smug exterior. 

“Were you mad ‘cause I hung up on you?”  

 “No.”  

Noel doesn’t even blink.

Liam narrows his eyes.

“Bollocks.”  

A smirk tugs at the corner of Noel’s mouth, but he doesn’t bite. Just leans back, looking perfectly unbothered. 

Liam leans back too, swirling his drink. 

“It’s alright, mate. I’d be mad too if I were you.”  

Noel rolls his eyes. 

“You’re not me, though, are ya? That’s the whole problem.”  

"Yeah. One of us has gotta be interesting.”

Noel chuckles under his breath, shaking his head, but there’s that familiar glint in his eyes, like he’s enjoying the banter more than he lets on. 

Liam takes another sip of his drink, staring at Noel, trying to figure out what the hell is going on in that head of his. The air between them is tense, but in a familiar way. It’s been too long since they’ve had a proper conversation, and this is the first time it's just them. 

Noel’s eyes flick to him once more, like he’s trying to figure out what Liam’s really doing here. After a long silence, Noel lets out a small sigh, he’s getting impatient with the waiting game.

“You came all the way here, so what do you actually want?”

Noel is just waiting for Liam to fumble his way through whatever this is. 

“What do I want?” Liam repeats, his voice low. He’s not sure what the hell he’s doing here either, but he knows he’s not leaving. “I want... I want to know why ya haven’t said a word to me in all these years, why it took ya so bloody long. You got no problem with showing up on yer own terms, but ya’ve never cared when I was down.”

The words just come out, they’ve been festering for years. He never understood why Noel acted like he was too good for any of it, too good for family, for the music, for anything. He hated the way Noel made it all look so easy, like Liam was the one who always had to play the fool.

Noel’s face doesn’t change. 

“Is that what ya think?” Noel asks, his voice calm but sharp. “That I’ve never cared?”

“Ya never showed. Not when I needed you. Not when everything was falling apart.”

Noel’s gaze hardens. 

Liam takes a deep breath, he doesn’t know why this is hitting him harder than he thought it would. Maybe because it’s been so long, and maybe because he’s finally talking with Noel. The one who always knew how to shut him out, how to make him feel like he was the problem. Maybe this time, he'll leave Noel without words.  

“Ya’ve always been too fookin’ proud,” Liam mutters. “Always acting like ya’ve got it all figured out. Like you don’t need anyone.”

Noel lets out a short, humorless laugh, only a hollow bitterness. His gaze cuts through Liam with something unreadable, something hardened over time.

“You think I’ve got it all figured out?” he asks, his voice low, almost mocking, but his eyes lock with Liam’s like a challenge. “You think I didn’t struggle with this too? You think I didn’t feel like I was losing everything?” His voice sharpens, a bite in every syllable. “I'm divorced again, I can't compose a decent tune to save my life and I'm regressing back to Oasis after years of swearing I wouldn't do it, I've been punished.”

Liam’s head spins at that. Too much truth, too much honesty, all the things he’s been running from crashing down on him in an instant. 

“For you it's regressing, for me is…” his voice quieter now. Liam knows he does not have to say the rest. 

Noel doesn’t respond at first. His face is unreadable, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, beyond that room. 

Finally, he speaks, his voice softer now but still holding that edge, that resistance that Liam knows so well.

“I just… I thought if I stayed away long enough, we wouldn’t keep tearing each other apart.”

Liam shakes his head, the weight of all  the words Noel is trying to say pressing down on him. 

“But you don’t get it, do ya? We’re always gonna be like this. Always. No matter how much space you shove between us, we can’t escape it.”

Noel looks down, something he doesn’t want to admit. 

“Ya think about it?” Liam asks, the question hanging in the air.

Noel’s gaze shifts, and his expression softens, just a bit. 

“Can’t,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “It’s no good.”

Liam’s breath catches, a bitter laugh escaping him. 

“Ya still think I’m dangerous, then?” he asks. 

Noel’s smile is small, fleeting, but it’s not the kind of smile Liam expects. It fades too quickly, replaced by something sadder, something resigned. 

“Pure poison.” Noel says, the words so quiet that they almost don’t land.

Liam walks slowly over to the couch. He  picks up Noel's glass and leaves it on the floor. Then he stands there, waiting for the go ahead. Noel pats the spot beside him, almost hesitant. He sits down beside his grumpy mean brother, a little distance and then no distance at all.

Liam reaches out, and before he knows it, he’s holding Noel’s hand. Small and a little old, the kind of hand he thought he’d never hold again. The warmth is familiar, grounding. It's Noel. He smiles. 

Slowly, almost reverently, he brings Noel’s hand to his lips, kissing the base of each finger before pressing his lips against his pulse. He can feel it. Noel’s heartbeat racing. 

“Did ya miss me?” Liam asks softly.

Noel’s gaze is unreadable for a moment, but then he nods. It’s almost imperceptible. 

“Will ya leave me again?” Liam asks. He knows it's pathetic, but he doesn't care. 

This time, Noel shakes his head, his eyes dark and filled with something Liam can’t quite name. 

Liam holds on to his hand, their fingers intertwining, the connection between them solid and sure. Their hands are similar, so similar, and they feel perfect together.

“It’s a bad idea, Liam.” Noel’s voice is low, his expression still conflicted. 

“Ya don’t want it?”

“Want what?” 

“Me.” 

Noel tights the hand grip. He covers their hands with his other one. Liam missed this so much. He can't remember the last time they held hands. 

“Don’t be saying stuff like this.” 

Noel's eyes burnt with a clear YES . Liam leans back and smiles. Say something quick! 

“Starvin’. Let me cook ya somethin’.” 

“Let me call the chef.” Noel says but he doesn't move. 

Liam gets up taking Noel by the hand. 

“Kitchen’s on the other side.” There's fake annoyance in his voice, Liam feels young. 

They change trajectories and head toward the kitchen, still hand in hand. The warmth between their palms lingers, neither of them in a hurry to break it. Noel huffs, shaking his head but letting Liam drag him along like they’re kids again. 

The kitchen is massive, all sleek surfaces and gleaming appliances, everything too polished, too untouchedlike Noel barely steps foot in it. Liam clicks his tongue.

“Ya even use this, or do ya just stand in ‘ere like a prick and watch someone else do the work?”

Noel lets go of Liam’s hand quickly and leans against the counter, arms crossed. 

“That’s what a chef’s for, you daft bastard.”

Liam rolls his eyes. For show, if he loses his chef he might cry too. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a chef. I’ll make us somethin’.”

Noel watches as Liam rummages through the fridge, muttering to himself about how everything is posh shite. 

“Go on, then. Impress me.”

Liam grabs some eggs, a block of cheese, and a loaf of bread that looks suspiciously fancy. He holds it up. 

“What the fook is this?”

Noel smirks.

“It’s bread, Liam. Get over it.”

Liam scoffs but gets to work. He moves around like he owns the place, cracking eggs, grating cheese, toasting the ridiculously posh bread. The sound of butter sizzling fills the air, and for a moment, it’s quiet between them, comfortable. Familiar.

Noel doesn’t move, just watches him. Liam hums to himself as he cooks, everything seems so nice as he slips into something normal, something easy. Like they do this all the time.

Liam glances at Noel over his shoulder. 

“Say it.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. 

“Just... Didn’t expect ya to actually know what you’re doin’.”

Liam grins. 

“Mate, I’ve been fookin’ fending for meself for years. Not the nineties anymore”

Noel hums, but there’s something softer in his gaze now. He’s more like the Noel Liam remembers from years ago, the one who’d sit on the kitchen counter, watching him make beans on toast after a night out.

Liam plates up the food and slides it to Noel before taking his own to the high chairs in the kitchen island. 

“Alright, taste test. Bet it’s better than whatever shite yer chef makes.”

Noel rolls his eyes but takes a bite. 

“S’alright,” he says, deadpan.

Liam barks a laugh. 

“Fook off. It’s fookin’ brilliant.” He gestures like a stereotypical italian. 

Noel shakes his head, but he’s smiling a bit.

“Ya’re enjoyin’ this too much,” Noel mutters, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Liam smirks. 

“What? Cookin’ for ya? It’s a fookin’ privilege, mate. Should be grateful.” Liam tries to be sarcastic but he's not sure it lands. 

Noel huffs another laugh, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, well. Not bad. But don’t get carried away. You ain’t movin’ in.”

“To this bloody fortress? Nah.” Then he stops eating and chewing. “Ya don’t like bein’ alone, though.”

They stare at each other.

“Got used to it.” Noel sits and eats a bit more. 

“Bullshit.” 

His brother doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes his chair back and stands up, stretching his arms over his head before making his way to the kettle. He moves without thinking, flicking it on with a practiced hand. Liam watches as if that's a rare sight, but he has seen so many times. He feels horribly nostalgic. 

Liam is smirking uncontrollably.

“What, we’re havin’ a fookin’ tea party now?”

Noel doesn’t bother looking at him. 

“You’re sat in me kitchen talkin’ shite. Might as well make meself a brew.” He grabs two mugs without asking, setting them down with a soft clink.

Liam leans back, arms crossed.

“Bet ya drink that poncey loose-leaf shite.”

Noel scoffs. 

“I drink tea, proper tea.” He holds up a box of Yorkshire Tea like it proves something.

Liam narrows his eyes. 

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

Liam huffs, standing up.

“Sit down.” Noel commands. To which Liam immediately sits down. 

He huffs but doesn’t argue. The kettle hums in the background, filling the kitchen with that familiar anticipation. Noel leans against the counter, arms crossed, he finishes his sandwich. Liam drums his fingers against the table.

A beat passes. 

“Ya ever think about dyin’?” He asks suddenly, like he’s asking about the weather.

Noel blinks, turning his head slightly. 

“Jesus Christ.”

“Not in a dark way, just... weird, innit? One day we’re here, next day—” He snaps his fingers.

Noel exhales, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Ya gettin’ existential?”

“Come on, ya never thought about it?”

Noel lets out a long sigh. 

“Of course I have. But I don’t sit around ponderin’ it like a fookin’ poet in a graveyard.”

Liam tilts his head.

“Nah, you just write albums about it.”

Noel raises an eyebrow. 

“And you just pretend you don’t think about it at all?”

“Tellin’ ya, I do. Just weird, innit? One minute you’re packin’ out stadiums, everyone’s chantin’ yer name, and the next? Dust.”

Noel studies him for a second.

“That what’s botherin’ ya? Thinkin’ about what’s left after you’re gone?”

“Ain’t about legacy or none of that wank. Just think it’s mad, how quick things change.”

The kettle clicks off.

Noel moves first, putting the tea bags in the cups and filling them. A “cup of tea can solve everything” He used to say. Liam leant the hard way that wasn’t true, but maybe… 

“Yeah, well. That’s life, innit?” Noel sets down the kettle and sits again. 

Liam takes a sip of his tea, staring at the steam curling up from the cup. 

“S’alright.” He parrots, imitating Noel’s voice. “Could use some milk, though.”

Noel snorts. 

“Fook off.”

“Just don’t fancy disappearin’ without a trace.” Liam returns the deadly subject. 

Noel takes a slow sip of his own. 

“You won’t.” He says matter of factly. 

“Oh yeah? That a promise, Noely?”

Noel smirks, small but certain.

“It’s a fact. Even if ya tried, the whole fookin’ world would remind ‘em who ya were.”

Liam leans back in his chair, swirling what’s left in his mug. 

“Anyway, no point in dyin’ yet,” he says, grinning. “Not till I outlive you, at least.”

Something flickers in his mind. Debbie. 

He shifts in his seat, reaching into his pocket instinctively, only to remember. His fookin’ phone is back at his place, left charging. Noel is about to reply, but- 

“Shite.”

“What?”

“Need to call Debbie. Tell her I’m stayin’.”

Noel eyes him and Liam eyes him back, innocent. He just wants to sleep in his brother's bed, is it asking too much? 

Then Noel rolls his eyes, reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He holds it up, wiggling it slightly before tossing it onto the table in front of Liam.

"Go on, then. Tell her you ain't dead."

Liam picks it up, smirking. 

"Cheers, chief."

He’s about to dial when the screen lights up, and for a second, he just stares at it. Noel’s wallpaper: a photo of Anaïs, Sonny, and Donovan, all together from years ago. Liam knows because his niece looks very young and Noely. It's cute. 

Liam’s fingers hesitate over the screen. 

He glances up. Noel’s watching him, unreadable.

"What?”

“Mine's Johnny” 

Noel snorts.

“Fookin’ shocker, that.”

Liam grins. 

"Yeah, but one of the kids set it years ago, and I just left it. Dunno how to change it now.”

Noel rolls his eyes, but there’s something close to amusement in them as he watches Liam put the phone to his ear, waiting for Debbie to pick up.

Debbie picks up by the second ring. 

“Liam?”

“Alright, luv.” 

There’s a pause. 

“Where’s your phone?” 

“At home. Chargin.” 

“Right.” Another pause. “So why are you calling me from Noel’s phone?”

Liam glances up at Noel, who’s smirking into his mug. 

“’Cause I’m at Noel’s.”

Debbie sighs, like she’s already bracing for whatever’s coming. 

“Liam…”

“Relax, we ain’t killed each other.”

“Yet.”

Liam grins. “Yet.” 

Noel shakes his head.

Debbie exhales. 

“So what’s the plan?”  

“Just lettin’ ya know I’m stayin’ over.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s an edge to her voice, the kind that means she’s weighing whether or not this is a terrible idea. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Liam leans back. 

“Dunno, Debs. But we’re doin’ it anyway.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a quieter.

“How’s he seem?”

Liam glances at Noel, who’s pretending not to care about this conversation. 

“Same old. Bit less of a knob.”

Debbie hums. 

“And you?” 

Liam frowns.

“What about me?”

“You alright?”

“I’m sound, luv. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

Debbie doesn’t push.

“Alright. Call me if anything happens.”

“Aye aye, guru.”

She laughs softly. 

“Night, Liam.”

“Night, love.”  

Liam tosses the phone back onto the table and stretches, rolling his shoulders like he’s getting comfortable. Noel watches him with mild suspicion.  

“Right,” Liam says, slapping his hands on his thighs. “Guess I should get the house guide, then.”

Noel frowns. 

“The what?” 

Liam smirks. “Ya know, the grand tour.”

Noel shakes his head, unimpressed.

“It’s a house, Liam. You’ll figure it out.”

Liam leans forward.

“Nah, see, this is one of them big wank-off houses with hidden doors and buttons for shite normal people don’t have. Bet ya got a remote just for the curtains.”

Noel takes a slow sip of his tea, staring at Liam over the rim in a cute way.

“I do.” 

Liam has one too, but he doesn't know how to use it. 

“Exactly! See? I need a fookin’ manual to stay here.”

Noel exhales, rubbing his temple. 

“Toilets are down the hall, don’t touch the guitars, and if you break anything, I’m sendin’ you the bill.”

Liam hums, pretending to take notes in the air. 

“Got it.” He tilts his head. “Place feels a bit like a fookin’ museum. Ain’t even seen a speck of dust.”

Noel gestures around. 

“That’s ‘cause I don’t live like an animal.”

“No, ya live like a fookin’ Bond villain.” He squints toward the hallway. 

Noel laughs and heads down the hallway, and Noel points to each room with a flourish. 

“Ground floor: living room, kitchen, bathroom, and the dining room. Not much to see, but it’s all here.”

Liam glances into the dinning room, running his finger along a marble countertop. 

“Posh.”

Noel leads him up the stairs.

“First floor: me room, kids’ rooms, and the cinema.”

“The tellie room.” Liam says it with fake seriousness but them he looks inside the room more carefully. “A popcorn machine in there too?”

“Only the finest,” Noel says, having to look inside. Like he never noticed that. 

They move past the kids’ rooms, where Liam glances at the artwork on the walls, fancy computers and empty nests.

They hit the third floor, and Noel gestures toward a couple of spare bedrooms, then the office. 

It is all clean lines and shiny surfaces, everything perfectly arranged. The desk was the size of a small boat, polished to a mirror shine, with a computer that looked like it could calculate the meaning of life, if it wasn’t too busy being useless being owned by a old man.

“This is where the magic happens.” Noel says as he leads there with pride. 

There was this ridiculous shelf, crammed with books Liam could tell he’d never read, their spines looking too perfect. Then, as if Noel was trying to keep up with the rich-and-famous cliches, a few awards sat on another shelf. Probably for things like " Most Likely to be a Prick " or " Best at Not Giving a Shit .”

There was a big window that looked out over the garden, probably with views that made you feel like a king… If you were Noel. 

They leave the office and enter the last door. 

“And that’s the gym.” 

Liam approaches and picks up a 30kg dumbbell, raising it with exaggerated effort. 

“Check these guns out.” He flexes, grinning as he shows off.

Noel smirks but rolls his eyes.

“Alright, calm down, Rocky.”

Liam, still holding the weight, fakes a groan. “Man, I need a bath.”

Noel nods toward the rooms. 

“Pick one of the spare bedrooms.”

Liam dramatically considers, tapping his chin. He already knows which room he will pick.

“I’ll take the one with the best view,” he says with a grin, before dropping the dumbbell. 

“I’ll be in the office, yeah? Will order some food for later.”

“A pajama party, Noely?” Liam’s voice is a playful sing-song, his excitement palpable. “We’ve got loads to gossip about.”

Noel just gives him a sideways glance and heads into the office, and Liam bounds down the stairs, practically skipping. 

Liam steps into Noel’s bedroom like he owns the place, eyes scanning the space as he toes off his shoes. It’s big, but not obnoxiously so. It's clean, organized, everything in its perfect spot. The sheets are crisp, the air smells faintly of expensive cologne, and there’s a stack of books on the bedside table that Liam immediately clocks as posh wank .   

He smirks to himself. Of course, Noel is the type to read before bed.

Without hesitation, he pulls off his sweaty shirt, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Then the socks. Then the trackies. He’s down to his boxers, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s at home.  

The en-suite bathroom door is slightly ajar, and Liam walks in like it’s his own personal spa. 

Marble everywhere, big walk-in shower, that squirts water from multiple directions, towels stacked neatly. It’s got the vibe of a high-end hotel, the kind of place Noel probably pretends he doesn’t care about but loves it.  

Liam runs a hand over his face, shaking his head with a laugh. Jesus, he really is a Bond villain.

He reaches into the shower, turning the water on to full blast, letting the steam rise before stepping inside. The hot water hits his skin, and he exhales, eyes closing.  

He’s in Noel’s house. In Noel’s shower.  

Feels... surreal.  

He leans against the wall, letting the water pour over him, eyes flickering shut. If he thinks too much, he’ll ruin it.  

Just enjoy it, mate. You’re here .  

Soon Liam stood in the middle of Noel’s ridiculous walk-in closet, dripping water onto the pristine floor, a towel slung over his head like some kind of rock ‘n’ roll monk. The air smells like expensive fabric and whatever overpriced aftershave Noel was into these days. The place is massive, rows of jackets, perfectly pressed trousers, neat little shelves stacked with cashmere jumpers. Shoes lined up like Noel was running a fookin’ boutique. His closet is much better, but that is not a bad one.  

He runs a hand through the racks, water dripping from his fingertips as he flicks through the jackets. He pauses on a familiar one, a black leather blazer. 1996, Brit Awards . The gonna-be blazer. Noel wore that one while slagging off Michael Hutchence and Blur on telly. Further down, another piece jumped out at him: a denim jacket he had matched on the Tommy Hilfiger Shop Opening in 99. Liam wondered if Noel still had the cool lilac shirt. 

He could still remember Noel in it, standing off to the side at the afterparty, pint in hand, acting like he couldn’t be arsed to be there.  

Then, buried among the newer, fancier clobber, something completely out of place caught his eye. A beat-up, faded black T-shirt, the logo cracked and peeling. Inspiral Carpets .

Liam blinks. How the fook did this survive Sara?

He pulls it off the hanger, turning it over in his hands. It was old, properly old. This wasn’t some designer vintage remake, this was the real deal. This was from Noel’s roadie days, back before Oasis, back when he was lugging gear and dreaming of something bigger. Before all the mansions and posh furniture. Before everything.

Liam grinns and yanks it on, the fabric soft and worn-in, clinging to his still-damp skin. It feels right if a little tight. 

He tosses the towel off his head, ruffling his hair as he grabs a pair of Noel’s overpriced joggers. Comfy, even if they were too posh for their own good. 

In one of the nooks Liam spots Noel's perfumes, one of them slightly out of place. Liam lifts the bottle and studies it for a moment. The aroma wafting from it was a heady mix of expensive cologne and something sharper, more refined. A scent that embodied Noel’s polished persona.

Without overthinking it, Liam unscrews the cap and spritzes a small cloud onto his wrist. He dabbs it on his neck, letting the fragrance settle onto his skin. The scent is bold, a touch arrogant even, but in that moment, it feels like a secret connection to the man who owns it and him. 

“Cheers, Noely,” he muttered to himself, smirking at his reflection. The past and present, all mixed up. Just like them.

He padds down the hall and up the stairs, still dripping slightly, the Inspiral Carpets shirt clinging to his skin. He figures Noel would still be up in his office. But as he pushes the door open, he hears it, a soft, steady strumming, a melody forming in the quiet.

Noel is sitting back with an acoustic, fingers moving over the strings like he isn't even thinking about it. Some half-written tune, maybe something old he was dusting off. He didn't notice Liam, too lost in whatever he is working out.

Liam leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

“That new?”

Noel glances up, eyes flicking over Liam’s outfit. His brow furrows. 

“Is that—”

“Yeah.” Liam grinns, tugging the collar. “How this survived Sara?”

Noel just stares for a second, then snorts. 

“Fook knows.”

Liam stretches his legs out, getting comfortable. 

“Anyway, I’ve decided it’s mine now.”

Noel shakes his head, going back to whatever he was pretending to do. 

“I don’t give a shite.”

“That new?” Liam repeats, a teasing lilt in his tone as he leans further into the doorway.

Noel’s fingers paused mid-strum.

“What, you mean this?” he asks, eyebrows arching slightly.

Liam grins. 

“Yeah.”

Noel snortes, shaking his head. 

“Maybe. I dunno.”

Without waiting for an answer, Liam pushes himself off the doorframe and ambles over to the worn instrument resting against Noel’s knee. 

“I reckon it’s time I have a go,” he says, his voice warm and mischievous. In one fluid motion, he eases the guitar from Noel’s grasp. 

Noel raises an eyebrow in mild protest, but the look is more amused than angry. 

Liam settles onto the edge of a nearby chair. He adjusts his grip, letting his fingers find the familiar positions. A moment of quiet passes before he strums a gentle chord progression that ripples softly through the room.

“Alright, let’s see…” Liam murmurs, a half-smile playing on his lips as he considers which tune would suit the moment… With a decisive nod to himself, he begins to sing in a low, earnest voice:

" I give you all my love,  

That's all I do,  

And if you saw my love,  

You'd love her too... "

The words float between them, carrying a quiet tenderness. Liam is singing for Noel. 

“ A love like ours

Could never die

As long as I

Have you near me ”

Noel listens, his expression softening. There was something uncharacteristically raw in Liam’s rendition. Many years ago Noel sang that to a beat drunk Liam hoping he would never remember, but he does. 

Liam’s voice grew a shade stronger with each verse, the familiar tune transforming into an unspoken confession. 

“ Bright are the stars that shine

Dark is the sky

I know this love of mine

Will never die ”

When the final chord fades into a gentle silence, Liam opens his eyes, meeting Noel’s gaze. For a long heartbeat, nothing is said.

Noel breaks into a small, almost imperceptible smile. 

“Not bad, Liam. Not bad at all,” he says softly.

Liam shrugs, a glimmer of triumph mingling with something deeper. He means it. 

“Maybe it’s time you learned a thing or two from me, then?” He mindlessly strokes. “Listen to this!” 

They start to show each other some new stuff like nothing happened, but Liam knows this is the sweetest Noel ever gets without a drink or a… Better not to remember it. It's a good way to pass a couple hours. Liam even hears from irl Noel the story about how his son taught him a new thing on the guitar. They talk about the kids for a bit and Liam does not press for new Oasis songs or to meet his nephews. He's a good boy.  

They're watching Get Back in the telly room. Liam is on his third little basket of popcorn, sprawled across Noel’s massive couch, feet up. The telly glows, filling the room with the hazy warmth of 1969.  

Onscreen, Paul McCartney strums his bass absentmindedly, humming a melody, eyes darting around the room, waiting for someone to engage. John Lennon slouches in his chair, yawning. George Harrison stares at his lap, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.  

"Christ," Liam mutters, shaking his head. "Ciggies, tea, and blokes who ain't washed in days."  

Noel, sitting upright with a can in hand, smirks. 

"Remind you of anything?"  

Liam throws popcorn kernels at him. 

Paul keeps fiddling with Get Back, trying to get the chords right while the others stare at their hands.  

"Look at ‘im," Liam scoffs. "Proper little schoolteacher, that one. Always pushin’."  

Noel tilts his head. 

"Well, someone had to, didn’t they?"  

Liam gestures at the screen.

"Yeah, but it’s painful, innit? He’s there, workin’ his bollocks off, and John’s half asleep. He’s thinkin’, ‘I could be home, off me nut, watchin’ telly with Yoko instead of listenin’ to Macca bang on about chords.’"  

Noel chuckles. He tries his ‘I'm actually funny’ tone 

“Or he could be bangging ‘Macca’”

Liam’s face tightens. He hates when Noel jokes about that. Noel clocks the furrowed brows and pulls a mock-annoyed face. 

“Ya still get mad when people say that? That’s homophobia.”

“It's not. Can't be homophobic.” 

“Fook. Why not?” He’s already grinning, like he knows whatever comes next is gonna be funny.

“‘Cause I'm a lesbian.” Liam says it flat, like it’s just a fact.

Noel stares at him, then bursts out laughing. 

“Ya can’t be a lesbian. You fancy men.”

“Well, when I fancy a man, I’m gay.”

“I feel like there’s a word for what you are.”

“The same as you.”

Noel raises an eyebrow. 

“The same as John Lennon.”

Liam shakes his head.

“Stop it. It’s not polite to speculate on someone’s sexuality.”

Noel belly-laughs, proper entertained now. Liam laughs too. He doesn’t think it's funny, but laughing with Noel is fun enough. 

George suddenly pipes up: “ I’ll play whatever you want me to play… or I won’t play at all .”

“Oof” Liam points to the telly. "I ever said that to you, you’d have smashed yer acoustic over me head."  

Noel shrugs, sipping his beer. 

"You never said anything that polite. You just went, ‘Nah. Shit.’"  

Liam smirks. 

"Saves time, dunnit?"  

Noel glances at him but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stands up. 

"You want another drink?"  

Liam considers. 

"Aye. Go on, then."  

Noel disappears behind the ridiculous couch, leaving Liam staring at four lost bugs. He shifts in his seat, rolling his shoulders, then drums his fingers against his knee.  

"Mad, that," he mutters to himself.  

Noel comes back with two fresh Tennent's Lager , handing one off before flopping into his place. 

"What is?"  

Liam takes a sip, gesturing vaguely at the telly. It's not his favorite, but it's beer. 

"All of it. The way it was fallin’ apart, but they still fuckin’ had it."  

Noel nods and stares into his glass. 

"Yeah."  

They sit in silence for a bit. Liam drums against his thigh again.  

"Another episode?" Noel asks, nodding toward the screen.  

Liam watches him for a second longer, then smirks. 

"Yeah. Go on, then."  

The second episode starts grim as fuck. Paul McCartney is almost crying with the idea of the Beatles ending till John calls, then he is excited as a kid. Liam gets him on a molecular level. 

The guys from the movie hid a microphone on a flower arrangement and recorded a private talk between Paul and John. It's nothing damming really. Just some nonsense about George Harrison. 

“Can you imagine if they had recorded us in the 90's?” Noel asks in a light way. 

“We would be in jail.” Liam from back then thought if he ended up in jail for loving his brother a little too much he would not care at all. 

Current Liam could not endure jail, but metaphorically he would still do it. 

“There wasn't much talking” Noel looked at him, not ashamed or angry for the incestuous mention. 

“There was a lot of screaming tho” Liam pushed. 

This time Noel ignores.

They keep watching as Billy Preston ups the moral, and Paul and John sing Two of Us one a single microphone for no reason, and John Lennon plays Jealous Guy when it was Child Of Nature . It's a blast, but all laced with sadness. 

Liam stretches and manages to put his head on Noel’s shoulder. He feels like he made it look casual. Noel snorts. 

The episode ends and they go down the stairs. Liam smells hamburger, proper honest to god burgers. 

“My tummy's rumbling.” Liam rushes past Noel. 

“Are you five years old?” 

Liam gets to the kitchen first but can't find the food. Noel arrives calmly and opens the oven. They head to the dining room. 

Liam doesn't look around much, excited to eat, but the dining room is exactly as boring as the rest of the house.

“Nice.” He says, staring at Noel unloading the paper bag. 

They sit on the big table next to each other and Liam digs into his burger, barely bothering with the cutlery Noel’s laid out. He chews with a satisfied hum, licking a stray bit of sauce off his thumb.  

Noel watches with mild disgust. 

“Jesus, ya still eat like a bloody dog.”  

Liam grins, mouth half-full.  

Noel shrugs, cutting his burger with a knife and fork like a ponce. 

“What the fook she did to you?” Liam mutters through the meat and sauce.

“I did all the learning by myself” 

Liam puts a finger on the dollop of ketchup on his plate, without thinking, and swipes it down Noel’s cheek.  

The old man freezes.  

Then, in a single, measured movement, he grabs the mustard bottle and squeezes, a perfect yellow streak landing on Liam’s face.  

Liam blinks, stunned for a moment. Then he grins.  

They both stand. 

“Oh you're on!” He arms himself with the ketchup bottle. Hemmer never let Liam down. “Not on me hair. Or me shirt” He pleads after thinking a bit. 

Noel's waving the mustard container around like a gun. 

“Don't start what you can't finish Liam” 

Liam gulps. Sexual thoughts filling his mind. Other times he heard that phrase.

Don't even think about-Course not mate! (......!!?....) Course not. 

Slowly, he sets the bottle down.  

Noel watches him, amused. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He places the mustard beside it, like a cowboy holstering his gun.  

They eye each other for a beat. Then, at the same time, they burst out laughing, the kind of deep, stupid laughter they haven’t shared in years. They sit again, still in a good mood. 

Noel shakes his head, reaching for a napkin, wiping the sauce off his own cheek. Then he turns to Liam, still grinning, and holds out a few napkins.  

Liam takes them, rubs his face once, tosses them aside.  

“Ya still dirty” Noel tsks as he turns to Liam fully.

Liam smirks.

“Yeah, well, ya’re still a wanker.”  

Noel doesn’t rise to it. He exhales, shakes his head, and then, without a word, reaches out, catching Liam’s chin between his fingers.

Liam blinks, startled, but Noel doesn’t let go. He tilts Liam’s face toward him, slow and deliberate, like he’s inspecting something.

Noel’s touch is steady, his thumb brushing over Liam’s cheek, catching the streak of mustard. He moves with an easy sort of care, his fingers resting just beneath Liam’s jaw, warm and certain. His other hand steadies him, thumb pressing lightly against the curve of his chin.

There are Liam Gallagher wax figures moving more than the real one right now.  

He swallows slowly. His skin tingles where Noel’s fingers rest.

Noel takes his time, wiping the corner of Liam’s mouth with a slow, precise touch. His thumb lingers, dragging over Liam’s bottom lip before finally pulling away.

The air between them is heavier now, filled with something neither of them names.

Noel clears his throat, dropping his hand.

“There,” he mutters. “Presentable.”

Liam exhales, blinking like he’s coming back to himself.

The room feels smaller, quieter.  

Liam hums, but doesn’t push. He picks up his burger again, tearing off another bite, chewing as he watches Noel do the same.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are the occasional clink of a fork against a plate, the quiet hum of the house around them.

Liam washes his bite down with beer and nods toward Noel’s plate. 

“Thought you were too posh to eat this kinda shite.”

Noel smirks.

“I make exceptions.”

Liam grins. 

“Yeah? When’s the last time you had a proper chippy, then?”

Noel pauses, thinking.

Liam gasps, overdramatic. 

“Fookin’ hell, it’s been that long?”

Noel rolls his eyes. 

“It ain’t been that long.”

Liam squints at him. 

“Go on then. What’d ya get?”

Noel takes a sip of his beer. 

“Cod.”

Liam snorts. 

“Knew it. Predictable as fook.”

Noel shrugs. 

“Not all of us need battered sausage and a tub of curry sauce like we’ve never seen food before.”

Liam scoffs. 

“Curry sauce is class, shut up.”

Noel takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully. Then, after a moment, he nods. 

“Alright, yeah. Might be.”

Liam grins, triumphant.

They keep eating, the food disappearing faster than either of them realizes. There’s something comfortable about it. 

Liam licks a bit of grease off his thumb. 

“When we do the tour, we should get a proper chippy after one of the gigs. Y’know, for old times’ sake.”

Noel glances at him, eyebrow raised. 

“We?”

Liam leans back, smirking.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get a chippy. You can go back to yer quinoa or whatever the fook it is you eat these days.”

Noel snorts. 

Liam just grins, taking another sip of his beer.

After the last bites are gone and the beer bottles sit mostly empty, the comfortable haze of food and drink settles over them.  

Liam leans back in his chair, stretching with a groan. 

“Fookin’ hell, that hit the spot.”  

Noel, ever practical, is already gathering plates.  

Liam eyes him. 

“Look at you. Housewife of the fookin’ year.”  

Noel rolls his eyes and leaves. 

Liam huffs but grabs a few things, following Noel into the kitchen. He dumps his plates in the sink with a clatter. 

“Reckon yer chef’ll be pissed we didn’t leave ‘em for ‘im?”  

Noel doesn’t dignify that with a response. He just turns on the tap and starts rinsing.  

Liam watches for a moment, then smirks. 

“You do know how to do dishes.”  

Noel glances at him, unimpressed. 

“Course I fookin’ do.”  

Liam leans against the counter, arms crossed. 

“Yeah? When’s the last time you actually did ‘em?”  

Noel shrugs, scrubbing a plate. 

“Dunno. Been a while.”  

Liam tilts his head. 

“So what do you do these days?”  

Noel doesn’t look up.

“What kind of question is that?”  

Liam gestures vaguely. 

“Y’know. When you’re not slaggin’ me off in interviews. What’s yer life, Noely?”  

Noel sighs, placing a clean plate on the rack.

“Wake up. Make coffee. Write a bit. Go to the gym. Play guitar. That enough for ya?”  

Liam snorts. 

“Jesus. That’s it?”  

Noel raises an eyebrow. 

“What d’you expect? Laser tag?”  

Liam shrugs. 

“Dunno. Thought you’d at least be shaggin’ someone.”  

Noel’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of annoyance? Amusement? 

“What, keepin’ tabs on me now?”  

Liam smirks. He is. 

“Just sayin’. You used to be more fun.”  

Noel tosses a dish towel at him, hitting him square in the face.  

Liam peels it off slowly, grinning.

“Touched a nerve there, didn’t I?”  

Noel shakes his head, but there’s something behind his eyes, something unspoken. He turns back to the sink, rinsing another plate.  

Liam watches him, that nagging feeling creeping in. Maybe he should volunteer… 

Instead, he picks up a towel, drying the dishes without another word.  

The silence stretches, not quite comfortable, but not hostile either.  

Noel finishes the last plate and finally looks at him. 

“You done interrogatin’ me?”  

Liam tosses the towel onto the counter. 

“For now.” Liam pats the counter. “So. We drinkin’ more, or are you gonna make me do yoga or some shite?”  

“Fook off.”  

“That a yes?”  

Noel sighs, but he’s already heading for the fridge.  

They move to the living room. Liam is looking at the records in the back of the room. He tosses the Great Escape like it's fire when his fingers touch it. Noel tries to act nonchalantly but he's interested when he finally asks. 

“Why do ya have this?”

“What's yer life like these days?”

They look at each other. 

“Not a bad album.” 

“I fill stadiums” 

Both of them stay with their heads turned from each other. Noel at the sofa, his voice turning that nice little drunk phase. 

Liam puts The Second Coming from the Stone Roses. Track 6: Straight to the man. He finds fitting and he loves the song. Noel starts to move his head in the cool rhythm. Liam drinks the rest of his beer and they listen to Ian Brown say “ So now I stand here, Love cuts down a revolver”. 

Then Noel gets up and says the words. 

“I think we should sleep.” 

Liam agrees, he has a plan to put in action. He goes to his room and says his “Good Nighty” that goes almost unnoticed. He brushes his teeth and looks in the mirror. There's a little mustard stain on his shirt now. 

He exits the room. Noel's socks shielding his feet from the cold shiny floors. Ya've done worse. With him. Somehow thinking this does not reassure Liam… 

The door creaked as he shoulders his way into Noel’s bedroom. The room smells of bergamot and Gallagher (the bitter sinful fruit), and is lit only by the moon glow bleeding through the curtains. Noel lay rigid on his side of the bed, facing the wall like a statue. He doesn't turn around.  

“This is pathetic,” Noel sais flatly, but his tone… Seems relieved? 

“Shut it,” Liam grunts “Ya’re house’s colder than a witch’s tit.”  

Noel does not move as Liam collapses onto the mattress, sending a shockwave through the springs. Liam’s elbow jabbs Noel’s spine.  

“Sorry.”  

“Let's sleep.”  

“Yeah yeah yeah”  

Silence.

Liam stares at the ceiling. 

“Remember that time we nicked Ma’s vodka and hid in the shed?”  

Noel snorts. 

“Ya puked on me trainers.”  

“ Ya dared me to drink the whole bottle!”  

Noel huffs. 

“Ya still did it, though.” Then he adds “Rkid.”

Liam goes still. His eyes narrow, scanning the dark.

Noel doesn’t take it back. Doesn’t say anything else.

Liam swallows, staring at the ceiling. He exhales.

“Yeah. Still did.”

Noel shifts, settling deeper into the mattress. They both staring into the ceiling. Liam stares at Noel's profile for a short time before losing conscience. 

Noel woke to the smell of sweat and danger.  

Liam’s arm was slung over his ribs, fingers curled into a loose fist against Noel’s sternum. His brother’s forehead pressed into the back of Noel’s neck, his breath hot and steady. Noel couldn't move. The room was too quiet, the weight too familiar. The last time he felt that good waking up… Liam was involved too. It's almost grim. The way he simply can't move on.  

He tried for so long to wake up exactly where he didn't/did want to.. He closed his eyes and tried not to cry. 

Silly dumb incestuous pathetic old man. 

When Liam left a couple hours later, a warm smile and a long hug, back to his young bright fiancé, Noel called Sally Mash. He had to.

Chapter Text

Noel was being haunted. 

He's sat in his kitchen and Liam is there eating his horrible eggs and laughing because Noel's hair is disheveled. He's in his office trying to work and Liam is playing on his mind. He's listened to And I Love Her more times in the past week than all his life combined. His tell- cinema is ruined forever and his bed… His bed smells of Liam! Which is impossible because he ordered the sheets changed 30 times already. His housemaid must think he finally went mad. 

Noel Gallagher: Insane and Incestous

Biography title. Trademark pending. 

When he thought he could stop thinking about that Sonny and Donny started their campaign. 

“Why can't we see Lennon and Gene?” His eldest demanded. Phrased as a question, but it was a demand. 

“Cause you can't.” 

Noel is not accustomed to being the one actively denying things. Sara always did the heavy lifting on this department. 

“Anäis is always with them.” 

“Are you 20 years old, blond and the opposite sex?” 

“It's not fair, Dad. You don't hate uncle Liam anymore, right?” 

Noel couldn’t answer. The truth was, he never had. 

“No it is not, but it's your mother's desire.” 

“It's not ours.” 

Noel's phone beeped, he's receiving his daily screenshots of Liam's tweets. In previous years he would be obsessive about it, then pretend not to care and then angry. Sometimes he would feel smug, when Liam would cry out for him, humiliating himself. Still needing Noel after so many years. 

“Dad?” 

He read “Noel is still a ‘potato’?” some fucker asked, “ No he is bloody well not I won’t have a bad word said about that gorgeous talented young man .” Liam replied. 

 “Yes?” 

“He's not listening.” Sonny always more observant, pointed. “It's his girlfriend.” 

“No.”Noel dropped the phone immediately. 

He patted the places by his side and waited for his kids to sit. He put an arm around each shoulder. 

“I promise. Soon you'll see your cousins and uncle.” Noel was promising that to himself too. “Just give me some time.” 

The kids shared a look. Noel loved that they had their own communication. They were good kids, if not spoiled rotten. He felt like he did a good job. Two normal brothers. 

“Now tell me about school.” 

***

Liam tried calling a couple of times but Noel didn't answer. He was busy and he didn't know what to talk about. 

Liam : sold out in the yankland what u say knoely LG x

Noel just looked and smiled. 

_______

Liam: https://open.spotify.com/track/41iPmvB2ogl3dzEHw9EZh0?si=rYCTPznnQZSAZinOnF7-YQ

Liam: have a good one LG x  

It was He's Ain't Heavy, He’s My Brother from The Hollies  

_______

Liam: [Picture of two trees intertwining, extremelly blury] 

Liam: Spiritual mooning  

Liam: lets be like that three LG x NG love and peace 

_______

Liam: buzzing to see you again rkid  

LG x

Noel stared at the message, debating if he should answer. 

Liam: go on say something  

Noel: Something. 

Liam: twat

Noel stared at the screen again. 

Liam: nah but seriously was good wasnt it

Noel: What? The part where you ate my food, insulted my house, and made fun of my hair?

Liam: all of it mate you know what I mean

Noel knew. He typed can't stop thinking about you and deleted madly. 

Noel: Yeah. It was alright.  

Liam: fucking hell thats practically poetry coming from you

Noel: Piss off.  

_____

Liam: just passed a fella with a shit haircut thought of you LG x you know it

Noel: That’s rich coming from you.

          Your hairline’s running away faster than City in the league. 

Liam: least ive still got my teeth posh boy   

Noel: Fuck off .

Liam: make me   

Noel put his phone down, but he thought about it.

_____

Liam: remember in paris when bonehead tried to order a pint in french and ended up asking for a pigeon 

Noel: Yeah. And you spent half the set yelling "VIVA LA FRANCE" like an idiot.  

Liam: thats called working the crowd mate

Noel: That’s called being a twat

Liam: miss OUR paris trip don't you   

Noel stared at the message for a long time. He didn't answer.  

____

Liam: whos the coolest person in the world 

Noel: Not you 🙄

Liam: nah mate its noel gallagher oasis legend genius songwriter right miserable bastard though  

Noel: Piss off 

Liam: cant youre in my head mate rent free 

Noel: At least you got something good in there 

Liam: will call later kids just arrived LG x 

_______

Noel received some new interesting tweets from Matt of all people. Liam claiming there was an Oasis album ready to ship. “Yep, it’s already finished.” and “It’s in the bag mate fuck the air”. Liam was a fucking idiot. Noel reacted by sending an emoji rolling his eyes and Matt called. 

Noel picked up. He wasn't busy. Matt was a nice collaborator… A fri- 

“Is it true?” He didn't even say Hello or Good morning your highness or other bullshit he would usually say. 

“Guess” Noel was not talking about the luxury brand. 

“Man… I wanted to believe.” He shuffled and spoke in a lower tone. “I bought tickets, you know. Like a normal regular guy. ” 

“Well that's what you are Matt” 

“I'm friends with a curmudgeon, that's what I am.” 

“Who is him again?” 

Matt laughed and so did Noel. He was a friend. He would have a free sit, eventually. 

“And how is MY friend? Liam.” 

“He's excited. Been bugging me everyday. Haven't changed much in 15 years” 

“This is nice, man". Matt sounded genuine as always.“You doing it because of the money? ”

“Et tu, Brute?” 

Matt laughed. 

“Just… curious. Like everyone.” 

Noel paused.The 100 million pounds question hung like a weird chord.  

“You know me. What d’you think?” 

Matt snorted. 

“Could be a thousand reasons. Money. Guilt. Boredom. Or —”

“Or?”

“Or you still need him.”

Noel’s jaw tightened. Outside, rain hissed against the window.  

“Need’s a strong word.”

“Yeah? What’s yours ?” 

Obsession. Sickness. Love. Regret. Weakness. 

“Habit.”

Matt laughed, sharp and knowing. 

“Worst one you’ve got.”

“Talk to you later, mate.” Noel wanted that call to end. 

“Anytime.Tell Liam I said he’s a wanker.”  

The line died. Noel stared at the phone, the word habit clawing at his ribs.  

Now to the more difficult call. But first he went upstairs to bug his sons a bit. They were watching anime in the cinema. 

“Did you know-”

“Yeah, dad, Falling Down we know.”

“We've watched it. It's not good.” 

And people say he is a mood killer. Whoever said that never interacted with a teenager. On the big screen a badly drawn teenager was playing a bass. 

“I have a bass somewhere. You can play it.” 

“Can we?” Sonny entertained. 

Noel felt bad. Previously at their home this was never a question. 

“Yeah, sure” He tried to be overly reassuring even though he would sooner die than have a bassist son. “You can play the guitar, if you prefer.” 

“Let's Donny” 

The other kid paused the show. 

“Let's do The Gallaghers.” Sonny suggested. “Like we used too.” 

Donavan huffed. I'm too old for this expression, but when he talked:

“Without mom?” 

“One member left us. That’s life. Now we can make badder heavier stuff.” Noel tried to sound cool which 90% of the time made him sound lame as hell. “Come on. The crowd can't wait.” 

Donovan formed a perfect McDonald look, but then looked at his brother and softened. 

They played an awfully loud show. 3 guitars and a lot of swearing. “When this is over I don't wanna hear it”. The kids gave their best impressions of different singers including their uncle. It was a blast. Noel once again ended up stunned by how cool and intelligent his kids managed to be. They were just born in a shitty generation, that's all. 

Liam had called 3 times by the time Noel picked his phone again.

I should block him. 

Instead he called back. Ringed half a minute. 

Liam answered, his voice softer than usual, the way he got when he knew he was in trouble.  

“It’s Noel. Lemme talk to ‘im- I like the blue one.”  

Noel frowned. 

“Tell her I think the other one’s better.”  

There was a beat of silence, then Liam actually relayed the message.

“He says the red.” A door clicked shut. “Hey, Rkid! ”  

“Don’t Rkid me. What’s this bullshit about a new album?”  

Liam hesitated.  

“Just messin’ around ,” he said, quieter now.  

“Well, don’t. This shit matters, Liam. It could affect my divorce, our sales! And above all, there isn’t an album.”  

“I just thought —”  

“I don’t wanna know what ya thought. Get it through that thick head of yours: we do the gigs, collect the checks, go home. I told ya this already.”  

“I’m… I’m sorry, Noel .” Liam’s voice had lost all its bravado. “Got excited, that’s all. I’ll say I was joking.”  

Noel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, thanks for that.”  

“I was actually calling about Gene’s band,” Liam said, like he was shifting gears. “They're ending the tour in London. Thought maybe ya’d wanna be a proper uncle. It’s on the 28th.”  

Noel frowned. Listening to Liam's slightly racist son's horrific band with Liam and Debbie? Seemed like hell on earth but he… did want to go… for reasons… 

Except. He couldn't. 

“Fuck. Can’t.”  

“Just say ya don’t wanna.”  

“I actually can’t ,” Noel said, shifting in his chair. “National Portrait Gallery. I’m one of Zoe’s ‘Legends.’ Have to be there. I even wrote music for the exhibit.”  

“Oh.” There was a pause. “It’s a late show. We could do both: gallery, then the gig.”  

Noel exhaled. 

“Liam…”  

“God forbid ya’re seen next to me.”  

“That’s not it.” Noel crossed his legs, staring at nothing. “I was already seen with ya. But if we go to Zoe’s thing, it won’t be Zoe’s thing anymore. Same with your kid’s gig. It’ll be ‘Noel and Liam’s Night Out. ’ It could be a mess. And we’re good, yeah? Why spoil it?”  

Liam was silent for a beat, then sighed. 

“I get it.”  Noel expected another joke, but Liam’s voice had cooled. “Ya hate me.”  

“I do, yeah,” Noel said, trying for lightness. “But that’s got nothing to do with this.”  

Liam didn’t reply. Something about the silence made Noel’s stomach clench.  

“Look, we’ll be seein’ enough of each other in a few months,” he added.  

Liam let out a short, humorless, cold laugh. 

“Yeah. You’re right.”  

“Always am.”  

A pause.

“Ta-rah, then.”  

“Bye, Lia—”  

But the line had already gone dead.  

Noel put his phone down. The word habit lingering in his mind like a ghost.

Chapter Text

Liam spent some sad days. He tries to continue as normal. Not messaging Noel as often, not thinking about him. Mission Impossible. He answers “ He’s very happy he won’t stop txting me first thing in the morning last thing at night I’m like fucking hell man chill out or I’ll have to get restraining order out bumbaclart ” when asked about Noel, because that what was his desire. 

He runs, makes his singing exercises, eats well and drinks just a fucking little bit. He and Paul dine home one night and he has a lot to say about Noel. Liam, Paul and the kids have lunch the next day and they have A LOT to say about Noel. It was almost funny because none of them had spoken to Noel as adults, and Paul is trying to pretend he's not annoyed with the reunion.

Gene talksabout his uncle and Anäis running away from him. Liam stops listening when he mentions the place. Same as where Noel met his new bird- his new lady. Let's try to be respectful to this one from the get-go . Molly stays extremely silent until before leaving when she looks weirdly at Liam.

“What is it luv?” He smiles at her and her only. His eldest. 

“I just… Did he say something about me?” Liam pulled her outside.

The cold ate at their noses and fogged their breaths.

“Haven't spoken in a couple.” Liam complains, he loops his arm around his daughter's coated one “but he says ya're too beautiful to be worried ‘bout old man's opinions.”

She smiles. Liam knows she is very well educated and too polite to tell him what she is really thinking. Noel never mentioned her once. He's like that.

“Miss him?” He asks.

“I just wanted to know what I did.”

Liam feels sudden burning anger. One he experienced very few times in his life, most of them tied to this brother. Noel manages to make even Liam’s kids uncomfortable with his lovelessness. The evil little fucker . 

“He is…” Liam has no idea what Noel is: misguided, problematic, hateful? “A sad man. By choice.”

“I won't beg.” Molly says firmly, crossing her arms. The determination in her expression is painfully familiar.

Liam smiles and pulls her closer. 

“Leave that to me kid.”

They stay in comfortable silence until Liam starts listing off all the reasons she should come stay at his for the night. She listens patiently, then kisses him goodbye.

He goes back inside, and Paul is still mid-the-same-fucking-story. Lennon and Gene must've heard that one three times just in 2024.

“Then one of the staff found their pot and went straight to the owner, who didn't even know there was a band rehearsing there. And Oasis was banned forever from the Grove Cabaret, and I lost a tenner.”

“Ya didn't lose shit.” Liam sits, his hip hurting a bit.

“Ahn Dad?” Lennon stands up, Gene right after him. “We have plans.”

Liam makes a proud father face.

“What plans?” Paul asks.

“You know… Plans.” Gene parrots.

Liam stands up with some pain and hugs both. He wishes he still had that energy. And the good young nice joints. The ones you don't even notice are there.

“Take care.” Paul tries to parent his fucking kids.

“Don't do nothin’ I wouldn't do” Liam adds.

The pair laughs and waves out.

Paul closes his fist and pretends he's going to punch Liam on the hip, the side that is hurting. He jumps and pushes his older brother back, the fucker laughts. Paul pats his shoulder.

“Old codger.”

Paul’s laughter echoes through the nearly empty restaurant, a sound so familiar it grated on Liam’s nerves even as it comforts him.

“Old ?” Liam shot back, rubbing his hip. “You’re the one still tellin’ stories from the fuckin’ Stone Age. Grove Cabaret? Fooking hell.”

Paul shrugged, flagging the waiter for another pint.

“Better than yer new material.”

“Piss off,” Liam snorted, but there was no heat in it.

He glanced at his phone on the table, screen dark. Noel hadn’t called. Not that he expected him to.

The silence between them stretched, thick with the things they wouldn’t say. Paul finally broke it, voice low.

“You gonna talk to him?”

“Who?” Liam played dumb, finishing his guinness.

Paul leveled him with a look.

“Don’t. The kids notice, y’know. They’re worried”

Liam’s jaw tights. Paul has a way to be extremely annoying and pessimist about everything that is hard to be around sometimes, more when they were young.

“Say.” Liam sits again, and taps his finger on the table. “Come on, say it.” 

Paul sits too. He smooths the napkins and sighs.

“He couldn’t hear yer name without spittin’ hate for a decade. And now you’re gonna do sixteen shows a month with him?” He shook his head. “Insanity.”

Liam scoffed. 

“Ya think I don’t know that?” Liam rubs his chin.

Paul’s gaze is steady.

“Then what the fook are you doin’?”

Liam doesn't answer right away. He reaches for his phone instead, unlocking it, checking nothing. Only John staring back at him.

Paul watched him.

“You waitin’ for him to call?”

Liam set the phone back down, ignoring the prickle in his spine.

His brother exhaled.

“I just don’t wanna see you gutted again, mate. He’s got a way of gettin’ in and rippin’ shite apart.”

Liam leaned back in his chair.

“And what if he doesn’t this time?”

“Yeah it's different, you're fifty, he's sixty. Two bitter old men playin’ dress-up for a paycheck it's not cute anymore.”

The silence that follows is volcanic. Paul looks away first.

“I know you’re not about the money, but that's what people are sayin’.”

“Don’t give a flying fuck to ‘em.” Liam didn't.

Paul stared at him, pity and frustration warring in his gaze. 

“You can’t fix a house that’s burnt to the ground, Liam. All you’ll do is cut yerself on the rubble.”

***

The alarm blares at 4:00 AM sharp. Liam Gallagher doesn't do snooze . He doesn't groan. He swings his legs out of bed like a man on a mission, throws on a tracksuit that costs more than a small car, and marches to the kitchen. Green juice. Inner peace. And Twitter!

Today he has to go to the doctor like a fooking naughty kid. 

He's killing some eggs when his phone rings. The scream lights up. . .

Noel  

Liam pauses. His shoulder starts to hurt even more. Chill out man . He answers and puts on the speaker. 

“This better be good, rkid. I’m in me zen zone.”

Noel’s evil smile comes out even thru the phone, tinny and smug. 

“Zen zone? Since when d’ya know words with Z?”

“Zip it… Zanker .” 

Noel laughs. And suddenly it's a nice beautiful morning.

“ Heard you won an MTV Award .” He says, still laughing a bit. “ Best Rock Performance by a Bloke Who Still Wears Parkas Unironically. Congrats .”

“Nah. Best Solo Artist Who’s Not a Potato”

Noel barks out a laugh.

“ Well, I’d be offended if I weren’t still in bed .”

Liam snorts, glancing at the clock. He changes the call to normal.

“Lazy bastard. It’s almost five already.”

“ Exactly ,” Noel deadpans. “ Civilized people don’t function at this hour. ”

Liam shakes his head. Debbie enters the kitchen and points at the clock.

“It's me brother.” He says. She leaves immediately. “And what, ya rang me just to take the piss?”

A beat of silence. Then, casual as anything—

“ Congrats,mate .”

Liam freezes.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. Just stands there, phone to his ear, still holding a fork mid-air like he’s waiting for the world to keep moving.

“Didn’t think ya gave a shite.”

Noel exhales, like he’s been caught out.

“ I don’t. ”

Liam smirks, but there’s a hint of something softer in his voice when he speaks again.

“Right.”

“ Figured I’d say somethin’ before ya get all dramatic about it.” Noel mutters, quieter now.

Liam laughs under his breath.

“Fookin’ hell. Praise from the great Noel Gallagher. Do ya need to lay down?

Noel scoffs.

“ I’m literally layin’ down, mate. ”

Liam grins.

“Ya’re down with a serious case of Noelites” Liam cackles with his own joke. “Nah, but seriously. Ta, mate.”

Noel hums, and the sound feels like a soft shrug through the phone.

“ Yeah. Don’t let it go to yer head. ”

“Too late.”

Another beat of silence, and the space between them feels heavier now.

“ Right, I should go .” Noel’s voice is much quieter this time. Seems… Seems he wants to talk more with Liam???!!!??••• - - - •••

Liam rolls his shoulders, trying to shake it off and it's reminded quite painfully he should not do that.

“Yeah. Alright.”

The line stays quiet. Neither of them makes any move to hang up just yet.

Then, like he’s been thinking about it for a while:

“ See ya, Liam. ”

Liam exhales slowly, something’s settling in his chest. 

“See ya.”

A beat. A pause. Then Noel’s gone.

Liam stares at the phone for a second. Then, with a sigh, he tosses it onto the counter, shaking his head. He can’t help but smile a little. Fookin’ Noel .

Five minutes later, they're in the car, his fiancé is holding his hand, his left shoulder is hurting like a bitch, but something’s still stuck there, in the space between the phone call and the quiet after.

Later that day someone asks what was his favorite memory of 2024 and Liam replies: “ Smelling Rkid’s aftershave when we stood for the photo oof ” followed by some other spiritual stuff that are also about Noel but no one will ever know.

*****

Villanelle it's not a bad band. 

In fact, Liam thinks in all his fatherness, they could be great, if they actually needed to work and partied a bit harder. Posh pot and little pills only get you so far. But he also knows he can't say that to his kid, or Debbie, or her sister. So he takes his phone out and records a bit.

He sends Noel obviously. 

_________

Liam: [Video] 

Noel: He could benefit from singing the songs 

Noel: You know instead of talking 

Liam: think their hearts are in a good place 

Noel: And their hands are up their parents' pockets. 

Liam smiles and looks from side to side before writing his next line.

Liam: wish you were here 

Liam: how was it there did you meet any other legend 

Noel: [It’s a photo of Anais, she's near Noels big grey portrait face smiling] 

Liam pauses, caught off guard for a second. Then he grins.

Liam: MY BEAUTIFULNIECE IS A FOOKING LEGEND ALRIGHT

Noel: Yes 😤

________

Liam exhales, something warm settling under his ribs.

The rest of the show is good. Gene’s got presence. Liam watches him more closely now, taking in the way he moves, the way he checks his bandmates before each son starts. He’s nervous but trying to hide it.

When the set wraps, Liam hugs him. Cheers, kid. Great show . He pats the other band members on the back, nodding in approval. Debbie and Katie are better at praising than him. They even talk about lyrics.

Later, as he walks out, he checks his phone again. The conversation with Noel is still open. He stares at it for a second.

_______

Noel: Slide Away? 

[There is an address]  

Noel: BE DISCRETE 

_______

Liam stops dead in his tracks.

Debbie notices.

"What’s that face for?"

"It’s Noel. Wants me to come over."

She and her sister share a look. 

"At 2 in the morning?" Debbie sighs. "You sure this is a good idea?"

Liam squeezes her shoulder.

"I got to go, Debs. It’s Noel."

"Say you'll go tomorrow."

"Cant."

"Let him go. We can have a sister night too.” Kattie chimes in.

“Good idea” He presses a quick kiss to his fiancé's temple and half hugs Katie "I’ll call if he tries to kidnap me again."

Debbie mutters something under her breath as he heads off, phone still in hand.

*****

“What did Debbie say?”

“Good afternoon for ya too, Noel.”

“It's 3 in the morning.”

“Ya asked. I'm ‘ere.”

Noel looks at him like he can’t believe he actually showed up. His eyes are soft, a little unfocused. Almost inebriated, but not quite. There’s peace in his face, an unsettling kind, like he’s made some quiet decision Liam hasn’t been let in on yet.

Finally, he closes the door and steps forward.

“Who left ya here?”

“Took a cab.”

Noel hums, unimpressed.

“And what did Debbie say?” He asks again.

“I don't need her permission.” 

Noel snorted.

“Ya do.” 

Liam looked at the frankly dodgy room. One bed. It's a trap.

I'm caught in a trap?

I can't walk out

Because I love you too much, baby

The King is always right.

He had a twin brother who died. Maybe if Elvis's brother had stayed alive, Liam wouldn't have thought about songs and had time to escape what came after.

Noel pushes, literally pushes him to the bed. He uses both hands to hold Liam's face, the cold rings making contact with the burning skin. His thumbs caress Liam's cheekbones, tenderly, for what seems like hours. His eyes are fixed in Liam's mouth. He does not dare to move. An earthquake wouldn't make him move. 

Liam wants to say he will not tolerate a couple things if this is about to happen again. But he can't remember how to speak.

Noel dips and kisses him.

It’s like going home.

It's like finding a missing piece.

It's like a cup of hot tea in the coldest day.

It's like listening to Revolver for the first time, Noel and him laying in the sun in their yard.

It’s like someone just told him he's in the band.

It's like listening to Live Forever on the radio for the first time.

It's like getting so out of your own mind you kiss your brother and he leaves the band.

It's like Knebworth.

It's like Loch Lomond, LOCH LOMOND, with l ess people to see, unfortunately.

There’s a moment of struggle for dominance, Noel retreats just enough to make his point. He telepathic demands absolute control and Liam does the sane thing: Surrender. Aye, Chief.

They yank off shirts, undershirts, tossing them aside with the urgency of their age. They’re laughing the whole time, at their own impatience, at how much slower they are now, at the sheer absurdity of this happening again.

Noel hops on his lap, their chests touch, he's kissing his brother's neck like only he knows how, the way that always left Liam boneless. His little hands make terrain reconnaissance, like a proprietary checking for damages. Liam laughs because he is ticklish and happy as a duck. They kiss again. Noel tastes like fancy drinks and ________.

Liam reaches for Noel’s belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle, but Noel shifts, sitting back on Liam’s busted hips, and pain shoots up his side. Foooook.

Noel unzips Liam’s pants, fingers brushing over the outline of him. He lifts the waistband of his boxers, peeking in like it’s some fookin’ treasure chest. He looks at Liam’s cook with fondness.

Noel hums. 

“Making sure it’s still there.”

He gets out of the way and with a hand movement commands the outing of the pants. Liam only manages to guide them to the middle of his thighs when the weight on his lap returns.

“Can”

A Kiss.

“I” 

Another one.

“Fuck”

Kiss.

“You?” 

Liam agrees violently. Then he remembers other moments like this and tries to speak. I want to hear ya , Noel would say, pornography incarnated. 

“Yeah. Yeah.” He's sure the noise he's listening to in his head is his heart.

“Have you done this recently?” Noel kisses the side of his nose.

It's almost too much.

He nods no with difficulty, delayed.

“Have- Have you?” He finally manages after shaking his head.

Noel smiles. He kisses Liam in a hungry painful manner. Like he's trying to respond that way. Liam can’t make out the answer. 

“I don't kiss and tell.”

Their hips ground together, friction and frustration and fifteen years of fuck you collapsing into fuck this . Noel is hard as well. 

The older man frees himself. His penis not very interesting through length but through girth. Liam feels proud to know he was very capable to handle him in the past.

The long lost brothers reunite in Noel's hand. He strokes them clumsily and they rub at each other with longing. Liam moves seeking more friction.

“Easy now” 

Noel's pace is annoying. He always took his time.

Then he looks around. Slowing his hand even more. He stops completely and Liam whines. In Noel's returning hand is a rubber. Not a rubber! Liam is a bit sad about this development. 

“A Johnnie?” He asks.

“Just the lube in it.” Noel opens the little packet and slides his fingers in. “Like that.”

He retreats and takes off Liam's pants fully. This is a known movement to the frontman who just spreads his legs and enjoys the view. Noel opens him up real good. He tries to remember that the key to this is relaxation, it's been a while.

Then the songwriter returns to the bed, a satisfied grin with the sounds he just got from Liam. The singer steadies himself in the bed frame. Noel is putting another condom the wrong way, sliding in and out of it, looking at his brother like he's ready to kill, rob and take all that Liam is. Hot as fuck. 

Finally he puts a pillow beneath Liam’s lower back and inserts himself slowly. He puts his forehead in Liam’s stomach, folded like a young man and holds very still for a minute. Then he looks up and goes for Liam's mouth again. He bites a bit and tortures Liam with little moves.

The singer gasps, clawing at Noel’s back, nails digging into scars he’d memorized decades ago. 

“Just—fuck—”

Noel laughs, rough and breathless, and obliges. Steady, methodical at first, then not. The bed frame slams against the wall, the rhythm something that could’ve been an Oasis tune if it weren’t so utterly obscene.

Liam’s brain short-circuits, pleasure and pain tangling until they’re indistinguishable. His vision blurs, his hip is killing him, his bad shoulder flares like a warning sign in his nerves. 

Noel’s hand is there, indulgent, stroking, coaxing, grounding. The singer starts to cry. From joy, from pain. There's really too much difference?

“Hey” Noel slows down, but he seems pleased. His hand stokes Liam indulgently. 

“Go on.” Liam helps a bit by pushing the bed frame. 

His hips tilting up, hands gripping Noel’s back, guiding him deeper, making it worse, making it better. Pain and pleasure fusing into something desperate, something urgent. Noel groans low in his throat and fucks , picking up a rhythm, strong and punishing. Liam clenches around him, his legs wrapping tight, pulling him closer, keeping him there.

There’s something frantic in the way they move, like they need this, like there’s something clawing its way out of both of them that only this can quiet.

Noel gets there first, hips stuttering, hands gripping too tight. He's only out of it for a moment, but then he is helping Liam get there too. He even puts his mouth on Liam's tip at the last second and swallows everything.

It’s so filthy, so obscene, that Liam’s already thinking about when he’ll jerk off to the memory.

They lay quiet for a couple seconds.

“DON'T say it.”

Liam just stares at Noel. 

“Bi-”

“NO.”

“Bli-”

“Liam. I will leave.”

“No, no, no, love.” Liam grins, eyes twinkling. “It was celestial.”

Noel groans and starts to get up, but Liam wraps his arms around his back, pulling him down.

“I’m just getting water.”

“I’m going. Stay.”

Noel lays again. Liam caresses his chest, his head rests on Noel's shoulder like he's a groupie. Maybe he is a groupie. 

“So… My water?” Noel always has to kill the peaceful moments.

Liam rolls his eyes but slides out of bed, stretching as he walks toward the bathroom to clean himself up. Then he tracks to the mini fridge, bending a little too much just to tease, pretending to inspect the contents.

There's an open beer inside.

“That yars?” he asks, grabbing a bottled water instead.

Noel sits up, smirking at Liam’s naked form, his expression something between impish and satisfied.

“Place is mine.”

“No it is not.”

Noel snorts.

“Yeah. It is. Granted not even the staff knows.”

“Why would ya have a dingy love hotel?”

Noel eyes him. Like he was supposed to know already, then he passes the water bottle. 

“Drink” The fucker demands “It was one of Sara’s ideas to-”

“Not interested, mate.” Liam dries the bottle and gets another, he cracks it open and gives it to Noel.

Noel gives him an amused look but takes it.

“But I picked this one” He drinks his half again and passes “Ya and I stayed here a couple days back in 2001? He was a bit better and ya were out of your fooking mind so I get ya not rememberin’.”

“Sorry” Liam is happy to have lived in Noel's memories, opposite to what he claims in interviews.

“It's fine” Noel's smile is a bit tinged with guilt now. “We fought the whole time.”

They should talk about it.

Is this going to happen again? What is this?What about Sally and Noel? Is he going to be home on Christmas?

“So” Liam starts. “My turn now?” 

Chapter Text

They didn’t go a second time. They tried to, but neither of them were young like that anymore.

Instead, they asked for food.

Noel was playing a game he used to win a lot back then: Pretend it isn't your little brother you just enjoyed fucking.

Liam, sat up against the headboard, was holding a spoonful of milk pudding in front of Noel’s mouth.

“I can use me hands, ya know.”

Liam furrowed his brows in that cute, confused way. Noel wanted to reach out and touch them.

Instead, he opened his mouth and let Liam feed him.

The pudding was awful. Overly sweet, pre-packaged, diabetes in a plastic cup. Noel barely swallowed before reaching for his tea to cleanse the taste.

Liam ate the next spoonful and grimaced. 

“Fookin’ ‘ell.”

Noel smirked over his mug.

Liam, ever determined, switched tactics. 

“Try the grapes.” He plucked a few from the bowl and held one up like he was offering it to a Pharaoh.

Noel, regrettably, was not immune to dumb flirting. He let Liam feed him.

“It’s a grape.” 

It was the best grape Noel ever had. 

Liam ate one too. 

“She’ll never grow up to be a posh wine now.”

Noel watched his naked brother pop another into his mouth, the lazy rise and fall of his chest, the way the dim light softened the angles of his beautiful face. It felt good. So good he thought he might die.

“The cake,” Noel suggested, clearing his throat.

Liam, apparently in a giving mood, picked up the slice. It looked simple, dry, uninspired. He cut two pieces and held one out.

Noel raised an eyebrow. 

“Weren’t ya feedin’ me?”

Liam scoffed but abandoned his own cake and offered Noel a bite.

It wasn’t bad. Orange. Soft. Nothing special, but it did the job.

Noel chewed, then let his hand drift to Liam’s thigh, fingers tracing over warm skin. Quick say something mean!

“So… I think ya passed the test.” That's not mean! 

Liam fed him another crumb, distracted.

“What test?” He is so stupid.

“The couch test,” Noel said, almost embarrassed.

Liam paused, blinking. 

“Did I?” He smiled. Oh, you like him. 

Noel put his hands behind his head, stretching out with a smirk. 

“I have some notes.”

Liam snorted.

 “Yeah?” He sounded like a kid despiste the wrinkles. 

“Yeah.” Noel let his eyes drag over him, slow and deliberate. “Next time…”

Liam raised an eyebrow. Would it be a next time? If Noel is being honest he's already thinking about the next 3 times.

He let the pause linger, Liam was irrevocably old and yet…

“Next time,” Noel continued, casual as anything, “Ya can try not crushin’ me like a ragdoll.”

Liam scoffed, and sprawled half over him again, warm and lazy.

“Fook off. You loved it.”

Noel grinned. He did. It was pure madness. 

“Did I? Can’t tell, me spine’s still tryin’ to realign itself.” 

Liam hummed, shifting slightly, and immediately regretted it. 

“Fook’s sake,” he muttered, rolling onto his back with a groan.

“What now?” Noel turned his head, amused.

Liam rubbed at his side.

“Me hip’s fooked. Shoulder too. Gonna be walkin’ ‘round like an old man tomorrow.”

Noel chuckled. 

“Thought you were Mr. Yoga, Mr. I Work Out’.”

“Yeah, well, this ain’t in the fookin’ wellness routine, is it?” Liam grumbled, stretching his arm out with a wince.

Noel smirked. 

“Reckon I should start warmin’ ya up before, then. Proper stretches.”

“Yeah?” Liam snorted. “Gonna lead me through a fookin’ sun salutation before shaggin’ me, are ya?”

“I am a professional.”

Liam huffed, shifting again, eyes flicking over Noel. 

“Me shoulder’s actually bad. Dislocated the other day.”

Noel’s smirk faded slightly. He reached out, fingers brushing against Liam’s shoulder, testing the muscle there. 

“That bad?”

Liam shrugged, but he didn’t move away. 

“Just gotta be careful, that’s all.”

Noel hummed, rubbing his thumb absently over the sore spot before smirking again. 

“So what ya’re sayin’ is… I won?”

“Yer a fookin’ lunatic.” 

Then Liam sighed, dropping his head against a pillow.

“We’re a right pair, ain’t we?” 

“Tragic, really.” Noel laughed, but he wanted to cry a bit. It's actually biblical, Shakespearean, Greek tragedy-y, how tragic they were, but he was not in the mood to be mocked for mentioning it. 

Liam yawned, still smirking. 

“Well, next time…” He mimicked Noel. “Ya’re feedin’ me.”

“Not a fookin’ chance.” Noel snorted.

Liam hummed, stretching his arm over Noel’s stomach like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was home.

“We’ll see.”

Noel just shook his head, closing his eyes.

Yeah, we will.

When Noel was alone again. 

Reality hit him faster than a cannonball

Proper don't believe that anybody feels the way I do now. 

What a stupid idea he had. He had done probably the worst thing he could. 

Liam was not even home yet when he sent the first message.

__________________

Liam: forgot to talk bout Xmas. ya coming right? 

_________________

At least he's not thanking me or some other incriminating thing . 

Yeah! What a fucking brilhant idea, NG! Yeah, let's sleep with our cognitive neanderthal brother, that will turn out well . 

Liam had no concept of ridiculousness. He could not seriously think Noel would want to play happy family after one solo shag. There's absolutely no way he was serious, but it was Liam so obviously he was. Liam was incapable of human thoughts. They were dog-like or god-like thoughts, nothing in between. 

You don’t touch fire and expect not to burn. 

Noel’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. He could ignore it. Could leave it unread, let Liam figure it out himself.

__________

Noel : not happening .

__________

Done. Finished.

His chest felt tight.  

His phone buzzed again.  

_________

Liam : pffft

Liam : come on

Liam : dont worry i wont get ya nuffin shit

Liam : not like last year

________

Last year…

The jacket.  

That big, expensive, fook-off leather thing Liam had sent him. Wrapped up like some fookin’ Christmas miracle. No note, no explanation, just a tracking number and an obvious flattery. Liam trying to win him like a bird, even then. 

Noel had stared at the box for two hours.  

Then threw it in the back of his closet, untouched.  

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.  

He could say "I never wore it."

He could say "Why the fook would you send me that?"

Or he could say the truth, that he’d pulled it out one night, pissed out of his skull, slipped it on and stared at himself in the mirror for far too fookin’ long.

Instead, he typed:  

______

Noel : good. your taste is shit. 

______

Instant reply:

______

Liam : yer fuckin welcome 

_______

Noel had a Date. 

Not even 12 hours after fucking his brother he had a date with his girlfriend who was nice, kind and not his sibling. 

He didn’t want to go.

Every part of him begged him to stay home, but he went anyway. 

Sally couldn't wait, actually.

He put on the good shirt, the good boots, the right watch. Spent a little too long making sure his hair wasn’t a complete disaster. He looked for the jacket (the gift) and couldn’t find it. Told himself it was just another night out. Just another date with a woman who was good for him, normal, not a problem.

Then he stepped outside, and immediately regretted everything.

Sally had picked the place, which meant it was a proper, trendy, impossible to get in, dimly-lit, overpriced restaurant in central London.

The kind of place that had art instead of menus.

The kind of place where the bartender took ten minutes to make a single drink because it involved a blowtorch and a fookin’ performance.

The kind of place where the wine list was longer than the Bible and the portions were small enough to be considered an act of violence.

Noel was sat at the finest, most private table and offered every drink in the menu, 2 minutes later he nursed a whiskey he didn’t actually want and he was thinking about the Jacket. Had he thrown out? He couldn't remember. 

He took a sip of the whiskey. He adjusted his watch, glanced at the door.

This was fine. He was fine. Everything was normal.

Back in the day (and extremely drugged) it wasn't hard to pretend he hadn't just shagged his brother (most days), but he was old now. Everything was more apparent and ridiculous. Maybe someone who knew him enough could tell. 

Then Sally walked in, looking gorgeous in a grey dress, all put-together and completely unrelated to him. Noel stood up. 

She kissed his Liam tainted lips and smiled wildly. How are you my love? and such. They sat again, the wine was poured, the meals ordered.

And yet.

Noel was completely fookin’ checked the fook out.

She was talking. Really talking. And Noel… He was nodding along, making all the right noises, doing all the right things.

But he wasn’t there.

His mind was still back in bed. Back in that disastrous, unspeakable moment where Liam had cried, moaned, just looked at him and fed him a fookin’ grape like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Noel took a huge sip of wine, desperate to drown the memory.

"You’re quiet tonight," Sally said, smiling at him over the candlelight.

Noel smirked back, because that’s what you do.

"Am I?"

She tilted her head, studying him.

"You didn’t even argue when I said Coldplay weren’t that bad."

Noel blinked. Oh, shite.

"They are that bad," he said automatically, picking up his glass. "Just... savin’ me energy."

Sally didn’t buy it.

"Is it the tour?" she asked, more gently now. "Being around Liam again?”

If only she fookin’ knew.

"Nah," he said quickly. Too quickly.

Sally gave him a long, knowing look.

Then, mercifully, let it drop.

She took a sip of wine, then leaned in slightly.

"By the way, we should probably sort out some last details, the Christmas party is soon. Everyone’s asking."

Noel blinked. Christmas.

Fook .

"What’s there to sort?" he muttered. “I trust the party planner with me life.”

The party planner gave him a playful smile. 

" I'm just plannin’ to be asleep before midnight." He continued, to make her smile more. Ya just gotta make them laugh. 

"That’s not happening." She rolled her eyes.

"Tragic."

"It’ll be fun," Sally squeezed his hand across the table. "You’ll be great."

And just like that, Noel felt trapped. 

This was what his life was supposed to be. Normal. Structured. Fine.

He squeezed her hand back, smirk still in place.

***

Noel woke up in Sally’s bed, in her nice, expensive flat, in a life that should’ve felt comfortable.

His head was heavy, his limbs slow. Sally was still asleep beside him, curled into the pillows, completely at peace.

His phone was buzzing on the nightstand.

Noel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

He reached for it.

Liam . Of course.

Noel stared at the screen, debating letting it ring out. Then, against his better judgment, he answered.

“ Oi ” Liam's voice was like drinking clean, transparent, cold water after a long walk in the desert. “ Morning, mate ” 

“What?” Noel asked, in a harsh tone. 

Don't get soft on him. 

“Oi just calling me brother, that a crime?” the smile showed in his voice, one Noel had felt against his skin the day prior. 

Maybe he couldn't do this. Not again. Not ever. All those years and his heart was still dancing. The right thing to do was to just forget it all. Each Gallagher to his own. No motel nights, no shows, no contact. 

“Not the call no.” The whole rest … 

“Will ya then? Christmas with Ma, me and Paul?” Liam was fucking black hole, not in a sexual way, he just sucked everything down to nothing. 

And he always wanted more. 

“Liam, are you that dense? Do I look like yar girlfriend?” Don't let him answer . “I'm not doing Christmas with the happy family, it's pathetic.” 

Liam stays silent for a minute longer than Noel expected. 

“I just wanted to see ya.” He sounds a bit defeated and so much like he did as a kid it makes Noel guilty. 

He's always the monster, isn't he? 

“What did I tell ya?” Noel pushes still angry, more with himself now than at Liam. “What. did. I. tell. ya. baboon? Answer!” 

“Ya said… Ya said no family gathering. It's about ya and me.” He repeated like a well trained bird. He's a little parrot in my mind. 

Noel realizes the irony. He had told Liam this while on Make-up camp in France. Paul and Peggy in the living room. 

“And ya are incapable of keeping promises.” Noel is all the way in the balcony now. He sees a happy couple jogging together and represses the urge to spit on them.  

“But that was befor-” 

“Before WHAT, LIAM?” Noel can't let him finish his phrase. “Is this going to be a problem?” 

“No.” Liam answered fast. “Not anymore.” 

They got silent. Noel felt like real life was fake and that his dreams were the real deal. 

“Don’t do Christmas anymore, mate. You know that.”

“You do parties though.” Liam’s voice was tight, bitter underneath.

Noel winced internally. Of course he knew. Anyone worth a bloody penny knew. 

“Different thing,” Noel muttered.

“Yeah?” Liam pressed. “Big fookin’ posh celebrity thing.”

Noel sighed. 

“It’s not like that.”

“How is it then?” Liam snapped. “Cos from where I’m sat it looks like you’re throwin’ a party for every knobhead in London ‘cept yer own fookin’ brother.”

Noel closed his eyes, massaging his temple. 

“It’s complicated. It's not even on Xmas. I'll spend it with Sonny and Donovan.” Noel notices he really wants Liam to understand this, it's important to him. “Look, Liam... I just— I need it to be easy, alright? Not people starin', not questions, not fookin’ chaos.”

Nothing it's gonna be easy for a long time after Oasis is touring.  

Liam exhaled slowly, like something inside him was folding up. 

“Right. Got it.”

Noel squeezed the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s not you. It's... it’s the history.”

“It's not me, it's you? Are you breaking up with me?” Liam let out the most miserable laugh he had. “Wasn’t plannin' to start a fookin’ riot, Noel. Just thought... Might be nice, y'know what I mean?”

Noel felt his chest twist painfully.

It could be nice.

But when had things between them ever stayed nice for long?

He swallowed. 

“I know. Just... not this time, yeah?”

His brother was quiet for a long beat.

“Liam—” Noel started.

But Liam cut him off, quick and light. 

“It’s alright, rkid. You do your thing. I’ll do mine.”

Noel didn't like that Liam sounded convinced. In the past he would beg more. 

They didn’t hang up immediately. Just stayed there, breathing into the silence, both of them too stubborn or too proud to say what they really meant.

“Later, Noel.” Finally, Liam muttered.

“Yeah,” Noel said, voice barely a whisper. “Later.”

The line clicked dead.

Noel set his phone down and stared at it like it might ring again.

It didn’t.

 December 13th

Noel was halfway through his second drink and already regretting his own guest list.

The Firehouse was glowing with all the right lighting. Golden, flattering, expensive. The kind of place where no one looked tired or honest. He stood just off-centre from the main bar, blazer open, shirt perfectly wrinkled in that deliberately not trying way, watching the room shimmer with familiar faces he couldn’t quite care about.

Ewan McGregor was holding court by the fireplace, grinning like a bastard. He’d brought… Noel couldn’t remember much of her name, Mary- something-something, he liked the old one better, the one that was not the aloof hollywood type. 

Lewis Capaldi was draped across one of the velvet chairs like a drunk Victorian widow, already on his third whisky, talking to a bored Sony exec. 

And Tom Cruise, the cult man, stood by the garden doors, completely animated, gesturing like he was trying to sell the moon.

Noel had not seen Kate yet, but he had seen enough of Rita Ora and her obnoxious director husband. Dave was mingling too hard to be seen. 

Sally came up beside him, glass of champagne in hand. She's dressed simply and casually and richly. A grey sober two piece. 

“You’re scowling,” she said, without looking at him.

“I’m thinking,” he replied, which was true, but not about anything he could say aloud.

“You invited half of Mayfair and now you’re acting like they broke into your house.” She sipped her drink, unfazed. “Go talk to someone before people start saying you’re brooding again.”

“I am brooding.”

“Then do it near famous people.”

She drifted off with a smirk and he watched her go. Calm, elegant, cruelly social in a way he admired. Then he took another long sip of whisky and made his way toward Ewan.

“Gallagher!” Ewan threw his arms wide like he was greeting a long-lost brother. His accent made him that much more likable. “The man of the moment.” 

They exchanged the kind of hug men do when they’re too famous to risk sincerity, and Noel let himself enjoy it for a second. Someone who didn’t expect anything more than the performance. 

“You miserable bastard,” Ewan grinned. 

“You look well Ewan. Another Disney contract.” Noel responded. They've known each other long enough. 

The man caressed his beard. 

“Did you watch it?” 

“I did yeah” Noel had seen it unfortunately. “I think that Vader fella will go places.” 

Ewan barked a laugh, then took a sip of something that looked expensive on Noel's dime. 

“It was shite.”

Noel blinked. He wasn't expecting honesty. 

“What, they finally let you say that out loud?”

“They don’t own me. Not completely.” Ewan grinned, then softened. “You could see it in the press stuff, couldn’t you? I was dead behind the eyes.”

“Ya always look a bit dead behind the eyes. You're Scottish.”

Ewan laughed again, then nudged Noel’s arm. 

“How are you really, though?”

“I'm a Rock 'N' Roll Star.” Noel joked. He sounded a bit like Liam. 

Before Ewan could reply, Lewis Capaldi materialised besides them, one arm slung over Noel’s shoulder.

"You lot havin’ a heartfelt moment or what?"

Noel gave him a side-eye. 

“Obiwan and Chewbacca attend Christmas party. Front cover news”

“Rude!” Lewis beamed. “I think I have a favorite brother.”

“Go do his party them.” Noel was regretting the peace he made with the young man.

Lewis leaned in.

“You know, I only came to this shindig to see if he would come.” 

“Come on now. Let's be civilized, Lewis. Never ask about who didn't show up to a party.” Ewan put his patronizing old man tone to use. “It's celebrity 101.” 

Lewis just sipped a new drink. 

“Okay Renton.”

“Okay Spud”

Their talk shifted. Noel let them go back and forth, offering the occasional dry remark.

But then he looked up. Across the room, just past the gold-flecked glass doors, he saw a coat. A familiar figure. Broad-shouldered. Walking like he had the room in his back pocket.

Noel straightened.

Wrong haircut. Wrong shoes .

But for a moment, everything in him had gone still.

He turned back to the conversation without a word, hands clenched around the glass, jaw tight. 

Then he peeled off from the duo, no destination in mind.

He ended up near the edge of the lounge, where the lighting was dimmer and the music blurred. That's where someone stopped him.

“Hi—sorry. Noel!”

She was younger, maybe early-twenties. A blunt black fringe. Dark painted eyes. The kind of anxious confidence Noel recognised from too many green rooms. Leather jacket, canvas bag, chipped black nail polish, spiked boots. A real person.

Also, she clearly was not invited. 

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m Kit,” she said, quickly. “I just… Shit. I just wanted to say- your music got me through some hard years. Like, Gas Panic!? That song made me feel less mental. I know everyone probably says that kind of thing-”

“No they don’t,” he said, soft. Gas Panic is awfully underrated. 

She blinked.

“I mean, not like that. Not to me.”

Kit smiled, awkwardly. 

“Oh. Good. I mean—not good, but—fuck.” She shook her head. “This isn’t going how I planned it.”

Noel half-laughed. 

“It never does.”

She laughed too.

“Anyway. Just... thanks. That’s it. You made something that stuck to people.”

He looked at her a moment longer. Will I be merciful? 

“You got a notebook?”

Kit froze.

“Seriously?”

He lifted his brows. I don’t have the whole night.  

She dug into her bag and handed him a battered Moleskine. Stickers peeling. Corners curled. It looked like something that had been sat on, slept on, maybe cried on.

He flipped through in silence. Raw pages. Crossed-out lines. Some shite. Some sharp.

Near the middle, he paused.

Blocky handwriting. Underlined twice.

Some people are loud even when they’re gone.

His thumb rested there for a moment too long.

Kit shifted her weight. 

“That one’s old. After someone left. Felt like he never actually did, y’know?”

Noel closed the notebook and handed it back gently.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“Thanks.” Kit smiled, half-embarrassed, half-happy. 

“There's some shit there, but keep writing. Maybe next time you will be here, invited”

Kit offered a big smile, her eyes watered, but said nothing. The contrast with her looks was sharp. Then she just tucked the notebook away like it was sacred again, nodding like she was saying a whole monologue in her head. And for a second, she reminded him of someone else. Not in looks. In the feel. In the way some people don’t know how not to feel everything.

As she walked off, Noel stayed rooted. Still holding his empty glass. 

Some people are loud even when they’re gone.

Chapter Text

Jolly fooking time.

Liam eyes the door one last time.

“Uncle.” Cassius is looking at him with a smile. “Ya waitin’ your brother?”

He is sitting on the steps looking cute and proper, neat jumper, shiny shoes. Although Cassius and Phoenix are too well-behaved to remind Liam of his own, still something about him makes Liam ache for when his kids were small and thought he hung the moon.

“‘e’s right there.” Liam points to the other side of the living room.

“Not this one.” The kid gets up and tries to kick behind Liam's knee, a silly move they always do when they meet, more gesture than impact.

Liam lets it land. It hurts a bit more than it used to.

Katie swoops in before he can retaliate, all mum-energy and raised eyebrows.

“What are you two doing?”

She herds them toward the table. They sit. Peggy at the head of the table and Liam next to her and Debbie, Paul sits in front of his brother and makes his pleased face. Everyone seems happy after the gift exchange. The little girl is still giggling loudly and the room is full of lazy conversation: film talk, weather jokes, vague New Year plans…

It’s a good Christmas, Liam thinks. Not the best he’s ever had, that title belongs to a year too far back, but still. He’s had some proper shite ones too. This is better than those. This is real.

Debbie passes him the roasted potatoes. He just stares at them.

He misses Noel.

“So, where is the missing Gallagher?” Paul decides he's behaving for to long.

“There's 3 missing Gallaghers here.” Debbie quickly retorts. “Liam's kids.”

“I’m talking about Mum and Willy’s favourite.”

It hangs for a second.

Paul laughs like it’s just a joke, but it lands wrong. He's been drinking since 10 in the morning.

“Don’t be difficult, Pauly,” Peggy cuts in, not even looking up. “He was your favourite for a long time.”

Paul swallows and shrugs.

“Well. Everyone sobers up eventually.”

Liam neversobered up on Noel.

He never did.

He knows he never will.

Later on the afternoon, Liam sneaks off with his phone.

He’s in away from the loud voices and crinkling of wrappers. He presses call.

First up: Molly.

She answers quickly, the background is calm at Lisa’s.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hiya, luv. Happy Christmas. Santa brought you something real cool, you know what I mean?”

“Did he?” Liam liked that she never patronized him when he said cute things.

“When ya comim here?”

“January first, I think.” 

“Ya think? I'm gonna rebel.”

Liam thinks about complaining how she never spends any holidays, but he knows he doesn't get the right to. They don’t talk long. Molly always gets to the point.

“Give nan a kiss, everyone else too,” she says.

“Course.”

He’s about to hang up, but she hesitates.

“You okay, dad?”

Liam pauses. He can't tell her although she's the one that would probably get him the most in Noel related things.

“Best I ever been.”

Next: Gene.

The camera’s shaking when he answers, loud music in the background, someone shouting.

“Alright, old man!”

“Barely,” Liam grins. “Ya causing chaos already?”

Gene leans into frame, Christmas jumpers must be in. In a “ironic way” as Lennon once tried to explain to Liam.

“Not me no. Skipper tho. She must have a toy story inventory in the living room right now.”

“Yeah because that never happened to ya.” Liam joked.

“Tell me about it.” Gene doesn't laugh. “What’s going on over there?”

They banter for a bit. Gene asks about Cassius, Peggy, the food. Then, more carefully:

“Did he show up?”

Liam shakes his head.

Gene nods. Doesn’t say anything else about it.

Last: Lennon.

The camera shows a cosy kid, dim lights, telly flickering in the background.

“Hey, Dad.”

“You look warm.”

“I am. Isobel’s place has heating that works.”

Liam laughs.

“Rub it in.”

Lennon doesn’t ask questions. He just tells Liam about what he got for Christmas: a book, a jacket, and some weird abstract mug from his girl. ( It's ironic dad .) They talk for a few minutes about nothing.

Before they hang up, Lennon says, “He didn't show because he is a narcissist, dad”

Liam doesn't say the obvious: He is one too so this is no excuse.

Liam raises an eyebrow.

“You psychic now?”

“Just know me Gallaghers.”

Liam grins. “Love you, son.”

“Love you too.”

He hangs up and scrolls through his contacts without thinking, past names he avoids, until he lands on one.

Liza.

Gemma’s mum.

He hesitates.

Finger hovers over the screen. His stomach does that tight, angry twist it always does when he thinks about her. About the last fight. About lawyers.

They’ve been fighting about money again, she wants more, they all do. And maybe she’s right, maybe she isn’t. He doesn’t know anymore.

He doesn’t call. It will cause more bad than good. He's not a patient man by any stretch of the imagination, but he has learned that things tend to come his way in time.

But he does picture Gemma.

He hopes she got something good today.

He puts the phone down. Tells himself he’ll try next Christmas.

He goes to the living room and they do the big family photo. There's 20 people in it, it was a lovely day, no drama, no bossy little man demanding anything.

He sends Noel the photo immediately.

________________________

Liam: [Photo]

Liam: Look what ya missed rkrid. We had potatoes n everythin. Merry Xmas xx

_________________________

He stares at the screen for a second.

No typing bubble. No reply.

Figures.

He decides to continue on. Live his life free of any Noel preoccupations. He was a busy man after all. And-

His phone buzzed.

Noel. 

Its was still a bit surreal that he could just call Liam now, out of nowhere.

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas, wanker. You better not fook the gift I gave you.” 

Liam knows exactly what Noel is talking about.

“No, rkid. I’m grateful. Truly. Merry Christmas.”

There’s a pause.

“Liam…”

Liam leans back in the hallway chair, one leg crossed over the other, staring at a half-empty glass.

“Ya alright?” he asks, gentler now.

“I dunno. Thought it’d feel better. Not going.”

Liam gets a bit shocked by the truthfulness.

“It’s Christmas. Ya never liked it.”

“I don’t like warm beer either but I still drink it sometimes .”

Liam huffs a laugh.

“I should've insisted more.”

Silence.

Liam can hear a distant murmur through the speaker, someone laughing, glass clinking. Some posh background noise.

“I saw the photo,” Noel says eventually. “Everyone looked…”

“Alive?”

“Old.”

Liam snorts.

“Takes one to know one.” Liam says, quieter. “Just... ya’re still part of it, mate. Even when ya’re not in it.”

Noel doesn’t reply. Not right away. Liam knows he's regretting everything. He used to know even the littlest expression Noel made, the tiniest sounds. This Noel it's a bit more unknown, or tries to be.

Liam shifts, pressing a hand against his bad shoulder.

“The kids asked about you.”

“ Yeah ?”

“I think they miss ya.”

Noel makes a quiet sound. Half-laugh. Half-guilt.

“Next year,” Liam says, not pushing. “Maybe.”

“Yeah.”

The pause between them stretches, not awkward, just full. Then Liam feels an urge to say it. What he spent the whole day, decade echoing in his head.

“I missed you today.”

Liam swallows. He can't help but say it, Noel just called him on Christmas day and admitted he wished he could be there.

“Not just today. You know.”

He hears movement on the other end, maybe Noel shifting in his seat, maybe lighting something.

Finally, Noel replies, voice rough:

“I know.” Another breath, and then the fucking Han Solo says “Me too.”

_____________________________

Noel Gallagher’s New Year’s Eve party was, by most definitions, a flawless affair.

It looked almost identical to the Christmas party, same walls, same gold lighting, same too-polished glasses, but something about it felt louder. Glossier. Desperate, maybe.

Noel stood just off-centre from the main bar, blazer sharp, hair slightly less so. The Chiltern was humming with the exact kind of people who always found their way into Noel’s orbit this time of year: curated, famous, always a bit detached.

He hadn’t told Sally that Liam wasn’t invited. She hadn’t asked. She looked stunning, icy grey silk, minimal jewellery, a perfect match to the glass in her hand and the expression on her face. Controlled. Bored. Effortless.

She checked in on him once.

“Try to have fun.”

“I am,” he’d lied.

She didn’t press. She didn’t have to.

Models drifted like they’d never eaten.

Actors held cocktails like they were props.

Producers hovered near heaters, talking about projects no one would ever see.

Noel had already talked to three directors, two brand reps, and someone who might’ve been in a Netflix series he hadn’t watched. All before midnight.

He didn’t even feel like himself anymore. Just the entity Noel Gallagher, confirmed unforgiven genius. That lot wasn't even brave enough to ask about the reunion.

And then, like a ghost walking through fog, Richard appeared. Black coat, long strides, no introduction, just his cool looking long face.

Noel smiled wildly.

“Thought you didn’t do rooms like this,” Noel said, one brow raised.

Richard gave a lazy smirk. They hugged quickly, but sincerely.

“I don’t. But someone said there’d be fireworks.” He said still in Noel's arms.

They separated and clinked glasses like they were making fun of the act. No fanfare. Just two men walking along open roads of love and life surviving if they can.

Richard watched the room like it was a test.

“You alright, mate?”

“Define alright,” Noel said, already regretting everything and nothing.

Ashcroft shrugged.

“I mean... you breathing without wanting to bite your own tongue?”

Noel let out a soft laugh.

“Close enough.”

A beat passed. The kind of silence where they might’ve lit cigarettes, years ago.

“ You alright? ” Noel asked, nodding to the space around them. “You look like you walked in from a different movie.”

“I probably did,” Richard shrugged. “But yeah. I’m good. Kate and the kids are alright. Mostly.”

Noel nodded. That was enough. That was everything. Richard has a Sonny too, and a Cassius.

“You doing it then?” Noel asked after a sip. “The tour. You in?”

Richard didn’t answer immediately. Just looked at him, that thin smile twitching.

“If it’s for a very good friend,” he said, “I might.”

“You always made good decisions.” Noel held his friend's arm, as if he could disappear again.

“And what are the plans for next year?” Richard asked, eyes still scanning the party.

Noel didn’t answer right away. He could’ve said the safe stuff: the tour’s going well, seeing his kids, maybe a record. But instead...

“A year where I don’t have to pretend all the time.”

Richard looked at him then. Really looked. Noel always wondered if he knew, of all the people that could know. He was one of them.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’d be a good one.”

Then he excused himself. Going back to Kate, that by the look and wave she gave Noel, still hated his guts. He just advised against marrying so young, at the time Noel himself was happily incestuous and could never predict Ashcroft would have such a long and happy relationship.

The countdown started somewhere across the room. Sally found her way back to Noel’s side.

Ten.

She smiled lovingly directly at him.

Nine.

Her hand slipped into his.

Eight.

She turned to him, expectant but not demanding.

Seven.

He looked over her shoulder.

Six.

Well... Liam wasn’t there.

Five.

Liam was sleeping. The bastard slept with the hens now.

Four.

Sally leaned in.

Three.

Noel felt himself moving, like muscle memory.

Two.

Their lips met.

One.

Fireworks exploded. Everyone clapped. People kissed.

Noel kissed back, gently, respectfully. But he felt it. That sudden flare behind his ribs. That mistake of memory. He pulled back before the feeling could get dangerous.

“Happy New Year,” Sally said, resting her forehead against his for a moment.

“Happy New Year,” Noel replied. His voice caught slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice.

He pulled away gently. Sally smiled, unaware. Richard raised his glass from across the room, unreadable.

Noel raised his in return.

He didn’t feel new.

Didn’t feel clean.

Just older.

And lonelier.

Noel drank his champagne in one long sip and told himself he was fine.

Chapter Text

It was humid in that way only Paris could manage: heavy, arrogant, clinging to skin like smoke.

Noel stood in the cramped green room, guitar case at his feet, bottle of water unopened beside it. He wasn’t drinking. Not that night. He wanted a clear head for once. Clarity, like a blade.

Liam was late. Not fashionably late. Not rockstar late. Just: where-the-fuck-is-he late.

He could hear the crowd outside, a low roar in waves, like the tide rising. Over 30,000 people waiting. And he was alone.

Paul wasn’t here. Gem long gone. The rest of the crew were walking on eggshells. You could feel it. Even the techs weren’t tuning normally, strings were getting tuned like they were an orchestra.

Liam finally came in.

Aviators. Beer in hand. Mouth already cocked like a weapon.

“Takin’ your time,” Noel said flatly.

“I'm ‘ere,” Liam shot back, brushing past him to grab something, anything, just to be annoying.

Noel rolled his eyes. 

“You’re drunk.” Not that had anything new in it but Liam had been horribly sober the last couple times they talked. 

“Fook off, I’m celebratin’.”

“Celebratin’ what? Your last gig with Oasis?”

Liam stopped. Turned.

His face was stone. Or trying to be.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t ya?”

Noel didn’t answer. He looked down at his guitar.

“You think you’re the band, don’t ya?” Liam said, stepping forward now, real anger rising. “But they don’t come for yar fookin’ acoustic set.”

Noel just stared at him. If he gave Liam enough rope, he would hang himself. 

But Noel also could never let it be. 

“They come for the songs,” he said. “And I write the songs.”

Liam’s jaw worked. His hand tightened around the beer bottle.

For a second Noel thought he was going to throw it.

Instead, Liam stepped back.

“Fuck” Liam said. “You wanna blame me, right?”

Noel wanted to say something. Something final. But he didn’t. Not then. He looked around to avoid his little pathetic brother. Liam's gaze burned. 

“Tomorrow” he burped. “All you're fucking friends will put in the paper how I tried to make Oasis into Pretty Greens little bitch” 

“Don't-” 

“Don't know what more do ya wanna from me mate” The Drunk Mess™ half shouted. “I gave you everything cunt.” 

It was a loaded horrible line, the kind of line you should never hear from your brother, but they'd crossed that bridge long ago… And burned it after.

Noel felt so bitter his mouth watered. He felt like God existed, and hated him furiously. 

“And you have nothing. You're old, stupid, drunk and you can't sing. You're a fucking joke. You're a joke Liam. Everyone laughs at you.” Noel said what he had been wanting to say for a long time now. “You embarrass me.” 

Liam surged forward with a raised fist, his mouth twisted into something feral.

Noel didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

He flinched, not out of fear of Liam, but somewhere deeper. Reflex. Old wiring. He turned his head the way he used to when their dad came down the hall pissed off and stinking.

He closed his eyes.

But nothing came.

No blow. No crack to the jaw. Just silence and the sound of Liam’s heavy breathing.

When Noel looked again, Liam’s hand was still raised, but it was trembling. His face had changed. He wasn’t wild anymore. He looked… lost.

Noel’s stomach turned. Not with relief.

“Oh, fuck you,” Noel muttered. 

He was supposed to give Liam his indifference. His you're-not-even-worth-punching-anymore. Liam surprised him once more, near the end. 

He reached past his brother, grabbed Liam's guitar, the one “Nicole and Lennon gave me”, the one he’d paraded around like a prize, and with both hands, slammed it against the wall.

The crack of splintering wood echoed like a gunshot. If Noel had a gun… 

Liam gasped in a drunk manner. Froze.

Then he ridiculously fussed about the room and grabbed the red Gibson from her case. The one Noel actually cared about. Liam didn’t hesitate. He lifted it like he was fuckin’ King Arthur, ruller of Oasis by divine intervention, and smashed it. He did it twice, just to make it unfixable. Like them.

The fucker was always the one trashing Noel’s things.

Noel stared at the damage. The busted body, the one string still holding, humming like it hadn’t realised the gig was off.

But somehow he couldn't feel angry anymore.

Not now.

He felt clear. Sharp. Sober. 

Like the flinch had passed, and his body was finally his again. Like he was about to wake. 

He turned to Liam, and instead of spitting something cruel, he said:

“You didn’t hit me. Why?”

Liam didn’t answer. His chest was still heaving.

The silence between them changed shape. It wasn’t hostile now. It was fragile.

“You know,” Noel went on, voice quieter, “that if we go through that door tonight, we won’t speak again? That this is it?”

Liam looked like he wanted to flee. Instead, he looked at the broken guitar on the floor.

“I don’t want that,” Noel said. “Never wanted that.”

Liam blinked. His rage was also gone, replaced by something older. Sadder. He still looked so beautiful. Fat and old and fried throat. Noel realized he was just Liam. Someone he could never manage to stop loving, and he tried to. God knows, he tried so much. It's stupid. Why fight so much one of the truths of the universe?

“You proper mad, saying this now.” Liam whispered, he stepped foward. 

“Maybe. But I’ve said worse.”

Noel stepped forward too, and wrapped his arms around him. Gently. Awkwardly. Like he was trying it for the first time. Now when he looked at Liam he wanted to embrace him so much more than he wanted to kill him. 

Liam let Noel hold him.

After a second, Liam’s forehead found Noel’s shoulder. They stayed like that, the crowd outside still roaring for a gig that would never come.

Then maybe Noel tilted his head. Just slightly. And their lips brushed. Not in passion. Not for show. Just like a question.

And Liam didn’t say no.

Noel woke up with his cheek pressed to a too-warm pillow. Alone. 

He rolled over and grabbed his phone, eyes half-shut.

One message.

Liam.

Voice note. 4:12 AM.

14 seconds.

He frowned.

What the fook.

He hit play.

Liam’s voice comes through, low and hoarse, but lighter than expected.

Had a dream we were kids. Proper little shits, nickin’ sweets 

Dunno. Just... felt good .

 

A pause. Then, like a threat, but not really. 

We should meet soon, rkid. Or I’ll get mad.

That’s it.

Noel stares at the phone, thumb hovering over the screen.

He replays it.

Twice.

We should meet soon.

Noel doesn’t know what to do with that. Maybe they shouldn’t. 

He lies back down and stares at the ceiling. The dream lingers.

And now Liam’s voice does too.

Buttons is already at the door, tail wagging like mad, like she’s been waiting her whole life for this exact walk. Liam’s not even got his hoodie on yet, and she’s pacing like a little general.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, dragging the sleeves over his arms. “You’re worse than me.”

She gives a single sharp bark, the royal command of a dog who knows her place in the world and in the house. Liam grabs the leash. Not that it mattered. Buttons walks him. Not the other way around. 

Outside, the street is damp and sleepy, with that proper grey that sticks to your teeth. The kind of morning that smells like toast from someone’s window and last night’s piss in the alleyway. He pulls the hood the moment he's out the door. 

“Pick somewhere decent,” Liam tells her. “None of that hedge-by-the-bins shite.”

Buttons doesn’t listen. She never does. She charges ahead, little legs going like pistons, leash tugging just enough to let him know who's in charge. He tries her pace. 

At the corner, she takes a sharp left. Her nose twitches like she’s caught scent. Liam waits while she investigates a drain with the focus of a war detective.

“Christ,” he says, tugging the lead a little. 

Hope it’s not another dead mouse. Don’t need to start me year buryin’ victims. 

“Liam Gallagher's partner in crime is the brains and he is the looks”, they'll say. 

He gets sad about not carrying his phone to his morning jog. That would have been a killer on Twitter. 

They make it to the park, and Liam unclips the lead. Buttons is off like a rocket. Full speed, ears flapping, chasing pigeons that were never hers to catch. He watches her, smiling without realising it.

There’s no noise but distant traffic and a man swearing at his phone. No cameras. No crew. Just a man and his dog. It's the 5 billion year old story. 

He hums. Just a bit. Not even a real tune. But something starts to form.

Then stops.

Not now.

Buttons rolls in the grass like she’s being paid. 

*

Liam is listening to Debbie. He is! She's reading the day’s list from her phone: appointments, deliveries, all a bit boring and frilly, but he’s definitely paying attention.

She looks fantastic in this shirt. Hugs her at the right places, that one…

She’d been a bit weird yesterday. Hadn't she?

Yeah.

No!

Don’t be a paranoid old man. Doesn’t suit ya.

You’re right, mate. It’s alright.

“Then Aaron will come in with the papers by four,” Debbie says, reading. “And Elvis will join Cookie Monster for a show.”

“I hope I’m Elvis,” he says, grinning as he stands up and goes for a hug. 

“I hope you listened.” She taps her index finger against his forehead.

“Course, luv. I’m always tuned in.” He embraces The Guru. 

She snorts. Doesn’t pull away.

**

By seven, Liam’s at physio.

His hip clicks when he lies on the mat. The therapist does this stretch he hates, and Liam curses loud enough to make someone in the hallway laugh.

“Gonna rip me in half,” he grunts.

“That’s the idea,” the physio says cheerily.

Between movements, Liam checks his phone.

Still nothing.

______________________

Liam:you alive or have i hallucinated our peace&love?

______________________

Liam is put in another weird position. 

______________________

Noel:Figment of your emotional instability .

_______________________

Liam:Hot .

 ***

It's only the second week of the year. How come he is this busy? 

Liam is blowing on a thingamajigger his doctor told him to. It's a vocal cord exercise. He works out! He's on Twitter like an unemployed lad. He sees Anais and Molly in lovely photos together being praised. 

He sends Noel and the girls. 

_____________________

Liam: they’re ours? mad that.  

_____________________

_____________________

Liam: lookalikes youn will be hearing from my lawyers

______________________

Anaïs replies first:

_______________________

Anaïs : Speak to our agents

We’re booked and busy 🤭

_______________________

Liam smiles. He misses her a lot. 

_______________________

Liam : im the original 

Liam : cease and desist

Liam : dont be an aNoëls come see your favorite uncle 

_______________________

She sends little pink hearts. Which must mean something. Maybe yes. 

Anais never thought she would know. 

She was nine when things blew up and tried to ask her dad about it but Sarah always intervened “that's not something to bother your dad with darling”. When she was a bit older and bolder she'd ask again and again and Noel would gave her the shoulders “he is a moron” he would say along with other insults. When she was a late teen she began to understand a little better. She herself had brothers now and sometimes she would die for both but not spend 45 minutes in a room with them. 

Then she asked Liam about it. They were normal uncle and niece, they would meet in Peggy's house and eventually go out on birthdays and special occasions, but she never had the guts to ask. She adored him, uncle Liam was so cool, it was like seeing her dad in a different font, a goofy one, a comic sans Noel. And Liam liked her, maybe she was also Noel in a different font for him. 

They were eating chinese food for her birthday in 2017 the night she finally asked. 

“So you and Dad are never going to like… get back?” She could have worded better, but she wanted to ask with no one around and it was hard to catch Liam alone.

He looked a bit shocked for a moment. 

“Do ya think the problem is me, kid?” Liam pointed his spoon to her. “Be honest” 

“You know him. You know him, like, maybe no one else knows him better.” Anäis  was doing what the whole world wanted and on her birthday! She is so kind and selfless. 

“I've called you know.” 

“I mean you didn't call enough.” 

“It's what I want, ya know what I mean.”  Uncle Liam always wanted to know if you knew what he meant, and most of the time you didn't know. 

But she did this time. 

“He does too.” Anäis was almost certain of that. “He wants it.” 

When Anais tried asking again after the 2019 incident Noel said another thing. 

He’d said, “Why would I submit to that?” and it told her more than he realised. It was pride. It was not the anger he’d sold in every interview for years, at least not anymore. That made her a firm believer. She just needed to work more, she needed conspirators, and a bit more time. 

Truth is: she always liked Oasis more than she should’ve. Not just because it was trendy, or because her dad and uncle were in it.

She got it. The feeling, the attitude, the youth. The despair of having to forge your own path. You know I didn't mean what I just said. You gotta make it happen and more importantly don't look back in anger. 

When she was younger it bothered her, but now she almost never gets sad or angry if someone brings up her dad's band. She listens to the story that comes after. It is cool to see how her dad and uncle changed lives just being what they were. She aspired to do the same, someday. 

That day she was pestering Noel to sing her something. Maybe the new stuff? There is no new stuff. Okay, Dad. I'm serious! He buckled quickly after she gave him the puppy eyes and a “Look at it as a rehearsal, dad”.  

Noel mockingly played a single note a couple times and then looked at her like he was done. She just smiled. 

She was sitting across from him at his office, in his enormous house that he had alone now. Bachelor dad was better now, he looked so happy. 2023 was rough on him, he would never agreed to sing her anything. And honestly she would not have asked. 

Noel sang gently. And as he did. Anäis felt like she knew. 

“It's about uncle Liam.” 

Noel stopped playing. He looked at her as though she accused him of murder. 

“It's my favorite” She tried the safe approach. 

“I know, darling.” 

“And it's about uncle Liam.” She got up and sat by her dad's side. “You know… It's not a crime to love your brother. I love mine.” 

Noel looked even more disturbed, but just to the trained eye. He tried the cords, and looked at the guitar like he wasn't even on earth. 

“It's about people.” He said after some time. 

“Yeah. Gallagher people.” 

He laughed a bit and so did she. 

“I think it should be on the setlist.” She changed the subject. 

So what her dad composes to his brother? It's not like it's extremely weird. Just a little. 

He hugs her with one arm and a proud grim. 

“My daughter that thinks she's so clever.” 

She's chatting with a friend about it the same night. They’re a bit drunk and sharing a joint because it's cuter and more intimate and neither wants an entire one. So it's the third they're sharing. 

“My dad made my favorite song to my uncle.” She probably should not have said it. 

Molly laughs hard at her. Maybe she's telling this to the wrong Molly. 

“What? Which song?” She sat upright and gave a small hit. 

She passed to Anäis. 

“Don't you know my favorite Oasis song?” It bothers the blond one more than she expects. 

Molly laughs again. 

“You keep changing.” 

“No I don't. It's my favorite since I'm 8 years old.” 

“I'm sorry your highness. I have to memorize your favorite Oasis song.” She doesn't sound apologetic. “Sing a bit.” 

Anäis puffs and then exhales slowly, like she’s buying herself time. She hums the first few chords, barely audible, then sings soft but certain. 

“Well… it's a little... Like he's disappointed and… His God?” Molly robs the fag from her friend. “And I thought my family was weird.” 

“It's not weird.” 

“No, it's cute.” Molly coughs. 

Anaïs knows what it is. 

It's fucking romantic. 

Chapter Text

The Nobu Hotel, London. 13:43 .

“Can you stop? It's just an old man, not the fucking pope.” Lennon is annoyed with his brother; he's being extremely uncool.

Lennon’s voice echoes lightly in the sleek Nobu suite. He is draped over one of the kitchen barstools, long legs kicked out, scrolling on his phone.

“For Dad it is.” Gene actually looks worried.

“Yeah it is,” but you’re the favorite, so why worry? “But if he likes Dad now… Why would he have a problem with you?”

Gene paces, proper Gallagher style, in and out of the kitchen space, hands in his hoodie pockets, hoodie up despite being indoors. He glances at the door every couple of minutes like it might do something unexpected.

Lennon sighs, finally locking his phone and slapping it screen-down on the counter.

The hotel suite is massive, almost offensively so. It has three rooms, a view of the skyline, a kitchen no one will use, and a sitting area big enough for an orchestra and then some. But it still doesn’t feel big enough to contain what’s about to happen.

No one dares to say what that is. Not out loud.

Liam is in the other room. Alone. The “main” room. The one with the floor-to-ceiling windows and the actual sofa that costs more than three regular wages. He paces too, but in silence. Phone in hand, unread message on the screen. Then pocketed. Then out again. He checks the time for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“You alright?” Gene calls from the threshold.

“Course,” Liam answers without turning.

Lennon appears next to Gene, crossing his arms like a mirror.

“This is how horror movies start.”

Liam turns to face them.

“Do you two ever shut up?”

“No,” Gene and Lennon reply, deadpan.

There’s a beat of almost-normal silence. Like maybe it’s just another night in a posh suite and not what it really is.

Then: the knock.

A single, polite, annoying knock on the suite door.

Gene and Lennon freeze.

Liam doesn’t.

He rolls his neck, cracks his knuckles, mutters, “Alright, alright,” and strides past them with purpose that feels too fast.

He opens the door.

Bonehead walks in like no time has passed. Denim jacket, big grin, and carrying what looks suspiciously like a bottle of something celebratory.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says, arms already out, “back to the good old days, huh?”

“No more modest rooms, thank God,” Liam says, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Gene gives Bonehead a nod and a side hug. Lennon says, “Alright, legend,” which makes Bonehead laugh like he’s just been knighted. They shake hands in the funny weird way they’ve done since Lennon was a smurf.

They gather near the kitchen of all places.

“So. This it?”

“Waiting on one more,” Liam says, voice easy. Too easy.

Feels like they’re always waiting for him.

Bonehead compares his stuff with the bar they have and comes to the obvious conclusion. He pours for five.

And like clockwork, not even a full minute later, the knock comes again.

Not loud. Not rushed. Just two dry, British taps on a door.

Gene looks at Lennon.

Lennon looks at Liam.

Liam doesn’t say anything. He just opens it.

Noel stands there, in an unassuming wool coat and sunglasses still on. Hair perfectly in place, as if he’s just been carved from a dry Manc statue of disapproval.

But he’s smiling.

And Liam doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Alright?” Noel says, like they’ve bumped into each other at Tesco.

“Noely.” Liam doesn’t even let his brother enter the room. He goes for a big hug that lingers.

“Wanted to see if you lot had burned the place down yet.” Noel taps Liam's back to be released.

He finally steps in, eyes scanning the room behind the aviators. Bonehead’s laugh rings out like a welcome bell.

“Noel fuckin’ Gallagher,” he declares, arms already halfway open. “Ready for another go?”

“You’re one to talk,” Noel mutters, but he hugs him anyway. Full hug. Two arms. Pat on the back. That’s new. “Born retired.”

Gene is trying to be cool. Lennon isn’t even pretending.

Noel turns to them, taking off his sunglasses slowly. Always the drama.

“You must be the musicians,” he says, jokingly.

Gene nods, hands deep in his hoodie.

“You’ve got his jawline,” Noel says, nodding toward Liam. “Sorry about that.”

Gene grins.

Then Noel turns to Lennon.

“And you… I remember when you were this big.” Noel makes a little pinch motion.

“He still is,” Gene says flatly.

Noel laughs, properly laughs, and claps a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not the size, it’s how you use it, son.”

“Oi,” Liam interjects, tugging at Noel’s coat despite everyone having theirs on.

Noel takes it off and gives it to Liam, who drapes it neatly on a ridiculous gold chair in the other room.

The older brother walks toward the kitchen area like he owns it.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, taking it all in. “Who’s paying for this? Liam’s OnlyFans?”

Liam follows behind, slow, cautious.

“Don’t pretend you’re not impressed,” he says, giving Noel the glass Bonehead filled.

“No. I am.” Noel looks at Liam, really looks at him. “You got your pants on.”

“Oh God.” Bonehead picks two glasses and heads to the living room. “This is really happening.”

They all go there too.

The suite’s living room looks like a film set, ridiculous gold accents, a sofa so white and overstuffed it’s begging for beer stains. Bonehead drops into the armchair like he claimed it years ago.

Liam hesitates, but Noel is already lowering himself onto the main sofa. Like muscle memory, Liam takes the other side of it, leaving a wide, careful gap between them.

Gene and Lennon settle on the smaller sofa opposite, both pretending to scroll their phones but very much watching.

“Gem and Andy?” Noel checks.

“Comin’ a bit later. Like ya wanted to.” Liam crosses his legs and reminds Noel.

Bonehead looks around, amused, and raises his glass.

“To Oasis!” They all raise their glasses too. “AND MAN UNITED.”

There’s a collective grunt.

“Oh fook off,” Liam says immediately. “Door’s there, legend or not.”

“Gonna need more than a toast,” Noel doesn’t drink. “Only if it is with the blood of ten virgins.”

Gene laughs out loud.

“To City and us.” Liam raises his glass more and then drinks.

The rest follow.

“Have you seen any games, Liam? Or did you get nervous and turn the TV off?”

Of course Liam has seen the games. Noel’s sometimes in it. The fucker laughs.

“He will only turn the TV on if the Twitter crowd tells him to,” the N traitor says.

“Fucking wankers.”

“He thinks he is Pep with a pint and a parka,” Bald Paul says, smirking.

“He wishes,” Noel mutters, but the corner of his mouth betrays him with the tiniest loving smile.

They drink a bit more, discussing scores. Liam watches more than contributes. He’s seen the games, but some of it are old memories. It’s hard these days thinking about something other than Noel and Oasis.

“So.” The fucker begins.

“I wanted Zak,” Liam interrupts. “But he can’t be assed. I’m thinking Joey.”

“I like Joey. He’s American though,” Bonehead bones in.

“He’s quiet. Took me a while to notice.”

“Took you a while to notice you were a boy,” Noel says in a cute mocking tone.

“Shut up, Noela.” Liam gets up. “I trust him.”

“It’s just the drummer. I would take anyone.” Noel looks at Gene. “Ya want in, kid?”

“Don’t play with him,” Lennon takes it too seriously.

“Hey, all friends here.” Liam gestures for Lennon to calm down.

The room goes silent for a bit.

“He played for Liam, right?”

“Yeah but I don’t want it.” Gene speaks before anyone. “I have me band. I’m a singer. And… I wanna watch.”

Liam grins and flops back onto the sofa next to his kids.

“Man, I would pay to watch it,” he says, giving Gene’s leg a friendly slap. “Show of the foockin’ millennium, that.”

“Well, people paid to watch it. Too much money,” Bonehead adds with a chuckle.

“Ya wanna laugh, you gotta pay,” Liam says, raising his glass like it’s gospel.

“Yeah, but doesn’t help the ‘It’s all for money’ crowd,” Gene says.

“People work for money most of the time,” Noel chimes in, dry. “Even your dad, though he’d rather you believe it’s for ‘art.’”

“Is for art,” Liam shoots back instantly.

“Yeah, and that comes with a nice paycheck,” Noel smirks.

Noel pulls out his phone like he’s about to deliver the Ten Commandments.

“I’ve got something,” he says, unlocking the screen. “Don’t get too excited.”

Liam leans over, squinting. “What’s this, a bloody shopping list?”

“It’s the set,” Noel replies, deadpan. “Base version. Ya can add if you want.”

He hands the phone to Bonehead first, who takes it with exaggerated reverence.

“Christ, look at this. Typed like a headteacher’s notes.” Bonehead scrolls. “Well, no surprises so far.”

“Let me see!” Liam snatches the phone like an impatient kid. He squints, scrolling. “Oi—‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ after ‘Acquiesce’? You tryin’ to kill people early?”

“We can change the order, just a thought,” Noel says.

“‘Slide Away,’” Liam adds, not even asking. Just saying it.

Gene leans over Liam’s shoulder, reading the list. “Where’s ‘Rock and Roll Star’?” he asks, completely serious.

“Scroll, you’ll see it,” Noel says, sipping his drink. “It’s near the end. Warmer section.”

Gene nods approvingly.

Lennon frowns. “There’s no ‘Stop Crying’?”

“You’ve got to do that.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Noel says, getting up and pouring himself more. “Considering vibes and througts.”

“I can sing all of them.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the others to discuss?” Bonehead bones in.

“I know ya can,” Noel says, wearing his look-how-patient-I-am face. “Just… better be safe.”

“This about the last gig I did, innit?”

“No, Liam,” Noel says calmly. “You can add it in if ya want. I'm just telling you I think it's best if not.”

Liam stares at the screen for a moment. Then:

“What about ‘Bring it on Down’?”

“‘Bring it on Down’?”

“Yeah, it’s underestimated.” Liam scrolls and adds it in, along with Fade Away. “It's our punk phase again. It’ll fit.”

“Ya gave this a lot of thought.” Noel’s voice softens. He smiles, Liam knows its the flitting smile, although he looks a bit like the Im-about-to-fuck-with-you-smile. 

“Fifteen years thinking about it. Can’t stand it anymore.” Liam’s body buzzes as he speaks. “I wanna do it.”

“A very precocious boy,” Noel says, almost under his breath, his eyes sharp now with fondness, maybe, and hunger definitely.

Liam rolls the document and scribbles a new line:

You free tonight?

Then hands it back to Noel like it’s a school note, cheeky smirk on his face.

“Bingo night?” Lennon mutters, grinning, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“About the rehearsals,” Noel says quickly, voice sharp, eyes still on the phone. Everyone lets it pass.

About half an hour later, Gem and Andy show up, and the air shifts again. Warmer. Softer. The drinks keep flowing. And with them, the stories — old ones, half-truths and full lies. Laughter rolls easy now.

Even the cricket bat story comes out again, like an old song everyone still knows the words to.

“Do ya remember that meet-and-greet where they called ya Northon?” Liam asks, leaning a little too close to Noel now.

“How do you fookin’ remember that?” Noel laughs, and so do the others.

“I defended ya,” Liam says, chin up, “but I wanted to laugh so bad, mate.”

“That place was weird,” Noel says.

“He’s still pissed he didn’t get laid,” Bonehead adds, grinning.

Except Liam knows for a fact Noel did get laid that night.

First-hand knowledge.

“Yeah,” Gem chimes in with a wicked smile, “remember when he wanted to kill Liam ‘cause he was off shaggin’ that reporter? Valentine’s Day in-”

“Come on, guys, come on,” Liam waves it off, face flushing. He doesn’t even remember half of it, and the other half — he’d rather forget.

Better if Noel forgets too.

Noel leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on Lennon like he was examining a new guitar he might buy but wasn’t sure yet.

“Can I tell you something, kid? Your stuff… it’s not so bad.”

Lennon blinked. Of all the things he expected from Noel Gallagher, praise wasn’t one of them.

“Thanks?” he said, voice tilting up like a question.

“Yeah, it's not for me,” Noel continued, lips quirking into that dry half-smile, “but it’s got style. Can’t deny that.”

Lennon stared for a second, like maybe this was a trap, then shrugged. 

“Gene is more serious about it.”

“Oh no, he really shouldn’t be,” Noel muttered. “But Oasis was… really bad when I entered. So maybe they just need someone, or time.”

Lennon shot him a look. 

“Maybe John Lennon could save Villanelle. Or a hundred years.”

Noel laughed, shaking his head. It was something he might’ve said himself. He reached over and gave Lennon a pat on the back.

They were in the other room now, half-listening to the muted laughter coming from the others. Someone dared Bonehead to trash the suite.

“Are you excited, uncle?” Lennon asked suddenly.

Noel arched an eyebrow. 

“Takes a lot to get me excited. But I’m interested. Happy to see you kids. It's been a long time. Always thought you might hate me.” He scratched the back of his neck like it was a confession. “I never hated you. You’re Liam’s, so you annoy me by existing. But you’re also his kids, so I could never really hate any of you.”

Lennon snorted. 

“Well, I hated you for a bit. But then you weren’t as important.”

“That’s the spirit,” Noel said, grinning, raising his glass like it was the highest compliment.

“I like Dead in the water.” Lennon said, then got bold. “Some of your stuff is good too. Maybe you will go places.” 

Noel smiled. 

“Can't believe your dad let you listen to it.” 

“I’m 25,” Lennon said flatly. “Also, I caught him crying while listening to If I Had a Gun once.”

“Liar.”

“Swear on Gene’s life.”

“Oi!” Gene yelled, as if summoned.

Lennon ignored him.

“You made good stuff, uncle. I hope it was worth it.”

Noel blinked at him, not quite smiling now.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, “you’re a sharp little meanie.” 

Noel loves it.

Now it’s just the two of them.

The suite feels cavernous again. Expensive silence.

Noel is by the window, nursing the last of whatever was in his glass.

Liam stays on the sofa, head back, one leg stretched long, the other bouncing with a restlessness that’s far too old to still be this boyish.

“You tired?” Noel asked, barely looking over his shoulder.

“I’m always tired,” Liam replied. “You exhaustin’, even when you’re not talkin’.”

Noel wanted to go there and jump on his brother, but he knows he doesn't need to. 

Liam is on his side the next minute. Brushing shoulders. He is holding his hands on his back, like when he is singing, and nervously going side to side. 

“Did ya like my invite?” Liam smiled wildly. 

“Could use some discretion.” Noel looked at him. “Your kid noticed.”

“Did ya miss me?” Liam pressed himself more against Noel.

Noel tilted his head, mouth twitching like he wanted to smirk but couldn’t quite manage it.

He looked down at the floor instead. At Liam’s shoes almost touching his.

“You’re a fuckin’ menace,” he said softly.

“That’s not a no.”

Noel looked up. And there it was. The thing in Liam’s eyes.

Hunger, definitely. Hope, maybe.

He pulled Liam from the front of the window. Closed the curtains. He didn't miss this part. He was always shit at hiding things. 

“Gotta be triple careful this time.”

“We were never much.” He caressed Noel's arms like he was trying to warm them.

“Yeah, but this time-” 

“I know. I'm not dumb.” Liam got closer. “Two old men kissing. Gross.” 

Noel laughed without his own consent and Liam got to it.

Their mouths met like they’d done it a thousand times before. There was nothing urgent about it, but nothing shy either. 

Liam’s hand found the side of Noel’s neck, thumb brushing the pulse point. Steady. Familiar.

Noel’s fingers curled in the front of Liam’s shirt, holding him there, grounding them both.

“This went well. Didn't?” Noel mumbled against his lips.

Liam smiled, slow and feral.

“Ohit'sgoingsowell.” Liam is never serious. 

He pushed the older man gently toward the sofa. Noel let it happen. The backs of his knees hit the edge, and then he was sitting, looking up at Liam like he might say something clever, but he didn’t. Course not. 

Liam leaned down, one hand braced beside Noel’s thigh, the other trailing under the hem of his shirt like it was casual, like he wasn’t already burning.

Noel’s breath hitched when Liam kissed just under his jaw.

“You smell so good,” Liam said quietly.

“It's new.”

“Nah,” Liam said, mouth brushing skin. “It's the same.”

That earned another laugh, this one quieter, closer to something like surrender.

Noel tugged Liam closer by the belt loop, pulled him down into his lap, knees on either side. There was no question in it. Only heat. Only them.

Clothes went slowly this time, half-fumbled, half-reverent. Liam’s hands steady. Noel’s less so. Too much time. Too many thoughts.

But when they were bare, skin to skin, it was simpler.

Just warmth.

Just mouths and hands and breathy laughter between bites and sighs.

Liam whispered something Noel didn’t quite catch.

“What?” 

“Did ya miss me?” Liam’s hands made contact with the proof Noel missed him. 

Noel wished the light was off, but both of them could see everything. 

Liam tightened the grip. 

“I obviously did.” He gestures toward his dick. 

“Not little Noel.” Liam covered the tip with a tumb. “Big Noel.” 

Noel scoffed, barely able to hide the way his breath caught. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” Liam released little Noel. 

“Come on.” Noel pleads. “How about you show me your recovered throat?” 

The singer gives Noel a few strokes and tries to put it on his mouth. The angle is bad. 

If you want to keep the things you love then you better learn to kneel. Noel wanted to say, but he couldn't gather the courage to admit he really loved some of Liam’s solo work. 

Liam kneels anyway. Noel thinks maybe he should intervene. The singer shouldn't be kneeling when he's all fucked up, but then Liam starts working on him and there's literally no other thought in his mind. 

Some things never change. Liam's eagerness to please that almost makes him a bad blowjobber it's still there, but he still knows how to please his brother. So it's not a long game. 

He swallows it all, like a Go o d Boy. 

Noel let out a shaky breath, fingers tangled in Liam’s hair, the silence and Noel's cock pulsing between them.

He tilted his head back against the sofa, still catching his breath, and looked down at Liam: flushed, wild-eyed, kneeling still.

Noel smirked, lips twitching toward his usual sarcasm. 

“That was good… Now come here.”

But Liam just leaned in and pressed his cheek to Noel’s bare thigh.

“No,” he said, quiet. “Don’t want that.”

Noel frowned. 

“What, ya shy now?”

Liam shook his head. 

“I just wanna be with you, mate. Right now. Just this.”

It hit Noel in the ribs. Something ugly and sad all at once. He doesn’t know what to do.

So he doesn’t say anything. He just extended his arms and wrapped them around Liam tightly. He also wanted that. 

They stayed like that for a long while, tangled limbs and half-whispered nothings.

They talked about their kids, about food, and Oasis. About nothing at all.

They kissed slowly, tired, and a little sad.

And then, when the sky outside had turned that particular shade of blue that meant it was time. Liam shifted.

“I should go.”

Noel’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. Just nodded, still holding his hand like maybe that would delay the inevitable.

Liam kissed his cheek.

“Night, Noely.”

“Night, dickhead.”

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him like in the end of a pretentious indie song.

Chapter Text

Anäis is strangely unaffected by it. She isn’t horrified or even mad. 

She knows she probably should be. There’s something almost wrong about how fine she is. But life goes on: gym, friends, texts from her dad, all normal.

Maybe she’s in shock. But she doesn’t feel frozen. Just… Reflective.

She doesn't ask him anything. Not yet. Doesn’t ask her mum either, it might tip her off. She does Google some weird shit. She listens. Watches. 

There’s more to this than she thought. A lot more. And it’s not just what people say. The way certain stories from the '90s suddenly sound less funny and more loaded. The interviews. The body language. The way her dad used to look at him, there's many photos of them kissing on the mouth, some “it's just rock and roll” bizarre moments seem almost too much on the nose.  

She thinks about asking Callum his opinion on the matter when they're watching Game of Thrones, but her dad and uncle never threw kids out of windows. That she knows of. She doesn’t ask it. His opinion of it doesn't matter. 

He’s not a Gallagher. He wouldn’t get it.

She nearly types something in the NGG group chat (Next Gallagher Generation).

Deletes it.

Better to say it when they’re all together.

Rich people grow up many things and one of them is: practical. She had a trip with her boyfriend planned and nothing would ruin it. She went to Disney and had a good time. No one noticed the absurd things rolling around in her brain. 

“Ya fine?” He asked before bed one day

She felt like a failure. 

“I'm fine, yeah.” 

“It's me? You're mad at me?” He asks, she's kinda mad with him because she can't discuss none of what she's suspecting with an actor. 

“Forget it,” she said, rolling onto her side, her back to him.

He didn’t push. She could feel the mattress dip as he settled, his breathing evening out.

Anaïs stared at the dark, listening.

The truth, whatever it was, wasn’t going anywhere. It would still be there when she saw the NGG. 

Like a curse, none of them could make it to her birthday party, but maybe it was for the best. She wanted that talk to be as private as possible. 

So: 

Hey guys. Let's meet. JUST US. My birthday, my house. You have to come. Pretty please? 

They’ve never done this. They had never came to her house. Just Molly a couple of months prior. 

She orders too much food. Not one of them eat that much. They drink too much, and that is a better flaw anyway. She is setting the plates and opening the containers when Molly arrives. Almost on time. 

They hug for a long time. Anaïs notices how much she’d missed her cousin without noticing. She had many friends, always had, but none of them were Molly. So calm and understanding.

For a second, Anaïs thought she was about to say something, her cousin’s mouth opening, then closing again, eyes darting. But the buzzer rang again, and it was gone.

Gene and Lennon.

When she opened the door, both of them stood there like bouncers, straight faces, arms folded, saying nothing. For a second Anaïs thought they were actually annoyed, until they both broke into wide grins at the same time.

“There she is,” Lennon announced, leaning in to kiss her cheek, while Gene did the same from the other side. Both of them at once. She laughed despite herself, boxed in by two tall Gallagher men acting like it was the red carpet.

“How’s the birthday girl?” Lennon said, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Old,” she said.

“Still richer than us,” Gene added, deadpan.

They came in like they owned the flat, of course. When they saw Molly, they both hugged her separately, lingering. Molly hugged back hard, quieter than them but not less warm. They all had expensive gifts Anais wasn't expecting to love but she did.

Somehow the quartet ended up in the kitchen. No one ever stayed in the living room at first.

Anaïs opens the wine. Lennon grabs a beer instead. Gene is already picking at the food with his gross unwashed hands and everyone lets it.

Talk is easy at first. Normal. Safe.

Anais tells them about the Samsung ad she has to film, direct. “Hey someday it will be a movie I promise” “I already made a movie” “...”. She knows they haven't seen it. Lennon jumped in about some shoot, complaining about the fittings but secretly loving it. Molly talks about the new magazine interview they’ve been asked for. 

Anaïs disconnects a bit, smiling, letting their voices fill the flat. It felt like a show in itself, all of them half-joking, half-serious. She notices Molly drinking water. 

They start talking about the gigs, Lennon and Gene talk about the hotel meeting. 

“Then we fook of and they stayed.” 

“Just the band?” 

“No. Just the two of them.” 

“Got worried. Imagine if they fought?”

Anais smiles drunkly. Still not a good moment. She’s too sober. 

***

The food got touched here and there, but mostly the bottles emptied. They drank, and poured more, and drank again.

Anaïs felt the air shifting. The chatter was loud but thinning, edges blurring. Things being of less consequence. She puts her head on Molly’s shoulder. Gene is handling her LP collection with carelessness and Lennon is rejecting all his choices. 

“Let's be transgressive!” He holds out the Blur 1997 LP like it's a crack pipe. 

When Beetlebums chorus starts and all of them sing and laugh stupidly high Anäis feels bold again. 

She proposes one more and Lennon and Gene follow. Molly is drinking sparkling water like a pinot noir. 

“Are you pregnant?” Gene asks moments before Anäis and he’s got a terrible tone. 

Molly is not easily flustered but she is taken aback. Looks uncomfortable. Quick Anäis! Help! 

“I think our dads used to… used to… be… lovers.” She says loud with much hesitation and slurring from all the booze. 

Silence. No one made a pucking sound. 

Good. 

Gene covers his face with both hands. Molly looks at the ceiling. Lennon's eyes twitched. 

“Look, I know it sounds crazy-” 

“No Anäis. Sounds like the worst kind of thing ever.” Molly was instantly recovered. 

“What?” 

“Yeah. Sounds so fucking gross.” Lennon is closing the record player. He stopped the music. 

“Yeah it is but.” BUT WHAT “It's not the end of the world.”  

“Why are you talking about this?” 

“Just—”

“Don’t say this to anyone. For your dad’s sake.”

“My Dad?”

“Yes. He’s the older brother.”

“And?”

“Well. How would it be if-” Gene tried.

“Don’t even continue this phrase.”

“So you know how this looks.” Lennon seems embarrassed to exist. 

“Looks like a dysfunctional sibling bond” Anais realizes maybe she is too drunk for the subject.“That turned into some other kind of dysfunctional thing. I think… I think they were in love, guys.”

“Anaïs!”

“What?”

“How can you say this?”

“I’m afraid of even having my phone around this chatter.”

“Oh fuck off. You’re acting like children are being trafficked.”

“A child could have been groomed.”

“Are you saying my dad is a rapist?”

“Have I said this? You’re showing me more and more how this looks.”

“You’re thinking the worst. Your dad crying over mine for sixteen years. Or have you forgot?”

“Yeah so. This is a-”

“Fuck you two. Think about it. He wrote fucking God Says I’m Abel.”

“It’s Guess God Thinks I’m Abel,” Gene explains.

“Are we really discussing lyrics from a song from twenty years ago? You’re nuts.”

“I just think-”

“Ana… you sound like a fuckin’ freak.”

“So your dad is obsessed with mine.”

“That’s brother stuff. You wouldn’t get it.”

“I hope I don’t.”

“Even if some of it— I don’t even want to say it. But it’s not our business.”

“I think it is.”

“Ya do?”

“Well it’s our lives. Like core stuff.”

“Core stuff?” Lennon repeats, raising his eyebrows, mocking but uneasy. He’s pacing now, restless.

“Yeah. Like you believe somethin’ your whole life and then—” Anaïs doesn’t finish.

“No. Don’t even start. You sound mad,” Molly cuts in, her tone so sharp it slices through the drunken fog. “It’s sick. And it’s dangerous, Anaïs. Don’t go there.”

“It’s not sick, it’s-”

“It is.” Lennon sours like Anais never seen him sour before. “Fuckin’ is.”

“And if anyone hears you saying this shit, they’ll think we’re sick too.”

Anaïs slams her glass down, liquid jumping over the rim.

“You’re all cowards. Pretend it’s not there, fine, but it doesn’t make it go away.”

Lennon shakes his head, muttering, “Fuckin’ hell. It’s not even denial. It’s just… nonsense.”

The room feels heavier now. The kind of heavy where nobody wants to move first.

Then Gene, who’s been quiet the whole time, finally speaks. His voice is low, almost calm.

“I don’t think Anaïs is mad.”

They all turn to him.

“I think she’s wrong. But not mad.” He shrugs. “Look at them. Look at us. Of course people say shit. Of course it looks fucked. But it doesn’t mean it’s… that.” He swallows, eyes on the untouched plate in front of him. “And if it was? I dunno. They’re still our dads. It’s still our lives. Doesn’t change what I feel about mine.”

Molly exhales, frustrated. Lennon just rubs his face with both hands like he wants to erase the whole night.

Anaïs leans back in her chair, dizzy but steadier somehow. It’s out now.

The table goes silent. Only the faint sounds of the night in the background, a lazy car, loud tv from the neighbours. 

And then Molly, quiet but clear:

“Guys. I can’t do this. I’m pregnant.”

Noel was never sane. He was good at pretending to be the level headed one, the genius and a wise old man, but he very deeply and privately was proper mad.

Only a mad man could do what he did next.

“So on Easter me and the kids will be at Liam’s, just a heads up.”

All hell broke loose. If Sara could kill he would be dead at least a year, but if she could torture, chop up and bury someone Noel knew he would be the one.

She stopped like a bomb before she kills you and all your loved ones. 

“You’re joking.” The aggravating fake nice tone.  

“I’m not.”

“You are. YOU have to be.” It's a threat. 

“I’m not.”

Her laugh cut like broken glass. 

“So.. You want me to believe that after all these years of slagging him off, calling him a useless drunk, a thug, a parasite. You're playing happy families at Easter?”

Noel shrugged. She could not deny it. 

“Kids like him. He’s their uncle.”

“He’s your liability.” Another threat, vicious now. “The one you built a career escaping from. And now what? You go crawling back because you’re bored? Because you miss the attention?”

“That’s not it.” I also missed his cock, bitch. 

“Don’t lie to me! Don’t fucking lie you spineless idiot! You’ve spent decades saying you wouldn’t give him the time of the day, that you can't forgive, ‘it's my flaw I can’t forgive’” She did a mean Noel impression unfortunately. “NOW… Now you’re bringing our children into his pigsty? Into his circus? Do you want them to end up like him?”

“Calm down! It's lunch, I'm not dropping them there.” 

“Noel, listen to me. One last time. He’s a fifty-year-old toddler with a god complex. He’ll drag you down, same as he always does. And you’ll let him. You always let him.” She is Liam’s Noel-made foil, she was instructed with all the exact things to say, unfortunately it's her nature.  

Noel almost pities her.

“You think you’re the clever one, but you’re pathetic. Every time you even say his name, I can see it. You light up like some lovesick teenager. It’s embarrassing.”

Noel felt that one, she knows his weaknesses even if not to the extent. He has to cool down. 

Sara saw it land, and went in for the kill.

“You’re not doing this for the kids. You’re doing this for you. Because you’re weak. Because you can’t quit him.”

Well… She’s not wrong. 

Liam’s been eyeing the door since he woke up. He’s in his Easter best: a colourful parka, a fresh haircut (definitely not fresh, but his hair is washed). Debbie rolls her eyes every time she passes. 

“They’re coming for tea, dear.” 

“I know!” 

By the time Noel’s car pulls up, Liam’s practically bouncing.

“Right, here they come!”

Sonny and Donovan spill out first, looking older than any photo he has ever seen of them. Noel follows slower, sunglasses on. Liam thinks he’s the hottest guitarist ever. 

“Oi, nephews!” Liam opens the door and crows, arms wide.

The boys exchange a look, then let him fold them both in at once, Liam hugs them tight. 

“Look at ya! Lads. So big. What ya been feedin’ ’em, Our Kid? Protein shakes?”

“Worms,” Noel mutters, cooly.

Just Liam laughs. 

He hugs Noel from the side and goes back to the kids. He slings his arms on their shoulders with easeness. Like they’ve been like this their whole life.  

Sonny is the younger one, he’s a rocker, tall, skinny and shy. He’s a good football player. He's 15! Imagine being 15 years old, the whole world is yours. 

Donovan is 17. He's tall too and less shy. He looks more like Noel. Liam is told by his man on the inside (Anäis) that he is the smartest Gallagher… Which honestly, it’s not a hard thing to achieve. 

Liam loves them already. He always did. 

They’re Noel’s kids. 

***

Liam’s hyping up the egg hunt like it’s the Champions League final. Apparently he hid all the eggs and made the chef cook up all the cakes and sweets in the world. 

Noel has to deny four times to be taken seriously, he will not go looking for Liam's eggs. Not outside of a bedroom anyways. 

Noel hangs back on the patio, tea in hand, watching Liam go full big-kid. He can’t help it: Liam with his sons makes him ache in a way he can’t put words to.

“Best easter ever” He hears Liam say after Donny suggests they play some footie later, he sounds like one of the kids.  

Later, when Debbie’s distracted and the boys are off in some corner arguing about who got more, Noel slips into the downstairs bathroom. He doesn’t lock the door.

He doesn’t need to.

Because a moment later, Liam’s there too. 

The bathroom smelled faintly of expensive soap. Noel leaned against the sink, arms folded, listening to the muffled sounds of cutlery clinking and Beatles music somewhere distant in the house.

The door eased open without a knock. Liam slipped inside and shut it soft behind him. For a second they just looked at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first.

“You hidin’ from me?” Liam asked, voice low, a little amused.

“I was unsuccessful," Noel said. “Again”

“Yeah. Ya was never good at it.” Liam took a step closer, hands in his pockets. “Kids like me. Y’see that? Proper uncle material, me.”

Noel huffed, almost a laugh, but it didn’t quite come. 

“Yeah. They like you.” They are MY kids after all. 

Silence again. Close silence. Liam’s eyes didn’t leave him, and Noel could feel the thrum of it in his chest.

In the mirror they don't look like a couple at all. Noel was always sad about this realization. That's life again? Sneaking in bathrooms, longing looks- 

“What ya thinkin’?” 

“That ya’re mad,” Noel muttered, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah?” Liam said. Then he was right there, within reach, his breath warm. 

Noel didn’t move back. He didn’t need to. Liam closed the space for him, their mouths meeting soft at first, almost a question. Noel let himself answer. Just mouths, the quiet rush of breaths. It wasn't like old times. 

Too sober. 

When they broke apart, Liam’s forehead stayed pressed to his.

“I'm glad JC died” he whispered, a grin in his voice.

Noel laughed, sharp and quick, before he kissed him again.

“You mean… He resurrected." 

“Yeah. And so did we.”