Chapter Text
- 1st October 1995
Damon was thrumming with eager anticipation as he was sitting on the couch while watching a newscast at home on TV, not paying any attention to what was being said or the news the journalists were spreading. His mind was wandering elsewhere, in completely different directions, in abstract dimensions far from his own. He was thinking about one and only person while in his head ‘Slide Away’ was softly resonating as if a record player were spinning inside his head.
He felt disgustingly romantic at that moment but couldn’t care less, because that day was special; it was his day, one of the most important of his entire life.
That day was his and Liam’s anniversary, the day they finally decided to become boyfriends.
Damon could hardly believe that a year had already passed since Liam had asked him to use a silly label – more for convenience than anything else, especially ‘cause they both hated those kinds of things – and to finally be recognized as boyfriends by everyone.
However, it turned out that they both loved this decision and started using that word more than they had ever expected.
Damon was counting down the minutes until Liam arrived, eager to celebrate their anniversary together at their home, still wondering how it was possible that it has been an entire year already while memories of him and Liam were projected in his mind as if he were watching a movie: their first kiss, the first time they went out to dinner together, their first Christmas together, the first time they slept together.
These memories were all accompanied by songs that had become theirs, reminding Damon of a special gift for his boyfriend: a cassette tape with their songs, hidden in one of Damon’s coats that was in their closet and ready to be pulled out as soon as Liam returned home after a whole day apart.
This was the downside of being rock stars: having to spend entire days in a recording studio away from each other. But by now they had both gotten used to it, enjoying even more the rare moments they spent together away from the world around them.
So, when Damon woke up this morning and saw the note on his nightstand left by Liam saying: i’ll be in the studio all day, see you tonight. don’t miss me too much ;), he wasn’t too upset, knowing that the two of them would make up for lost time together in the evening and during the whole night.
Damon was about to start worrying when there was still no sign of Liam by eight, thinking that perhaps Noel had forced him to be stuck at work all night, ruining their celebration for both of them.
Luckily, a few minutes later, he heard Liam turn the key in the lock and open the door. Damon stopped worrying and went to welcome his boyfriend, ready to finally celebrate with him.
“Oi, I'm ‘ome!” Liam shouted, closing the door, as Damon approached him all smiling and beaming as if Liam had just brought absolute happiness to the apartment.
“Hey! Welcome back. How was your day, eh?” Damon asked, getting closer to Liam, ready to finally kiss him.
“A fuckin’ asylum, you don't get it! Noel seemed like a fucking madman today”, Liam said half smiling almost giggling at the mere memory, while, instead of flinging himself into Damon's arms and kissing him greedily –as the older one had expected all day –, he went to the fridge to have a beer, leaving a bewildered Damon standing at the door.
What the fuck?
Liam took a sip of beer and started talking again: “Looked like one of those fuckin’ tyrants, mate! Made me sing a song like thirty bloody times! Proper mental, if yer askin’ me”, he gestured with his free hand to emphasize his point, exaggerating as always since his voice wasn't that bad. In the meantime, Damon approached him still smiling, thinking only that Liam wanted to settle down for a moment first and then wish him a happy anniversary and kiss him properly – the way he had dreamed since he woke up this morning.
“Y’know Noel, that's just how he is sometimes”, Damon started by trying to steer the conversation where he wanted it.
“Sometimes, eh...” Liam teased him, giggling.
“...But the important thing is: you’re at home now and you can just chill here. With me”. Damon to reconnect ,as if Liam were a frightened deer who would run away from him at any moment, and so he did, not even noticing in the slightest that Damon was approaching him, going to the couch, beer in hand, switching channels to any random football game that Damon knew he didn't give a shit since it wasn't Manchester City.
Shit, this day was only getting worse, Damon thought.
“Yeah, yeah, love, you’re right—fuckin’ pass the ball, ya asshole! Proper daft… I’d be better off doin’ it meself than these lot. These pricks are useless”, Liam grumbled hypnotised by the match and immediately took a sip of beer as if he were utterly hypnotized by the TV, while also putting his feet –still with his shoes on – on the table, which Damon had always forbidden him to do, as if nothing had happened and as if he were the only person in that house.
Damon was about to give up, but not before trying one last time more explicitly than before, hoping he wouldn't get an answer that would piss him off for ages. He then approached the sofa too and sat on the armrest next to Liam.
“Yeah, absolutely, darling. Must’ve been a grueling day for you,”, Damon began softly by moving a lock of hair off his face; they were growing more and more every day and Damon loved them so much more this way, especially while Liam was also letting his beard grow which was something heavenly when they kissed and when they did something else too...
“Aye, that muppet’s treatin’ me like shit, mate. I should call the fuzz sooner or later”, Liam added while his gaze was still glued on the TV.
“So much so that...” Damon continued as he stroked Liam's hair; yes, he thought, it was the right time. “You must’ve forgotten what day it is today…” he said, dropping a bomb hoping that Liam would finally remember their anniversary, taking Damon's face and kissing him tenderly – although he still preferred a bit of lust in this kiss to get to the rest quickly – and then giving him the gift that he surely had also hidden in the wardrobe. Then Damon would give him his, more kisses and hugs would follow, and, to end the evening on a high note, some sex and cuddles afterwards in bed.
He wasn't asking for much huh.
"Hmm, nah… it's October 1st, innit?” Liam said, perplexed, just because he didn't get what Damon was saying and then, at that moment, everything was clear, so crystal clear it hit him: Liam had totally forgotten their anniversary. “Don't worry, even though Noel’s gonna drive me bleedin’ nuts soon, I still ain’t stupid”.
Damon looked at him with a face only a truly disappointed person could pull off, almost feeling his eyes go moist with the tears he hadn't yet shed, but which threatened to spill and make him look even dafter. He pulled his hand away from Liam's hair and got up from the couch pretty sharpish. “N-no no, you're not, that's true”, Damon spluttered, trying not to let his voice give away how much he wanted to cry all the tears in his body. He then gradually moved away from Liam, heading for the bedroom to bury himself under the covers and never leave from there again. “I'm a bit... um knackered. Think I’ll hit the room”, he muttered, vision already blurred from the tears on the verge of falling.
Liam turned slightly towards him, frowning. “It's only eight! Goin’ bed already?! You right?" he asked in a slightly worried voice – as if he actually cared now! Damon thought.
“Y-yeah, yeah! G-great!”, Damon said and left the room, leaving a confused Liam in the living room.
He reached the bedroom and immediately threw himself onto the bed, ready to never leave those soft blankets again, that smelled like Liam – when he got up in the morning and left the strong, sour trace of his aftershave between the sheets but also the enchanting, spicy one of his cologne that Damon adored so much, for which he always buried his head in the hollow between Liam's shoulder and head, trying to soak up his scent and hope to be able to keep a piece of him with him forever, even when they were apart.
However, at that moment, Damon moved to his side of the bed, trying to avoid Liam’s scent after seeing how little the boy seemed to care about such important things like this! Or maybe, it was just Damon who cared too much about silly – even stupid – celebrations like perhaps an anniversary where they had decided to get serious and then commit into something like this which, although not as important as a marriage, according to Damon was still fundamental in a relationship. But then why the fuck was this stupid day – in which they had only spoken, without a dinner or something sensational to crown their decision – so significant for him? Why not their first kiss, which was far more romantic and sentimental? Why not their first shag then?! Liam remembers that one for sure, yet... by now, Damon no longer knew what to think of Liam.
And no, even if he moved, the smell of the boy in the living room lingered here, imprinted in any part of the bed, intoxicating his senses and swirling his mind, turning it into an infinite chant: Liam Liam Liam.
Sooner or later, this pain would pass, and they would go back to the way they were before, Damon thought, as the warm tears that were previously threatening to fall finally spilled from his eyes, running down his cheeks and onto the sheets. He allowed himself to cry in silence, reevaluating his entire relationship and doubting Liam's love, wondering if, in fact, Liam loved him as much as Damon did.
Well, a truly wonderful anniversary.
༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:・
He was an asshole.
He was a proper fucking asshole, and he bloody well knew it.
How the fuck did he think this would be a good idea?!
It’d only been a few seconds since Damon left the room, and he’d already swore at himself in every bloody way possible. He couldn't believe he deserved someone as extraordinary as Damon when he was a completely fucking asshole.
He’d also put so much effort into this “thing”, it had taken him a lot of his time to get it right – especially convincing Noel, which felt like it took a few bloody historical eons – and he was so happy and thrilled to had sacrificed afternoons, voice and sleep just for this gift. And now? It was all going tits up, and there was Damon, crying in the bedroom, probably (absolutely) thinking what a shit boyfriend Liam was… and he had even thought it’d be a good idea in the first place.
He was feeling so fucking stupid.
Oh God- what if he wanted to leave him after this, before Liam even gets the chance to show him his present?! Liam might’ve bloody well killed himself if that happened – a bit dramatic, sure, but it was the only reaction he could’ve had if Damon actually decided to end things with him.
As the minutes dragged on, he thought about calling Noel to ask him where the fuck he was, but he hoped that his brother was already in the car a few blocks away, about to ring the bell any second to warn him of his presence.
He wouldn't call himself a dreamer, but right now, in this very situation, he was proper bonkers for even thinking something like that could be true.
Not to mention the fact that he’d left Damon alone all day to go record in the studio! What a fucking knobhead…
His plan seemed smooth at first: get to the studio early in the morning to make Noel happy by doing him this favour – getting this thing done from him ‘cause Liam had been on his best behavior and in a proper good mood today – leave a note for Damon which didn't have to mention their anniversary at all, then head home and make Damon believe he’d forgotten their anniversary. Then, while Damon scolded him for being the usual careless, someone would ring the doorbell – the one and only Noel Gallagher – he would stop Damon to get off Noel and putting his plan into action. Damon would come downstairs, expecting to stay angry, but instead he would consequently see it all, loving the idea and loving Liam even more. He would throw himself into Liam’s arms, telling him he was actually the best boyfriend in the world and blah blah blah, they would have sex and everything, so that Liam could become the happiest man in the world, just for the simple privilege of holding Damon in his arms every night.
But obviously he should’ve thought first about the fact that Damon wouldn't want to warn him, rather preferred to suffer in silence, thinking he’d been utterly stupid for even believing Liam had remembered something like that.
He was a fuckin’ idiot, an idiot who even made his boyfriend cry – and not for happiness – on their anniversary! He hoped that Noel would show up soon, not so that he could finally give Damon his present, but to ask Noel to beat him as hard as he could after this; after all of this he deserved it.
He decided to stop despairing when the phone rang, earnestly hoping it was his brother…
“Listen I don't understand if I’ve arrived or not, can ya tell me the bloody address again?” Ok, Liam didn't believe in God, but hearing Noel’s voice at that moment made him feel like someone up there had actually heard his prayers.
“’Bout bloody time! Where the hell’ve ya been?!” Liam muttered, lowering his voice so Damon wouldn’t hear—maybe he could still save this gift.
“Fuck me if I know, mate! These streets are all the same. These rich bloody snobs, if they don’t all conform, no one’s happy…” Noel muttered again, but Liam quickly blocked him, turning his head towards the hall, hoping not to be heard.
“Alright, alright. They're all opulent wankers, now tell me where you fuckin’ are”.
“Couldn’t find me way, so I got out of the car, clocked this phone box an’ gave you a bell.”.
“How d’you even know Damon’s number, eh?”
“What the fuck you on about, ‘Damon’s number’! I’ve called this blower so many times I know it better than your gaff’s!”
“Not entirely wrong... look I sussed where you are anyway. Only one phone box round here – three streets off. Go dead straight, then turn right twice. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Swanky bastards round ‘ere, only one bloody payphone so they can spend more dosh on posh condoms instead o’ feedin’ their unborn sprogs-”
“Yeah, they're proper twats. Now shift yer arse an’ ring the bell when you’re here, yeah?”, and with this Liam closed the call, ready for the surprise of the century. Now all that was missing was convincing Damon to get out of bed.
It’d seemed bloody impossible back then, but since it was crazy enough for the two of them to get together in the first place, he figured now anything could happen.
He dashed into the bedroom so quickly he barely realized he hadn’t even worked out on what to say to Damon, who was lying face down on the mattress, still in his house clobber, arms wrapped round his pillow, hugging it tightly.
Liam approached him very slowly, fearing that even one wrong move would wreck everything. As soon as he sat down on the bed he tried to start talking: “Hey, what’s-” but he was immediately cut off by Damon, who lifted his head up from the pillow and showed Liam one of the worst things he could ever see: Damon's face all damp, with his stunning blue eyes now red and swollen from the previous tears.
If Noel wouldn't get a move on, Liam thought he could still kneel down to beg Damon for his forgiveness.
“N-nu-nuthin. I'm fine, go back in the living room if you want, I'm fine”, Damon said quickly as he tried not to sob in front of him and keep the rest of his tears inside his eyes.
Liam was ready to ruin the whole surprise, no longer being able to see his gorgeous boyfriend in that state. “Damon I-” he tried to apologize, now really ready to beg for forgiveness, mercy, anything but was cut off once again.
“N-no, n-no, d-don’t worry! I’m fine! In fact, I’m so happy to feel like a total idiot for actually thinking my boyfriend gave a shit about some daft anniversary! But go on, excuse me… I’m just the soppy fool who still believes in love and actually thought you love me,” Damon blurted out so many things at once that Liam lost the point, no idea what if he was meant to deny or agree with him.
“W-wait now, don’t panic-”
“Panic?! What panic?! I’m perfectly calm, nothing bothers me at all, don’t worry, I really couldn’t care less!” Damon yelled, still lying on the mattress, eyes exhausted, not even feeling angry at Liam, only… feeling being let down.
Liam, meanwhile, couldn’t get a word out, sitting on the bed beside him, terrified that he’d just made the biggest mistake ever, silently waiting for a chance to make things right.
But, just as Damon was still talking and he was surrendering to his fate, the intercom buzzed and Liam immediately jumped out of bed all excited and ready to hit the stage.
“Love, there’s someone for you, wouldn’t be better if you went to the door?” Liam cooed radiantly as if, even though it was night, the sun was shining and illuminating the entire room in an ethereal way.
“You serious?! I'm giving you an important speech and you're just thinking about openin’ the fucking door?! I wouldn’t care less who it is, you go” Damon announced as he wrapped himself tighter in the sheets again, “Ah, and if by any chance it’s your affair, tell them to stop busting their arse at eight in the evening, tell ‘em to come back another time”, joked without laughing, sinking back to bed while an excited Liam tried to persuade him to finally show him his gift.
“Come on, don't ya wanna go and meet ‘em?” he joked, a cheeky little giggle escaping, though not making the other laugh in the slightest, who remained in his position, refusing to look at Liam.
“No thanks, give ‘em my warmest regards”, and having said that, Damon threw his face back into the pillow and didn't move.
Liam stood still for a moment wondering how he could get Noel up there, or how to drag Damon down – but he had no clue which would be trickier now: was it better to hear Noel ranting because he was breathing the air of Damon's apartment or to haul his boyfriend out when he would have preferred the bubonic plague than being near Liam?
But thank God he saw the window open and immediately thought that there could be no better solution than a Serenade like Barber of Seville, but with Damon looking out the window in this case.
So, as much as he hated leaving Damon like that, he grudgingly got out and made his way towards Noel, who, god bless him, had positioned himself right under his window with his guitar ready. Never in his life had Liam loved the fact that Damon lived on the first floor.
“Damn, took ya so fuckin’ long! What, were ya fuckin’ doin’? Puttin’ yer makeup on in the car?” he yelled at Noel as soon as he got close enough to his brother, who already had the guitar ready and was tuning it as best he could.
“‘nother insult an’ I’m off”, Noel simply replied, looking at him with a frowning face. Liam knew he meant it so he figured it was best to keep his mouth shut for now.
“No no”, Liam took a deep breath, he couldn't mess everything up even more right now. “Okay sorry, I'll stop. Ya’ ready?”
“Fuck, I was born fo’ this”, Noel shot back as if that was the performance of his life and not a daft serenade for his brother's boyfriend.
Ok, now all that was missing was Damon, but Liam knew he could convince him to peek out the window, at least he hoped.
“Damon babe! Would you look out the window for a sec pleaseeee?” Liam shouted, thinking that even in Scotland, at that moment, someone must’ve heard his voice.
Damon, mostly due to annoyance and fear of disturbing half the neighbourhood, peered out the window, making Liam let out a huge sigh of relief. “Liam stop screaming it's late-” Damon started but immediately froze at the sight of the two Gallagher brothers right under his window, in front of him, ready to sing a song together. Damon couldn't believe his eyes – he must’ve been on some powerful drug without knowing it.
Liam grinned widely at the sight of Damon's stunned face and gestured to Noel to start.
“Sorry love, but you gotta look, yeah? This one's all for you”, Liam said and then cleared his throat before belting out ‘Eight Days A Week’ by the Beatles, giving it everything just for Damon.
Ooh I need your love, babe
Guess you know it's true
Hope you need my love, babe
Just like I need you
While Liam sang, Noel strummed along gently on the guitar. Everything else disappeared around him—only Damon’s face, lighting up with a smile getting bigger and bigger at every single note, mattered. He’d sing the whole bloody Beatles discography for Damon if it meant seeing him beam like that all the time.
Hold me, love me, hold me, love me
I ain't got nothin' but love, babe
Eight days a week
Eight days a week
Eight days a week
As Liam sang the last verse and Noel hit the final note, he saw Damon's eyes clear up again and, this time, finally, he was crying for happiness, as his toothy smile let Damon's joy shine through.
“Well… did ya like it?” Liam asked hesitantly, but Damon, instead of answering, just walked away from the window. The youngest didn't know what to make of it, whether that was a good or a bad sign, maybe Damon still didn't forgive him…
“I dunno know what he thinks, but I absolutely fuckin’ nailed it on the guitar”, Noel muttered, half-amused by the whole situation while Liam frowned at him, still worried that he hadn't been forgiven. “Could easily be new Paul McCartney of the nineties; an’ if ya don't believe me, ask the blondie bloke over there who seems well chuffed fo’ me”, Noel chuckled, pointing behind the youngest and Liam barely had time to turn around before Damon came running, flinged himself into his arms and giving him a kiss full of love and adoration that almost made Liam’s knees go weak.
Damon, after a few seconds, reluctantly pulled away from him to catch his breath and spoke: “So... you hadn't forgotten it”.
Liam beamed radiantly at his boyfriend. “How could I? I was the one who asked you to put this fuckin’ label on!” He laughed tenderly as he looked at Damon with all the love and awe he had. “Dames, this is our day, I wouldn’t forget it for owt”. He replied before kissing Damon again, more affectionately than before and with much more tenderness. “So... I've been forgiven then?”
“Are you kiddin’ me?! You just dedicated the fuckin’ Beatles to me! If I didn't forgive you I'd be crazy”, Damon said, and they both laughed as they kissed again, like that was their first kiss ever.
While their tongues were still tangled when they heard Noel behind them clearing his throat, obviously annoyed and fed up by all the cheesiness the two were dishing out right in front of him.
“Oh right”, Damon began giggling, having detached himself from Liam – though his arms were still draped around Liam’s neck – and he was looking at Noel tenderly, “I should thank you too, I think you're the real romantic of the family after all” Damon chuckled, tugging Liam closer, who was staring at his amused brother, sneering.
“Don't get yer hopes up Albarn, was all his fault” Noel replied acidly but still with a smirk that threatened to creep onto his face, hating himself for having found those two idiots kinda cute even if only for a few seconds.
Liam and Damon laughed before kissing again and finally being able to start celebrating their anniversary together.
Well, you could tell they had just made it a wonderful anniversary.
Notes:
I hope you all enjoyed it, sorry for the eventual mistakes!
Please let me know it in the comments what you think, if you want. I love to read comments so feel free to (be whatever you...) tell me anything!
The stunning moodboard - with autumn vibes for the whole story - at the beginning of this chapter was made by the lovely chemicalword on tumblr! Go there and see all her other marvelous work about Liam and Damon!
Also, say 'Hi' on Tumbrl, cheese-danish-42, if you want!
Chapter 2: Up Against The Wall Kiss (Alternative)
Notes:
I’d only want to say I’m utterly thrilled that some people are already enjoying this fic.
I really have no idea what to write for the chapter “summaries,” honestly – also ‘cause I’d like every single chapter to be a surprise for you all. However, I’ll give the “big picture” when the stories are AU or when the years are different from the 90s, that we all know.
This is one of my favorite chapters so far, and I hope you all will love it too! If you want the prompts list, you can find it on tumblr on flufftober profile.
P.S. I have to say that there are so many Beatles references throughout the whole story. Sorry (I’m not sorry, Liam would love my Beatles obsession, so… I love to put my favorite band everywhere).
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 2nd October 1995
The room reeked of booze and fags, the air was stale, almost gauzy and veiled by a layer of smoke thick enough to touch, while the noise of music and people chatting was strangely quite, muffled by the walls. In short, the typical atmosphere of a party.
This was all Damon could think of before he was pushed against a wall and was kissed greedily – hungrily, no less. Again, standard for a party.
Except, of course, it is not so typical that the person who pushed you against a wall and is now kissing you is also the one with whom you have been sparring for about a year; the one the entire British press – and even the bloody world – believes is your enemy.
And yet here he was, snogging Liam Gallagher like it was the most ordinary thing in the world;just another day, really.
Well, maybe he should do a quick synopsis first... though, honestly. there wasn't much to say. He and Liam had been doing this for a while now and neither of them even remembered when it started – maybe it had happened at another party, both of them too drunk and wired to notice that the mouth they were kissing belonged to a supposed mortal enemy… Or maybe it was that time in some storage room after an Oasis gig at... Damon no longer even remembered which of the many it was.
Either way, the only thing he knew right now, after too many drinks and whatever else he’d put in his system, was that Liam's tongue was buried so deeply in his mouth that he felt it might soon end up in his throat.
Not that he was complaining mind, they were the ones who made all this happen. Them and that fucking “Britpop Battle” that somehow managed to make them... well, there's no other word for it than ‘horny’, more than they probably ought to be, turning their shags into little “wars” whenever one of them scored another win.
Which had, somehow, turned into fucking each other more often than not for the most ridiculous reasons, like: Country House beat Roll with It, so naturally you own me a blow job since I've got the first place, darlin’, or like the reporter who interview us today said Oasis are his favorite. So, come ‘ere, I wanna fuck you while you say the same. Sometimes it was even bellend things like: I’ve discovered I'm better at drawing than you, so you have to suck me.
Honestly, by now, they’d use any excuse to sleep together, and sometimes not even that! That, more than anything, worried Damon; nowadays they were staying over to sleep with each other, talking late about nothing in particular, both falling asleep on opposite sides of the bed, and then always waking up in the heat of the morning strangely, and even awkwardly, tangled together.
Not that Damon had some problems with the whole situation; in fact, he loved chatting with Liam about absolute bullshit just to spend some time with him. But he understood that the line between sex and actual feelings was getting thinner by the second.
Right then, though, with Liam’s hands roaming over his skin, his legs tight around Liam’s hips, and his mouth tasting of strong cigarettes and harsh alcohol, those thoughts could easily wait.
Liam broke away from him to catch his breath and gazed at him with pupils dilated, full of lust, a sly grin that had just formed on his red, swollen lips due to their previous kiss, and a face so angelic Damon almost couldn’t believe it belonged to the world’s most cocky, arrogant and asshole frontman.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” slurred Damon, with his mouth moving slower – no longer just from the drugs, but also because of the kiss – looking better at the room in which Liam had dragged him. It was an almost completely dark bedroom except for the golden moonlight streaming through the window, illuminating their faces, panting and flushed like peppers.
Liam grinned even wider, looking at Damon with a gaze that was... fuck in love.
“Didn't you hear? They’ve got one of our songs on downstairs a bit ago.”, chuckled the little one, his voice thick from drink, locking eyes with Damon, who supposed he was in the same state: red as a tomato, pupils dilated, lips swollen and crimson.
Damon laughed then, thinking Liam was mad. But if he was so, there were definitely two of them.
“Oh yeah? You wanted to make out with me ‘cause your own voice turn you on?”
“An’ what, your own singin’ doesn’t get you goin’, you presumptuous bastard?”
Damon giggled even more, though, truth be told, even his erection was now just as obvious as Liam's, and being pressed against a wall while Liam was on him, well it only made him even more excited. And that kiss before? Don’t even get him started on what it had done to him!
He didn't even have time to reply because Liam's lips were on his again, kissing him once more. However, this time with a different kind of… tenderness, which wasn't there before. The first kiss had been ravenous and greedy, a sort of greed and hunger Damon had only ever felt in his entire life with Liam. Meanwhile, this one was sweeter, almost as if Liam was taking his time to completely map every inch of Damon's mouth, trying to memorize it.
Damon opened his mouth wider, wanting to hear Liam even more deeply and hoping this moment would never end. He braced his hands around Liam's shoulders to better hold himself, and, as a result, the other boy, really not missing a beat, tightened his grip on Damon's thighs to make sure he didn't collapse.
The air became thicker as their tongues met again after far too long and their bodies almost melding into one. Not even a day had passed, and Damon's body was already craving Liam as if he were the bloody arché of his entire life.
After a few minutes of kissing so affectionately, which they usually only saved for after sex – and the cuddles neither of them would ever admit to loving – Damon reluctantly pulled back for air.
Liam let him go too, though in truth they were both still rock hard, just from what’d normally be a middle-school boys make-out.
“Are you just gonna leave me like this?” Damon asked, trying to sound angry but failing miserably as he laughed after a few seconds because of the whole situation.
Liam laughed with him and he began to pull himself together. “Gotta get back to Noel. I told him I need the loo, and he'll kill me if I hang ‘bout too long”, he said, looking at Damon lovingly, like he was the only person in the whole world – making them both aware and obvious that the thin line between had gone straight to hell some time ago. “But y’know my address. See you later?”
Later.
That “later” carried all the messy truth, no longer very implicitly: staying over, waking up tangled in each other’s arms, having breakfast like some cheesy married couple in one of those films they sometimes watched together just to laugh at all the bollocks that had happened.
Damon wondered if that line had ever really existed during all this time.
“See you later then”, Damon smiled at Liam, “Ah, but this time I’m not beggin’ you to shag me just ‘cause I’m pretendin’ to be the biggest Oasis fan”.
“Oh, that’s to be seen, darlin’”, Liam said, winking at him and stepping out of the room, leaving a grinning, utterly smitten Damon behind.
It took him nearly a minute to get back to the real world and stop imagining how the night with Liam might unfold..
After settling himself and hiding his erection properly, he left the room and headed back downstairs to the party, hunting for his mates somewhere in the house.
A thought flashed through his head again, and so he started laughing: he had just been kissed against a wall by Liam Gallagher himself, as if they were a couple of middle school kids...
Notes:
Say hi on tumbrl, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 3: In Vino Veritas
Notes:
Me and my hate for latin agaisnt this promt...
Just joking, this was such a good prompt. Hope you'll like it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 3rd October, 1994
Alcohol flowed through his veins like it had taken over the job of blood, his body felt lighter as if he was floating, his bones no longer seemed to exist while his limbs became loose and malleable. His eyes felt heavy and his vision blurred; all his movements slowed to a crawl, and his head seemed drained of any thoughts, leaving only room for... no, there was no room for anything, except the absence of everything.
What a poetic way to say he was drunk, don't you think?
But you can't call him drunk, nah, drunk didn’t even cover it. This was more.
It was all down to that posh wine Noel made him drink a little while ago, handing him the whole bottle as if he didn't know Liam would neck the lot. Barely halfway and the stuff had already clobbered him, so he’d decided to stop while he still had a brain. Usually he stuck to beer—ten times lighter—or the cheap crap in dodgy bars, the kind that went down your throat so quickly you barely clocked you’d just swallowed 38 degrees of some exotic, fake-fruit rubbish.
But this... this was different.
Not as strong on paper, but pure. No watering down, just straight grapes turned into trouble. Had to be sipped slow, taste the fruit in it—but not like some fizzy pop, more like straight-up grapes gone bad in the best way. He hadn’t a clue what he was drinking, didn’t give a toss—just trusted the hit.
And, in this very case, the result was total drunkenness, thanks to it – or maybe bloody because of it – he didn’t give a toss about what he was doing.
Maybe that was part of the reason why, with his head feeling way too heavy, he plonked himself right at the table where none other than that fucking snob Damon Albarn was sitting.
Now, Liam criticized him a lot yeah, but truth was he didn't actually hate him. Nah, it was more like a shield against all that cuteness Damon usually showed to him; all that kindness, accompanied by a shining smile and bright blue ocean eyes.
Yeah, maybe he was a little bit in love with him, but he couldn't just tell him, could he? Damon would certainly laugh his arse off, take him for a ride, and announce to the world that Liam was a corny, weak fag sod. So, better to be an asshole then, saved him all that drama, and most importantly, saved him from the beatings Noel would’ve handed out if everything he listed above actually happened.
However, as soon as he plopped down with a thud at the table where Damon was sitting, he couldn't remember why he must have looked like an asshole when Damon smiled beamingly at him amused – tipsy, sure, but nowhere near as wasted as Liam.
“Hey there, what brings you here?” Damon asked, grinning at the sight of a very drunk Liam – so drunk he could barely keep his eyelids open, yet still trying just to catch a glimpse of Damon’s face. That smile… something unique that was now aimed only at him.
“Y-ya l-ooking like f-fucki-nggg t-teddy bearrr”, slurred Liam, unclearly, jaw heavy with alcohol, words barely understandable even to himself. Damn… should’ve stopped after the first sip.
“Um... thanks? You’re tryin’ to compliment me, yeah?” Damon asked, more than a little shocked by the bollocks Liam had just spat, but still smiling at the whole ridiculous situation. Holy shit, he looked ridiculously sexy even with that slightly embarrassed smile.
“S-sure!” Liam slurred again, trying—and failing—to settle himself enough to speak properly, like a normal fucking person, like he was ever normal even when sober...
“Oh um… then, thanks, I suppose. But like, a stuffed animal? ‘Cause I look soft and weak?” Damon asked, clearly teasing him and expecting the same reaction from Liam, which however did not arrive since the other was too pissed to even be able to flirt in Damon's strange, silly way, which somehow made him look even more splendid and even gorgeous.
Damn… he was so beautiful! Liam thought, and ended up admitting this thing out loud before his brain could stop him from saying the things he shouldn’t.
“Hell no, it's ‘cause yer kinda beautiful, d’y’know that?” Liam said, strangely not slurring like before; just a little less, but it was already an improvement.
“It’s like that old phrase that goes: now I'm drunk, but tomorrow when sober you'll still be beautiful”, Damon laughed, looking away, clearly not buying Liam’s words… though, really, it was precisely in that very moment when he should’ve, whilst his brain-mouth filter wasn't working because of too much alcohol.
“Nah, I'm not one for that bullshit. It's a proper real, yer like... beautiful all the time, doesn’t matter if I’m pissed or whatever. Doesn’t matter me Day, you’re always beautiful. It’s objective thing, not subjective one. Yer beautiful objectively. Fuck me head’s explodin’, ‘specially after this. Protagoras should give ya blow job for smashin’ his idea of subjectivity and... that other shite”, Liam blurted out in a few seconds, spitting out every single thought that came to his mind.
“How d’you know that philosophical theory?” Damon asked, laughing; his cheeks turning red, Liam swears, though with his blurred vision he couldn’t be sure.
“Well… read it somewhere. Don't remember where. But it’s true”.
“What? That he owes me a blow job?”
“No, that you're beautiful”.
Damon smiled even more, looking down at his shoes so Liam wouldn't see how much more burgundy his cheeks had gone – redder that the wine he'd drunk earlier.
“Got drunk and decided to flirt with your archenemy, have you?” Damon teased, as Liam’s heart thumped fast, desperate just to have Damon a little closer.
“I'm not drunk”, Damon cracked up, thinking Liam was a prat, but also a nice guy he found cute. “Don't laugh, it's true! That's more than drunk, I've had like, like, some wine and now I'm, like, triple as far gone!” He slurred, giggling slightly, jaw completely betraying him due again to alcohol.
“Well, at least drink some serious stuff for once”, Damon joked, his cheeks still red, that damn smile not leaving his face—leaving Liam staring at him, with an increasingly beautiful vision of him, even more gorgeous than before.
Fuck… he wanted to kiss him so badly. And, well, that’s exactly what he told him.
“Fuck… I’d like to kiss you.”
Damon’s eyes went wide comically and he giggled nervously, getting more flustered by the second – maybe even happy about Liam’s bold confession.
“W-hat – are you serious?!” he asked, eyes wide and surprised, maybe even… hopeful? Nah, couldn’t be, probably just Liam’s drunken brain seeing oases in the desert that weren’t really there.
“Never been more serious,” Liam said, filter completely shot, but right then he couldn’t care less about consequences – he could only admire Damon in all his bloody majesty.
“In vino veritas then.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a saying the Latins used. Means wine makes you tell the truth.”
Liam laughed, amused at Damon, who laughed along too. “Smart, too! Must’ve won the lottery if you actually kiss me.”
Damon smiled, almost looking shy, thinking about his next move. Even though he hadn't drunk like Liam and could actually consider the consequences, he didn’t give a damn.
“So… you really wanna kiss me?”
“Damn, you might be cute, but you seriously need to get your hearin’ checked, I reckon,” Liam laughed, Damon chuckling along. Damon brought his hand closer to Liam’s one, letting theirs touch, and Liam got proper goosebumps.
“Fucking finally! Can’t believe how long I’ve been waitin’ for you to ask me!”
“So...is that a yes?” Liam asked hesitantly, heart thumping, desperate to feel Damon’s lips on his soon.
“Yeah, I reckon so. But only if you keep spoutin’ yer philosophical bullshit!” Damon replied, grinning like a fool, taking Liam with him. They looked at each other so lovingly that Liam thought he must be dreaming; yet it was all real, both the headache and Damon wanting to kiss him right there.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want, love,” Liam winked, taking Damon by the hand and dragging him out of the bar, running to a more secluded spot to finally kiss him.
Maybe they should’ve thanked the fucking Latinos after all.
Notes:
Sorry but I'm trying to make the most of those weeks in January when I spent half mont studying the sophists...
See you tomorrow with a new chapter with a different universe and time!
Say Hi! on Tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 4: Set In Another Time
Notes:
Sorry for the wait but it's been a real Hard Days Night...
And, since we're talking about Beatles, I should tell you this is a Beatles based chapter!
Lovely, I know. Liam would proud yeah.
And, since I'm both the greatest Mclennon shipper and a Liamon lover, how could I not combine these two ships?!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 4th October, 1964
They were stuck at the usual bloody press do their manager had dragged them to, waffling on about how fab the new tour was, how they were dead chuffed to be off to America, when the next record’d drop, whether they were bashing out new tunes; all that gear Liam couldn’t care less about, not listening to anything the press was saying. He was too busy trying to breathe round the tie strangling his neck – ‘cause Brian had ’em scrubbed up like proper English flaming dandies – too knackered to keep his eyes open after about three hours’ kip, and far more interested in watching Damon across the table, flashing that grin he only wheeled out for these dull-as-dishwater interviews.
God, Liam loved that grin so much, couldn’t wait to leg it back to the hotel after, hole up in their room and get a bit of time with Damon. Always the same game: Damon plonked on the bed with his bass and a notebook, dead set on knockin’ out another tune with Liam so the world could have yet another Gallagher/Albarn smash to scream about. But Liam has never never been keen on stickin’ to the plan – always talking his partner out of playing, fancying a bit of something more fun than song-scribbling. Not his fault if he wanted a bit of motivation before tonight’s gig – before and after, course.
It was mad thinking how many nights they’d spent together, all them nicked moments, hidden snogs and sleepless nights – stopping the world for a tick and realising just how far they’d come: two lads from Liverpool now taking on the whole world and conquering it totally – with George and Ringo tagging along of course. They’d kicked off in grotty bars, with crap gear that always went outta tune every other night, and scrap wages that nearly made Damon pack it in ’cause his dad wanted him working properly instead of wasting time in some daft dead-end band – load of bollocks, that. Liam reckoned he’d never made a sharper choice than marching up to Damon’s gaff that day, telling his old dad to sod off and nicking his mate back.
“Liam, what do you think?” A journalist with a crapping American accent asked him, one of those who get right up yer nose ’cause you’ve got the proper Liverpool sound and they think their way’s English. Fucking Americans-
“We’re both proper excited for this tour and, though busy, we’re still getting on with the writing, y’know?” Damon chipped in before Liam could open his gob, clocking straight off that Liam hadn’t been listening —and thank God for that. Damon always knew him better than anyone.
“So we're gonna hear a new Gallagher/Albarn hit soon, then?” Another journalist piped up from the back, this one with a proper English accent that made Liam grin, finally some of our own, eh?
“You can bet your ass! It'll be a smash!” He announced, euphoric, looking at Damon who was already staring at him smiling, flashing that daft fake grin from before. No, this was the real one, that smile he’d always saved just for Liam, ever since that bleeding village fete, when Liam was drunk and Damon was ecstatic, staring at him like he was some sort of god from whom you couldn’t look away. And, that night, Liam made the most important, the most proper decision of his life: letting Damon join his band.
Who’d’ve thought it’d end up like this, eh?
“Yeah, we’re on it. After this lot, we’ll probably get on with writin’ our new single,” Damon said, turning to the journalist, cheeks reddening only because Liam was staring at him.
Writing, my arse, Liam thought. After this, they wouldn’t be writing a flying fuck; too busy nicking kisses off each other.
༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:・
After nearly a gruelling quarter of an hour, the unending interview finally wrapped and the lads were bundled into a car ringed by hordes of screaming little birds. Brian and Mal, sharp as ever, got ’em inside before anyone laid a finger on ‘em.
The ride back to the hotel was short on the clock but felt like bleeding centuries to Liam. Couldn’t keep still, too wired thinking about nicking a few hours alone with his writing mate before the night’s show. George and Ringo were jabbering away to Damon in the back, while Liam sulked in the passenger seat, cursing the fact he wasn’t next to him – could’ve slid a hand onto his thigh, leaned in close, all the daft soppy carry-on they were mad for.
Once they arrived at the hotel they checked in in an instant. Every tick of the clock wound Liam tighter, and Damon was acting like he hadn’t a clue – flirting with the fucking bird on reception, feeding George some daft story he could’ve saved for later, asking Mal about the cases as if he didn’t know what a bleeding suitcase was.
Bastard, Liam thought, he’d pay for that.
Ringo and George waved off to their own room, and Liam and Damon rode the lift in tight silence with Mal. A few more seconds of torture. Soon as their mate peeled off, Damon shoved the key in, swung the door open and hauled his bag inside, keeping it open for the other. Liam barely lobbed his own case anywhere before turning on him, door barely shut and Damon found himself pinned against it, Liam’s mouth crashing onto his.
Damon grinned against the kiss and kissed back. God, he’d missed him, and it’d only been a few hours. His hands slid to Liam’s hips, drawing a low moan, while Liam cupped his face, thumb stroking soft as Damon tilted his head, giving him more, always more.
When they broke away, Damon opened his eyes and gave that sweet, tender grin Liam had loved for years. “Hmm, someone's a bit impatient here”, he giggled softly, the sound pulling a smile out of Liam too.
“Oh, really? Maybe ’cause some bastard left me hangin’ all day”, Liam shot back, having a go at snoggin’ him again, but came a cropper this time.
“What a shame. But I reckon you’ll have to hang on a bit longer,” Damon said all casually, slipping out of Liam’s arms and wandering over to their shared bed – God bless Brian for always pinching pennies - pinching and booking just one bed for the two of them – grabbing his notebook. “A hit single doesn’t write itself, eh?”
Liam just stared, gobsmacked, couldn’t believe his eyes. Typical Damon: work-mad enough to start scribbling a tune even while Liam was giving it to him, telling him to keep shagging him while he finished the line.
But not today. No chance.
The older one approached the younger one, remaining a few steps away from him. “You're kidding I hope?” he said, holding back a laugh and trying not to reveal his “plan” to get what he had been wanting for hours.
Damon smiled as he continued to look at his notebook, certainly trying to decipher what John had written the day before as a possible conclusion to the song. “Liam we can't leave millions of our fans - Liam!” Damon squealed as soon as Liam was on top of him, throwing himself completely on top of him and forcing him to move the notebook to the side to lie down on the bed because of the other boy. “Choke me like this!”
“Oh I could never. Think what Brian would do to me if I did!” Liam laughed as he stormed Damon's face and neck and covered him with kisses.
The older one stepped closer, stopping just a few paces away. “You’re kiddin’, I hope?” he said, holding back a laugh and trying not to give away the little plan he’d been nursing for hours.
Damon smiled without looking up, eyes still on the notebook, likely puzzling over the lines John had scribbled yesterday for the song’s ending. “Liam, we can’t just leave millions of fans- Liam!” he squealed as Liam suddenly launched himself on top of him, the notebook skidding aside as they hit the bed. “You’ll choke me like this!”
“Oh, I could never; think what Brian’d do to me if I did!” Liam laughed, storming his entire face and neck with kisses.
“But we have to write!” Damon exclaimed, however, putting his hands in Liam's hair, not seeming very willing to let him get away from him.
“Oh fuck writin’! After this I'll give you the best hit ever, that’ll make fuckin’ Beach Boys pale!” Liam exclaimed by kissing him, finally having his boyfriend all to himself.
“Just don’t go pullin’ it out of your trousers like I’m thinkin’, eh?!” Damon joked and they both laughed like mad, as they always did.
༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:・
The room was completely packed with screaming little girls, causing screams so loud that even they couldn't hear their own music.
Ringo held the beat behind ’em, steady as ever, drums tight as a nut. George was off to the side, guitar singing and laughing at every fluffed line Liam tossed out, words slipping but swagger never shaking.
And right there, shoulder to shoulder, was Damon, sharing the same mic with him. Liam, specs shoved away, couldn’t see a bleeding thing; the only shape that stayed clear was Damon’s grin, bright as anything, the face he could always find no matter how blurred the lights. Two voices, two guitars, moving like one.
No wonder they called ’em the two-headed monster.
Liam felt fit to burst. All his life he’d chased this dream, swearing he’d climb – to the toppermost of the poppermost – and here it was: a band at the top, tunes that’d stick in history, crowds roarin’ their name.
And Damon at his side through the lot, making the whole world seem small, ‘cause he was the only thing that mattered.
Just the two of them, up against everything.
Couldn’t wish for a better turn than that.
Notes:
This story is totally inspired by the story of John Lennon and Paul McCartney, whom I firmly believe were together. That’s why I wanted to make Liam Gallagher the great John Lennon (obviously, also because it would literally be his dream) and Damon Albarn Paul McCartney, my favorite (who, absurdly enough, are actually very similar).
A few things to mention:
-The year, I've chose, is the peak of their success, the American tour, and the release of A Hard Day’s Night (the month is incorrect but I want October as the background of all my chapters);
-Yes, Brian Epstein, the Beatles’ manager, used to book rooms with only one bed when two band members had to share a room to save money. I don’t even need to tell you how many fanfics I’ve read where they talk about this with the McLennon;
-Yes, I read a fanfic where Paul stopped sex with John to write… (an amazing fic, by the way). It’s well known how much of a workaholic Paul McCartney is (yeah, just like Damon);
-It’s widely known how badly John Lennon wrote by hand; if you look at any of his handwritten lyrics, you won’t understand much. Even after years, I still find myself reading his lyrics and thinking I’m deciphering hieroglyphics…;
-People say Ringo Starr isn’t a great drummer because he isn’t as virtuosic as others, but true critics who understand the Beatles — and I myself — think Ringo was a great drummer because he accompanied the songs without overdoing it and played with all his soul when it was needed;
-John Lennon was always prone to forgetting lyrics, so much so that during the legendary Beatles Rooftop Concert, he forgot the words to Don’t Let Me Down. There’s even a video of him singing I’m a Loser, forgetting the lyrics, with Paul looking at him amused by this characteristic trait of John;
-About the “two-headed monster” thing, it’s true: Mick Jagger (I hope I remember correctly) actually described John and Paul that way. So how could we shippers not freak out about this?!
That’s all.
Thank you for reading! I really enjoyed comparing Liamon to McLennon!
Chapter 5: Early Morning Walks
Notes:
Help me, I have still have to study so many Purgatory chapters... Dante I'm hating you now.
Anyway here is your new chapter, I hope you'll like it. Today we're reading Liamon of our universe, trying to have an hidden relationship.
Enjoy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 5th October, 1995
October mornings brought that biting wind Londoners were secretly grateful for, after three months of bloody heat they’d suffered through.
Liam and Damon, in fact, had slipped out for a walk, figuring it was early enough to dodge journalists and pap around.
Imagine the scandal if someone clocked the two biggest frontmen in Britain strolling round a park, hand in hand – as someone might say... You could almost hear Noel losing his mind, but Liam didn’t need to, just picturing Noel reading that headline was enough to make his ears ring and leave him half-deaf.
The park behind Damon’s place was only a couple of minutes away. Their fingers stayed locked as they went, Liam letting out a massive yawn, still half-asleep and nowhere near used to Damon’s dawn madness.
“Liam, put your hand over your mouth when you yawn. Even a fucking yokel’s more elegant than you”, Damon said, giving him a playful shove.
“Oh, fuck off! Yer fault for draggin’ me outta bed this early for the park! We’re not five, are we?” Liam snapped, annoyed. Damon could be such a snob sometimes, but, hell, he loved him anyway.
“Shut it. I know you love comin’ ‘ere with me”, Damon giggled, knowing his boyfriend perfectly by now, even if they’d only been together for a few months. He rested his head on Liam’s shoulder, like proof of his point.
The smaller one stayed quiet, because he knew it was true. He let go of Damon’s hand and slung his arm around his shoulders, while the taller one wrapped his around Liam’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder.
The park was small, not many people knew about it, but it was still pretty. It was full of thick and gigantic trees everywhere, however, the sun managed to sneak through quite well, even if, that day, the sun was obscured by clouds – as if London ever gets proper weather!
Flowers were still hanging on in the meadows, even if autumn was already bringing frost that’d soon kill the lot. Some animals, not yet hibernated, inhabited those meadows; such as squirrels or any other creature that Liam spotted, not knowing their names at all. There was also a pretty, weirdly clear little pond with some bastard goose that’d snap at ya if ya didn’t bring it food – Liam discovered that the hard way – and that always shone when illuminated by the sun, making that place similar to that of fairy tales that his mum used to read him as a chill. And turns out that Damon was a fan of the same stories too, read ‘em proper as a child.
Maybe that’s why he loved coming here: wanted Liam not only in his grown-up memories, but also in his kid ones. Liam thought it was sweet, even if he’d never admit it; gotta keep up the tough-guy reputation, y’know.
“Feel like this silence ain’t real”, Damon whispered, smirking as they kept walking like before.
“Yeah, s’mad there’s no traffic here, though we’re in the busiest fuckin’ city in the world!” Liam said, making Damon chuckle and hold him even tighter.
They finally arrived at their bench, which had become properly theirs by now, since they always sat there – and had also carved their initials with a heart in the middle on the wooden backrest, declaring it as theirs. They’d both chosen it because it sat right in the heart of the park, in front of the pond and that tree full of squirrels that Damon always called Chip and Chop, and which Liam instead, being a prat, had baptized them Noel One and Noel Two, which had Damon laughing till he cried that day.
They immediately sat down, putting themselves in the position they were in before while they were walking, with Damon having his head on Liam's shoulder and Liam having his arm wrapped around Damon's shoulders.
“What a peace! Rather lovely, don’t you think?” Damon asked, gazing ahead at the living nature that breathed and shone with an emerald green, and the addition of a few leaves – both on the trees and on the ground – orange, yellow, brown and red, like a breathtaking color palette.
“I’d’ve felt the peace even if I’d stayed in bed, y’know?” Liam joked by making Damon chuckle softly and getting a gentle kick this time.
“I swear, next time I'm bringin’ Noel, not you”.
“Not sure how much that’s gonna do ya any good...”
“No, alright it's true. Goin’ from one Gallagher to another… not certain it’s really all that convenient for me”, Damon confirmed, taking Liam's hand – which wasn't on him yet – between his and squeezed it gently. “But if you complain again, we won't be havin' sex as soon as we get back, I assure you”.
Liam’s eyes went wide. A worse phrase couldn't have been uttered, especially by his own boyfriend.
“Complain?! I love gettin’ up at six to go to the park!”
“Wanker”.
They both burst out laughing together, still clutching lovingly, while the whole world carried on around them, not bothering them a bit.
They were still giggling when they heard someone approaching and immediately both quickly moved, standing at opposite ends of the bench.
Luckily it was just another couple, daft as the two of them, who had decided to get out of bed at six just to come to the park for a walk. Liam wondered what kinda problems the English had, always waking up so fucking early. Mornings ain’t got no gold in their mouth, just a taste of death you can barely get rid of by brushing your teeth.
Only when the pair were far enough away Liam approached Damon again.
“Sorry it’s gotta be like this”, Damon said, settling back into the same position as before.
“Hey, hold on, we knew it would…” Liam started tenderly, but Damon cut him off, taking his hand again and started drawing little circles on his back with his thumb.
“Yes, but…” Damon sighed. “It’s hard, livin’ this way still”.
Liam smiled as he looked down at Damon. “Relax, another few years of gigging and making money, then we ditch it all and move to a farm in Scotland, away from everyone and everything”.
The older one then started laughing, making the weight on Liam's chest feel a bit lighter.
“Hmm… dunno how much I can handle you away from civilization and stuck in the middle of nature…”
“Speak up the countryside farmer himself, eh! You couldn't survive a day without the Tescos”, Liam laughed, knowing just how middle-class Damon was, much more than him. “If we were those fuckin’ rats, I'd be country one, obviously, and you'd be city one!”
Damon laughed, looking at Liam with so much love and mischief it practically lit up his eyes. “If you say so...” He raised his hands in surrender, still laughing at the line and resting again his head in the same spot as before.
“You’re just gonna have to accept it, love: you’re a city mouse”, Liam smiled, putting his arm back in place around Damon.
“Did you know my mum always read that story to me as a kid? When I went to the parks, I always hoped to see those mice…” Damon started softly, rambling on about a kids’ tale, making an absurd speech about it; but Liam didn't care if it music or fucking mice, as long as it was just the two of them together.
Liam would’ve truly abandoned everything just to stay like this forever, with Damon in his arms and the whole idyllic landscape all around.
Notes:
I have no idea who is the Scotland guy who did what these two want to... no clues really...
Comments are always accepted. Say Hi! on tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 6: Late Night Talks
Notes:
Tomorrow I have an important italian test on the Purgatorio from the Divine Comedy, wish me luck please!
Here we are, again, in the 90s with our Liamon, too stupid to figure each other feelings out...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 6th October, 1994
Bzzt–
“Hello?”
“Hi. Are you busy by any chance?” He didn’t even need to ask who it was, because he would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Nah, not doin’ fuck all. Go on, spill.”, even though the answer on the tip of his tongue was: Busy? For you, never. But he would have sounded too much like a character from some Greek tragedy nonsense. Not his style, it would have ruined his image.
On the other end came a soft laugh, very sweet; only he could make it sound like that, like a siren pulling him under with just a single sound.
“I thought you’d be out partying with your brother and the band after the gig. What if the press finds out the great Liam Gallagher is at home instead of down the pub drinking?”
“Imagine if they find out I’m not even gettin' pissed, but actually at home on the blower wiv Blur’s frontman Damon Albarn!”
They both burst out laughing. That was like their little secret, the one they loved keeping just between themselves. In public they kept up the act, pretending to hate each other for the cameras – even though Liam really hated him at first – and instead, in private, they were friends and they also did the kinda things friends do: meet up for a pint, have a wander round, and even get on the phone to each other more than most so-called mates ever would.
By now, Liam had reached the point where he started wondering how much they were really still just friends; not much because of the activities they did together, but mostly because of how he felt every single time he was with Damon.It wasn’t about sexuality, or being two of the most famous blokes in the world, or all the other bullshit he didn’t give a toss about. The real problem was that Liam didn’t have the slightest clue whether Damon was in love with him and, consequently, if he continued with these thoughts it wouldn't take long for Damon to notice and understand Liam’s feelings. Only one slip – one hand in the wrong place, or worse, one too many pints and a drunken kiss – and he’d have lost the friendship that had become one of the most important of his whole life.
And to think that, at first, he thought Damon was just a snobbish jerk… how quickly things change, eh?
“Fancy a chat?” Damon asked, snapping Liam out of his thoughts. Liam lit a cigarette as he picked up the phone.
“What d’you wanna talk 'bout?” Liam responded affably, a bit more relaxed now, sinking deeper into the couch; Smoke curled out of his mouth in little clouds that quickly filled the room. The now forgotten TV was broadcasting summat in the background, playing a program he didn’t even know the name of. A can of beer and his cigarette sat in one hand, the other clutching the phone to his ear, straining to catch even Damon’s quiet, delicate breaths.
Fuck. He was screwed by now, wasn’t he?
“I dunno... oh wait! You know what, I saw the Live Forever video on TV earlier, and… well, thought of you.”.
“Thank God, then. Hard not to think of me when I’m basically the bloody protagonist, innit?”
They both laughed again and Liam could easily claim that this was what they did most often on a call: laugh like they were some comedian’s audience, even though it was just the two of them, as always, happy to be together.
All their calls were a bit like that now: they chatted about everything and nothing, talking absolute bollocks one minute, having proper serious speeches the next.
Like: “Hey, I heard ya on the radio yesterday. Y’know, you suck less when I cannot see all yer faces! But music still sucks”. “Cheers! So… does that mean you’re a fan of ours now?” “Don't overdo it..."
“Did you know that the milk we drank the other day got pulled from the market ‘cause it was deemed harmful?” “Ah, that explains the shitty taste.” “Yeah, you were right. Proper crap”.
“A drunk bloke in a bar today told me about this medieval king who stayed three days and nights outside a castle just to ask fo' a papal blessin'. Believe it? Crazy stuff”. “Oh God… I think I read summat about it at school. You just reminded me of the whole story”. “You’re welcome. Never thought I’d be the one bringin' the culture here, eh?”
“…So what 'bout Magical Mystery Tour?” “I told you: I really like the Beatles, but I've never seen all their movies. Only watched Yellow Submarine and Let It Be”. “Then you don't like the Beatles. At least not as much as I do, unfortunately…” “Ah, come on! Don’t take it personally! If you want, we can watch the others together”. “ABSOLUTELY! Ya've to see 'em, they’re general knowledge. You must see each one at least five times in yer life!” “Wasn’t it supposed to be at least once in a lifetime?” “Not when it comes to Beatles movies!” “Okay… I trust you”.
“What's wrong? You sound down”. “No, don’t worry, I'm fine-” “No, I can tell something’s off. C'mon, you can talk to me, what happened?” “I’m just… dunno, feeling a bit overwhelmed these days…” “Wanna talk ‘bout it?” “I don’t wanna hassle you with my crap. You’ve already got your own problems-” “Dames, stop it. I wouldn’t be on the call with ya if I didn’t wanna know”. “Thanks Liam… that means a lot”. “Don’t mention it”. “So, I was telling you...”
Liam didn't know what he would do without Damon's calls every single day. They had become an essential, even indispensable part of his routine; and they really made him realize how fundamental Damon was in his life.
Yeah… he was so in love right now.
"Yes… that’s true,” Damon continued from the other end, fiddling with the telephone wire to pass the time.
"D’you just call me ‘cause of this bullshit, or is there more?” Liam asked, laughing and lighting another cigarette, instantly regretting how he’d made the meeting sound like a pain in the arse, when in reality he would have stopped his whole life just to talk to Damon for a few minutes.
"No, no… I mean… I…” Damon began hesitantly, like he already regretted calling and “disturbing” Liam.
"Hey, stop it! I was kiddin’. I’m glad to hear from ye, ‘bout this bullshit too", Liam said lovingly, and it was the truth – he wouldn’t have hung up for anything in the world.
“Really?” Damon's voice sounded happy and a bit amazed by the words of the little one, clearly not expecting the great Liam Gallagher to be so… well sweet.
“Sure. Wouldn’t have listened to that two-hour ramble ‘bout why ya prefer an Ikea coffee table in yer lounge for anythin' if it wasn’t cos I dig talkin' to ya”.
Fuck. Had he just laid his heart on his arm or whatever the hell they say?! Had he, implicitly, confessed to Damon how much he liked him?! He should write a fucking script of the things he can and cannot say before opening his mouth. Noel would just be thrilled about it, loving it.
“Come on, it was serious Liam! Now the living room's perfect, but without this stunning coffee table it wouldn't have been”. Damon stated, and started to animatedly gesturing at the piece of furniture as if Liam could see it, and Liam couldn’t help laughing at how proud Damon looked over such bullshit.
God, Liam loved that asshole so much.
“If ya say so…”
“And by the way," Damon added, hesitant but with a smile on his face. “I'm happy to talk to you too. Maybe that's exactly why I called you”.
Liam smiled. Maybe Damon felt the same way he did, maybe he too thought of the other not just in carnal or sexual ways, but emotionally, like someone he wanted to be with romantically. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who loved their calls more than anything in the world.
However, Liam didn’t wanna mess with fate. If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. And he knew it would.
“So”, Liam continued, putting out the cigarette that had now ended up in the ashtray by his couch, wanting to lighten the mood a bit. After all, if they wanted to take their… ‘relationship’ further, they’d have done it face to face. “How's the coffee table?”
Damon laughed, sounding happier than ever. “Oh, well, I dusted it just yesterday, you know”.
“Good thing; I was worried. Anyways… we must change its name, 'cause Tunsta’s really obscene”.
“Yes, I agree with you…” Damon paused, "Any idea?”
“How about Liam?”
“Oh God...”
Notes:
Yeah, it really exist an ikea table with this name... and I absolutely think Damon would love it. You can find it in the link for it in the story, I put it there so you can see it and agree with me.
The historical fact that Liam quotes here is true: The Humiliation of Canossa (Italian: L'umilizione di Canossa) took place between January 25 and 27, 1077, at the castle of Countess Matilda of Canossa, during a period of intense political struggle between the authority of the Church and that of the Empire. Emperor Henry IV, after being excommunicated by Pope Gregory VII, traveled to Italy to seek the Pope’s forgiveness. This conflict was part of the wider Investiture Controversy, in which both leaders claimed the right to appoint bishops — figures who held both religious and political power at the time. According to tradition, Henry IV waited for three days and three nights, barefoot and dressed in a hair shirt, in the castle courtyard, exposed to a snowstorm. This act of humiliation was necessary in order to obtain an audience with the Pope, who eventually agreed to lift the excommunication.
I wanted to quote this because I'm a history lover and I really dig this event (that is, in my view, so funny).Also, I have to admit that I don’t believe in fate or destiny, but I like to think Liam does, and that he believes he and Damon were destined to be together.
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 7: Caught In The Rain (Alternative)
Notes:
Sorry for being late, but six hours at school destroyed me completely. And, guess what, I have a physic oral test tomorrow.
I'm fed up so fucking much...
Oh and sorry for this chapter 'cause... well you'll see.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 7th October, 2022
He looked like a proper arsehole, standing there soaked through, in the bloody rain, waiting for something that was never gonna show.
Maybe his life was really a fucked-up rom-com, but it ended in tragedy – even more sadly than a Greek tragedy, if you asked him.
And as the drops hit loud on his jacket, he could hear, in broken little rhythms, the sound of all those sighs he’d fed his heart with his whole life – once strong, alive, now swollen and wrecked – back when he’d made that one huge youthful mistake, the one that changed everything, splitting Liam as he is now from the young, careless him: half the man he is today, but fine with the mental fog back then, ‘cause at least he was happy, happier than he’d ever been, with the world at his feet and life stretched ahead, thinking it could’ve been amazing, almost breathtaking. The best life of all.
However, as he has just said, many mistakes are made when we are young, but every one of us who’s truly lived has surely made the worst and biggest mistake of all.
Falling in love.
That is the fatal mistake he made, the one that totally fucked up the trajectory of his whole life.
Then, falling for his bloody arch-enemy didn’t exactly help; something he’d never admit – not to Noel, anyway – just to avoid hearing him, after years of silence, go: “Told ya”.
Liam knows, he always knew all this shit. Except that... back then, it was just so easy and magnificent to fall in love with Damon Albarn, he didn't give a toss that they were both men, that their bands were against each other and all the other reasons that, from the beginning, had doomed their relationship.
But maybe he should’ve thought about it, since here he was, now, in Primrose Hill, soaked to the bone, waiting... well, you could say that for Godot, no one would have arrived anyway. Or rather, that lot – whoever they were – waited less for Godot than he’d been waiting for Damon, actually.
He would have liked to light a cigarette, but, well, you understand very well that with this rain it would have been short-lived. So Liam just stayed there, frozen, admiring London that was at his feet. He had always loved Primrose Hill – loved it enough to buy a house there, a lifetime ago now – because from up there he could see all of London, feeling like a king checking out his kingdom, back when he still had the world at his feet, offering him a perfect future.
Now all he could do was stare at what had once been his city, almost his own, and see a metropolis that had moved forward, which no longer even knew who he was, making room for something else, for a future in which Liam just didn’t fit anymore. But that, unfortunately, had started way back at the end of the nineties. The year he totally lost his head; but, in his case, no one came to fetch it back from him on the moon... he had to get it back himself, after years – indeed, terrible to say, but we should call them decades – had passed, then he rebuilt his life, and tried to be happy even without Damon.
However,seeing as he was still standing there waiting, it was pretty clear he wasn’t exactly nailing this “life without the bloke who was the biggest love of his life” thing.
“You haven’t changed a bit, huh? Still forgetting your bloody umbrella,” came a familiar voice from behind – Liam hated himself for it, for feeling like this even after everything, after all this time – and suddenly his heart skipped, warmed him up all over, even though he felt like a drowned rat, honestly, maybe even worse.
Liam turned, as if reflexively, like his whole body was under a spell from Damon's voice alone, which was like that of a fucking mermaid, chaining him forever to him, only thanks to his voice. Liam took a proper look and saw the signs of age on Damon’s face: he had the same wrinkles as him, now rocking glasses and a messy little beard. He was certainly no longer the wild, energetic lad he’d learned to love – always grinning, full of life, even now he was smiling but it was a toothless one, nothing like the ones Liam had seen over the years, the ones that stayed burned in his memory forever.
He stared at him a little longer, seeing next to him, in his head, the figure of Damon as a boy, sweet and awkward, who looked at him as if Liam were his world – because, back then, he was. He saw even more how he had aged, how they had both aged, since even Liam could no longer call himself a boy.
“I don't need it...” Liam muttered, loud enough for the other man to hear him as well. He kept his eyes down, praying this was some messed-up dream he’d wake up from. Thought, not at home in his bed, having just reached fifty, but in the bed he shared with Damon at their house, back in their twenties, next to the boy who once he was his.
Christ, what a fucking romantic dreamer he was turning into.
He heard Damon step closer and pop the umbrella over the both of them. Liam looked up and suddenly Damon’s face was right there, just a few inches from his lips – lips that, as far as Liam was concerned, hadn’t changed a bit. If he kissed them, they’d taste the same as always: soft, warm, a flavour that was home for him.
“Here. At least you won’t get any wetter than you already are”, Damon tenderly stated, not meeting his eyes, maybe it would’ve been too much for him.
“‘Kay”, Liam replied, not knowing what to say or what to do. Maybe he should have googled first: what to say to your ex-boyfriend who smashed your heart to bits? Knowing Google, it’d probably tell him to sort his own shit out.
“Why’d you look for me, Liam?” Damon finally broke the silence, with a phrase that seemed bored by the whole situation, but underneath was pure exhaustion, like a man who’s run out of ways to deal with all this. And Liam was in the same boat as him.
“I-” Liam began, not having a clue what to say. “I dunno, honestly”.
Damon finally looked straight at him, and Liam could see all the emotions Damon was feeling inside thanks to his eyes: tiredness, melancholy, … and maybe, just maybe, a flicker of hope and… kindness.
"We keep chasing each other, don’t we?” Damon began, staring at him, with glassy eyes and not because of the rain. “Never realising we’re only making it worse for both of us”.
“I should be the one saying that, since you're the one who left”, Liam shot back, holding his gaze.
“And you think I didn't suffer at all?”
“Well, if you hadn’t left, maybe neither of us would’ve suffered”.
“I didn’t walk away to hurt you, I left because it wasn’t working anymore between the two of us-”
“Ya decided 't wasn't workin’!”
“You know damn well it was over for both of us!!”
“YOU dunno a fuck about what I wanted!”
Damon stared at him, now as if wounded, pierced by a sword right over his heart, and it was not the pain of death that destroyed him, but the pain of knowing who held the blade.
“No. You’re right,” he said flatly, trying to hide the hurt inside him that had been wearing him down for decades. “Never figured out what you wanted. Truth is… I never really understood you at all”.
Liam felt his heart crack a little more, barely believing what Damon had just said.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to tell him he’d always been the only one who really got him.
He wanted them both to stop treating each other like two strangers, who never shared a house, a bed, a heart and everything else.
He only wanted to grab Damon's cheeks in his hands and kiss him right there, forever, never letting him go; kissing him with all the love he still carried for him, no matter the envy, no matter the hurt of everything that had gone down between them.
He just wanted to love Damon again.
But he did none of it, just standing by and watching Damon as the rain continued louder, harder and colder than before, soaking them both as the umbrella failed to cover either of them.
Police were right: it’s a big enough umbrella, but it’s always me that ends up getting wet…
“We’ll have to find some cover—” Liam started, but Damon cut him off.
“Liam… I don’t think we’ve got much left to say-”
“No, fuck that just- just listen to me for once! You don’t always get to decide for us,” Liam shot back, his voice rough. He really wanted to keep talking to Damon. Very probably, they’d never get back together, fine; but he wanted Damon back in his life somehow, even if it meant the ache of never having him as his lover again.
Damon stared at him for a long moment, like he was weighing up whether saying yes was a good idea.
“Okay”, he finally said and they immediately set off, leaving that hill behind – the one that almost symbolized their life in the ‘90s, summing it up: the two of them on top of the world, higher than anyone, the whole universe in their hands, standing over the city they had both helped define.
But now he was leaving that hill, now grown up and no longer as ‘famous’ as he once was, now separated.
But now they were walking away from that hill, grown up or, better, older now, no longer as untouchable or “famous” as they once were.
Now apart.
Still, maybe, like the rest of London, the rain could wash the two of them clean too, freeing them from everything that had happened in their past and making them experience a new present.
And, as they walked, if Damon brought his hand closer to Liam's and Liam caught it in his own clutch, neither of them said a word.
Notes:
Thanks for reading.
Don't worry they're gonna come back together, I just know it.
Say Hi! on tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 8: Cursed
Notes:
Ok so, this chapter is absolutely MASSIVE! Sorry, but halfway through writing it, I suddenly realized I’d already hit 3,000 words...
At least I can promise that, in my very humble estimation (as always, right?), this one’s totally worth the length! It’s packed with descriptions, character thoughts, and aesthetic background moments that I really hope you’ll love as much as I do.
This piece was inspired by the Larry fanfic 'The School of Extraordinary Lovers', which is one of my all-time favorite stories! It genuinely changed my life and even my concept of Halloween. Don’t worry, they’ll be back for many more chapters!
TW: Damon is a witch and Liam is a vampire here, thus there are multiple references to blood and blood-drinking (well... only from Damon Albarn, actually…), and also one blood exchange scene. If that makes you uncomfortable, please skip this chapter.
Enjoy this Halloween-core chapter! 🎃
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 8 October 2015
There was only one rule: stay away from vampires. How on earth had he managed to break it so carelessly?!
Damon thought of himself as a capable and seasoned witch, almost exceptional on occasion – not exactly the humblest claim, eh? – and had an affable manner, he was nice and kind, pleasant and even witty sometimes. Not to mention the fact that half of his town considered him a very charming boy, thanks above all to his golden hair like sunshine and his brilliant smile. But when it came to relationships… well, saint was hardly the word anyone would use.
It wasn’t even the number of lovers that was alarming (although, arguably, it might have been), the real issue was who those lovers were. Witches, of course – men, women, it made no difference to him – and that was respectable enough, his parents never batted an eye at it, and in their world homosexuality had long since lost its scandal. Even the humans he’d been with had been kind, gentle, ideal partners on paper. And yet… Damon could never see a future with any of them never understanding why.
Ok, he always knew the reason, though he could never speak it aloud. So he settled instead for fleeting affairs – weeks, rarely months – until the inevitable end. Because no matter how tender or patient they were, none of them were, nor would they ever be… him.
But now, don’t go saying it was entirely his fault, as though he were the only one who’d fallen, it wasn't his fault that he fell in love with a vampire! And not just any vampire – that might have been easier – but the most narcissistic, reckless, insufferable bastard of a vampire the world had to offer.
Damon was, quite frankly, doomed.
It was the end; he would be exiled from the coven, disownment from his family, disgraced everywhere that mattered, etc. But, as much as magic can control everything, it could never govern a man’s heart.
Still, he wasn’t entirely finished, not yet, only had to keep those feelings repressed forever and never tell ANYONE he found out that the so-called love of his life was none other than Liam Gallagher.
Well, ‘no one’ certainly didn’t include his three best friends, who had known everything since the beginning, and not because Damon had confessed it, but because they simply knew – he would never forget the day Graham made that suggestive joke about Liam, right there with Alex and Dave, and Damon had gone whiter than the vampire himself, out of fear and sheer realization that he’d been caught. Still, at least, even if none of the three had particularly liked Liam, they supported Damon, above all because he was their friend; even more so when Damon tearfully confessed to them that he had discovered Liam was his soulmate… As if falling in love with a vampire weren’t punishment enough. A terrible scourge for any witch, a fate reserved for the unfortunate few, ostracized and, unfortunately, without a vote (albeit always manipulated) by all the members of the council much like the solemn votes of ancient Greeks in Athens. Here, no vote was ever needed, the decision had been made from the start: exile.
Precisely for this reason, staying away from vampires was the first rule, at least they warned you. But what they never did, never could, was teach you at school how not to fall in love with one... If only Damon had known what he was getting himself into, he would have picked another hobby instead of music, since that's why it all started. It was almost absurd, really, that having a perfect voice had set all this in motion. But then, when it came to Damon Albarn, anything was possible. Even – above all – the impossible.
Martha, his cat and his familiar, jumped onto his lap, and Damon wondered how long he had been sitting at his desk, lost in thoughts of Liam? Definitely far too long.A glance outside was enough: the sun was already dipping toward the horizon, making way for the magnificent white moon – a celestial body Damon had always been more fond of, as any witch would, to the harsh glare of the sun.
His desk was a chaotic shrine to witchcraft with books piled high, candles scattered everywhere casting a golden glow to the room – even though the sunlight still brightly and warmly illuminated everything pouring through the window – his incense burned on the bedside table, filling the air with the scent of pumpkin, Damon's favorite one. Crystals lay scattered across every surface, catching the light and quivering faintly, as if sensing the tension coiled within him. His whole room was the reflection of his soul, and at that moment the reflection was decidedly dark, a landscape of inner turmoil.
He had never felt like this before, and it was certainly unpleasant. If only he hadn’t done that damn foolish thing, he wouldn’t be in this mess now. Or rather… if only he had never met Liam, he wouldn’t be like this at all.
He could hardly believe it had already been more than five years since he first met Liam for the first time. He had been in his penultimate year of school, excited and ready, along with his best friends, to conclude that cycle, which seemed to last historical eons, on a high note, making the last two years special. Everything had gone perfectly. He excelled in his compulsory subjects, so much so that his magic teachers – with whom he had always been among the top of the class – frequently praised him, both in front of the class and when talking with his parents. It was then that he decided to continue his singing course at his new school, hoping to nurture his passion for music even further. However, he hadn’t realized that the course that year was so packed he would be paired with someone from the same specialty – singing – in order to participate. And, unfortunately for his sanity, those two years before university were when witches, vampires, demons, and ghosts all attended the same classes, since the school brought everyone together in those final years. Presumably, it was meant as a way to prevent complete animosity between the different categories. Even if, officially, one was still supposed to keep their distance.
It was, therefore, pure coincidence that Liam himself – a vampire a year younger, though placed in the same year thanks to the power and influence of his wretched father, who wanted him to finish early so he could finally marry him off and hand him the family business – became Damon’s partner in the singing duets..
Liam had always been the same: brash, insufferable, arrogant – a bastard through and through – turning the beginning of their partnership into a veritable hell. Damon, of course, had never once backed down, and so the two hated each other from the very start. Soon enough, they earned a reputation for being sworn enemies, their “battles” on stage during the countless performances of their course becoming something of a spectacle in themselves.
What the others never knew was that all the hatred and disdain between them, so relentless and so absurdly unprovoked, quickly twisted into something else — into attraction. And it took no time at all for all that vitriol to transform into a kiss, right there behind the stage after their very first show together.
It was only years later, when Damon finally stumbled across the word trope, that he understood. His relationship with Liam had been a textbook case of enemies-to-lovers. Though, to be fair, the lovers part had existed only for Damon. Liam had shown no scruples in vanishing for his first four years at university, leaving Damon to suffer alone – neither a letter, nor a call – to waste away over an affection that, in truth, had perhaps never really existed.
And now, after years of silence and affliction, Liam had returned and the only words he had spoken to Damon were sharp, clipped sentences dripping with anger and resentment, as if the endless kisses they had once exchanged had never happened, as it was only Damon the fool, falling madly and hopelessly for an idiot. Obviously, Damon gave as good as he got these days; he wasn’t about to let Liam think he was weak. Furthermore, to make matters worse, Liam had enrolled in the same music class as him. And of course, what else could the teacher have done, after hearing so many legendary stories about their fiery performances in their school years, but pair them up again as a duet?!
Licet est – this had to be said – that, paradoxically, the two of them together set the stage ablaze. Their two voices so utterly different fused in a way both terrifying and unbearably sweet. It was no coincidence, after all, that they had won their first competition the very year they began to sing together.
The erythema on his arm was starting to itch, and Damon debated whether he ought to put something on it or, far worse, call the one person who might actually really help him. Yet the very thought of ringing Liam made his stomach twist; he might seem desperate if he called him – which, truthfully, he was… though only because the damn thing itched and he had no idea how else to get rid of it! It was not because he missed their make-out sessions and desperately craved those lips he hadn’t kissed in years; those beautiful, plump lips, perfect for kissing and crimson, red as wine, against his cadaverous white skin – which was actually normal enough for a vampire, but still his had something that made him seem even sexier. One belonged to a decadent nobility torn straight from a nineteenth-century novel, but ruined – or perhaps made irresistible – by a typical lexicon of a yokel, the coarse Mancunian slang that spilled from his mouth, every other word a curse. However, his allure, of course, was in the whole, in the perfect body, the seductive eyes, the inviting lips-
A knock at the door tore Damon out of his reverie, out of yet another string of teenage-girl fantasies about Liam Gallagher. How far he’d fallen...
He rose from his desk, Martha padding at his heels, drew in a deep breath, and braced himself. After all, what could possibly happen, letting Liam into his room? Nothing. Right?
As soon as he opened the door he was greeted by a Liam with a frown on his face, already pissed off at having to wait just a few seconds and having to go to Damon when he would have even preferred to watch a Manchester United match (maybe). His face looked tired, as if being back in London for two weeks just to study was so exhausting and not normal for most guys! And, as much as Damon hated Liam after everything he had done to their so-called “relationship,” he couldn’t help but admire his beard, a new feature in this older Liam, which lent him a rugged charm that almost seemed in perfect harmony with his outfit, making him look even sexier for Damon's happiness, who knew he would never get over Liam if the vampire kept dressing in ways that made his trousers uncomfortably tight. But, even if Liam had draped himself in coarse burlap, Damon would still have found him irresistible. In fact, it didn't help that he wore jeans and a sweatshirt tight enough to show off his physique well. There was something about his flawless physique, the hypnotic gleam of his eyes, those full crimson lips – so infuriatingly tempting – that made Damon’s resolve crumble with each glance
Luckily, he still had those ridiculous John Lennon glasses perched on his face, a flimsy shield against Damon’s hunger; without them, Damon knew he might have already thrown himself at him.
“Y’lettin’ me in or do I gotta go mouldy out ‘ere?” Liam asked dryly, as irritated as ever by the constant daydreams Damon seemed to sink into. If only he knew that nearly all of them revolved around him...
“It’s always such a pleasure,” Damon muttered, giving Liam his own medicine of contempt as he stepped aside and walked back to his desk.
Martha, finally finding the path clear, padded straight toward Liam. He immediately crouched down to stroke her, as he had done from the very first time she appeared on Damon’s seventeenth birthday, like any familiar.
“But ‘ello, Martha, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Liam said softly, scooping her up and petting her with a tenderness that never failed to catch Damon off guard; Damon loved seeing those two together since those were the rare moments when he caught a glimpse of the real Liam, the one he had fallen for without hesitation: the kind and loving one, who only a lucky few were ever allowed to see. Damon was one of those, or rather, truth be told, his cat actually... “Ye didn’t rename this marvelous little ball o’ fluff while I was away, did ye?”
Damon looked at them, forcing back a smile as a wave of heat spread through his chest. He couldn’t help it, but the very sight of them together made his heart ache. In another life, he and Liam were together, engaged, living in some cozy flat, with Martha as their cat, and this was the welcome Damon would receive every evening after work.
But that, unfortunately, belonged to another universe.
“Technically, you cannot change the name of a familiar once you've chosen it… but then she loves it, don’t you Martha?” his cat purred in response, still clutched in Liam’s arms, receiving every ounce of affection he could give.
“Course I did, said it was a proper crackin’ name for a cat”.
“Oh, shut up! You only picked it ‘cause Paul McCartney’s dog had the same name, and, naturally, I had no input at all!”
“Aye! And if Paul McCartney chose it, that’s a proper bloody fantastic name for a wee animal, innit?”
Damon and Liam giggled together over their exchange, and Damon immediately felt a rush of pure nostalgia, feeling like a carefree little boy again, listening to The Beatles’ “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” with Liam while they tenderly made out on his childhood bed. It was so easy to slip back into those memories when Liam’s laugh was so perfect, so precious to him.
“So your obsession with The Beatles has started again. Just look at you, always wearing those damn glasses”, Damon joked, the moment allowed it, and noticing that Liam was letting his guard down a little, giving him a small glimpse of his true self.
“First off, I’ve never stopped lovin’ The Beatles. Second, these are the proper bloody glasses the great John Lennon wore, innit? Style, mate”, Liam chuckled, always happy to talk about music, especially his favorite band. Damon chuckled along, his mind drifting back to their youth… what was that poem again? Quant’è bella giovinezza, che si fugge tuttavia...? Well, it really felt like it had slipped away.
“If you say so...”
“Anyway, unless you’ve got the new Let It Be for me, get to the point”, Liam said,trying to sound serious and annoyed to be there, but Damon knew better than anybody that this was just a defense mechanism; because he still felt his gentle tone from before lingering, which only when you mention the Beatles does he seem to have. And then he was still caressing Martha, who perched comfortably on his lap, Damon could tell Liam was barely holding back a smile.
“I called you because I need your help...” Damon began, thinking carefully about how to conceal the soulmate part of this conversation. He immediately turned toward the desk, covering the book with “SOUL MATE” written in large letters with a notebook.
“What, yer vibrator’s gone on the blink or summat?” Liam joked, raising an amused eyebrow from the cat in his arms and placing it on him.
“W-WHAT?!” Damon exclaimed in shock. They had never gone beyond kissing – except when they occasionally rubbed against each other during those long sessions of making out – but never anything more, for fear of having to label what they had as almost sex.
“Ya’re gonna have to be more specific man, or me mind’ll wander anywhere”, Liam chuckled, glancing back at Martha. Damon had never envied a cat more in his life than at that moment.
“N-no no—it’s not f-for that!” Damon stammered, trying to save himself, sighing at the absurdity of the situation he found himself in: Liam Gallagher sitting on his bed with his cat in his arms, as if they were in some shoddy sitcom. “Fuck you”, Damon said, and Liam laughed again, the sound filling the room with that maddeningly sweet noise Damon always found irresistible. “I need your help to break a curse they put on me”, Damon confessed, speaking quickly and carefully, thinking about how to avoid mentioning the two terrible words again; it was best that Liam never knew what they were.
“Really?! Ya’ve figured out ‘ow to stop that curse on yer family-”, Liam started, voice unusually light, almost hopeful. Maybe, for once, he wanted to show Damon he actually gave a damn. But the older witch cut him off before he could finish – before Liam could say what Damon didn’t want to hear, or rather didn’t want to remember. Besides, it was stupid and unfair to give Liam even the slightest hope that the old family curse had been lifted. As if he’d care anyway, Damon thought bitterly, snapping back to the reality where he and Liam just hated each other, no feelings in between.
“Oh, no, not that one. I’m still working on it. This, on the other hand, is some bullshit they threw at me… let’s say, out of spite”.
“Outta spite, ‘ow d’you mean?” Liam asked, brow quirking, that familiar spark of curiosity flickering in his eyes. Damon knew he wouldn’t buy anything but the truth, yet he tried anyway.
“Nothin’, it’s a long story. Will you help me or not?”
“Not ‘till ya tell me ‘ow ya got yourself into it,” Liam shot back, leaning further into the bedframe. Damon had seen that coming – he knew Liam all too well to be surprised.
“Well… it’s kind of absurd story…”
“I’m all ears, man. If it’s embarrassin’, even better, fuckin’ hell!” Liam smirked, a grin spreading across his lips, one that made Damon’s stomach twist in that annoying, familiar way.
“Promise you won’t laugh or anything like that”.
“Y’know I don’t make promises I can’t keep, innit?” Liam smiled smugly as he kept stroking Martha, like she was the only thing in the room that mattered – maybe, Damon thought, she honestly was.
“Okay, but then you’ll help me out; I don't wanna hear excuses”, Damon said and Liam answered making a gesture with his hand like: come on, now, make me laugh. “I, uh… made out with this girl a few months back. She was desperate ’cause her boyfriend wanted to dump her, and she asked me – completely drunk, of course – after kissin’ me for a good ten minutes if I could talk to her boyfriend and convince him not to leave her; even telling him that I’d kissed her to make him jealous. Anyway, I go to the party, talk to the boyfriend, both completely pissed… and well, one thing leads to another… um, y’know… oh to hell with it, in a nutshell: I slept with him…”
“No stop- What the fuck are ya talkin’ about?! You serious?!”
“Yeah...”
“I don’t believe it!” Liam started laughin’ his head off, like he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. And somehow, Damon's situation felt comprable… “So ya'd to help this bird an’ ended up fuckin’ her boyfriend?! Dude, this is mental!”
“Oh stop it! It can happen...”
“Oh Damon, I remembered ya as extravagant, but not this extravagant! Even Noel wouldn’t pull somethin’ like that, an’ he’s one of the craziest geezers I know”.
“Of course, because Noel wouldn't impress both of them!”
“You’re underestimatin’ the qualities of us Gallaghers”.
“Okay, okay, sorry. You’re the sex gods!” Damon joked, rolling his eyes, pretending he didn’t really believe it himself... “Getting to the point, she… well, found out and swore eternal hatred at me-”
“Fuckin’ believe it! Ya went an’ shag with her own boyfriend, mate. She thought you’d be the sexy hunk to make her man jealous, an’ instead she finds out ya’re worse than any friend of hers who dreamed of nickin’ him from day one”.
“You make it sound terrible, like you haven't done worse”.
“Sorry, it’s true. Who am I to criticize? Get to the point, I don't have all day”, Liam added, as if he wouldn’t secretly have loved to stay and pet Martha while breathing in the scent of Damon’s incense forever. But, well… let’s move on.
“Yeah, ok. She swore eternal hatred at me and said she’d make me pay. I didn’t give it much thought; also ’cause I forgot she was a witch. However, this mornin’ I woke up to find this huge erythema on my arm”, Damon said, lifting his forearm to show Liam the skin irritation that was spreading like wildfire.
“Ugh, yuck! Cover it up!”
Damon lowered his sleeve again, giving Liam a disdainful look at his exaggerated reaction; his usual melodrama. “Not understanding what it was, I tried to google it-”
“The best witch in his class, gentlemen”, Liam interrupted, smirking.
“I was saying” Damon fulminated Liam with his gaze, “I searched it on ‘Google for Witches’ and found out it’s a silly curse that can only be broken by some sort of… er- blood ritual”.
“I cannot believe it, you call the only vampire you know – who, if you didn’t know, suck blood from people – to help you! Why me? Couldn’t you have asked some of those snobbish losers among your friends?” Liam asked, confused and bewildered. And he was right… if it weren’t for that story. Well, you get the idea, no need to say it again. If only he knew...
“It's complicated... so you help me, or are you still so obsessed with my blood that you can’t even smell it without wanting a taste?” Damon teased, giving Liam a dig he knew wouldn’t go unnoticed—they both remembered all too well how much Liam loved drinking his blood when they were kids, as if it were his lifeblood. Still, he cut it short, hoping Liam wouldn’t pry further and would focus on the jab instead.
It had the effect he wanted as Liam began to blush. “Don’t worry, I’d rather drink toilet water, but fine, I’ll help! If ya insist that much…” he said, mock-anger in his voice, clearly embarrassed by the memory of their childhood antics, good to know. However, he quickly switched gears, adopting a confident, amused tone. “But first, Martha an’ I need a proper laugh at this bullshit you pulled”, he said and immediately bursted into laughter so loud that it was probably audible all the way in Manchester. Martha still perched on his lap, who – if she could – would’ve joined in.
Traitor.
༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:・
“Okay, you’re gonna need to create a wound on the palm of your hand like this”, Damon said, showing Liam the image in the book. Liam stared at it with a mix of disgust and disbelief, surely thinking only a madman – like Damon – could make him do something so macabre.
“What the fuck- what is this, some kinda matching Halloween costume?!” Liam yelled, suddenly less convinced he actually wanted to help Damon; as if he ever had, thought the blond. “Aren’t there other ways to get this off without shreddin’ ourselves like fuckin’ butchers?!”
Oh Liam… there probably are, but I’m sure you’d rather lose liters of your precious blood than have to kiss me again.
“No!” Damon shot back too quickly, "I mean… sadly, these are arcane curses, cast by witches in ancient times whenever a woman dared only to look provocatively at a man. That’s the only way”.
“Ancient times?! Dude, you only nicked that girl’s boyfriend a short while ago!” Liam barked, taking a drag of the cigarette they were now sharing as Damon was stealing hits every couple of seconds.
“However, these are things that don't happen often-”
“Not when ya’re dealin’ with provocateur Damon Albarn!” Liam said, laughing deeply at his own nonsense, while Martha wandered around him as if drawn to Liam more than the Earth to the sun. Well… given that a familiar is an extension of a witch’s soul, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate to call it magnetism. He’d leave her in the bathroom next time Liam came over – if he ever actually came back…
Liam continued to caress her now and then, when he wasn’t flailing around ridiculously to make fun of Damon for the mess he’d gotten himself into. They were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, atop Damon’s soft Persian rug, while he showed Liam the book on how to break the curse. The thick tome sat in the center, surrounded by about ten candles to make the spell work. The pumpkin scent now filled every corner of the room, making everything feel even more autumnal than ever, and Damon felt as if he, Liam, and Martha were alone in a bubble, happy and carefree, with the world unable to disturb them. Outside, the window was closed, muting the noise of London’s chaotic, endless traffic as if it were miles away, not ready to intrude even with the slightest breeze.
“You should take this and cut horizontally,” Damon said, lifting the small knife – one many witches kept to defend themselves from vampires or other supernatural creatures – and bringing it close to his hand, demonstrating the motion. “I can show you first if you want, so you can get the hang of it”.
Liam eyed him with obvious disgust, just as if it bothered him – though he was a vampire, used to dealing with blood all the time! – and Damon realized he’d probably need another little pep talk to convince him to actually do it.
Instead, much to his amazement, Liam stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray near the makeshift circle and grabbed the knife, already getting into position to cut. “Gimme that. I’m not five, can handle somethin’ this basic”, he said.
“If you say so”, Damon replied, a hint of doubt in his tone
Liam then nudged Martha slightly with the hand that wasn’t holding the knife. “Sorry, Martha, but I don’t want to scar you for life, darling,” he smiled at her before returning the knife to its place. He made a medium, shallow cut, but perfectly executed for breaking the curse. “Done. Seen? Child's play. Yer turn”.
Damon took the knife and didn't need telling twice, especially since that bloody erythema was starting to itch again; he wanted it gone immediately. He cut, creating the same incision on his palm as Liam had, and immediately the scent of his blood filled the air. Damon glanced at the vampire, who was looking everywhere but at him – but Damon could see his pupils dilate at the scent of witch’s blood. Toilet water my arse, he thought.
“Okay”, Damon said, glancing first at the book, then back at Liam, “Now gimme your hand”, Liam extended his, and Damon squeezed it tightly, pressing their blood together. “Now I’ll recite the formula to break the curse,” Damon continued, “And then there’ll be a sort of breeze, a soft light… and we’ll know it’s done”.
“Lots of holy-god movie bullshit,” Liam complained, but stayed put, letting Damon recite a few Latin sentences to finish the ritual.
However, after Damon finished, expecting some dramatic change – the air stirring, that damn light shining – nothing happened. Everything remained the same, and the erythema still stood out on his arm, itching like a thousand mosquito bites all at once.
“Wow, thrilling. Are yer spells always this pathetic, or are ye just a rubbish witch?” Liam asked, looking around to see if anything had changed. Nothing had. Damon pulled his sleeve back up and inspected the erythema again; still there, much to his despair. “I don’t believe it. It’s even grosser than before. Didn’t ye fuck somethin’ up?”
“N-no—c-can’t be—I didn’t do anything wrong—”, Damon stammered, rising from the candle circle back to his desk, rifling through other books for answers, while Martha padded restlessly over to Liam, as if to show him how much Damon’s soul was in turmoil, craving Liam’s comfort.
Liam began caressing Martha, a worried look on his face as he watched Damon desperately search through the books, but he could tell Damon was terrified of having to spill everything – ALL of it – to him…
“Maybe you mispronounced that Latin. Church style instead of proper classical, yeah?” If panic wasn't gnawing Damon alive so viciously, he might have thrown himself at Liam just for being inexplicably kind, giving the witch a glimpse, again, of his old love, of the tender Liam he’s been longing for since forever. “We can try again if ya like”, Liam proposed in a calm and sweet voice, his hands still buried in Martha’s fur, coaxing a contented purr from her.
“N-that's not the problem. We skipped a part-” Damon began hesitantly, but was immediately cut off by Liam, without a second thought.
“So we do it again, then – just add that part”.
“Liam… forget it...”
“No shit”, Liam muttered, getting up and moving closer, a pitiful attempt at comforting him. Damon wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t entirely resent the gesture; it was thoughtful, and he knew Liam meant well. “I won't leave ya with that bloody stuff on yer arm. What's missing?”
“Please, forget it-” Damon tried again, futile as always. Liam Gallagher didn’t let anything slide once it was lodged in his head; years of observation had taught Damon that. Still, he found himself oddly grateful for Liam’s stubborn consistency, the fact that he was always so supportive, even if he’ll never admit it.
“Fuckin’ tell me what's missing Damon!”
Damon glared at him with a look that showed the anger and frustration Liam caused him. Did Liam really want to know? Fine. He was tired of pointless resistance. “All right, wanna know so bad?! Fine! I'll tell you straight away. Since this bloody curse targets cheaters, after all the crap we’ve done, you actually have to kiss the person you’re exchanging blood with!”
What the fuck had he just done?! He must have gone completely insane, he definitely went crazy revealing something like that to Liam. And in a few seconds, his huge fucking mouth would probably confess that the two of them were soul mates. All he had to do was see how Liam’s face changed to realize he had just made a monumental mistake. If before, Liam had tried to be thoughtful, eyes glimmering with hope as if to tell Damon he was there for him, now his face was a mask of pure fury; a look that could kill, more wrathful and destructive than Achilles in full rage, and he could feel it all aimed at him. That was his kiss of death.
“Don't believe it”, Liam hissed, his voice tight with anger, making Damon's stomach twist in an unpleasant way. “You lured me here, tricked me into thinkin’ ya needed me fuckin’ help, and it’s just ‘cause you’re horny and dunno who the fuck to call?! Why don’t ya get fucked by some fag mate of yers next time?!” Liam screamed and Damon not only thought Liam could actually hit him, leaving him bruised and bleeding, but he also realized, despite everything, that he didn’t know Liam at all. He didn't know in the slightest who was the stranger that was now standing in his room. Not the one who seemed to like his cat, who smiled tenderly at Damon, who blushed at the mention of their youthful escapades. That was no longer his Liam, but another who had taken his body and passed himself off as him. Or perhaps, Damon thought, he had never really known Liam, always glimpsing only a facade, that hid the harshness of his soul, cold and empty like his heart. After all, Liam’s heart didn’t even beat anymore, so what was there to be surprised by?
“And me, wantin’ to actually help you… what a fuckin’ moron I am”, added Liam, more disappointed than angry, as if the impassable wall he had been fortifying during the previous speech (or better since the beginning) now had a small crack, through which he wanted to show himself to Damon – though always afraid of being laughed at, or worse, rejected.
However… Damon had always loved Liam, so it certainly wouldn’t have been him to laugh, or, more importantly, reject him.
“Liam… I owe you a lot of explanations, I know”, Damon started and immediately Liam looked at him with anger, tried to interrupt but Damon cut him off, "Let me finish, I’m just asking this”, and, paradoxically, the vampire fell silent and let Damon speak. “I needed some help breaking this curse and… I’ll get to the point: you had to do all these things not with a random person… but with… with...” Damon froze for a moment. Then he saw Liam looking at him in a way that might seem neutral to anyone else, yet that little spark in his eyes betrayed the trust Liam reserved for others – and especially for Damon – prompting the witch to finally confess everything. “Basically, it’s a curse that can only be broken thanks to the kiss of your soulmate”.
He had said it. He had confessed. That weight he had carried for years might finally lift from his shoulders. Perhaps everything would finally change. He and Liam would be- wait- Liam hadn’t said anything yet.
Damon focused on his face and saw that Liam had his mouth wide open, almost theatrically, eyes wider than he’d ever seen, and Damon wondered: Had his face really looked like that when he found out?
“I-I-” Liam stuttered, mind in complete turmoil, unable to spit out a proper sentence. “Y-You’re sayin’ I’m yer soulmate?”
Damon felt his entire being twisted with distress, so much that Martha, restless, crept toward Liam seeking comfort – but there was none this time, as the youngest was frozen stiff.
“Yeah... and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I only found out myself a little while ago! And, well, how the fuck do you even tell someone they’re your soulmate?!” Damon tried to break the tension, babbling nervously, but Liam still looked like a stunned statue that couldn't think or speak. “Liam, for fuck’s sake, say something! Even an insult, please!” Damon said, urging desperately to drag the boy in front of him back to reality.
Instead, Liam grabbed Damon by the arm and dragged him back into the circle from before, making them both sit.
“What are you-”
“Gimme yer hand”, Liam almost ordered as Damon brought his hand closer to the vampire’s one, who immediately joined them again like before. “Let's get this over”, the little one muttered, eyes glazed, clearly just wanting to get it done and away from Damon as fast as possible. “Come on, spit yer ‘latinorum’ out”.
Damon didn't need telling twice, not wanting to argue any further. He drew a deep breath and began to speak as before, chanting the words, his gaze darting anywhere but Liam’s face—fully aware that those piercing eyes were on him, cold and judging as always. As soon as he finished, fear shot through him, and he looked down at the floor, still holding Liam’s icy hand.
Then, the voice of the other man snapped him out of his head. “Damon, look at me”. It was neither a request, nor an order, it was something in between, the kind of tone only Liam could pull off with that rough Manchester drawl Damon had always been so fucking weak fort. He lifted his head, expecting anything but what he saw: Liam’s eyes dark with lust and hunger. If those eyes could talk, they’d be saying they wanted Damon in the crudest and rawest way that only Liam could ever give to the witch, making him as exciting as anyone had ever done.
Damon drowned in that gaze and didn’t even notice the vampire moving closer until he felt those full lips crash against his, that tongue asking for entry into Damon's mouth, kissing him hard. The witch immediately opened his mouth and let Liam in, letting go of his hand and placing his both on Liam's cheeks to pull him closer, to let him deepen it, to lose himself in it. Liam didn’t need telling twice. He kissed him rougher, hungrier, his hands gripping Damon’s hips tight, possessive – as if to say mine, as if he could keep him there forever, not wanting to let him go.
It was a strange kind of kiss, because between all the longing, hunger and desire, there was also something soft, Damon also felt a sort of tenderness in it, that came strangely from Liam Gallagher. Back then, maybe, Damon was being too much of a melodramatic fool thinking about it, but for a second he could swear Liam cared about him or at least he felt something for Damon too. Still, he knew it couldn't develop and grow into anything more given their... differences. But Damon could feel it; Liam was holding on, keeping the kiss alive not to break the curse, but because he missed him. Because he wanted this again. Because for a split second, he wanted to be that boy in love again, the one who thought the world was still his and the future was something bright and endless. And in that second, Damon could almost hear it, the sound of “I Want to Hold Your Hand” floating somewhere in his head, the same song Liam used to play when they kissed, turning every kiss into something that actually meant something. And right then, it did.
They had been kissing for nearly a minute – long enough for Damon to think he might stay there forever – when a faint breeze stirred through the room, and the two of them caught a glimpse of light glowing from Damon’s arm.
Reluctantly, they pulled away and Damon immediately rolled up his sleeve to check for any trace of the repugnant erythema. But as soon as he revealed his arm, everything had vanished. It had worked, they had actually broken it.
For a few seconds, they both stared at Damon’s arm in disbelief, until Liam broke the silence with a small cough. Then their eyes met again – blue on blue, as it had always been, as it was always meant to be.
“Well… it worked. I—uh, I think I’d better go… you know, Noel’s waiting for me for-”
“Y-yeah, sure. Don’t worry, go ahead. Oh and… um, thanks”.
They looked like two awkward teenagers again, but, well, try kissing the boy you’ve always loved after nearly five years and telling him he’s your soulmate. Damon was melodramatic, sure, but this time he had an excuse.
They held each other’s gaze for a few more seconds before Liam looked away and got up, straightening his jacket and composing himself. “No problems. Just, don’t go nickin’ anyone’s boyfriend again, yeah?” joked, with a half-smile that wasn’t mocking, just soft – almost fond. That kiss had somehow sweetened everything at once. Damon should’ve kissed Liam more often, he thought.
Damon chuckled and pushed himself off the floor, feeling lighter than he had in years. “I’ll try,” he shot back playfully, wanting to keep that fragile, honey-warm moment alive for just a few seconds more.
Liam then walked toward the door with Martha in tow, who clearly didn’t want him to leave – just like her owner. “Goodbye Martha, it’s been a pleasure seeing you again after all this time,” he whispered, bending down to stroke her softly and pressing a small kiss on the top of her head to say goodbye properly. “Hope to see you soon, bye darling”. He straightened up and opened the door, turning towards Damon – who was still standing in the same spot – before stepping outside. “See ya around, yeah?”
Damon smiled, it definitely wouldn’t end there. Neither of them would ever admit it, but both knew they wouldn’t be walking away from this as just a one-time thing.
“Yeah, see you soon”. Damon said, and with that, Liam gave a little wave before closing the door behind him—leaving Damon there, completely overwhelmed by the love that still clung to him.
If you asked him now, Damon would tell you that it was right then he realized – more than ever – that if he wanted Liam, he’d have to fight for him. And he thought he’d gladly do it, just to kiss him like that again.
So he went back to his desk again, opened his laptop, set Martha on his lap, and lit one of Liam’s leftover cigarettes.
Needless to say, he started searching for more curses to put on him that broke with a kiss.
Notes:
Wish me luck, I have to help my best friend study math now...
Anyway, Liam was talking about the Naked Version of Let It Be which came out in 2015. Stunning album really, you should listen to it.
Say Hi! on tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 9: Coming Home
Notes:
Guess who's got Louis Tomlison tickets?! MEEEE.
I'm so happy, you don't even know how much. Even though I have a physics oral test and a philosophy written one on Tuesday… kill me...
Anyway, today's chapter is soooo cute! I love it so much because we have a very, very fond and affectionate Liam; absolutely adorable and the perfect husband (yeah, we're in 2025).
Trust you'll adore these old Liamon as much as I do!
P.S.: I would like to say Happy Birthday to one of my two favourite singer and songwriter ever. Happy Bday John Lennon, you would have turned 85 today... I miss you so much dear...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 9th October, 2025
The M25 in London wasn’t really a quiet, traffic-free road in the slightest, but rather a hellish mess created by the devil himself. Damon would have loved to meet the genius who came up with the thought that circling London with a motorway was a brilliant idea – it didn't take a brain surgeon to see it’d only choke itself with cars and pile-ups every single day.
Engineers, pfui.
He didn’t want to be cruel, not really. But he’d been stuck there for nearly an hour now, when all he wanted was to get home, stretch out on the sofa, maybe flick through the telly with his husband beside him. Not much to ask, was it? Just half the cars in London disappearing off the face of the earth. Nothing dramatic, huh.
It had been a week since he had last seen Liam, and he couldn't wait another minute. He just wanted to pull him into his arms at that moment, kiss him tenderly, taste those soft lips that he had missed for a week, and just be together relaxing again – too tired for anything else.
Instead he was trapped in London’s endless traffic, cursing himself for not just walking – would’ve taken less time, surely.
He seriously regretted ever giving Westway a hard time; from now on, all his scorn should be aimed squarely at the M25. Thank god he hadn’t written a song about that infernal ring road as well...
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he broke free of the M25. The car sped across the M1, and Damon, leaning back in the seat, watched London’s sprawling suburbs stretch out like tiny dots beneath him. The city lights flickered to life for the evening, turning the skyline into a sort of impromptu fireworks display that sparkled in Damon’s eyes. People blurred past, too fast to make out, but life itself seemed to pulse through everything, carving its way from dusk into night. He couldn’t help being enchanted by his own metropolis.
He went from seeing the airport at lunchtime, with threatening clouds that dropped a few drops of water – England’s way of welcoming him home, making him realize that he had really returned home – to the sight of the rosy sunset on the motorway, bringing the afternoon, that looked almost like a sweet, little impressionist painting – one he had discovered both he and Liam dug; to finally reach the deep blue of evening, dark as the sea at night, stretching over St. John’s Wood.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he finally arrived in his neighborhood, ever closer to his beloved.
Just a few years back, when the relationship between him and Liam had been going swimmingly, they had decided to move in together. After endless debates over where to live – not in Notting Hill at Damon's because I ain’t livin’ near all those fuckin’ posh tossers, Dames!” and not even in Camden Town since “Liam, we’re not living in the most notorious drug hood in all of bloody Britain!” – they finally settled on a house in St. John's Wood, which was a quiet, lovely and very nice neighborhood, perfect for two celebrities who just wanted a bit of peace after all the hustle and bustle that the 90s had been.
And, also, Liam had gone completely giddy when they realized the flat was just a stone’s throw from Abbey Road, saying: “We’re only two steps away from the spirits of the great Beatles!” making Damon laugh, charmed by his ridiculous excitement, and felt even more at ease with the whole idea.
Now, instead of morning walks to the park, they had to cross the crosswalks at least three times a day. Progress, from some points of view – Liam’s one above all.
The car turned into Cavendish Ave, and Damon immediately braced himself to get out. He paid the driver, grabbed his suitcase, and headed for the door. The intercom buzzed, and Liam immediately opened before Damon could even say a word – didn’t even ask who it was, because it could only be him.
The four floors in the lift dragged on forever, almost an eternity; he almost felt like the Blues Brother, who, however, was racing to the thirteenth floor while Damon was stuck just two meters up.
He was anxious, chest tightened with anticipation. He couldn't wait to see Liam again, hugging him and to pull him close and bury his face in the hollow of his neck, inhaling his spicy scent he had missed so much during a brutal and exhausting week apart. Sure, they had done video calls almost every day, multiple times per day, but nothing – nothing – compared to being able to be with Liam in person, to kiss him properly, hold him in his arms and just… be together.
He finally got out of the lift, hauling that massive suitcase – something to worry about tomorrow, too tired to even think about opening it.
The bell rang, hearing footsteps running towards the door. He chuckled, followed by quick footsteps thudding toward the door. He chuckled, picturing Liam as excited as he was to see him again after all this time.
The door swung open to reveal a grinning Liam, all toothy smile and barely contained happiness.
“Finally back, are ya!” Liam said, moving aside to let Damon, and his massive suitcase, nearly bigger than him, through.
“After just a two-hour drive, I’m home,” Damon joked, closing the door behind him and immediately stepping straight toward Liam, hands cupping his cheeks, peering at him as he was studying his face carefully. He hadn’t changed a bit, still looking incredible, despite a few wrinkles and some streaks of white hair. However, Damon thought he was just as stunning as he’d been in the ’90s.
“After a fuckin’ eternity, ya mean”, Liam giggled with him as he put his hands on his hips and finally leaned in to steal a kiss, deep and full of love. Their tongues met again after what felt like an eternity, each time rediscovering each other as if it were the very first. Their slight height difference came into play, causing Damon to tilt down slightly just to meet his husband’s lips, while Liam’s hands rested on his hips, brushing and caressing him over his clothes
After a good minute, Liam pulled back from him and grinned. “Get yer hands off me face, don't wanna know how many germs are on ‘em”.
Damon tried to wince, but ended up chuckling. “Hm… funny, I could’ve sworn you had a thing for my hands, especially at times like this”, he winked.
“Yeah, but not when they're fuckin’ dirty”, Liam replied, rolling his eyes, which only made Damon laugh harder.
“‘kay. I’ll wash my hands and change then”, he agreed, trying to move towards the bathroom, but was preceded by Liam who blocked his way down the corridor, that grin spreading wider by the second.
“Sure you just wanna wash your hands? Might as well give yourself a proper wash too!” Liam said, biting his lower lip, amusement taking over his entire face.
“Ah, that’s your polite way of telling me I stink?” Damon joked, pretending to scold his husband. But Liam stood there motionless, always smiling as if Damon had just brought light into his life, and looking at him with a look of pure admiration.
“Fuck, just go into the bathroom, love!” he giggled, pointing him down the hall as if Damon didn’t already know, still wearing that utterly smitten expression.
Damon stepped closer, slowly opening the bathroom door as he reached it.
“If I find out you flooded the bathroom again, I swear-” Damon started by trying to look stern about whatever awaited him on the other side of the door.
But, luckily for him, as soon as he opened the door, all he saw was that Liam had prepared the tub for a bath. The bathroom looked warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the freezing October outside, lit by dozens of candles, all autumn-scented that Damon had bought just a few weeks ago, hoping to use them especially now that Halloween was approaching. And there were also some gorgeous, fluffy soap floating on the water, certainly courtesy of Damon’s scented bubble bath, which made everything even better after a week of grim hotel tubs.
“What-” Damon turned speechless towards Liam, who wore that happy, satisfied grin of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
“Surprise! Thought I’d do summat nice, seein’ as ya’re knackered from concerts, recordings, and all the other pain in the arse”, Liam replied as if it were perfectly normal and obvious, as if the very famous Liam Gallagher, known for his impetuous and gruff personality, now had suddenly turned into someone who prepared hot baths for people. He definitely wasn’t the type, but for Damon, he would do this and more.
Married him for a reason, didn’t he? And in that moment, the eldest admitted to himself it wasn’t all about love and maybe a lot had to do with that tub full of bubbles.
“Prepared me a hot bath? Just… for me?!” Damon asked, with a mix of shock and love in his voice, turning to the most magnificent and fantastic man he could ever have married.
“Well, I actually thought we could both get in together, y’konw… but if ya don’t fancy a bit o’ tub-cuddling, I can let it slide this time”.
“No! You kidding?! I missed you so much that the only thing I want now is you cuddling me in that tub”.
They both giggled, while Liam stepped closer to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, that gorgeous smile spreading across his face again.
“Shit, we’re a pair o’ soppy fuckers, eh? Not even in our twenties we were like! What the fuck happened to us?” Liam snorted, trying to sound disgusted but still glued to Damon.
“We got older. Age’s made us softer and, consequently, weaker”.
“Oi, if anyone calls you weak I’ll kick their fuckin’ head in, yeah?”.
"Wow, what a nice thing to say...”
“An’ I’d rather be called weak than be the bastard who doesn’t run ya a bath when ya’re knackered”.
“Aw, love, that’s dead sweet!” Damon grinned, just as Liam leaned in to smack another quick kiss on his lips before pulling back with a laugh.
“Right, last one in’s a tosser! An’ he’s givin’ the other a blowjob after!” Liam declared, shouting as he was already tugging his clothes off.
“Ehi! That’s cheatin’!” Damon shouted back, laughing too, rushing to strip down his all-day-worn clothes too; both of them suddenly more like a pair of daft idiots than two iconic, well-known and “very masculine” frontmen.
But honestly, what the fuck does it matter when you can curl up with your husband in a hot bath.
Notes:
Tell me if you loved this Damon and, especially, this tender Liam in the comments.
Say Hi! on Tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 10: x+1 (Alternative)
Notes:
I've got the fever, as Noel would say and I wanna die now...
Here's your new chapter based on my friend that who asked a boy for help doing mathematics, and now they're together since like one year. Lovely yeah.
Everything about math was based on my book for school, I hope it's all correct because even if I'm good at math I forgot almost everything I did the previous years...
Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 10th October, 2023
Maybe he should change, since he was already completely sweaty and Liam hadn’t even made it to his house yet… God, why did he always have to freak out over totally normal things? Things that happened to literally every teen on Earth?!
Fucking gods who didn’t bless him with the gift of charisma… if he’d had even a tiny bit, he’d probably already be on a stage somewhere, singing for a crowd going mad for him.
But no, he was doomed to be a nerd boy for the rest of his life.
He looked up from the book to check the time. Two minutes to five. Liam would be here any minute – though, knowing him, he’d be at least fifteen minutes late. Not that Damon could ever say anything to him without stammering through half the conversation anyway...
He wasn’t in love with Liam, absolutely not. It’s just... well, when the most popular guy in school gets stuck sitting next to you in math class because you’re supposed to help him study, it’s hard not to develop at least a tiny crush. But really, Damon had been doomed from the start, ever since he saw Liam Gallagher’s smile the first day of sixth form. And it didn’t help that he’d become friends with Liam’s brother, Noel, which meant being around Liam way more often. Liam, the effortlessly cool, popular guy who didn’t care about anything or anyone, only hanging out with his tight circle of friends and his brother (who still got teased by Liam, even though he was way cooler than Damon – but yeah, that’s kind of obvious).
Damon got up and went to the mirror, straightening his red sweater and the jeans he was wearing. He had dressed casually enough, just so Liam wouldn’t think he was a total loser even outside of school. But, well, that was his wardrobe. It’s not like he could work miracles.
Not that he gave a damn if people at school made fun of him. He still felt cool in his own way—even with his granddad cardigans and his top grades.
But... in front of Liam...
Okay, maybe he was a little bit in love with the younger boy. But only because Liam was perfect, so fucking perfect that Damon didn’t want to look like the loser everyone laughed at when he was around him. Not that Liam ever seemed to care; he was different.
Ever since he’d sat next to Damon in class, he’d always been kind to him—treating him like someone actually worth talking to. He’d smile when Damon wore something old-fashioned, saying it was “Proper weird” but in that joking way only Liam could pull off. That tone that told you he wasn’t judging you, just… saying he liked it, in his own strange way. Not to mention all the times Liam had stood up for him in front of the bullies – when he could’ve easily joined in – yeah, that had to mean something. He always defended him, as if he were… well, his boyfriend.
Maybe! Damon thought. his heart skipping a beat.
The doorbell rang, and Damon quickly checked if his glasses were crooked. He hated wearing them around Liam, but there was no way he could tutor him in contact lenses – those things made his eyes water like hell.
Ah yes, because Liam had asked Damon to help him with maths. And now here he was – supposedly ready to study – while the blond was sweating more with every passing second..
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to make it look halfway decent, and went downstairs to open the door.
As soon as he opened it, he was met with a radiant Liam, grinning like the sun had just walked into his house.
God, he wanted him, bad...
“Oi! How ya doin’?” Liam’s voice snapped him out of it, and Damon swore his jeans weren’t suddenly tighter because Liam was standing there – obviously he’d just… eaten too much lately. That had to be it.
“Hey! Um, yeah, all good. Come in”, Damon said, stepping aside to let him in. Liam looked as annoyingly perfect as ever: tight white T-shirt (far too tight, honestly), baggy jeans that somehow made him look even better, and that usual Beatles zip-up hoodie that gave him a nerdy vibe, even if he wasn’t in the slightest – unfortunately for Damon.
“Ready to smash some maths then?” Liam grinned, kicking off his shoes and leaving them neatly by the door, smiling at him with his beautiful face.
Oh God, Damon thought. Maybe he wasn’t ready – at least not to stop himself from jumping him and begging for a kiss until he couldn’t breathe anymore.
Yeah. It was going to be a long afternoon...
༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:・
They had been sitting there for about half an hour, and Damon was already convinced he was having a full-blown nervous breakdown.
Liam didn’t seem that bad, though. In class, it always looked like he got everything and actually followed along – even if some days he constantly gets distracted, staring out the window, and Damon has to snap him back to reality every time
“Right, so, understood it?” Damon asked for the thousandth time, only to be met with Liam’s completely baffled face. It was like he was speaking Latin.
“Um...” Liam tried to focus on the book, but Damon knew his mind was somewhere else.
“Liam c’mon! I can see you’re all over the place! Just commit two minutes, then we can take a break”, Damon said, feeling guilty for snapping at him. He wasn’t mad, he just genuinely wanted Liam to do well on the next test. He probably cared more about Liam’s grades than Liam himself really, and didn’t want him to get a bad grade he didn’t deserve, since he was actually good; except that… well, like everyone else, he never really applied himself enough. Or rather, he didn’t apply himself at all…
“Can’t help it! This stuff just doesn’t stick in me head!” Liam said, throwing up his hands in defeat.
“That’s your choice! Just because you say it doesn’t want to stick doesn’t mean it won’t. You can do it, you just have to be willing to understand, open yourself up to maths!” Damon said, half exasperated, half desperate, wishing he could somehow make it all sink in for him.
“Fuck no! I ain’t openin’ me legs just fo’ maths!” He joked, making Damon laugh loudly along with him. He had the most ridiculous, beautiful smile on his face, Damon thought, every time they laughed like that at one of his jokes, his heart always flinching a little at the sight. “Maybe ’s jus’ I won’t get nowt nice back if I actually bother wiv it proper, so I ain’t got no incentive,” Liam added, still grinning.
“Aren't you interested in getting a good grade?”
“I’d like something really nice in return, Damon!” They laughed again, together, and Damon, heart still pounding, immediately thought of the absolute worst thing to say in that moment, caught up in the heat of Liam being so close – his strong scent, the warmth of his presence, his smile...
“What if I give you a kiss every time you repeat a definition correctly?”
How the fuck had that bullshit even come out of his mouth?! He must’ve gone completely insane. There was no way he had actually said something like that. God what a disaster… and shame also. What if now Liam insulted him for being gay, or, even worse, ended their friendship forever?! Okay, actually Liam had defended him from homophobic assholes, so maybe he wouldn't insult him for being gay, but the idea that Damon might think Liam was one… yeah, that was definitely a problem.
Liam’s face froze, totally shocked. Someone who didn’t expect that in the slightest. Damon opened his mouth, trying to explain he was joking, but Liam interrupted him, already speaking.
“To find the value of x in the equation x + 1 = 0, we need to isolate x on one side of the equation. At this point, we move the 1 to the other side and change its sign, so it becomes -1. So we have the solution: x is equal to -1”. Liam explained, and Damon couldn’t believe his ears.
Liam remembered everything?! How the fuck was that possible…? Liam didn’t seem to understand anything in class, and yet here he was, explaining the whole formula perfectly to Damon. What the hell was going on?
“Well, reckon I deserve it now, innit? The formula’s right”, Liam smiled satisfied, pointing to the formula on the book that he hadn’t even glanced at, but somehow knew by heart.
“But-” Damon stared at him, first at Liam with a shocked expression, then at the book, wondering if all the certainties he’d ever had even made sense at that moment. “How-” Damon started, but never finished, because Liam suddenly slammed his lips onto his, putting his warm hands on Damon’s cheeks.
Damon was completely caught off guard, heart immediately hammering. Liam Gallagher was kissing him. FUCKING LIAM GALLAGHER WAS KISSING HIM!
After a few seconds, Damon came out of his trance and kissed back, hands moving to Liam’s elbows, as if to pull him closer, tilting his head to give Liam more space.
God… this had to be a dream. It couldn’t be real. He was finally kissing Liam – what he had dreamed of for years was finally happening – and it felt incredible.
Liam, after a minute, pulled back for a breath and looked at him like Damon was the Helen of Troy, the most beautiful person in the whole world.
“S’ry, got all caught up in t’moment, yeah. Hope I didn’t do nowt ye didn’t wanna-”
“No, NO! I–I mean, j-just- why… m-me?” Damon asked hesitantly, absolutely stamming, still not understanding how Liam Gallagher could possibly be into HIM, a total nerd and loser with a passion for maths and poetry.
Liam sighed, letting out a small laugh, like saying: C’mon, it’s obvious, innit?
“‘Cause ‘s you Damon! ’Cause ye’re yerself, mate. Don’t give a toss ’bout what people think or what them other wankers say ’bout ya — they’re all just fuckin’ pricks. Ya just carry on bein’ how ya wanna be, don’t conform, y’know? An’ that’s why ya’re… proper special, yeah? With yer daft ’500-style jokes, yer mad passion for maths – which I’ll never fuckin’ get, mind – yer glasses, same as the great John’s, an’ those grandad cardigans, which, I gotta admit, look fuckin’ brill on ya. God, ya got no idea how sexy ya are in this thing”.
Liam confessed and Damon was sure he’d never been that red in his entire life; he didn’t need a mirror to know his face had gone full burgundy at Liam’s words.
Liam thought he was… nice? Funny? Sexy?! He had to be dreaming.
“Well...” he tried to speak, but the ridiculous grin spreading across his blushing face didn’t make it easy. “Dunno what to say…”
“Say you'll go out wiv me”, Liam said hopefully, looking at him like Damon was bloody perfection.
“I’d be a fool to say no”, he giggled along with Liam, while the youngest put his hand on his shoulder, caressing him and grinning.
“’Bout time! Didn’t get shouted at two fuckin’ hundred times just cos I was pretendin’ to look out the window when I was starin’ at ye!” Liam confessed and- wait, WHAT!? He usually stares at Damon in class?!
Wow.
“Wait, then you weren't admiring the birds that were free, unlike us outside the window, were you? Did you get yelled at for nothing?!”
“Well, act’ly… I wuz lookin’ at a bird…”
“Bastard! Be thankful you’re fit, or I wouldn’t date you”.
“Thank God!” Liam exclaimed elatedly, like dating Damon had been his dream for years – for the older one, dating Liam was definitely his biggest wish, but you know, details. “But first, we gotta finish here. I wanna more kisses”. Liam smiled back at the book and all those fucking formulas from before.
“Ok, but then you'll have to work hard”, Damon stated, turning back to the book, and really hoping that Liam would remember the other formulas like the last one.
“Oh, I'll try as hard as I can”, Liam said, putting his hand on his chest like swearing his lips would return to Damon’s, grinning really enthusiastically about this new study perspective.
“Well then, goodbye making out sessions!” Damon joked, poking fun at him.
“Oh, shush!” Liam shouted, and they both burst out laughing.
Notes:
Say Hi! on tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 11: Set Up By Friends
Notes:
Hello everybody! How are you all doing?
Today we have an AU with Noel and, finally, Graham!!!!
This one's pretty nice, even if I think there are many mistakes... sorry but I'm still sick so I cannot reread them without an headache every two seconds...
Hope it'll still be a good one. Enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 11th October, 2012
“The fuck’re you doin’ here?!”
Damon spun around straight away – though he didn’t really need to look to know that accent, that unmistakably Mancunian snarl, could only belong to one person.
Liam was glaring at him, pure irritation written all over his face. He looked furious just because Damon existed in the same space – and Damon got it. He felt the same.
He put on his best bored expression; no way Liam was going to be the only one who looked pissed off, tough, and cool – when, in fact, he was just a massive idiot inside.
“Relax, I’m just waiting for Graham. The real question is, what the fuck are you doing here?!” Damon snapped, looking away. He couldn’t quite meet Liam’s eyes after… well, that.
Not that they had slept together on purpose. It had been an accident. A wonderful accident, at least from Damon’s point of view — though he’d rather die than admit that to Liam.
“Well, I’m waitin’ fo’ Noel, alright? So piss off, yer the one who shouldn’t be here”, Liam shot back, folding his arms in that typical way of his, annoyed at the world — but mostly at Damon. He said that like he owned the place – like Damon was the one who’d barged into his world again.
“Oh, really? Then-” Damon froze, eyes wide, the realization finally hitting him.
Graham and Noel had set them up.
Damon snorted, refusing to believe any of this was actually happening. How could his best friend and another frie- and Noel – better – pull something like that on him?!
He and Liam had always been a sort of sworn enemy since the first day they met – arguing within minutes over some ridiculous bullshit neither of them even remembered anymore, yet somehow still pitted them against each other.
But everything had changed when, just a week ago, they ended up in bed together... Completely drunk of course! It’s not like Damon had wanted Liam from the moment he first saw him just because he happened to be the most charming, infuriatingly funny, and stupidly ethereal guy Damon had ever laid eyes on, huh.
…Okay, maybe a little. Maybe Damon was a bit in love with Liam… but not so much that he let the asshole behavior Liam always had towards him go unpunished, no way. And, although Damon desperately wanted to kiss him that first night, he immediately changed his mind; that feeling had died the second he realised Liam was, underneath it all, a complete idiot.
Thus began, from here, their personal “feud”: months of bickering, constant digs, and mutual eye-rolls that had everyone ready to kill them both. Because, obviously, their friend groups had to mix. Obviously!
Especially those two (assholes!) geniuses, Graham and Noel, who’d become best mates and now spent all their time trying to “fix” things between Liam and Damon, mostly so they wouldn’t have to endure the arguments every time they went out.
Not to mention Graham, who’d been way too entertained by the whole ‘incident’ and Damon’s not-so-little crush since Damon had stupidly confessed it – that he’d slept with Liam of course, because, yeah, the whole crush thing was already common knowledge – to him a few days earlier. And clearly Noel knew too, because… yeah brothers, etc.
“Those two actually set us up. They screwed us over…” Damon sighed, deciding he seriously needed new friends and especially to change his best friend.
“Whatta bunch of motherfuckers! Even if one’s me brother… he’s just a big jerk!” Liam shouted as usual.
His best friend and the brother of the boy he supposedly hated – but still had sex with – had teamed up to arrange a nice little “date” for them, because why the hell not. Damon couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous it all was. Christ, it felt like being back in middle school…
But now Damon was here instead, stuck in a bloody coffee shop in central London, freezing outside, the kind of cold that begged you to stay inside with a hot drink – preferably alone. However, of course, nobody had accounted for Liam fucking Gallagher.
“Ye gonna say summat, or just keep pretendin’ nothin’ happened?” Liam asked, annoyed by too many seconds of silence, dropping into a chair and tugging off that heavy scarf Damon had always secretly liked – the one that somehow made him look softer.
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you! Like you haven’t been avoiding me all week!” Damon shot back, sitting down too. God, he needed caffeine more than air right now.
“Yeah, well, and I was doin’ great till ya showed up! Thanks to that dickhead Noel-”
“You done ranting? There are other people here, you know,” Damon muttered, glancing around, praying no one had heard too much of their shit.
“I don't care, let ‘em know-” The waitress arrived to ask for their orders, and perhaps to finally put an end to their ongoing courtroom drama.
“What would you like?” the waitress asked. Damon hadn’t even looked at the menu, he always ordered the same thing anyway.
“Two caramel macchiati please”, Liam said, sounding as annoyed as if he were doing something completely automatic, and Damon froze because how the fuck did Liam Gallagher know how he liked his coffee?
The girl walked off, and Damon immediately leaned across the table, approaching Liam. “H–How do you even know I wanted a caramel macchiato?!”
“Ya always get that”.
“Yeah, but why do you even remember what I get every time?!”
“Don’t get weird ideas,” Liam muttered, rolling his eyes. “It’s me favourite too. That’s all”, Liam snorted, but Damon saw that he had blushed a little. Caught.
“Or maybe you actually care about me...” Damon sneered, teasing Liam and causing him to stutter because he was, sadly, a terrible liar about matters of the heart.
“Oh, f–fuck off! I—I don’t care ‘bout Albarn in t’slightest!” Liam stammered and the red on his cheeks said otherwise. Damon could’ve laughed; and maybe now Damon could finally do something to make him talk.
“Funny,” Damon said softly. “Didn’t seem that way a week ago…”
“A week ago we were so fuckin’ drunk, alright? If I hadn’t woken up with ya in me bed, I’d’ve thought I’d shagged anyone. Even a bird”.
Damon sighed. Damn, when Liam got like this, he was impossible. In moments like this, Damon wasn’t even sure about his own infatuation anymore. But... anyway, Liam was ridiculously attractive, with that rare kind of kindness that only people he actually liked ever got to see. And Damon wanted to find out just how far he could go – how beautiful is to be the one Liam kissed first thing in the morning, or the one he brought coffee to at university with a “Saw ye tired, thought I’d lift yer spirits”. Not to mention the one he walked around town holding hands with, or – the one Damon dreamed of most – the guy Liam danced with at parties, getting teased mercilessly by all their friends for being unbearably romantic.
Yeah… Damon was completely screwed if Liam didn’t feel the same.
“Look... as much as I hate you, I'm sorry ‘bout what happened, ‘kay? I wasn’t exactly lucid, and neither were ya. I should’ve stopped and not taken ya to bed. Sorry. I regret it-” Damon cut him off, voice calm but confident, face serene to give more credibility to everything – as if what he was about to say needed more credibility...
“I don't”.
“Ya don’t... what?” Liam stuttered, clearly not understanding where the blond man grinning at him was going with this.
“I don't regret what we did”, he stated, watching Liam’s eyes go wide and his mouth hang open. That, Damon decided, was a sign to keep going. “If I could… I’d do it all over again, you know? I don’t regret following you home, or being shagged by you, because… fuck it, Liam, don’t you get it?! Even though you’ve been an asshole who treats me like crap since ever, maybe… I really wanted that”, he concluded and didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look that shocked in his life. But right then, he was ready for anything — anything to have even the tiniest chance that Liam felt the same way. Of course, that hope might’ve been completely in vain…
“So... d-do you like me?” Liam asked, and Damon couldn’t believe this was even a question after the confession he’d just spilled.
“Oh my God, yes! Yes, Liam, I like you, okay!? This is harder than any damn exam!”.
“Well... I... I dunno whatta say honestly”, Liam admitted, and Damon cursed himself for not being able to read his face; at least to get a hint of how he felt.
“Just tell me the truth,” Damon said, looking everywhere but Liam’s eyes, too scared of seeing hate… or, worse, rejection. “Whether you like me or not. And if you don’t, we go back to hating each other and arguing like a couple of elementary school kids”.
“What if I felt the same way? What if I did… and maybe all this – my shitty behavior – ‘s just me tryin’ to protect meself? Why am I so scared that if I fell for ya, I’d end up wrecked? Wrecked like that Joy Division song… not that I’d actually rip me chest out or anything”. Damon smiled to himself. Had they really been two idiots all this time?!
“Well if you did... I guess maybe we should try to see how it goes. You know, like... dating and stuff”, Damon said, forcing his voice casually, though his chest felt like it was about to explode; maybe something that finally could come true after he had wanted it for so long.
Liam froze for a moment, then his lips twitched into a grin. “No way. I can’t go on a date with ya after seein’ ya naked. How am I supposed to wait ‘till the third to get ya back under me covers?!” They both laughed, Liam looked genuinely happy, and Damon couldn’t help grinning too. Maybe, just maybe, trying to be together wasn’t completely impossible.
Damon's phone rang, dragging them both back to reality.
“It's Graham...” he said, picking it up. Liam’s eyes glinted, clearly already plotting some mischief.
“Answer and put it on speakerphone!” Liam demanded, leaning back with that sly smirk Damon could never resist. Damon complied, bracing himself for whatever chaos was coming next.
“Hello?” Damon said, trying not to laugh at the look on Liam’s face.
“Hey, it’s me! Look, I don’t think I can come, I’m still stuck studying with Noel-”
“Ah, perfect! There’s that asshole brother of mine too! Put it on speaker so he can hear me!” Liam yelled and Damon was pretty sure that, at this rate, everybody on the other side of the world had heard him...
“The fuck ar ya yellin' fo'?! I can hear ya perfectly, asshole!” Noel shot back, and for once, Damon found himself agreeing with him for something.
“Well, then know that from today onwards, we’ll torment ye two every single day, actin’ like sticky, romantic boyfriends that ya hate so fuckin’ much”, Damon then started laughing, already in love with the boy in front of him and his brilliant, chaotic plans, which, of course, would only earn him more kisses and sweetness. Damon blinked, momentarily taken aback. That… that was so absurd. So Liam. And for the first time, he realized it really was just like him – ridiculous, impossible, and somehow brilliant all at once.
“Seriously, listen ‘em! We helped ‘em get their heads outta their asses, an' now we’re t'bad guys!” Noel grumbled, annoyed by them both.
“In fact, they should just thank us!” Graham added, backing Noel up, and Damon thought a statue in his friend’s honor would be well-deserved… though he wouldn’t tell him that now, too busy messing with Liam.
“You're both right. We’ll send you one of our sex tapes as a thank-you!” Damon joked. Liam laughed out loud, while the others groaned in disgust.
Don't worry, then he will think of a real gift for them both. For now, he was just enjoying Liam's laughter.
Notes:
Say Hi! on tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 12: Blizzard or Heatwave
Notes:
Sunday Sunday today! That it didn't feel like the blur's song because I had to study philosophy, maths and physics...
John Lennon was right, Help! me.
Anyway, today we have a new chapter about young liamon in an AU! This one's full of fluff really, hope you'll love it as I do.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 12th October, 2008
It was already half past eight, and there was still no sign of Damon, so much that Liam started properly worrying something might’ve gone wrong, especially seeing from the window how the city had been swallowed up by that storm about half an hour ago.
Damon hadn’t called from work to say he would be late or anything, so Liam had expected him home around eight, as always. But when ten more minutes passed, panic started creeping inside Liam’s whole body. He was stirring the sauce, while all sorts of terrible thoughts, which he had tried to hide in the remote corners of his head after only a few minutes of delay, occupied his head now and, in just a few seconds, probable catastrophic scenarios took possession of his mind, each one worse than the last.
Damon was always a few minutes late, sure: he left the office around seven in the evening, his subway journey always took about forty-five minutes, with the usual switching and waiting that was always the usual prediction, then add the walk to the station and back home, and it was about an hour, normally meant Damon rolled in at eight, knackered. Liam, meanwhile, finished work at seven, his workplace just a few minutes away from home, so he could get back early and have dinner ready for his boyfriend.
Maybe the best way for a person to end the day, or at least for Liam.
But today, unfortunately, he wouldn't end his day early and wouldn't relax as usual, since Damon was late – one of those delays that made Liam well worried.
Another minute and he’d be on the phone, ready to call the police.
He put out the fire and stepped away from the kitchen. Dinner was done, the table set, and now all that was left was waiting for Damon to come and eat, telling him as always those silly things like: “You’re gonna make me fat if you keep cooking all this good stuff you know I love!”. And then Damon would grin and plant a cheesy kiss on him, thanking him for always looking after him after work, even though his own day had been brutal. But it was like he hadn’t busted his arse all day the way Damon had, or at least he pretended he hadn’t, always so thoughtful with his boyfriend, giving him all the attention in the world when he got home, never showing he was tired or annoyed at having to cook or anything like that.
If you think about all that bollocks about ‘true love’ and other various bullshit, well Liam reckoned what he felt for Damon actually qualified and could be defined as true love; way more greater than what the poets go on about, who were considered – let’s be honest – fucking drug addicts spouting nonsense under the influence, never knowing that dizzy, head-over-heels feeling that comes with truly loving someone.
And, surely, they had never felt Damon's hugs and kisses when he came home to a table set and that lovely smell wafting from the kitchen. Or the sex that usually followed, but that was another matter, not something Liam wanted to think about when he was this worried.
He looked out the window and saw London now cloaked in pure white snow, falling thick for a good twenty minutes. The air was freezing, wind howling like it wanted to wreck everything in its path – a bit dramatic? Maybe. But if you knew his boyfriend... – and Liam could feel it even through the closed window. Living on the top floor had its perks, sure, but right now it just meant he could see how nasty it was outside, while Damon was still out there, freezing his arse off in the snow and wind.
“That’s it”, he muttered as the wind howled a little harder. “I’ll get the bloody secret service to brin’ him home, if he doesn’t show up soon”.
However, he didn't even have time to step away from the window before he heard the keys rattling in the lock.
It was Damon, finally. Or, knowing Liam’s luck, some thief who’d nicked his keys.
Luckily, when the door opened, Liam saw Damon safe and fortunately still alive; finally home. Unfortunately, he’d caught the whole bloody storm, snow sticking to his hair and coat, dripping everywhere.
Liam legged it over straight away. “Christ, love, what the hell happened to you?” he blurted, voice half worry, half disbelief, while helping him out of his soaked coat. His poor love was shaking like a leaf, hunched over like he thought curling up might save him from the cold.
“T-th-e m-met-tr-ro s-s-stopp-ped”, Damon stammered, shaking so badly Liam could hardly make out the words. Liam dropped his bag and coat by the door, locked up, and steered him straight to the sofa by the radiator. Jesus Crist, he’s freezing, he thought. He grabbed the blanket off the armchair and wrapped it tight around him, tucking it in like Damon might shatter if he let go.
Damon tried to say more, but his teeth were still chattering from the cold, making it impossible to get the words out. “Shh, honey, warm up, yeah? Then tell me what happened. Come here now”, Liam murmured, pulling him close and wrapping him up in his arms, rubbing gentle circles wherever he could reach to get some warmth back into him.
Minutes passed; Damon’s trembling slowly eased while Liam stayed pressed against him, every so often brushing soft kisses along his neck.
When his teeth finally stopped clattering, Damon managed to speak, his voice small but clear.
“T-thank you. I feel better now. Sorry I was late, but – as I was saying – the tube stopped at Waterloo, and since it was gonna take a while to get going again, I thought I’d walk. Didn’t count on the bloody blizzard though...”
Liam let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Ya crossed the Thames in this weather, love? You daft bastard”, he said, his tone tender rather than scolding. “Don’t ye dare apologise fo’ being’late, it wasn’t yer bad”. He kept tracing soft circles on Damon’s skin, pressing a kiss to his nose as the colour started to come back to it, the worry from before finally slipping away.
“Oh no, I’m really sorry! You must’ve been worried not seeing me come back,” Damon said in that sorry tone of his, looking at him with that same look he always pulled when he was apologising and Liam was meant to be mad at him. As if he could ever be angry when Damon had just walked halfway across bloody London just to get home to him.
Liam let the words sink in – he’d have to know him better than anyone to get how much he worried when Damon didn’t show up on time. Not even a minute. Yeah… love was mutual, he thought.
“My sweet little popsicle who knows me so well!”
“Oh, stop it! I’m not even that cold anymore!”
“I’ve been warmin’ ya up and kissin’ ya fo’ like five minutes, yer should be a proper bonfire by now”.
“Yeah, right. Feeling very Fahrenheit 451, I do”, Damon smirked.
“But yer still shakin’ a bit…” Liam smiled, already hatching a plan.
Damon looked at him like he’d already guessed what was coming – could read Liam’s mind like no one else, really. “Yeah, you know… I’m still very cold…”
“So lemme warm ya up me way, then”, he smirked.
Liam leaned in, crashing his lips onto Damon’s, making him flop onto the couch while he climbed on top, hands tracing lazy circles over his clothes. Damon’s arms went round Liam’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss, completely lost in him.
“Wait!” Damon pulled back almost a minute later, breathless. “What about the dinner you made?”
“Ah fuck off the dinner, that can wait,” Liam grinned. “Gotta warm yer up first, innit?”
“Always so bloody provocative, huh?” Damon chuckled, pulling him in again.
Moments like this made Damon think the cold wasn’t so bad, not when he had Liam to warm him up afterwards.
Notes:
Say Hi! on tumblr: cheese-danish-42.
Leave a comment if you like, I dig them so much ;)
Chapter 13: “This is spooky.” - “Really?”
Notes:
So, tomorrow I have an oral test of physics and a written test of philosophy... wish me luck!
The last weeks have been unberable, so sorry if this chapter's short but when I was writing it I thought I will finish it in the future. But in the end, I didn't have the time thus this is all. Still wish it's good enough.
We have again 'The School Of Extraordinary Lovers' universe, with our Damon as a witch and Liam as a (sexy) vampire. I have to add that, because is based on that fic, this chapter is setted after they've already shagged ;). Sorry but this is flufftober and i cannot write a smut chapter, but maybe, who knows, I will in the future.
So stay tuned and enjoy this little cute one.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 13th October, 2015
Damon had been waiting out there for a quarter of an hour now, thinking he’d have turned into an icicle if it weren’t for his wool coat (also magically enhanced, of course; he wasn’t about to freeze like some mortal idiot).
He was lighting his third cigarette in ten minutes, wondering why fate had such a cruel, bastard sense of humor, especially when it came to love – a question he’d been asking himself constantly, and even more so over the last month...
But, just as he took a long drag, thinking about what laundry juice he could pour into his glass once he returned to his room to drown the shame life always seemed to reserve for him, he heard unmistakable footsteps approaching, followed by that voice with the Mancunian accent he would have recognized anywhere – even among millions of voices. Hell, if he’d gone to Manchester himself, he’d still pick it out in a crowd; no real Mancunian could compete with that level of signature Liam chaos.
“’Ow fuckin’ cold!” Liam complained before he even reached him, which was classic; though Damon, of course, was the one who should have been whining about waiting – even if, anyone who knew Liam knew the vampire ran at least two hours late for everything, so a few minutes was practically a mercy for him.
Damon grinned, sucking smoke into his lungs as if it could cleanse his soul, wash away the clutter of thoughts, and erase every damn memory he didn’t want to carry.
“Weren’t ya a vampire? Should always be cold”, he joked as he saw Liam’s face getting annoyed, rolling his eyes to punctuate it.
“Ah, fuck o’. ‘Ow many times I gotta tell ya, we vamps still suffer the cold! This joke ain’t funny no more!” Liam muttered, rubbing his hands to warm himself in vain.
“Always makes me laugh; then it’s your fault if you're cold, keep wearin’ that parka!” Damon chuckled, pointing at Liam’s usual jacket, now basically his second skin, even part of his image.
“‘S called style, darlin’”, Liam replied, lighting a cig. “Not like that ugly coat ya nicked off yer gran!” He took a long drag, lips always red as wine – Damon would’ve paid to be that cig right then.
“Hey! It’s a unique piece, they don’t make them anymore!” Damon said, mock-offended, pretending to care about Liam’s words. But all he could think of were those damn lips.
“Who kno’ why don’t make ‘em anymore… big loss fo’ us all!” Liam laughed, hitting Damon lightly, warming his heart and making him feel affection he wasn’t ready to admit.
And in fact, just at that moment, as if fate had a sense of irony, Martha appeared and dashed straight to Liam, who picked her up, grinning like always at just seeing her.
“‘Ey ye! What’s it, Damon wants t’ fuck but too shy t’ ask, so he sent ye?” Liam asked, all lashy, looking sweet as hell, petting Martha, who purred like she was entranced by him, betraying Damon completely. Bastard.
The witch's cheeks went as red as a pepper.
They hadn’t talked about it anymore. Since they’d done it, they’d already seen each other a few times, but never mentioned that night at Liam’s house.
Even if Damon couldn’t stop thinking about Liam biting him and… well, fucking him at the same time, making him lose his mind like never before. But he knew it was best to shut up so he wouldn't have to deal with this topic.
Still burgundy, Damon tried to change the subject.
“Come on, it’s startin’ to darken”, he muttered, walking in front of Liam so he wouldn’t swoon just from watching him being sweet to his familiar.
“As ya like… c’mon, Martha”, Liam said, setting her down as he fell into step beside Damon, letting him smell his scent – a mix of cigarettes, Scots pine, and that punchy aftershave. Liam’s scent basically.
The sky was darkening fast, the afternoon looming. It was the middle of October, London’s sun was setting early – around five – painting the clouds like a warm, impressionist watercolor: orange, soft pink, light blue… breathtaking shades.
The air was now cold, already predicting the freezing winter, typical for this old island, which would arrive shortly. At least it wasn't raining – or even snowing that day, as it wasn't unusual (in fact, there were no more mid-seasons!) – making that moment feel like full autumn, the season of witches, to the happiness of a vampire like Liam.
There were leaves everywhere – dark, autumnal colours embracing the city in that warm, quiet hug typical of harvest season. And pumpkins, too. Dozens of them lined every street, about fifty in every single one, as if to announce the arrival of Halloween – Damon’s favourite holiday, of course.
After about ten minutes of walking, spent mostly in silence (except for when Liam offered Damon a cigarette, driving him absolutely insane and making him blush at that rare act of generosity), they finally reached the house of the witch they were supposed to ask about the curse.
That fucking curse that had been killing the men in his family for centuries – as soon as they turned thirty – haunting him since birth.
In fact, the death of his father, which occurred when he was just a little boy – news he’d received while he was with Liam, halfway across the world, for a singing show they’d even won – often came back to him. That memory carried both sadness and envy, but also the warmth of how sweet and caring Liam had been through it all. Damon could never forget that.
But he would never give up. He owed it to everyone who had died because of that damn anathema, especially his father. He was so determined he had even dragged Liam along to face one of the most powerful witches in their world — so powerful that she had been cast out and exiled for fear of her own magic, now forced to live hidden away in the London suburbs, pretending to be an ordinary human instead of someone more powerful than half the wizarding world combined.
Anyway, he absolutely needed Liam. He had read somewhere on Google, the day before, that such a curse could only be broken through a powerful spell – and the presence of one’s soulmate. Besides, he wanted Liam there for moral support, as always.
He knocked and immediately the door swung open wide, as if inviting them in.
“Well...come on”, Damon said, and Liam nodded, following him inside, his cat padding along at their feet like a loyal companion in an old movie.
The moment all... well three stepped in, the door slammed shut behind them, making them all startling.
The path ahead was lit only by the flickering glow of pumpkins lining the walls, while a haze of violet smoke drifted through the air. A delicate but spicy scent – the same one that usually filled Damon’s room – wrapped around them, in a strange tender way, filling their nostrils gently.
It was strange, almost a paradox, to smell something that felt like home in a place so dark and ghostly, with the sound of bats and distant giggles echoing faintly from somewhere behind the walls.
“This is spooky...” Liam muttered, not exactly scared, but clearly doubtful about the entire place.
“Really?” Damon teased, nearly laughing at his tone. “Maybe because we’re in the house of a very powerful witch. Did you know that?”
It was too dark to see Liam's expression, but the witch knew the vampire was rolling his eyes, already bored of the remark.
“Fuck o’”, Liam shot back annoyed, which only made Damon chuckle. “This place ‘s creepy, ya cannot deny that”.
The witch smiled. “I’m sorry to tell you”, he said softly, “but, being a witch, this place is my arché”.
Liam grimaced, trying to walk down the long, dark corridor. “Ya’ve gotta admit... ya witches and wizards ar all proper weird-” he stated and stopped dead and went back when a terrible and eerie noise echoed from the end of the hall.
“What’s wrong? You want me to hold your hand?” Damon teased – unable to resist another jab – and got a middle finger in reply, perfectly visible even in the dark.
“D’I look like a baby to ye?! ‘S just a fuckin’ corridor, what d’ya think’s gonna-” he didn't even finish the sentence before a bat swooped over their heads, making him jump and let out a not-so-manly yelp...
“Alright! But don’t start gettin’ any strange ideas… yeah?” he muttered, grabbing Damon’s hand anyway.
They were now squeezed together, creating a contrast of cold/heat, as if to symbolize the two of them. Damon basked in the chill of Liam’s hand gripping his, his own burning up because of how close the vampire was to him.
“C’mon”, Liam decided, his voice low but steady, while Damon was still speechless.
And so, hand in hand, they started walking.
Notes:
I wish these two were real...
Say Hi! on tumblr, cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 14: Stuck or Lost Together
Notes:
Sorry for posting sooo late these days, but school’s already killing me and it’s been a rough couple of weeks with all the homework and tests. I promise I’ll try to post earlier (as much as school lets me, anyway).
Thank you so much for the likes and comments, though — I absolutely love finding your notifications while I’m on my way to school something like that𖹭
I’m really fond of this chapter, I don’t even know why, but I just love Liam and Damon here. I’ve gotta also admit that I very vaguely took inspiration from a McLennon fic where John and Paul get stuck in an elevator (sadly without Truth or Dare and… well, you’ll see what I mean while reading). I hope they'll make you smile the same way they did for me!
Oh, and also ’90s LIAMON LET’S GOOOO!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 14th October, 1995
"Okay, truth", Damon announced again, like he hadn’t picked the same bloody thing for the last five minutes. Proper boring, that one. Liam could feel his patience slipping away – couldn’t the posh twat just grow a pair and pick dare for once? Always playing safe, like life was some BBC interview and not a fuckin’ game stuck in a lift.
Half an hour now. Half an hour since fate – that stupid, twisted, cruel bastard – had decided to trap him in this metal coffin with Damon fucking Albarn. No one’d done a thing to get them out. Typical.
Holy shit, they still were the frontmen in Britain. The faces of the whole bloody decade – even if Oasis wiped the floor with Blur, and everyone knew it. How the hell was it possible that nobody had already come to save them? Christ, what a joke.
Didn’t anyone realise this could turn into a proper disaster? Lock the two of them in a lift long enough, and the Britpop war could end right here – with one of them knocked out cold. And at this point, with the heat rising, someone was bound to pass out soon anyway.
"Watta load o’ bollocks, man!" Liam snapped. "Y’only ever pick truth! Yer a fuckin’ coward, that’s what ye ar’!" He waved his hands around, pacing, while Damon just stood there, cool as ever, with that look – those fake innocent eyes, like saying: who, me? – and that made Liam wanna smash summat, like his face.
"Well, I dunno about you, but I don't think you can do a lot of things inside this fuckin’ place," Damon retorted, rolling his eyes, all calm and posh.
God how hateful it was to stay there with him, it was insufferable…
However, even if he’d never admit it – not even under some twisted torture worse than that poor sod in 1984 – Liam had to admit, deep down somewhere, he was kinda… fond of Damon. Just a tiny bit. Didn’t mean he liked him or anything – Christ, no – but there was something about the bloke that Liam couldn’t shake. Even when Liam gave him hell – proper shouting, full of hate and all that – the blond bastard would still be nice to him. Always so bloody polite, smiling that sweet little smile like nothing Liam said ever stuck. And that’s what did his head in the most, that stupid, soft grin and those angel eyes that looked at him like he was something worth looking at. Absurd, yeah. But, honestly, who wouldn’t be fascinated by him?
Definitely Noel. If Noel was in his head right now, hearing this crap, he would be pissing himself laughing already.
Truth was, Damon never stopped being nice. Even when Liam slagged him off in front of the press. And that messed with his head, big time. Had him lying awake at stupid hours, thinking about things he shouldn’t. What Damon’d be like to hold, what his smile looked like in the morning light, what his lips might taste like if-
Arright, maybe he wasn’t just “fond” of him… But there was no fuckin’ way he’d admit that. Not even to himself. Damon Albarn? Out of reach, out of his league, and probably out of his mind for ever smiling at Liam like that. Still, he’d always liked a bit of danger, hadn’t he?
He blinked and came back to the moment. Damon was looking straight at him now, waiting for a question. But Liam couldn’t think of a single one. He was too busy staring at Damon’s mouth, wondering if it was as soft as it looked, if it’d fit against his just right; if it’d taste like sugar or gin or both-
“‘Ave ya ever kissed a guy?”
How the fuck did that come out of his mouth?! Must’ve been the bloody heat. His brain was cooking, melting, thinking of Damon’s lips – and before he knew it, the question just slipped out
Damon smiled a little, shy, looking away. And if the place wasn’t already a fuckin’ sauna, Liam would’ve sworn the lad was blushing ‘cause of the question.
“How come you want to know?" Damon asked, turning back to him, voice soft, face still pink – and yeah, maybe not just ‘cause of the heat.
Liam needed an excuse. Fast. Because I think about kissing you all the time probably wasn’t the best answer.
“Uh… saw ye kiss yer guitarist once, yeah”.
Damon looked down again and smiled – smiled! – which made zero sense. Liam had been expecting a punch, or at least a slap after this.
“I think you’ve already answered your own question then," Damon said, all shy again, throwing him that sweet, stupid look that Liam hated. Hated because it gave him chills. And butterflies. And all that romantic crap girls talked about in those soppy fuckin’ love novels.
“Takin’ that as a yes then”, Liam muttered, trying to sound smug but feeling anything but.
“Truth or dare?” Damon asked then, eyes flicking – and yeah, Liam saw it – to his lips. Just for a second, but enough to make his pulse jump.
“This time I’ll copy ya. Truth”.
Damon chuckled under his breath, like he’d just thought of something brilliant. Then, after a pause, he threw it right back at him.
“Have you ever kissed a guy?”
Liam refrained from opening his mouth wide, ‘cause the question was so damn boring and he didn’t wanna blush like a prat over somethin’ so stupid.
“Oi, 's not worth it! I asked ya first!”
“I take it for a yes then," Damon chuckled, all smug, like he’d thought he was clever and not just copying someone else’s line. Liam rolled his eyes. Sounded just like Noel when he said he wrote a new song that was actually a mash-up of the Beatles, the Velvet Underground, Jimi Hendrix and too many others to count.
“What? Nah, I ain’t queer man”.
“But… you actually did, didn’t you?”
Liam didn’t know what to say… or maybe he did, but no way he was tellin’ Damon about his history of kissin’ boys. At least he knew the blond had definitely done more than him.
“Does snogging Noel fall into that category?”
“I think kissing your brother falls into a whole different category neither of us definitely wants to talk about…”
“If ya say so…" Liam frowned, but couldn’t stop thinkin’ about Damon’s lips anyway. And the blond… yeah, he was smilin’, lookin’ at him, and Liam was damn sure he was thinkin’ about his lips too. “Right! Truth or dare?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.
“This time I'll please you and choose dare”.
“Oh fuckin’ finally-”
“But I want a proper dare, somethin’ tricky, you know… as tricky as these four walls’ll let us do”.
Damon's tone was as defiant as his smile, tryin’ to make Liam fail. But Liam? He never lost at challenges. He thought about what to do, and already had a probably evil idea that Damon would never go through with – meaning Liam’d win, as always.
“I dare ya to kiss me”.
As soon as it came out, Damon’s stupid little smile just vanished. Liam grinned, knowing he’d won that dumb thing that wasn’t even a challenge, but still mattered to him.
What’s it, givin’ up, yeah?" Liam chuckled, watchin’ the look on Damon’s face – that little panic startin’ behind his eyes. "Well then I ‘eally think I’ve won-”
But Liam never finished that sentence ‘cause suddenly he felt Damon's lips were on his, and the other hands cupping both of his cheeks.
Liam froze for a sec, just takin’ it in – finally feelin’ Damon’s mouth on his. And fuck… yeah, they were as plump and soft as he imagined, like… heaven. Well… apart from the heat in the lift… could’ve been hell for all he cared.
Almost ten seconds passed before Damon tried to pull away, but Liam grabbed his hips, pushed him back, and opened up to him. Heard a little happy noise from Damon, felt the smile pressing into his lips as their tongues tangled, explorin’ each other for the first time.
And… oh god… that was sweet. Like… honey. Bloody hell!
They’d been at it for nearly a minute when the lift started movin’ again. Both of them pulled back fast, scramblin’ upright, tryin’ to look casual in case someone was there when the doors opened.
The lift came to the ground floor and they immediately spotted a group of people waitin’. Liam didn’t even care – couldn’t care – still buzzin’ from the kiss, from Damon, wantin’ to just shove him up against the wall and keep going.
“I'm mortified, gentlemen… sorry you had to wait so long-" The owner of the building went on and on, babbling apologies, and blah blah blah… Liam didn’t even listen. All he could say was, “Don’t worry, nothin’ happened!” He just wanted to go home and think about Damon… and that kiss they shared.
Finally out in the open, London’s cold October wind hit them, and Liam could breathe again, not suffocatein’ in that metal box. Sky was darker now, sun nearly gone, and the bright moon peeking through the rooftops.
Liam turned to Damon who was already gazin’ at him, and for the life of him Liam didn’t want to let go.
“Well… now what do we do?" he asked, hesitatin’, mind still stuck on that kiss. Those lips. Fuckin’ Damon Albarn’s lips. Driving him insane, like never before.
"Dunno. If you want... my place is less than ten minutes from here", Damon said, eyes flickin’ anywhere but Liam. Maybe scared he’d say no, maybe scared Liam wouldn’t wanna continue. But Liam? He just wanted to stay. Forget the feud, forget they were men, forget Noel would’ve killed him if he knew. At that moment, he just wanted to kiss Damon again.
"’kay. But this time ya just pick dare" Liam said, making them both laugh as they started walking together.
And when Damon brought his hand closer and Liam held it with his gently, it didn’t mean anything… or maybe, it meant everything.
Notes:
Thanks for reading, I really find these two kissing in a lift very cute. Leave comments to tell me what you think!
And, yeah, I'm obsessed over them holding hands at the end of the fics...
Say Hi! on tumblr: cheese-danish-42.
Chapter 15: "This looks fun." - "Not the word would use, but okay."
Notes:
Hi everyone! Today we’re back with modern-day Liamon! This fic really warms my heart, as always, because I love portraying fifty-something Liam so sweet and head-over-heels for Damon.
Here we also have a little nod to previous chapters – early morning walks, of course – showing how these morning strolls between the two of them have changed over the years… well, decades, actually.
Hope you enjoy it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
- 15 October, 2024
It was bloody freezin’, that kind of biting frost that only London winters can pull off. And if it was that bad in the city, you could only imagine what it was like near the fuckin’ Thames.
It felt almost like going to the seaside at five in the morning to catch the sunrise – except there were no golden beaches or clear blue water here, just a murky river and air thick with smog.
Still, Damon looked happy. Properly happy. So, nothin’ else mattered.
Ever since they’d got back together two years ago, they’d tried to do the whole couple thing – full-on, no half measures; tryin’ to be one of those disgustingly sweet pairs who do all the corniest, crappiest and romantic stuff. And they absolutely succeeded in it.
After they’d called it quits more than twenty years before, Liam had taken it hard – harder than anything else in his life. Almost as bad as finding out John Lennon was dead; so, yeah, you get how tragic that had been. Guess that’s why he’d promised himself he wouldn’t mess it up again with Damon, accepting he will be the one, the bloke he’ll grow old with – get to sixty-four together, end up in some care home still taking the piss out of that bloody Britpop war, etc.
Right now, though, he wasn’t even sure he’d make it to the evening, not with the fucking cold biting through his jeans. The idea of reaching old age together in some house in Scotland felt like a cruel joke – they weren’t even close to sixty yet. Well, he wasn’t. Damon, maybe – and if he’d heard Liam say that, he’d have made him sleep on the couch for the next two weeks. Which was exactly why Liam kept that joke to himself. After all, Damon still looked as good as when they were young, carrying his supposed 56 years splendidly, like it didn’t change a thing for him; and Liam knew he’d never stop seeing him as handsome, no matter his age. Ok, now he figured he’d better keep his mouth shut before he got too soppy.
They were both wrapped up like they were heading to the South Pole – which, come to think of it, probably felt warmer than England – with two big coats; Liam had sulked about not being able to wear his usual parka, but one look at the weather app made him change his mind quickly. Better not catch another cold, he thought.
But now, after just five minutes of walking, he seriously thought he might really die from the cold, or at least faint from lack of sleep; since Damon had dragged him out of bed at fucking six in the morning so they could be on Waterloo Bridge by seven for the sunrise. Beautiful, no doubt about it, but Liam still hated getting up early – he didn’t think he’d ever woken up at six in his life, not even for school. That explained all the countless times he used to be late for school every year.
Liam yawned loudly, still not bothering to cover his mouth – exactly like he never did back in the day – and Damon chuckled, shifting his head off Liam’s shoulder and tucking it into the hollow of his neck instead. This left Liam’s hand, still resting on Damon’s side, awkwardly frozen; oh yeah, ‘cause, obviously, Damon could keep his hands warm in his coat pockets while Liam was obliged to let his hand risk hypothermia due to the cold wind.
But honestly, it had been impossible to resist when Damon had looked at him with those sweet eyes just a few minutes earlier, practically pleading: “Please, come on! So we can stay close even while we walk!” And Liam, well, he’d always been a weak man where Damon Albarn was concerned, especially when that angelic voice and those bloody gorgeous eyes were involved.
“You'll never change, huh?” Damon murmured into his neck, giggling deliriously from exhaustion. As much as his boyfriend was a morning person, they’d both had a few more glasses of wine than usual last night, leaving them tired and a little hungover at dawn. If they’d only had one less, maybe Liam would be in bed hugging Damon right now instead of wandering the streets of London at fucking seven in the morning – and honestly, why the hell did the dawn have to be so early and not like at ten?! Liam thought, after an endless quarter of an hour on the Tube during which Damon had started annoying him with kisses every now and then, all while thinking about where to go for breakfast next, never letting Liam rest for a single second.
The usual fuckin’ ideas you get when there’s alcohol involved...
Liam wrapped both arms around him, holding him close. He just wanted to get to the bridge and watch the sunrise, so that he and Damon could then go for breakfast at a nice café and warm up after this bloody cold. Also because that shitty coffee they’d had earlier hadn’t really satisfied his stomach – which just wanted a cappuccino and some pastries while he held Damon’s hand and watched him sip his coffee with that cute little face he always made at breakfast.
“Well, if ya keep gettin’ up this early, I just don't think so...” Liam giggled as Damon settled into the same position as before, smiling. Liam put his hand back on Damon’s side — which had gone numb so much he could hardly feel it anymore — and the other in his pocket to save at least one from the cold. “C’mon! Otherwise, we’ll never make it to this fuckin’ bridge!” he said, starting off again.
Damon immediately did the same, causing Liam to quicken his pace. “Fuck, it’s true! Let’s move or we’ll miss the sunrise!” Damon exclaimed, so euphoric – as if they were heading to a fuckin’ Beatles concert, Liam thought, wondering how his boyfriend could always get so excited over frivolous stuff. But actually, he loved him for that very reason.
Two more minutes spent in silence, trying not to freeze, and they were finally on fucking Waterloo Bridge.
The sky was strewn with clouds but, as if by some divine miracle, there were gaps, and one of them was right where the sun was about to rise. Someone up there must have loved Damon, and Liam sincerely agreed. Probably later the sky would open completely, leaving room only for the sun, but at that moment, it felt like everything existed just for dawn. Liam felt like Damon was reveling in every passing second; it almost felt like Bob Dylan and his girlfriend on the Freewheelin’ cover – only Dylan didn’t have any of his hands out in the cold, lucky bastard – while Liam was freezing his fingers off.
Maybe he should stop saying that... but what the fuck did he care? Complaining was his vital essence, after all.
Damon made them stop as soon as they reached the middle of the bridge, waiting for dawn, squeezing even closer to Liam.
"This looks fun, right?" Damon asked, gazing at the sky.
"Not the word would use, but okay", Liam joked, getting a playful punch in the side from Damon – who, of course, was laughing along with him, still so close that Liam could feel his heart pounding for him.
Letting their relationship go public had been tough – all those paps desperate for photos of the two biggest frontmen of all things in a supposedly “romantic” relationship, journalists hoping to dig up anything about their private lives. But it was moments like this that made Liam realize just how good that idea had been. He could hold Damon without worrying about someone seeing them the way they used to back in the ’90s. It felt like freedom, even if after a month the world had lost interest in their story – thank god! – and no one stopped them on the street anymore to ask for a photo or, worse, how many times a day they were banging.
Anyway, they weren't in the fuckin’ ’90s anymore; no one remembered them, and when people saw them walking by, they just assumed the two of them were only another fifty-year-old gay couple strolling through London — not the two Britpop icons who had changed music forever!
Better this way, at least they could enjoy a quiet walk through the streets of London without having to stop every two minutes for a photo or an autograph on some CD they didn't even remember making.
Liam was lost in thought and didn’t notice Damon talking, pointing to the rising sun blazing in the sky – red as fire, hot enough that it warmed him almost immediately. Well, almost immediately – it would still take him hours to get his body back to normal temperature.
“Liam, come on! Look!” Damon cheered, lifting his head from Liam’s shoulder to look him in the face and smile. He was so handsome he outshone the sun itself. Liam thought he couldn’t love him more – and really, his heart was already overflowing with love for the blond boy in front of him.
Liam smiled, still keeping his hand on Damon’s side, feeling both their hearts beating faster.
“Don't look at me, look at the fuckin’ sunset! We only came here fo’ that!” Liam exclaimed, still grinning like an idiot at the sight of Damon so perfect, even more ethereal under the first glimmers of the day.
“But you’re more beautiful to look at!” Damon squealed affectionately.
“Why didn't ya say that before! Ye could’ve looked at me even in bed, under t’covers, all warm!”
“But it wouldn't have been the same, right?”
“Maybe... but surely t’light of dawn makes ya even more perfect, lucky bastard that ye are…”
“Awww, love!” Damon felt butterflies fill his stomach, even after all these years and at that age, he still felt like the twenty-year-old who had just fallen for the great frontman Liam Gallagher.
Finally, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and turned Liam towards him, placing his hands on Liam’s cheeks and kissing him gently. Their fuckin’ height difference made itself felt a little, and Damon tilted his head to better savor Liam’s mouth, which opened just for him in a delicate but deep kiss.
It made the moment even more magical for both of them, and Liam wanted to watch the sunrise like this more often than usual.
Notes:
Tell me in the comments your favourite Damon and Liam throughout the decades, if you like.
Say Hi! on tumblr: cheese-danish-42.
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