Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In this world, you’re either a planner or a plunger.

Noel can still picture Liam’s face upon hearing the saying for the first time. It’d been years ago, back when Oasis was still in its infancy and it seemed that somehow everything and nothing was impossible.

Liam’s lips twisted into a childish frown, ‘A wha’?’

‘A planner,’ Noel had put his pint aside to gesture at himself with both hands, ‘Or–-’ he pressed his pointer finger into Liam’s breastbone,’--a plunger.’

‘You callin’ me one of them things you find in a bog?’

Bonehead had erupted into a fit of barking laughter, lager spraying from his mouth.

‘Noel’s right, lad—yer shaped like one an’ everythin’!’ He’d pinched his fingers together, ‘All narrow like with a big fuckin’ melon at the top.’

Liam flashed him a V and the pair had fallen into a cacophony of swears and insults.

Noel hadn’t brought it up again.

Noel had always been a planner, even when the world insisted on weaving it's own machinations to deliberately undermine him.

He’d planned on being a Beta.

There are certain truths you are made aware of early on in your life. Noel had been graced with one of these axioms on a random, grey, school morning.

Catching sight of his reflection while digging for a clean shirt, he realizes--

He’s not much to look at.

Noel straightens, pausing to consider what he sees staring back at him from the dirty mirror above the bureau. His face, now stripped of its puppy fat, is intense and angular. His features are too striking to be found charming in the way birds fancy.

Too heavy, too sharp, too slanted, too creased...

He raises his thick brow and then lowers it, as if trying to find a way to hold it that doesn’t make him look like he’s woken up with a boot up his arse.

No such luck.

Noel rocks back on his heels, giving his reflection a final, curt nod, as if to say, Well, that settles it then.

He’ll be a Beta.

He accepts the matter with a content sniff. After all, Paul seems happy enough.

‘Beats bein’ one of them O slags, droppin’ their keks and bendin’ over for any old geezer who’ll slide his–’

Peggy had given him a sharp slap upside the head. ‘Paul An’tony Gallagher, you mind your tongue—’Else I’ll mind it for ya.’

Noel shuddered at the memory. The mere idea of being an Omega sets his teeth on edge.

Bod made fun of them. Worse than that, his mam seemed to pity them. And all that was nothing to say of the way the older lads at school talked about them.

Shaking his head, he kneels and resumes his search for a shirt. When he rises he nearly topples backwards.

He hadn’t heard Liam enter their shared room, which was odd in itself. Most of the time the cunt barged around the house like an irate gorilla.

He was only quiet when he wanted something.

Liam, only just having entered his teens—yet already having surpassing Noel in height—stares down at his big brother with his mouth agape and his eyes glassy.

‘You been huffin’?’ Noel’s gaze narrows suspiciously.

‘N’up.’

‘Well then what’re you fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that for?’

Liam wets his lips and draws one shoulder up in a loose shrug. ‘I’unno. You’re nice to look at, is all.’

He says it with such casual sincerity that Noel is left speechless.

Eyeing him warily, Noel sidesteps his daft little brother and resumes getting ready.

As he rifles through their hamper, Liam looms behind him, close enough for Noel to feel his knees brushing against the backs of his own. When he straightens he is met with the warm solidity of Liam’s chest against his bare back.

Without warning, Liam wraps his arms around Noel, bending them over the bureau with a guttural growl.

Then he’s nuzzling into the soft hair curling at the base of Noel’s skull, snuffling like a dog rooting for crumbs. His breath is hot against Noel’s throat, wetting it with each pant.

Noel’s entire body seems to turn to liquid--Along with his mind. He doesn’t question why Liam is doing this, why he isn’t doing something to stop it. He just stands there, bent and trembling.

Faintly, he realizes the only thing holding him upright is Liam, arms still firmly clamped around his middle. He rubs his cheek against Noel’s and exhales a pleased little whine, ‘...Noel.’

The sound of his voice seems to drag Noel back to reality. With a firm shove, he manages to dislodge Liam and right himself. Liam stumbles back, holding his temples as if he’s been struck. He gives his head a hard shake, like he’s got water in his ears.

‘M’ sorry. Didn’t mean t’....’ He trails off, face screwing up in a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.

Noel just stares at him, round eyed and speechless.

Liam shakes his head once more and ambles out of the room, mumbling to himself.

Later that day, Peggy receives a call from each school in quick succession. Both boys had presented.

Noel, exceedingly late for his age, Liam, exceedingly early.

Noel had planned on taking this secret with him to the grave.

It was something only he, his mam, and his secondary school nurse knew about and he planned on keeping it that way.

Liam never spoke about that day.

Noel likes to think the memory had been slammed out of his head when he’d been bludgeoned by that godsent hammer.

And even if he did remember, why would he care? He'd presented as an Alpha and acted every bit of it; strutting about like the peacock that shat gold or summat.

For his part, Noel took it upon himself to learn anything and everything there was to know about suppressants and deterring heats. And so, despite the way the universe tried to fuck him, he remained pleasantly unfucked.

As far as the public is concerned, Noel Gallagher is a mouthy little Beta with hefty pockets and a beautiful wife.

He tries to conjure Meg in his mind as he plays the final notes of Wonderwall’s outro. He’s told anyone who will listen that it’s about her, hasn’t he? So why can’t he seem to picture her in his mind when he plays it...

Blinking sweat from his eyes, he looks up from his guitar to find Liam staring back at him. He's beaming; his eyes glowing with the same admiration radiating from the sea of fans surrounding them.

Noel finds himself unwittingly smiling back.

Well, why shouldn’t he smile? Today has been a good day.

Liam’s voice was mega, the crowd was electric and Noel had timed his suppressant flawlessly. The show will end just in time for him to take his next dose and then he’ll spend his heat completely at ease in his hotel room with his missus.

Perhaps he’ll have a bath.

He clears his throat, straining to be heard over the cheering, ‘Last one, eh?’ Whitey's beating out the opening to Live Forever when the house lights suddenly come on.

Noel is momentarily blinded, stumbling backwards and shielding his eyes with a hand. ‘What the f–.’ He makes eye contact with a roadie who mouths ‘technical difficulties’ before turning to one of the many nameless, faceless sound engineers.

Noel blinks.

He hadn’t planned for this.

He looks around, clutching his guitar as if it’s a lifeline. His frantic gaze lands on Liam, who of course doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He strolls to the lip of the stage, taking the unexpected intermission as an opportunity to appreciate his adoring public.

Noel watches him swagger just out of their reach, playfully cupping a hand to his ear,‘Wha’...? Wha’?’ The audience eats it up, wailing in hopeless devotion.

He flashes Noel a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

Noel draws his sleeve over his brow. Christ, when did it get so fucking hot up here?

He swallows thickly and reaches down for a water bottle. The minutes seem to drag into hours as the crew scrambles around like a bunch of fucking monkeys with their heads screwed on backwards.

Noel grits his teeth. They have the easy job. All they have to do is make sure everything works. Noel is the one juggling chainsaws on a tightrope with hellfire licking his heels.

The hellfire in question dances away from the crowd, bounding back onto the stage with unpracticed grace. He rolls onto his back, his parka rising to reveal his stomach as he pretends to make snow angels on the filthy floor.

Noel’s head swims as he looks down at his brother, glowing like some sort of fucking ethereal being beneath the blinding lights.

It isn’t the first time he’s been caught off guard by Liam’s stupid, beguiling presence. All Alphas were like that, weren’t they? It just came with the territory. But Noel’s suppressants usually made the magnetic pull seem dull—easy to ignore.

Not that Liam ever made it easy.

His constant groping and pinching was just another obstacle Noel had to plan for; methodically keeping a few feet between them whenever he could, keeping his attention pointedly trained anywhere except his brother—who took mere eye contact as permission to drape himself over Noel.

This morning had been no different.

They’d been working through soundcheck when Liam had swanned in.

‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ Noel hadn't bothered looking up from his guitar as Liam circled him like a fucking vulture.

In lieu of a response, Liam’s arms had snaked around his neck and pulled him backwards. He'd squirmed at the warm, wet sensation of Liam pressing a kiss-–more of a lick really—to his cheek.

His breath, hot and smelling of lager, washed over Noel as he murmured, ‘I’m the bloody star. Don’t need a reason to come to sound check.’

Noel managed to twist himself in Liam’s tight embrace enough to face him, their noses practically brushing. ‘Forgive me for assuming you couldn’t be arsed. You’ve never shown much interest before.’

He’d felt Liam smile against his cheek and then his hands had wandered lower, until they were squeezing Noel’s pecs like he was a fucking bird.

‘You like when I surprise you though, ‘ey Noely?’

Noel had bitten his cheek hard enough to taste copper in order to stop himself from making a noise he’d never live down. When he hadn’t responded, Liam had chuckled, given his backside a playful smack and then loped off to bother Bonehead.

As soon as he was free from Liam’s grip, Noel had slipped away to the bathroom.

Once behind a barrier, he’d popped a suppressant and taken care of himself in the same unsatisfying way he’d been doing since that grey school morning, so many years ago now.

Presently, with his medication slowly being sweat out of his bloodstream one salty, bead at a time, Noel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from the strong curve Liam’s neck as he reclines against the stage floor.

His chest rises and falls as he takes in deep lungfuls of air, an easy smile playing on the corners of his lips.

Christ! When did it get so hot up here?

Noel crushes the now empty water bottle in his fist and tosses it over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. He feels like he’s being boiled alive and frozen to death all at the same time. Squinting, he rakes his gaze over the amps for another water bottle.

When he looks up he finds himself staring into Liam’s face, mere inches away from his own.

Christ…When did he make his way over here?

His blue eyes bore into Noel’s and suddenly they’re kids again, faces set against each other in their cramped little room.

Liam gazes down at him, jaws parted, eyes narrowed, like a cat drinking in a familiar scent. Noel’s heart hammers in his chest as Liam cranes his neck to get even closer, nostrils twitching, eyes searching.

For a horrifying moment, Noel thinks he sees a flash of recognition in his gaze.

...So he does remember.

The world seems to melt around them. The roaring crowd becomes a dull din, swallowed up by the thundering of Noel’s heart and the steady huffs of Liam’s hungry panting. His hand lands heavily on Noel’s shoulder and then Noel is being urged to turn around. He finds himself obeying unthinkingly; assuming the same position they’d taken in their youth.

But before his back is met with Liam’s chest, some sense of rationality springs to the forefront of his mind, flashing like a road work sign.

TURN BACK BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE, YOU DAFT CUNT.

Instead of pausing to carefully plan his next move in the same painstaking way he always has, Noel wordlessly scrambles off the stage—away from the crowd, the crew and his brother.

Chapter Text

If you had tried to inform Noel what state he was to be in come this evening, he would have laughed in your face and called you a blithering idiot.

Noel Gallagher didn’t slip up and he certainly didn’t leave things as important as this unplanned.

But here he was, a shivering wreck wrapped in a thick duvet with empty blister packs surrounding him like a fucking fairy ring. He’s taken every pill in his arsenal but he knows it's far too late; whatever madness his body has descended into is long beyond the point of return.

Noel bites his tongue to stop himself from sobbing like an absolute poofter at the unfairness of it all.

Still, the universe doesn’t seem entirely bent on screwing him over. By some divine miracle, Meg was not in their suite when he’d stumbled in; undoubtedly out with that miserable pack of vultures she calls friends.

Just as well.

He can't let her find him like this. She can’t know. No one can. The idea of his meticulously crafted public image being shattered makes Noel tremble like a sodding chihuahua.

His teeth chatter as his eyes frantically flit around the room; as if the hotel's gaudy décor is harboring some mystical answer to his woes.

He clenches his jaw and wills himself to stop shaking.

He’s The bloody Chief, for fuck’s sake. And The Chief will not be reduced to a puddle of sweat and self pity. With a resolute nod, he blinks back his tears and stands.

Almost immediately, he regrets this course of action.

Once he’s upright, his body takes the initiative to release a bout of slick into his keks.

The alien sensation makes him yelp in shock. With it comes a new sort of panic, crashing atop him like a tidal wave. He drops the duvet and spins around, inanely looking to see if his trousers are stained.

In the chaos, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror; hair mussed, skin waxen, trousers—?

Aye, stained.

He’s a mess. The very thing he planned on never being.

With a shuddering sigh, he closes his eyes as he tries to compose himself.

‘Breathe. Calm down. Steady on, Noely, steady on.’

When he opens his eyes he finds himself staring at the door that leads to Liam’s suite.

He has no memory of walking here. No memory of leaving his own room.

He blinks a few times, looking around owlishly. Had anyone seen him walk over here? Had anyone smelled him?

He can feel his trousers growing wetter with each second, sticking to his thighs as if he’s fucking pissed himself. Shifting from foot to foot, he looks up and down the hall and then back at the door.

With a shaking fist, he raps at the lacquered wood.

When there’s no response, Noel reaches into his back pocket and produces a small, slightly damp room key.

Well? What do you expect? Of course he has a copy of Liam’s room key.

He has keys to all of the trucks carrying their equipment, keys to every dressing room—Liam is as much his property as any instrument or expensive piece of sound equipment and Noel likes to keep track of his things, thank you very much.

He slips inside, unwilling to acknowledge the sinking disappointment he feels upon realizing Liam is absent.

Probably making it with one of them birds in the front row throwing themselves at him tonight.

Well that’s just fine. Noel stiffens his upper lip and shuts the door behind him.

When he turns back around he’s instantly hit by a thick wave of Alpha scent.

Liam's scent.

Without the barricade of his suppressants, the smell wreaths around him in a tight, heavy fog. It fills Noel’s lungs, pure and untainted by medication for the first time in his life.

Liam smells of all the hedonistic pleasures of their shared adolescence; new trainers fresh out the box, the raspberries growing beneath the disused railway beside their old home, a freshly trimmed pitch and something chemical—Vaguely floral...

Blow.

He’d laugh if he weren’t in such a state; of course Liam’s natural scent is reminiscent of fucking blow.

For several seconds, all Noel can do is stand within the haze, closing his eyes and drinking it in.

And, for a moment, it almost soothes him. It’s almost enough.

…Until it isn’t.

Blinking his eyes open, he makes a beeline for Liam’s suitcase. It sits on the other side of the room, beckoning him like a lighthouse in a storm.

Dumping out it's carefully folded contents, Noel rifles through them with the same hurried desperation of a parched man in the desert. He swallows a groan of frustration when he realizes all of Liam’s clothes have been freshly laundered.

Then his eyes land on the bed, unmade and rumpled. In one violent move, he wrenches the sheets and bedding from the mattress.

His head snaps in the direction of the closet. It’s a large walk-in—spacious for a hotel.

Perfect.

He hurries inside, depositing his trove onto the floor and kicking the door shut behind him.

As he begins rearranging the pillows and the duvet into a circular shape, Noel's mind seems to go into overdrive; operating on an instinctive, primal level. He treads around in it a few times before falling to his knees.

Burying his face into a pillow, he inhales deeply; holding Liam’s mouth-watering scent in his lungs until they burn and he has no choice but to release it back out with a shuddering exhale.

By now Noel’s clothes have begun to chafe his burning skin something fierce; his writhing only exacerbating it. Sitting up, he makes quick work of stripping. Once he’s nude, Noel sinks back onto the bedding, rubbing himself against every corner of the duvet in a futile attempt to get closer.

Hot tears of frustration prick his eyes as he frantically grinds against the bedding like a bloody teenager; the promise of release skirting just out of his reach.

Rolling onto his back, Noel reaches down past his straining cock, desperate to quell some of the gaping emptiness below. He's never allowed himself to explore this part of his body--as if touching it somehow further validates his status as an Omega. His fingertips twitch against the puckered whorl and his heart stammers in a strange mixture of trepidation and excitement.

With the absurd amount of slick his body is creating, his fingers slide in with little effort. He sighs, feeling a vague sense of relief.

It dwindles when he realizes that his fingers, even three of them, are nowhere near a satisfactory substitute for what his body really wants.

With a defeated, chest-heaving sob, he retracts his fingers and collapses back onto the bedding.

Through his tears he can make out a slim shape in the doorway.

At first he thinks he’s dreaming.

This whole day, perhaps, might be nothing more than another drug fueled dream that he’ll wake up from and laugh about. Maybe he’ll even write a song about it. Force Liam sing it just to make himself feel better about the whole ordeal.

Liam.

Silhouetted against the room’s light, he looms over Noel like a monolith.

Perhaps, Noel thinks with a shudder, this is a nightmare.

Without a word, he steps inside.

Noel’s breath hitches, as if Liam has just crossed over some invisible boundary that cannot be uncrossed.

Then again, as he lies naked in his little brother’s bedding, cock bouncing against his stomach, Noel mutely reasons that if there were any lines left to cross they’ve surely been trod to shit by now.

Liam closes the door behind him and prowls forward until the tips of his trainers touch the mass of bedding. He’s watching Noel with an unreadable expression, idly rubbing his cock through his trousers.

In his free hand, he clutches Noel’s discarded keks, holding them to his mouth and nose like a fucking handkerchief. As if in slow motion, Noel watches in mute horror as Liam’s lips part and he wads a portion of the cloth into his mouth, suckling contentedly.

Absurdly Noel is reminded of Liam, six years old, worrying the corner of favorite blanket between his lips.

The memory makes his stomach turn.

Liam’s cheeks hollow as he sucks the last traces of Noel’s slick from the garment before snapping it from his mouth and carefully tucking it into one of the many pockets of his parka.

Then he’s kneeling down beside Noel, murmuring softly, ‘’S a nice little nest you’ve made here. Top work.’

Noel abhors the way his chest flutters at the compliment. It is a nice nest. Warm, cozy, perfect for pups.

He freezes at the unbidden thought.

‘Go ‘way.’ His voice is nothing but a thin whisper. A desperate plea.

‘Ere now, yer in my room. You go away.’

Neither one of them moves.

Liam licks his lips, mouth twitching in a joyful, deranged little smile. ‘I knew it. ‘Knew from that day when we was kids. Could smell it. Feel it.’

Suddenly, he’s crowding Noel, forcing him backwards.

‘Bet you thought you had me fooled. Nah–-Everyone else, but not me. Never me.’

His eyes are sharp now, glinting with something unnervingly lucid; so different from Liam’s usual glazed, dozy stare. It makes the hairs on the back of Noel’s neck rise.

‘Noel, Noely-–I can help you. Let me help you, eh? C’mon, let us.’

He speaks with heated urgency now, warm breath fanning Noel’s cheeks as he pushes his face in as close as he can.

‘G-gerroff me.’ Noel’s voice sounds alien to his own ears—weak. Frail.

Liam ignores him, nudging him deeper into the nest. He whines, pressing his nose against Noel’s neck as he grinds against his leg. Noel feels another rush of slick leave his body at the sensation of Liam’s knot, thick and growing against his thigh.

His entire body jerks when Liam’s lips brush against the now-swollen mating gland on his neck.

‘You never let anyone, have yer?’ It’s less of a question and more an exhilarating realization. He presses his lips against the unmarred bump and Noel’s hips buck involuntarily.

‘Waitin’ for me, yeah?’

The condescending, smug tone of Liam’s purr makes Noel want to cuff him but all he can manage is a low whimper and some weak pawing.

‘Aw, I know. It hurts, don’t it?’

Noel’s nodding before he can stop himself, rubbing his cheek against Liam’s. They twist in a tight, animalistic embrace; frantically scenting each other until the little closet is stuffy with their intermingled scents.

Noel squirms in Liam’s arms and wriggles onto his belly. He buries his burning face into the bedding as he raises his hips in a silent, pleading invitation.

Behind him, Liam sucks in a gasp like he’s been kicked in the gut. Then he’s draping himself over Noel, rutting against him through his trousers and grunting like some kind of demented beast.

Even through the cloth partition, Noel’s body sings in relief at the shape of Liam’s fat knot pressing against him.

‘Hurry, c’mon, kid-–please.’

He hears the frantic struggle of Liam tearing his clothes off and then he’s back on him; the delicious warmth of his body seeping into Noel’s clammy skin.

He starts at the feeling of Liam’s prick grinding against him. If nothing else, all the friggin’ slick his body is making has removed any possibility of resistance or friction, allowing the tip of Liam’s cock to teasingly catch Noel’s entrance as he blindly ruts against him.

Noel chews his cheek in frustration, his hole fluttering in a desperate attempt to grasp Liam and pull him inside.

Finally, in the midst of Liam’s blind, frantic humping, his cock manages to wedge its way inside.

For the first time this evening—perhaps in his entire life—Noel feels like he can breathe.

‘Oh–-Good lad, good boy, Liam. That’s it. Jus' like that.’ Noel’s aware of how deranged he sounds; his voice rising to a warbling, sobbing laugh of wild relief.

Liam’s grip on his hips tightens, clearly spurred on by the praise. To Noel’s relief, he doesn’t waste any time; setting off at an unforgiving, jackhammer pace.

His movements lack any finesse or grace but Noel can’t be arsed. It's all animal instinct now; their singular goal cresting the horizon.

Noel grinds back against him, practically drooling at the delicious drag and snap of Liam’s swelling knot popping in and out of him.

‘That’s--that's grand. K-keep on it, kid.’

It’s as if someone else is speaking through Noel. He’s never, never blathered on like this in his life—not for any bird, no matter how fit. But now he’s filling the tiny room with breathy moans, strangled whimpers and more treacly praise than a birk like Liam deserves.

Before his lust-loosened mouth can embarrass him any further, he bites his forearm, sinking down and letting Liam go at him without abandon.

Then, without warning he leans down to lap at Noel’s mating gland, tonguing over the bump like it’s a friggin’ lozenge or some shite. Noel’s breath catches as pleasure so intense it’s painful lances through him.

Suddenly it all feels like too much, too fast.

He attempts to jerk his head away, gasping. ‘You fuckin’ stop that! Shit’s sensitive.’

His voice is high and tight, like an agitated bird's but Liam pays him no mind, continuing to mouth at him sloppily before covering the entire gland with his heinously wide mouth and giving it a hard suck

Noel practically screams as he’s all but shoved over the edge of his orgasm; his cock shooting thick, white ropes into the bedding.

It takes him several seconds to come back to himself. His ears are ringing and his eyelids feel like they weigh five stone a piece. His arms have given out but Liam is still pounding away, keeping his hips up in a steel grip.

Taking advantage of Noel’s prone form, Liam curls over him, venting hot air between clenched teeth.

‘’Gonna look so fit, you are. Tits all fat, belly even fatter,’ he grits, nuzzling into Noel’s hair, ’You’ll never be sad n' empty again--always gonna be stuffed with me prick or me pups. Swear it, Noely.’

The words pierce through the fog of Noel’s exhausted, hormone addled brain like a knife. His eyes shoot open and he goes rigid.

‘No. No, Liam. You can’t. Not–not inside–!’

If Liam has heard him, he makes no sign of showing it; continuing to pant lovesick nonsense into his nape. When Noel’s wriggling finally becomes distracting, he braces his full weight on his back, pinning Noel in place.

Practically flattened, Noel frantically redoubles his efforts. But just like when they scrap, his attempts at escape only seem to excite Liam more. His thrusts grow more violent, driving the air straight out of Noel’s lungs.

He can feel that familiar, daft smile curving Liam’s lips as he slurs directly into his ear, ‘Gonna be such a good mammy, r'kid. I know it.’

With that, Noel’s body rebels against the last rational part of his mind and clenches around Liam in an unyielding grip. Behind him, Liam groans, snapping his hips as his knot crams its way in one last time before a deluge of heat flows deep inside of Noel.

Before he can catch his breath, let alone begin to unravel the mess he--they--have gotten into, Liam’s teeth are sinking into the side of his neck and Noel's perpetually racing mind goes blissfully blank.

Chapter Text

After what could be anywhere between several minutes or a handful of hours, consciousness slowly bleeds back into Noel’s mind.

He’s vacantly aware he’s moving.

Er—being moved?

His head gently bumps against the wall of the closet in a steady, even rhythm. Slowly, his eyes begin to focus in the dim light of the closet and he registers—

Liam is fucking him on his back.

His head is thrown back in pleasure and his body is covered in nothing but a thin sheen of sweat. Still between sleep and wakefulness, Noel smiles dazedly as he’s taken back to Liam—twelve or thirteen, getting caught wanking on his bed.

The cheeky little devil.

As if sensing Noel’s eyes on him, Liam’s chin tips forward. When their gazes meet, he flashes Noel a smile that could almost be guilty and it’s as if Noel is walking in on him again; lounging on his back with his hands down his keks and no real shame in his eyes.

‘Soz Noely, my bed’s just so friggin’ stiff. Can’t rightly get off in it, y’know what I mean? Yers smells loads better too...’

It hadn’t been particularly shocking then and neither is what’s happening now. After all, nothing has ever been entirely Noel’s.

Not really.

Not his bed, not his songs, not even his body; it was all there for Liam—maybe it always had been.

‘You were whimpering somethin’ awful in your sleep so’s I figured you needed summore…?’ Liam’s voice lilts, clearly looking to be praised for his generosity.

Noel swallows thickly, mind too sluggish to formulate one of his classically snide Noel responses. With each one of Liam’s ragged thrusts, his own cock slaps against his stomach, leaving a trail of precum in its wake.

Overwhelmed, Noel’s head sinks back into the duvet; the simple act of keeping it upright suddenly becoming too arduous a task.

Liam chuffs low in his throat; a sound meant to calm distressed Omegas. If Noel had the energy, he’d smack him for trying that sort of shite on him.

But Liam persists, alternating between soft chuffing and melodic purring and soon Noel is so insufferably soothed that he nearly falls back asleep.

Pleased, Liam leans down until his and Noel’s sticky chests rest against each other. He gradually resumes fucking him, slower now, until his movements become so minute that to an onlooker the pair might appear entirely stationary.

The gentle, almost nonexistent pace lulls Noel further into a state of relaxation.

It feels so good to be taken care of this way. Why in the world had he denied himself for all those years?

Noel is barely awake when he finally cums in slow, lazy spurts that nearly reach his chin. Liam follows in hot pursuit, burrowing his face into his neck and gently slotting his teeth into the divot he created in Noel’s throat mere hours ago.

His knot goes down faster this time and, with a quiet wince, he pulls out of Noel and reclines beside him.

Noel’s mind is drifting beneath a cottony veil of sleep when he feels thick fingers spreading him open and clumsily prodding his sore, puffy hole.

He yelps in pain, lurching upright to glare down at Liam. Liam takes no notice, shoving his fingers further in and stuffing any traces of cum that spilled out over his knot.

‘Don’t want any of this to go to waste, do we?’ He murmurs, not bothering to look up as his thumb securely plugs Noel.

Before his groggy mind can begin to process his brother’s queer statement, Liam is nuzzling beneath Noel’s bollocks.

‘Liam, don’t! That’s bloody disgu–’ He’s cut off by a long groan pulled from his chest as Liam’s velvety tongue drags over him in long, broad strokes.

With a whimper, Noel feels the now somewhat familiar sensation of slick beginning to pool from him. Then, to his dismay, Liam proceeds to sup it up like it’s fuckin’ Ribena on a hot day.

The wet, sloppy sounds are lewd enough to make Noel’s ears burn. He throws an arm over his reddening face as Liam gives his unmentionables a thorough seeing to.

When he’s cleaned him to his satisfaction—and had his fill—he sucks Noel’s bollocks into his mouth and tugs at his stiffened prick, humming pleasantly.

It isn't long before Noel’s cumming again, feeling properly overstimulated and wrung out.

‘You’re sick,’ he pants, fisting a hand in Liam’s silky hair and giving it a weak tug.

Liam swipes his tongue over his jaws like he’s the cat who got the fucking cream. ‘Twaddle. Yer dead tasty, you are.’

With that, he leans up to press a sticky kiss to his brother’s gaping mouth and Noel is instantly assaulted by the cloying, sweet taste of his own slick.

He can’t for the life of him understand how something so saturated can taste good to Alphas but Liam seems punch drunk on it, licking up whatever residue he leaves on Noel’s lips and chin. When Noel finally manages to shove him off, Liam chuckles and sits back on his heels, scratching his arse like the fucking ape that he is.

Now fully awake, Noel eyes Liam’s cock warily; it’s bloody intimidating with a sober mind—curving up against his stomach and thickening at the base with the beginnings of a new knot.

But instead of making a move to act on it, Liam rises to his feet and cracks the closet door open

‘Where are you going?’ Noel blurts before he can stop himself, internally recoiling at the needy pitch in his voice.

‘Gonna start up the shower, aren’t I?’ Liam answers with a lopsided grin, ‘If we stay here any longer I’m gonna have to wrench you off’a that duvet with a pry bar.’

‘S’pose that’s as hot as it’s gonna get. So much for five stars, eh? We should leave somethin’ narsty in the guestbook.’

As Liam tests the spray of slowly heating water, Noel’s hand absentmindedly draws up to his neck. When his fingers glide over the deep crescents left by Liam’s teeth, a fresh wave of anxiety washes over him.

What have they done?

Liam smiles dreamily as he looks over his shoulder to examine his handiwork alongside Noel.

‘Ah yeah, I might’ve gone a bit overboard with that.’ He turns away from the steaming spray to lean down and lave his tongue over the bite mark apologetically.

‘S’pretty though, ain’t it?’

Noel squirms away, wincing at the slow, lapping sensation—both pleasurable and painful. He doesn’t get very far before Liam’s stupidly long arms wind around him and draw him back.

‘Get off of me.’ Noel grounds the words with so much venom that Liam actually obeys. He pulls back just enough to stare into his brother’s face.

‘Nooooely’ he drawls, almost admonishingly and Noel wants nothing more than to give him a good smack.

All he does manage to do is turn his face up and give Liam a miserable scowl. ‘I only wanted us to—I didn’t want you to claim me, you fucking brute.’

Liam cocks his head.

‘So?’

Noel gapes at his indifference, ‘Are you fucking mad? So? So why did you, you cunt?’

‘Cos we’re mates,’ Liam says in a measured tone, as if Noel is fucking thick. ‘Have been since that day in our room. Not official like, but you were mine and I been yours.’

Noel stares at him like he’s grown a second head.

‘I know you, our kid,’ Liam continues, petting a warm hand down his spine, ‘An’ I also know no one's gonna love you like I do—‘specially not now.’

He doesn’t say the words aloud but Noel can hear them in his assured tone.

Now that you’re damaged goods.

He feels his hackles rising. How dare he…

‘No one is ever gonna know,’ he grits through clenched teeth.

Liam’s eyes flit to his throat, ‘A little late for that, mate.’

‘I mean no one’s ever gonna know it was you, you mong!’ Noel hisses, attempting to scramble out of Liam’s grip once more.

Liam hardly notices his writhing, frowning thoughtfully as he digests Noel’s words.

‘H’ummm, yeah, I s’pose it would cause a bit of a tizz. P’raps we should keep hush about it.’

He looks back down at Noel, face drawn tight in sympathy—no, pity. ‘Only, I wouldn’t want anyone to think you’d been bit and quit.’

Noel sets his jaw, forcing back the rage that roars through him upon hearing the derogatory O saying.

‘No one’s gonna think my mate’s some slag who was claimed by a wily-nily geezer.’ Liam continues, lifting his chin like he’s a fucking knight from a fairy story defending his bird’s honor.

‘Will you shut the fuck up? I ain’t your bloody mate. I’m your brother. S’bad enough we let it happen once–

‘Twice.’

‘--We can’t carry on with it like a couple of degenerates'

Noel bites his thumb as his mind whirls.

Makeup. Makeup would cover the mark. But Meg would eventually see him without it. The sudden thought of his wife makes his chest tighten to the point of pain.

Meg...

Liam’s droning voice drags him back out of his thoughts, ‘But what’re we gonna tell the pups? Can’t let them think their Da walked out on ‘em.’ His heavy brow creases with genuine concern.

Noel has to laugh, ‘D’you even fucking hear yourself when you gab? There ain’t gonna be no pups. Not from one roll in the hay.’

‘Two rolls in the hay.’

Clearly turned on by the conversation, Liam has begun palming himself; his knot swelling enough to catch Noel’s attention. His cheeks grow hot and he trains his gaze back down to the marble floor.

‘S’not how it works,’ he mutters, more to convince himself than Liam. Dread begins to niggle at his mind. What if…?

Liam’s chest puffs out, ‘Says you. Doctor says I’m healthy as a horse. Could populate the planet, I could. Says I’m vile.’

‘Virile, you twat. The word is v–Nevermind. Listen, you need to get me somethin’. A–a pill or summat.’

Liam’s lips purse in the beginning of a pout, ‘Wha’ for?’

‘I can’t—we can’t. They’ll be–’ Noel gestures helplessly, ‘Fucking abominations!’

At this, Liam’s concerned frown breaks, ‘Wha’? You think our pups are gonna be born with tails and wee horns?’

He rubs his chin with a fond smile. ‘Actually sounds right cute.’

‘Liam, I’m being fuckin’ serious.’

Finally, the amusement flickers from Liam’s gaze.

‘So am I.’

His voice takes a flat tone that Noel has only heard a handful of times in his life. It suggests a modicum of severity. He cranes his neck to look at his little brother proper.

‘I don’t want to tell everyone our business but I will if you even think about hurtin’ our little uns', believe you me.’

One of his hands curves down to Noel’s stomach in a protective caress, as if there’s already a budding litter there.

‘I’ll tell The Sun, your missus, Mam—really, anyone who’ll listen. And they’ll know it’s true.’

Fear spreads through Noel’s chest like ice water. He shuffles backwards and this time Liam lets him.

‘Coz everyone already knows you’re mine. Me bitin’ you was just a formality.

His tongue digs into his cheek as he regards his brother. ‘An’ anyhow—’O’ fellas are just birds who look like blokes, eh? S’not like anyone's gonna be s’prised when you start showin’.

Enraged beyond the point of words, Noel takes a swing at Liam’s chin but the dodgy cunt ducks out of the way at the last second, clearly anticipating his words reaping this reaction.

He weaves behind Noel, twisting his arm behind his back at a painful, awkward angle.

‘Wahey! Hittin’ your mate? Threatenin’ to hurt our littlies?’ Liam clicks his tongue. 'Noely. Yer takin’ after the wrong geezer. Ought to be actin’ more like our mam, not that bastard.’

Noel’s vision is blurred with hot tears.

He’s nothing like Tommy. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone or anything. He just wants–

‘Let go o’ me.’

‘Y’gonna be sweet? Or keep actin’ like a dick.’

Humiliated, Noel mutely clenches his teeth and fixes his teary gaze on the floor.

After a second or two, Liam softens around him.

‘....’M sorry.’

He turns Noel in his arms, nudging his jaw with the same apologetic persistence of a dog nosing its owner's hand.

‘Noely? Said I’m sorry.’

Noel’s heart twists in the same way it always has when he hears those words.

No matter how big and bad he gets, Liam will always be that cheeky little div who cut Noel’s guitar strings and then crawled into his bed that very same night, pressing his tear stained face into Noel’s stomach and blubbered apologies.

And Noel will always be the soft touch who lets him get away with it.

With a start, Noel feels the eerie thrum of their newly formed bond; Liam sending him warmth through it like a blast of sweet, summer wind. It makes his chest hurt with a fondness he couldn’t ignore even if his miserable mess of a life depended on it.

‘Didn’t mean what I said.’ Liam murmurs, dipping his head to meet Noel’s downcast gaze. ‘You could never be like ‘im. You raised me right, you’ll raise them right too.’

At this, a deranged, hiccupping laugh burbles from Noel’s chest; if he raised Liam right he shudders to think what raising him wrong would have looked like.

‘I love you, Noel.’

Noel doesn’t answer him. He can’t. He settles for resting his weary head on Liam’s chest.

He’s so fucking tired. Tired of all the running, the lying, the denying and the godforsaken planning.

He doesn’t realize Liam is gently herding him towards the shower until he nearly trips over the tile step.

Beneath the steaming water, Noel, too exhausted to make sense of the maelstrom of conflicting emotions raging through him, allows Liam scrub him clean.

Feels sort of good to let someone else do it, anyhow.

But he’s still The Fucking Chief so when Liam begins covertly grinding his cock into the soapy cleft of his arse, Noel turns around and fixes him with a look scathing enough to make him take a step backwards.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ he grins crookedly, holding his sudsy hands up in surrender. He resumes his original task, humming a jaunty tune as he sets to work on Noel’s hair.

Though he’d rather die than admit it; some depraved, primal part of Noel enjoys this—being taken care of. Letting someone else have the reins.

…Even if that someone is the sodding monkey he calls his brother.

His mate.

Noel tries to push the thought away but it returns instantly, lodging itself into his mind like a thumbtack.

It’s always been him and Liam. Liam and him. Life without the cunt by his side would be like navigating the world with one arm tied behind his back. Doable but friggin’ miserable.

Is that what it meant—to be mates?

Or was that bein' brothers...

Liam’s warm affection pulsates through their bond, draping itself over Noel’s mind like a weighted blanket.

Makes it dead hard to think, it does.

He squeezes his eyes shut and attempts to realign his train of thought.

He could leave right now. Slam Liam’s stupid melon into the shower spigot while he’s distracted by his backside and swan back into his suite just in time for breakfast with his missus.

But the mere thought of leaving makes his knees weak. He...he wants to stay here—beneath Liam’s clumsy, pudgy hands.

Noel presses back into him, until he can feel the sodden drag of Liam’s chest hair against his back. In response, Liam's hands squeeze his sides lovingly and he presses a kiss between his shoulder blades.

‘Y’tired now, petal? I’ll finish up, quick smart.’

‘I love you too, r’kid.’ Noel hangs his head as he finally answers Liam in what sounds more like a horrid confession than a declaration of affection.

It’s quiet enough to be swallowed up by the torrent of water slapping against the tiles. Part of Noel hopes Liam hasn’t heard him.

Part of him hopes he has.

When Liam doesn’t respond, Noel experimentally nudges at their bond, plucking at it with his mind like a guitar string.

He hears Liam’s breath catch in his ear and feels his arms tighten around him. In that moment, Noel realizes that he’s never felt more like a whole person than when he’s with Liam.

It should be a painful revelation—accepting that you’re nowt but a fragment of another friggin’ geezer but Noel feels strangely comforted by the thought. Him and Liam. Liam and him...

Liam’s soapy fingers thread around his belly and another wave of love choruses through their bond; though this time it feels different. The kind of warmth you're meant to feel for yer Mam or yer Da. Or yer little ones. Noel feels Liam's fingers tighten around his stomach and he chokes back another incredulous laugh.

The madhead really thinks they’re gonna be parents. He's insane.

Noel blinks water from his eyes so he can roll them but he finds his gaze stuck staring down where Liam’s hands are entwined over his navel. His own hands come to cover them, seemingly of their own accord.

They stand like that for a moment longer, before Liam releases him and continues to scrub.

Somewhere along the way, the nonsensical song Liam is quietly humming turns into Live Forever and Noel is treated to his own private concert in the shower.

He’s full on singing by the time he’s toweling Noel off and it’s only when they’re in bed, snug beneath fresh linens that Noel’s exhausted mind totters back to the gig.

‘Did yiz finish the set? Do Live Forever on yer own?’ He feels a twinge of jealousy at the thought of Liam singing the tremulous falsetto he only graces Noel with behind closed doors.

Liam doesn’t answer him outright. For a moment, Noel thinks he’s fallen asleep behind him. Then he shifts, dragging Noel on top of him.

‘Y’mean after you left me?’

Noel braces his hands on Liam’s chest, scowling at him. ‘What was I meant to do? Let you snap me over in front of a venue full of geezers?’

Liam’s mouth quirks at the suggestion and Noel already knows the answer. With an exasperated sigh, he settles himself on Liam’s chest and rests his chin on his sternum.

He feels like he could sleep for a dog’s age but he’s still the bloody Chief so he asks—

‘What ended up bein’ wrong? Was it the speakers again?’

‘Nothin.’ Liam’s hands run up and down Noel’s sides. It’s such a soothing sensation that it takes Noel a tick to register what Liam is saying.

His eyes flutter open, ‘Ey?’ He raises himself on his elbows to look down at Liam.

‘I jus’ slipped one a’ the roadies a grand so he’d unplug some shite.’ His hand slides up Noel’s chest to idly play with one of his nipples.

‘...What’re you talkin’ about?’ The warmth in the room seems to get sucked in an invisible hoover, chilling Noel as he realizes—

‘Did you–? You fuckin’ planned that?’

Liam stares back at him evenly, blue gaze warm beneath his damp fringe.

‘Everyone thinks I’m right thick, eh? Even you.’ He gives his nipple a playful tweak, ‘S’pecially you. But I ain’t.’

‘You ain’t the only big planner ‘ere, mate,’ He taps Noel’s temple, ‘I told you—I knew. I’ve always known. Was waitin’ for you to come to me but that was gettin’ fuckin’ old, y’know?’

He rolls them over so that he's all Noel can see; looming large like somethin' out of the Bible. ‘Figured you could do with a little push. Or a plunge.’ He punctuates the statement with a lingering kiss to Noel’s slack mouth.

Noel, too shocked to do much else but gape at the ceiling, allows Liam to lick into his mouth; move against him until their cocks are lined up and rubbing pleasantly.

Noel doesn't know whether to feel horrified or impressed. His little brother—his daft little William—being capable of outfoxing anyone, let alone him, is enough to make his mind twist in on itself like a Curly Wurly.

Oddly, the only uncomplicated, true emotion he can pluck from the tangle in his chest is a demented sort of pride.

Maybe they’re both insane. Maybe they always have been.

Noel leans into the pillows, mind wilting beneath the crushing weight of Liam’s love as it pulses in thick, syrupy waves through their bond.

It’s almost too easy to give in. Give up.

And so, as he closes his eyes and relaxes beneath suffocating press of his brother's weight, Noel does the only thing he's ever managed to do without much of any planning—

Let Liam take what he wants.

Chapter Text

Noel had planned on never seeing Meg again.

Icing out girlfriends, even wives, is a regrettably easy feat in this line of work.

It boils down to a simple science—You immerse yourself deeper and deeper within your inner circle until you cannot be reached; no matter how good the intentions of the opposing party might be.

Noel was confident that in time, Meg would see that their sudden separation was a good thing.

He tells himself she wouldn’t have been happy with him—not for very much longer.

He tells himself it was only a matter of time before things fell apart—didn’t they always?

He tells himself it’s for the best—because imagining an alternative is too much to bear.

He’s reaching for a jar of strawberry preserves, wishing a prolonged demise upon the Sainsbury's worker who deemed it necessary to stock them on the top shelf, when another hand pries it forward.

He jerks his head to see that the owner of said hand is none other than his beautiful wife.

After all, they are still technically married. She hadn’t signed the papers yet, demanding to see him in person before anything was finalized.

Now, with her blue eyes rounding in horror, Noel watches his wife realize she should’ve just signed the bleedin’ papers.

The jar seems to fall and shatter in slow motion. Noel looks down at the shards, well aware of the fact his swollen ankles wouldn’t allow him to even pretend to help her sweep them up.

He continues to stare down at the mess, unwilling to meet her eyes.

He can feel gaze upon him, taking it all in; what he’s become.

His parkas do a good job of hiding much of the change, but he knows she knows.

Everyone knows.

The most unnerving part of the whole mess was that no one cared.

All of Noel's meticulously crafted publicity stunts, all of his precious planning—none of it had mattered.

He’d gotten up the duff and the world had kept on spinning.

Just like Liam had said it would.

Noel hangs his head, watching the jam pool on the linoleum, sweet and thick. His cheeks burn as he unwittingly thinks of this morning.

Liam, unwilling to run the risk of hurting their pup, insisted on taking care of his mate in other ways.

When Noel was reduced to a red-faced, moaning mess, Liam had leaned his cheek on his quivering, sticky thigh, laughing breathily, ‘Tastes like strawberry jam, it does.’

He’d smacked his lips in the same way he used to when he was just a wee thing devouring preserves and Noel’s heart had swelled so furiously he was sure it’d burst right out of his chest.

He can see Meg in his peripheral vision, stepping around the shards.

He braces himself for the slap he knows he’s had coming for weeks—maybe years.

His heart stutters when she, instead, leans forward and mutely wraps her arms around him.

Noel doesn't reciprocate her hug. Instead he closes his eyes and pretends they’re still married. Pretends that they’re simply doing their shopping together and that when he opens his eyes she’ll playfully slap his shoulder and tell him to get a move on.

‘I still want to name her Anaïs.’ The words propel themselves from his throat before he can choke them back. ‘If-if that’s okay.’

He feels Meg’s arms stiffen around him but Noel keeps talking. He can’t seem to bring himself to stop. Liam and him don’t speak much these days; relying on their bond to communicate what little can’t be understood physically.

It feels good to talk. His voice cracks from disuse but he carries on.

‘I don’t rightly kn-know if it’s a girl. But Liam says he can tell—somethin’ about the way I smell.’ His ears burn in humiliation at his inability to rein himself in. Why the bloody fuck was he telling her this?

‘He likes Grace—for a girl. But—' He feels a rare flicker of defiance spark in him, perhaps kindled by a physical reminder of his past life standing before him. He works his jaw, '—But it ain't up to him, is it? An' I still think the name we picked is lovely, anyhow,’ Noel finishes quickly, like a man hurriedly blurting his last words before he’s sentenced to the gallows.

Meg doesn’t say anything. She’s resting her cheek on his shoulder; just listening. Noel’s heart clenches painfully and he stiffly attempts to lean his head atop hers—the way he used to—but before he can, she’s pulling back.

She gives him a curt nod of approval and Noel finally finds the courage to look into her face.

Her gaze isn't on him anymore, it’s shifted to his side and gone noticeably colder. Wary.

‘Y’alright?’ Liam ignores Meg completely, directing the statement to Noel. His hand ghosts over his neck, as if he wants to grab him by his nape and drag him back to the cart. He restrains himself, settling for wrapping it around Noel’s shoulder’s in an easy, almost brotherly way.

Noel nods but before he can bid Meg a goodbye, Liam is ushering him back to their cart, the grip on his shoulder tight enough to border painful.

‘This is why I didn’t want you to come out,’ he mutters gruffly, ‘Wha’s the point of bein’ richer than God if you don’t let me hire some geezer to do our shopping for us?’

Noel looks over his shoulder, suddenly desperate to get one last look at Meg before she’s swept back to her own life and he to his, but she’s gone.

Liam’s arm curls around him, warm and firm. Their bond sluggishly pulsates with the now familiar molasses-like love that Liam pours atop Noel's mind periodically—when he feels that Noel is thinking a little too hard.

‘S’late anyway,’ he chuffs quietly, dragging his jaw along the top of Noel’s head; pointedly scent marking him and washing away the last traces of Meg.

‘Let’s get you home.’

Noel makes an agreeable noise, allowing Liam to steer them towards the checkout. He’s tired now and suddenly wants nothing more to be back in their dark, den-like room with Liam wrapped around him.

Them.

Noel puts a hand over his swelling stomach and smiles vacantly. He plans on napping the rest of the day away.

Perhaps the rest of his life too.