Chapter Text
It’s been two weeks since the incident with Liam, and Damon is currently watching the Mancunian thrust the award he was just handed against his arse on stage.
Graham is giggling in his seat next to him but Damon’s too sober to join in. Oasis’s acceptance speech is as chaotic and insensitive as Damon would expect; Noel is talking complete nonsense while Liam previously walked away from the microphone without even finishing his sentence.
Damon almost finds it endearing, how they’re unconsciously doing everything they can to get kicked off the stage—until they start singing ‘Parklife’. It’s not a difficult chorus to sing, but Liam royally butchers it with a slurred, unsteady voice, not even managing to be on beat.
"Still attracted to him?" Graham whispers in his ear.
Damon is already thinking about what excuse he’ll come up with to talk to Liam.
"Not as of 30 seconds ago." Damon says sarcastically. "On a completely unrelated note, you wanna head backstage?"
"Idiot." Graham elbows him in the side. "How do you suppose we do that?"
—
Damon can charm his way through pretty much anything, especially through security.
Having ditched Alex and Dave, Damon and Graham find Liam backstage with another member of Oasis—Damon doesn’t remember his name is or what he does. Damon and Graham stand there for a moment, watching the two men downing beers. The other guy finishes first, screams in victory and throws his empty can at Liam’s head.
"Tosser." Liam says with a chuckle. Finally, he turns to acknowledge Damon and Graham. "What’re you wankers doin’ here?"
"Just wanted to congratulate Oasis." Says Damon.
"Rite." Liam narrows his eyes at Damon, but his bandmate doesn’t share his suspicion, instead shouting a loud ‘thanks!’ and crushing Damon and Graham into one big hug.
Damon laughs. "Sorry, what’s your name?"
"Call me Bonehead." The guy slurs, eyes red, he’s clearly both pissed and maybe high, too. Damon glances at Liam, who doesn’t look like he is either yet.
"Bonehead—that’s the little cunts from Blur?" Liam says.
"Oh." Bonehead frowns. "Oh!" He feels around for his pocket, too drunk to find it immediately, and pulls out a small bag with a few pink pills. "Fancy a half, lads?"
Damon looks at Graham. Graham shrugs. "Yeah, why not."
Liam leaps from his seat as Bonehead pulls out a pill. "What you doing, man? Don’t you fucking—"
"What?" Bonehead cuts in. "You don’t want one, fucking go home and fuck that metal statue."
It’s clearly not what Liam was referring to. Damon remembers the way they bantered as Liam was leaving Graham’s place. He thought, after that night, Liam would despise his company a little less.
"Piss off, mate, I meant fucking keep some for us, yeah?" Liam replies.
"There’s enough there, sweetheart." Bonehead says, mockingly. Liam looks like he wants to say something but Bonehead grabs him by the chin and shoves his tongue in his mouth.
Damon and Graham share a look, stunned. Then Liam pushes his bandmate away and swallows. He wipes at his mouth dramatically and makes a gagging sound. Bonehead laughs.
"Lads?" Bonehead grins, then holds out his tongue where half a pill sits.
Right. Damon genuinely considers leaning in for a second, but Graham clearing his throat stops him.
"We’ll just…" Graham trails off, gesturing towards the plastic bag. Liam grabs it from Bonehead’s hand and offers them a pill. They each swallow a half.
"‘Rite, let’s fuck off." Liam says, slapping Bonehead on the arm and leading him out. A few steps, and he turns around to raise bushy eyebrows at Damon and Graham. "Coming?"
Damon follows without hesitation.
"Where you headed?" Graham questions.
Liam grins, "Supernova Heights."
——
The ecstasy hits Graham first, when they’re halfway to Noel’s house. For some reason, they decided to walk there instead of doing a 10 minute cab journey—’s only a half hour away, you lazy fuckers, Liam had said—and had stopped by some corner shop on the way to get more alcohol.
Damon walks the rest of the way with an arm around Graham, who is grinning happily and swaying his head like he’s hearing music. It usually takes Damon about an hour to come up, and he’s getting impatient watching Graham float and sigh and melt against him.
Finally, they reach the infamous party house. Rock’n’roll music is blasting; there are people on the steps smoking and making out. Damon excepts to meet Noel when they walk in, but the man is nowhere to be seen amidst the crowd. Pushing through the mass of dancing bodies, Damon follows Liam, who leads them to the kitchen and pulls out three beers from the fridge. Damon frowns and turns to look at—Graham’s not here. Fuck.
"Hold on—need to find Graham." Damon says.
Liam forces a bottle in his hand. "Why? Probably chatting up some bird or summat."
When Liam turns to hand Bonehead his own beer, he finds the man pressed up against a woman, with his tongue down her throat. Liam knocks the beer against the hand Bonehead has on the back of the woman’s neck. Without breaking the kiss, Bonehead grabs the beer.
"Just us, then. C’mon." Liam beckons Damon over to follow him, but Damon feels too tingly to reply anything. Slowly, they make their way to a dark corner of the living room filled with sweaty bodies dancing, singing, shouting.
"You coming up?" Liam asks, leaning against the wall.
Damon nods gingerly, can’t make his mouth move yet. He can’t feel his hands, just the tip of his fingers itching to touch something. The Rolling Stones are playing, and Damon feels the song slowly sound like if he were hearing it from underwater, his body starting to float and a lightheadedness filling his head.
"Good?" says Liam.
Damon nods again. "Fuck me, it’s strong."
"Yeah?" Liam grins.
Damon’s dancing and swaying like someone who is obviously on drugs, he knows. His hands run through his hair, and down his body while Liam is watching him carefully. Damon tries to wink at him, earning a chuckle from Liam and reaching his hands out towards him.
"You look insane, mate." Liam takes off his sunglasses—Damon didn’t even notice when he put them on—and places them on Damon, his thumb brushing Damon’s cheek.
The touch feels so gentle, Damon needs more. He grabs Liam’s hand and holds it against his cheek. "Woah." Damon sighs. "Feels so nice."
Liam giggles. God, they’re so high. Letting his thoughts take over, Damon reaches out to touch Liam, rubbing and caressing the man’s arms in awe—it feels like the skin is melting under his fingers.
"Your skin is so, so soft." Damon says. He can’t stop running his hands up and down Liam’s exposed skin and Liam feels the same, it seems, because he brings his other hand up to cup Damon’s face.
Damon feels incredibly horny—he knows it’s the drugs, partly, and Liam. Testing the waters, he presses his body against Liam’s, bringing his mouth inches away from Liam’s lips. He’s practically breathing into Liam’s mouth.
"Need some gum?" Liam mutters, face flushed. Damon nods, working his jaw. He should be chewing gum, making sure he doesn’t accidentally bite the inside of his mouth from the numbness if he wants to be successfully snogging Liam tonight.
Liam presses a piece of gum into Damon’s mouth, finger grazing his tongue. Eyes locked with Liam, Damon closes his lips around the digit, softly sucking as Liam slowly pulls it out.
There is a long pause where they’re just looking at each other. Then Liam is attacking Damon’s mouth and they’re kissing each other carelessly. In a room full of people.
Damon whines when Liam pulls away—the sensation is too good, he doesn’t want it to stop—but Liam just grabs the hem of his shirt and drags him towards the stairs. Damon almost swallows his gum, tripping over the first step. Laughing, Liam bends down to crawl up the stairs and Damon copies him, since balancing on just two legs is too difficult right now.
Liam shoves Damon into a dark, empty room and pushes him against the door as soon as it falls shut. Damon moans.
"Liam, Liam, Liam." Damon chants, half hard already. "Want to choke on your cock."
"Yeah?" Liam brings a hand to his throat, gently stroking with the tip of his fingers. But then he takes a step back. "Sorry, mate. Don’t want a repeat of last time on me cock, y’know."
Damon is about to protest; Liam is a cunt for bringing that up now, but he doesn’t have time to say anything as the Mancunian drops to his knees. The sight makes Damon’s cock throb.
"So fucking hot, love. So good." Damon mumbles when Liam swallows him whole.
Liam sucks him off for a bit, and Damon almost comes too quickly, but Liam keeps getting distracted by the feeling of ecstasy making him want to nuzzle Damon’s cock instead of actually sucking it.
Eventually, Damon drags Liam to his feet and pushes him on the bed. He climbs on top of him and then they’re at it like animals, barely getting their pants down to their ankles, clumsily rubbing against each other and moaning. They’re slow and rough, moaning in each other’s mouth. All sensations are too much and not enough at the same time, and Damon wants more more more. Damon feels like he’s on top of the world when he comes, trembling and groaning into Liam’s beautiful neck. He collapses on top of Liam, breathing heavily.
Both of them are still wide awake and high, so Liam pushes Damon off him and pulls his pants back up. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and flicks it open. It’s empty.
"Fuck me." Good choice of words, Damon thinks. "You got any fags on you?" Liam asks.
Damon’s a little insulted that Liam is so easily forming words after the mind-blowing orgasm he’s just given him.
"No." Damon shakes his head. He watches Liam stand up, but he doesn’t really want to move from the bed just yet.
"Gonna nick them off someone." Liam mutters. Then he walks out, and Damon is left just laying there.
Damon’s unsure if that’s an invitation to follow him, or if Liam wants him to wait for him here. A little voice in his head tells him it’s neither, Liam doesn’t care and Damon’s an idiot for thinking Liam still wants him around after fooling around on drugs at a party.
To stop thinking, Damon peels himself from the bed and heads downstairs.
In the middle of the loud, busy living room, Damon looks around for Graham. He spots him near the open front door, talking to some guy. Damon walks over and pinches Graham’s side, who yelps.
"There you are, mate!" Graham grins. "Damon, Dames. I met Kate Moss. She’s great. Can you believe Noel is close mates with her? What a prick."
"I just got off with Liam." Damon interrupts.
"Where’d you guys go?"
"No, I… Got off. With Liam."
Graham’s mouth drops. The next thing Damon knows, he’s being tackled to the sofa next to them, Graham’s weight crushing him.
"Really really happy for you, mate." Graham says, hugging Damon.
"I can see that."
Graham rests his head on Damon’s chest, sighing. "Think I’m starting to come down a bit." Graham says but Damon isn’t listening.
On the other side of room is standing Liam, looking straight at them and he doesn’t look happy. Noel appears next to Liam, nudging him with his elbow. A body blocks Damon’s view for a few seconds, and when his eyes find the brothers again, they’re yelling at each other. They become so loud that they can be heard over the music, everyone in the room turning to look at them.
"This is my fucking house, you prick!" Noel is shouting. "I’m not fucking doing this right now."
"You’re such a fucking wanker. Fucking have at it, then." Liam spits, throwing his empty pack of cigarettes in Noel’s face before storming out.
Damon has to physically restrain himself from pulling Graham off him and going after Liam, rationalising that this is possible the worst time to try and talk to him.
Hours later, the comedown is hitting Damon and Graham hard; they’re both exhausted and sad and nauseous. Damon brought Graham to the room he was previously in with Liam—coming his brains out—so they could lie down on the bed for a bit. There was a guy passed out on the bed, though, so they’re now sitting on the floor, sharing a cigarette.
The door is kicked open, and Liam walks in.
"Why’re you two sat on the floor like cunts?" Liam frowns.
Damon points to the unconscious body sprawled across the bed.
"Fuck this." Liam mutters and pushes the man off the bed. The body hits the ground with a loud thud, but the guy doesn’t wake up. Liam shrugs and spreads out on the bed. "Got a light?"
Graham stands up and goes to collapse on the bed next to Liam, and light his cigarette.
"Hey," Damon squints. "You got a line?"
"’S not gonna help." Liam shakes his head. Damon sighs, at least Liam seems to be in a lighter mood, but now Damon isn’t. His head is killing him and he feels like shit.
A pillow hits him in the face. "What the fuck?" Damon looks at Liam.
"You looked like you were gonna pass out." Is all Liam has to say for himself.
"And?" Damon doesn’t see the problem. Next to Liam, Graham has just passed out with an unlit cigarette stuck between his lips.
Liam shrugs. "Now you’ve got a fucking pillow."
Liam has this quite violent way of being nice, Damon is starting to notice. Like shoving him in bathroom stall to offer him a line, or throwing a pillow at his face to give him something to sleep on. Damon means to just rest his head on it for a minute, then wake up Graham and get going, but his body is so, so heavy and he just feels so, so drained.
——
A hard shake on Damon’s shoulder pulls him from his deep sleep. He opens his eyes with a groan, and is met with Liam’s smirking face.
"Huh?" Damon mutters, looking around. He’s in the bed in that same room, and Graham is nowhere to be seen. The room is trashed, bottles and cups everywhere. Liam is standing next to him, fully dressed, jacket on. "What time is it?" Damon asks, rubbing at his tired eyes.
"Morning." Liam says.
"Good morning? What time is it."
"That’s what I was answering, you twat."
"Oh." mutters Damon. In his defence, he’s still half asleep. "Why’d you wake me up so early? Where’s Graham?"
"Will you stop fucking babysitting him? Woke up like an hour ago and left."
"Why didn’t he wake me then?"
"Dunno, said you’d want to sleep longer." Sleep longer? That bastard. Damon knows Graham left him here with Liam on purpose. "Now, get up. Don’t need our kid seeing you here."
Reluctantly, Damon steps out of bed and finds his jacket. He follows Liam all the way to the front door quietly, thinking the Mancunian is just showing him the way out, but then he steps outside as well and turns to Damon.
"Let’s get something to eat, yeah?" Liam rubs his stomach. "‘M fucking starving."
"Food. Yes." Damon stammers. How Liam manages to be so chirpy and awake when they’ve only had maybe four hours of sleep and got so fucked up the night before is being him.
——
"Then this guy—fucking geezer’s chasing me, and I’m like hopping on the bench and that and I’m losing him a bit, yeah, but it’s a fucking boat, right, and he’s fucking running after me—" Liam is saying. Damon nods from behind his coffee cup, desperately trying to follow Liam’s story.
After an awkwardly silent five minute walk, Liam dragged Damon into a tiny café, saying they have good breakfast deals—which Damon thought was stupid considering they’re both extremely rich—and they’re now sat opposite each other eating from their very full plates.
"Are you gonna quit being boring or am I gonna have to do all the fucking talking?" Liam says, shoving some bacon in his mouth.
"Thought you liked talking." Damon shrugs.
"Not to a fucking wall."
Damon groans, dropping his head in his hands and rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, I’m completely knackered, man."
"Go home, take a fucking nap, then."
Damon peers at Liam between his hands, trying to read his facial expression. He does need more sleep urgently, but he doesn’t want to leave Liam so soon, unsure when they’ll get to see each other again.
"What you doing today?" Damon asks instead.
"Going over the shite lyrics ourkid’s writing."
"You write the lyrics with him?"
"Hm? Nah, I just read ‘em. I tell him they make no fucking sense, then he tells me to shut the fuck up and just sing it."
"Oh." Damon says. "You two fight a lot."
"You’re quite observant, aren’t ya?"
"Was that why your nose was bleeding last time? You two had a fight?"
"Don’t remember now." Liam shrugs, but Damon knows it’s a lie. If the dry tone of Liam’s voice and his knitted eyebrows as he looks down at his plate are anything to go by, it’s clear that Damon has to drop the subject.
Liam runs his tongue over his teeth, wiping his hands. To Damon’s surprise, he has already finished his plate. Damon has barely touched his.
"There’s nothing going on between Graham and I." Damon blurts out. He regrets the words immediately—he’s tired and his brain won’t stop thinking about the fact that he had Liam’s cock in his mouth just a few hour earlier and now they’re casually having breakfast together. "We’re just close mates, you know."
Liam squints at him. "Okay?"
"If you were wondering."
"I wasn’t."
"Right." Damon takes a long gulp of coffee to have something to do.
After so generously helping Damon finish his plate by stealing his bread and bacon, Liam makes Damon pay their bill. Chivalry isn’t dead though, Damon discovers, as Liam waits with him outside for the cab he called to arrive.
"So," Damon starts as he notices a black cab approaching, "I’m going to Richard Ashcroft’s party on Friday. Will you be there?"
"Who?"
"From The Verve."
"Oh! That guy, yeah, yeah."
"So you’re coming? I’ll see you there?"
"Yeah, yeah. Your driver’s here."
"Great. One more thing." Damon says in a surge of confidence and kisses Liam. It’s soft and fast, too fast for Liam to do anything more than just stand there. "Thanks for yesterday." Damon chuckles, satisfied with Liam’s startled face, and hops into the cab.