Work Text:
Justine is sitting in a plastic chair, enjoying the cold air in the artist’s tent. She watches with slight amusement as two giggling blonde girls lean against the barrier separating the tent from the festival grounds. They yell as loud as they can at Justin, begging him to spare them a minute, or at least give them his phone number. He shoots Justine a pleading look and she suppresses a laugh.
“Go on,” she says, nudging his foot with hers. “Enjoy this.”
It’s not often that fangirls are willing to spare the poor drummer of Elastica some love when there’s gods like Damon and Liam milling about. But today, Elastica fucking crushed their festival set, and all the members are enjoying the high.
As she watches Justin leave with the girls, she feels a tap on her shoulder.
“Oi”
Just what she needs. One of the Mancunian psychopaths to ruin her buzz.
She leans her head back to see Noel Gallagher. His giant eyebrows are raised in a manner that worries her, and he’s grinning so hard his eyes crinkle.
“What d’you want?” Justine asks warily. “You’re scaring me.”
“Well,” says Noel. “Now that you’re boyfriend’s dead, Liam wanted me to ask you if you’d give him a chance.”
She nearly leaps out of her chair. “What? What you on about? What’s happened to Damon?”
Noel crosses his arms over his ugly orange polo. “Never mind that,” he says. “Focus on what’s important.”
Justine sighs and pushes past Noel, walking out of the air-conditioned tent, into the searing summer festival. Fans lining the barrier cheer as she pushes past them, and roar when Noel tails behind.
“Oi! Toff! I need an answer from you!”
Sweat blurs Justine’s vision as she blindly passes small groups of kids on the festival grounds, looking everywhere for her boyfriend or one of his annoying twink bandmates. She feels someone grab her arm, and Noel spins her around to face him.
“You don’t even know where you’re going,” he says. There’s a tenderness in his voice that wasn’t there before, though his smirk tries to mask this.
“Where is Damon?” pleads Justine.
“I’ll tell you if you promise Liam a date.”
“Noel.”
“Fine, if you promise Liam and me a date.”
“We’re losing time!”
“Then just agree to it, silly bird.”
“Fine,” groans Justine. “Fine, fine whatever you say.”
“See?” says Noel with a grin. “That weren’t so hard, now was it?”
Justine’s stomach flops as Noel leads her to the tour bus area. There is Damon passed out on the grass, limbs sprawled awkwardly and traces of vomit on his chin and neck. His right eye is bruised purple, and looks a bit like a grape.
Graham is sitting on the ground next to him, head buried in the arms of his striped tee. Liam is pouring the remainder of his beer onto Graham’s hair but doesn’t elicit a reaction from the poor boy.
To the side, Alex leans against the tour bus smoking cooly as he talks with Dave, who keeps shooting worried glances and Damon’s apparent corpse. Wonderful.
As she and Noel approach, Liam breaks into a wide grin. “Noel,” he says nodding to his brother. “Amazing Tits,” he says, nodding to Justine.
Justine hardly hears him and she rushes to the ground, cupping Damon’s face in her palm.
“Darling?” she says. She tries to pry his good eye open, but it shuts again. “Damon, wake up.”
“Ugh,” says Noel. “The vomit on his chin’s practically green.”
“I’ll give u 50 quid if you lick it,” says Liam to his brother.
“S’no use Justine,” moans Graham. “We tried so hard to wake him up. This is all my fault,” he says miserably.
“Yeahhhhhh tosaaaah,” chides Liam. His brows wiggle above his sunglasses. “This is all your fault.”
“Well hang on,” says Alex, making his way to the group. “As if you’re totally innocent. Our set’s in an hour and our frontman might be dead because you- ”
Liam grabs Alex’s cigarette out of his hand mid sentence, and flicks it onto Damon’s pale blue polo. He pushes Alex back, hard.
“Little cunt,” says Liam.
“Dave,” says Justine exasperatedly. “What the hell is happening?”
Throughout the course of Dave narrating the story, he is interrupted about fifty times by both Alex, Graham, and Liam. Here is what Justine gathers happened, taking into account each idiot’s point of view:
Sometime after the Oasis set, Liam and Damon met at the artist tent bar and decided to have a little drinking competition. A little while after, they wandered over to where the Blur boys were hanging out by the tour bus, and the two frontmen got into an argument regarding who was the better snogger.
Poor Graham, who was pretty drunk himself, was chosen to be the judge. He kissed Damon, no problem. He kissed Liam, and accidentally let out a moan. This irrefutable fact forced Graham to proclaim Liam as the victor.
Damon kicked Graham in the stomach for betraying him. Then, he turned to Liam and cried, “Why are you making my life so fucking miserable!?”
Too drunk to overcome his pity for Damon, Liam suggested a round of shots to loosen them up a bit more, and then a race between him, Damon, and Alex.
“Mate,” Liam said earnestly. “If you beat us both, I’ll lay off for a little while.”
Well, Damon lost the race. Came in last place actually.
“Please Liam,” he cried. “S’not fair, I’m drunk I can-I can’t I ju-
And then, by all accounts (except Liam, who insisted Damon initiated it), Liam kissed him, and the two went at it for a while.
At this point, Graham was sobering up enough just to understand the situation, and in a jealous rage, ran towards Liam to punch him, but accidentally knocked Damon out instead. A few minutes later, Noel showed up.
Justine takes all this in, and takes her time to glare at each of the boys (except Dave, bless him) one by one.
“So what you’re telling me,” she says coldly. “Is that you’re all daft as fuck.”
“Yeah,” says Liam with a grin. “And your boyfriend’s the daftest of them all! Poor little cunt’s in love with me.”
“No he’s not ,” mumbles Graham.
“Don’t worry Coxon I’m not interested in your boyfriend, just like messing with him. His girlfriend on the other ha-”
“Do you ever shut up?” snaps Alex.
“Looks like me and you got stuck with the biggest morons in pop,” says a deep voice in her ear. A shiver goes down her spine, and she’s not sure what’s wrong with her. This is Noel Gallagher, the most self-absorbed prick in pop.
“Right, listen,” she says clasping her hands together, trying to ignore Noel behind her. “You lot have a gig to play right?”
The Blur boys nod their heads solemnly.
“Okay, well someone’s going to have to take Damon to the hospital, and the rest we’ll have to figure out ourselves. I’d take him, but I’ve got a signing at night.”
Graham stumbles to his feet. “I’ll take him.”
“But you’re the only other singer!” cries Justine “C’mon, Alex? Dave?”
“ No ,” says Graham. “I’m not leaving him alone with-with-” he stares worriedly at Liam, and Liam blows Graham a kiss.
Sensing another argument is about to brew, Justine nods in agreement. “All right Graham, you and Smoggy take Damon to the hospital, and the rest of us can figure something out.”
With Alex on bass and Dave on drums, the band just needs a guitarist, pianist, and vocalist reasons Justine.
“Right,” she says. “I can do a bit of piano, Noel and Liam, would you mind covering guitar and vocals? Think of it as free advertisement and another leg up on Damon.”
She hands Noel and Liam the Blur setlist, the last three songs crossed off and replaced with Oasis ones.
“Whatever,” says Liam. “Fine.”
“No fucking way,” says Noel cheerfully. “This is Liam’s mess, it aint got nothing to do with me. I got you to agree to a date with us, my job is done darling.”
“Bu-”
“C’mon Liam,” sings Noel, taking his younger brother by the arm. “Don’t let them suck you into practicing for their shite gig. You just show up and make up the lyrics as you go along. Still probably better than anything Albarn’s written.”
“Too fucking right that is,” says Liam. “Later cunts.”
Dave, Alex, and Justine watch the Gallagher brothers leave in stunned silence.
“You know,” Alex says after a while. “You could have just let us bail, it’s just another festival.”
Justine shakes her head. “You know how Damon’s been lately. Another scandal is the last thing the poor boy needs. Half a band showing up is better than no band.”
“And you really think these Oasis brutes are going to show up.”
“I do,” says Justine, surprising herself. “I really do.”
Liam shows up with a bottle of vodka 15 minutes before the makeshift Blur group are due to go on. He saunters into the green room, where Justine is hunched over her guitar, scribbling the few chords she didn’t have time to memorize onto the setlist. Liam plops down next to her and takes a swing of his bottle.
She eyes him warily. He’s wearing black sunglasses and a dark green parka, peering at her notes.
“You’re gonna play the guitar?” he asks, sounding doubtful.
Justine rolls her eyes and pokes his shoulder playfully. “You know I was a guitarist before a singer right? I can manage this just fine, especially your songs, which are stupidly easy to play.”
She expects a retort, but Liam just laughs. “Noel won’t be happy to hear that,” he says. “But if you cant do it, don’ hurt yourself. If Blur’s fans are half as dedicated as ours, there’ll probably be some poor geezer with all their songs memorized, and you can just invite someone on the stage.”
“Liam,” she says warmly. “That’s actually a really sweet idea.”
Liam pretends to throw up in her lap, and she laughs, pushing him away.
“You’re so weird,” she says.
“No you ,” he says. “Don’t ever call me sweet or I’ll kill you. I’m not a pretty little princess like your boyfriend.”
“You think Damon’s pretty?”
“No,” says Liam flatley.
“But you just sai-”
“Shut up or I’ll kiss you,” says Liam.
At that moment, the door swings open, and in saunters Noel, staring disapprovingly at Liam and Justine.
“Liam,” he barks. “Stop drinking or you’ll fuck up the show.”
Liam sighs and stands, walking in his stupid animated way towards Noel. “Why do you care? S’not our gig is it darling? I thought you said in front of Justine not to give the gig a care right? Why have you-”
Noel steps forward and glares at Liam. A look passes between the brothers that Justine can’t quite discern. And then, to her surprise, Noel’s gaze shifts from Liam to her.
His pale blue eyes, hooded by dark lashes bore into her with an intensity that frightens her. Noel clenches his jaw, giving one last glare at Liam, and quickly storms out of the door, brushing past Alex and Dave as they head in.
“What on earth have you done to Noel?” asks Dave.
All eyes in the room are on Justine, even Liam’s.
“I have no idea,” she says in amazement.
“At any rate,” says Alex, clearly uninterested. “We’re supposed to go on now.”
Alex goes on first, blowing kisses to the crowd of fans cheering their hearts out. Then Dave goes on, and the crowd cheers again. They start to chant the names of Damon and Graham, their pleas growing louder and louder as Alex and Dave settle into their instruments, staring at Liam and Justine, huddled side stage.
Liam peeks out to the festival and then looks back at Justine. He takes a swig of his bottle.
“Go on then,” he says. “You’re supposed to be guitar right? Lead goes last.”
“I’m nervous,” she admits. “Half his fans hate me.”
“Yeah?” says Liam. “How d’you think they feel about me? ”
“Everybody loves you,” groans Justine.
“True.”
“And you’ve been drinking! How can you feel any nerves?”
“First off,” says Liam. “This is water. I’m just using this bottle to give Noel a shake. Second of all, I don’t get nervous, ever.”
Before Justine can ask him why Noel would care, he takes her hand, making her mind go blank. The two walk on the stage together, and to Justine’s horror, the thousands of Blur fans gathered in blue evening light grow silent almost instantly.
“Damon can’t come to the phone right now,” snarls Liam into the microphone. He seems completely unphased. “As I’ve killed the little cunt.”
Half the crowd laughs uneasily, and the other stays completely silent. Thousands and thousands of faces give Justine a cold stare, and she prays and prays for a lightning bolt to wipe her out this very instant, putting an end to her misery.
No , she tells herself. You’ve got to fix it.
She steps up to her microphone and gives the crowd a little wave. “Hello,” she says shakily. “I’m Justine of Elastica, and this is my good friend Liam,” she says nodding towards him.
He gives her a wink, and she feels a swell of confidence.
“I know you lot were looking forward to seeing Damon, but he’s a little ill right now. As a gesture of good will, and to put an end to all this feud nonsense, he wanted to have some Oasis representation on the Blur stage tonight. Now I kn-”
And before Justine can come up with any more nervous bullshit, the crowd explodes into a roar. Justine stares in amazement as some fans tear off their shirts and spin them around like little flags. A group on the left side of the stage start chanting, “Damon! Is! Jesus! Damon! Is! Jesus!”
It seems the entire festival is enamored with Damon’s apparent gesture of goodwill, and even Alex is smiling at her, which is something that’s never happened before.
“Oi!” yells Liam, pointing at the group of cheering boys. “If anyone’s Jesus it’s me. And I’ll fucking show you.”
As the makeshift band launches into Boys and Girls, Justine is surprised at how good Liam’s snarl fits the song. As expected, he exaggeratedly fumbles the chorus right at the end, following his near perfect performance, singing “Boys who like boys who like boys who like boys who like cunts to be boyssss!”
The rest of the Blur songs pass by in a similar fashion, with Liam getting all the lyrics surprisingly right, and screwing around a bit when he wants. He saunters over to Alex every now and then, attempting to kick him in the shins, and every time Justine has to keep from laughing. Alex’s cool, passive demeanor transforms into one hyper aware and afraid of Liam’s every move.
He kisses Dave a few times, who is more than happy to comply, and spends the entirety of She’s So High on his knees at Justine’s feet, singing into her crotch.
They end on Live Forever, and by this time, almost the entire festival has turned up to Blur’s set. In the darkening light, the fans hold up their lighters. Watching Liam sing with his hands behind his back to thousands of little floating lights gives Justine a warm feeling she never expected to feel for Oasis.
After the show, Justine gets ready in the backroom for her Elastica album signing. She’s not one for makeup or touching up her appearances, but she’s covered in sweat and looks like an anemic vampire. As she wipes her face with a towel, staring at herself in the mirror, she sees Liam open the door and approach her reflection.
“Toff,” he says with a grin. “Could I have a word?”
“Ah yes,” replies Justine with a wry smile. She turns to face him and gives his sweaty hair a ruffle. “I suppose I could suffer through my end of the bargain. You’re 1% less horrid than I thought.”
Liam gives her a confused smile. “What deal?”
“You know,” says Justine, equally confused. “Noel said you both wanted a date with me?”
“I never said that mate.” Sensing Justine’s embarrassment, Liam places a hand on her shoulder. “But if you’re begging this much…”
Justine feels her cheeks burn. “What are you on about! Noel came to see me after Damon passed out, saying you wanted a date.”
“That’s crap. I told him not to get you but he kept going on about how worried you’d be…”
Liam freezes and gives Justine a fearful look.
“Wait-” says Justine.
“Ha!” says Liam awkwardly. “You fell for it! I was just, uh kidding. No, I did ask him to let you know that I-ow!”
Justine punches his arm and pulls away, glaring at him. “Tell me the truth about what’s going on. I’ve got to get to my signing and I can’t act like a worried little bitch while I’m there.”
“Oh, come on!” cries Liam. “I promised Noel I wouldn’t say anything. Anyway, I came here to get Albarn’s hospital address.”
Justine gives him a blank stare.
“I just wanted to,” Liam looks at the ceiling, his usual confidence dissipating with every word. “I just wanted to make sure the little cunt’s still alive. So I can hurt him if he is,” he adds.
“I’ll give you the address,” Justine says with a bright smile, “If you tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Right, right fine,” says Liam. “You might wanna sit down.”
The Elastica signing event garners twice the fans as expected. As the group, seated in front of a long table, signs album after album, attempting fleeting small talk as fast as they can, the members give Justine amazed smiles.
“We are making so much fucking money today,” sings Annie in Justine’s ear. Justine laughs and signs the next album handed to her.
“My hand is killing me,” hisses Donna under her breath. “Oh Justine, why’d you have to go and be incredible at both sets you did today?”
For the first time in a while, Justine and her band are at ease. With the heroin problems, the constant bickering, and Justin and Annie’s “secret” relationship, things have just been tense for so long. But finally, they’re having a really good day, and Justine tries to savor every minute of it. When the last fan gone, the band give a little cheer, and high five each other like they’re in primary school again, grinning madly.
Their manager comes round to congratulate them, laying a bouquet of flowers on the table.
“You lot did well today,” he says warmly. “We had to express run more albums over here because of the mental line! You’re all free to go, but Justine, hang back.”
Justine, Annie and Donna give Justine hugs goodbye and exit the tent, leaving Justine alone with her manager.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“Well, there’s one more album you have to sign. For a special fan.” Her manager tugs on his sports coat and grins to himself. “Apparently you’ve got all of England wrapped around your finger Ms. Frischmann.”
“What?”
“I’ll send him in.”
Justine stares in confusion as her manager saunters out of the tent, a cool evening breeze filling the dimly lit area as he leaves.
Her mind races, wondering who it could be. Just a crazed fan? Or Damon? The thought makes her heart race. She can just imagine him now, planting tender kisses on her cheek and telling her what a wonderful job she’s done.
But it’s not Damon who walks in. It’s Noel.
He’s changed his clothes and is no longer in that ugly polo. He’s wearing a loose black T-shirt and jeans, and under his arms is her album. Suddenly, everything Liam told her doesn’t seem like such bullshit anymore.
“Hey,” says Noel. His voice is about two octaves too high, and he saunters over to her table with false confidence.
“Hey,” says Justine, getting out her pen. “You changed your clothes.”
“Why are you paying attention to my clothes?”
“Why are you here?” challenges Justine.
“Well,” says Noel, placing his album down on the table. “To get your pretty little signature on this so I can sell it for 10 times more than its worth.”
“Ah,” says Justine. “Wise plan.”
She scrawls her signature on the gleaming vinyl and looks up at Noel, who is staring at her with those same intense eyes. Caught, he clears his throat.
“Good job today by the way,” he says. “All of England is singing praises for Damon and Oasis. Great job executin’ his genius plan.”
Justine laughs and holds up the signed album. “Oh,” she says. “Where would England be without Damon’s brilliance? You know he wrote this entire album right?”
Noel grins. “Yeah, you know he wrote mine too?”
“Blimey,” says Justine. She has a sudden urge to leap over the table and tackle Noel to the ground, to cover him in kisses until he begs her to stop.
“Noel,” she says, handing him the album. “Thank you for today. But don’t lie to me again.”
Noel blushes. “What?”
“Liam told me everything. About how you made him memorize the lyrics, all the lectures you gave him, and even-” Her voice softens and she gives Noel a smile. “And even about how you came to get me.”
Noel doesn’t meet her eyes and stares at the table. “Don’t read too much into it,” he says. “I just had a feeling you’d be worried, and you know, you’re the only normal person here and I....” he trails off, finally daring to meet Justine’s gaze. “Well. I suppose I’m in love with you. Have been since the day we did that interview with Jarvis.”
“Right,” says Justine, grinning at the memory. “You asked for my number and never called.”
“Well I was scared!”
Justine stands, walking around the table towards Noel. Their bodies are centimeters apart, and she can smell dark cologne and cigarette smoke. She takes in his pale blue eyes, which stare back at her with fear.
“How could a Gallagher brother be scared?” she whispers.
“I was scared you wouldn’t want me back,” he replies. And before he can make a stupid comment comparing himself to Damon, Justine wraps her arms around his waist and presses her lips against his. Their warm kiss grows aggressive as Noel molds his mouth against her greedily, taking a fistful of her hair in his hands. She moans and pulls back for air, grinning up at him.
“Did that just happen?” says Noel in a daze.
“I’m not sure,” murmurs Justine. “I think we should try again, just to make sure.”
Noel is more than happy to comply.