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Graham scrubbed his hand through his hair as he entered into his flat, Noel trailing behind him. It didn’t do much to rid the short strands of their rain-soaked moisture, considering his fingers had suffered the same wet treatment.
But it was a far cry from Noel’s situation. Upon looking over his shoulder, Graham couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of him. His hair had flattened to his head, sticking to his face in curled, dark strands from where the wind had molded them against him. The rain that had collected on his skin made him look paler than ever, making his dark hair even bolder as he angrily wiped it back towards his ears.
His glare reminded Graham of a pissy, drenched cat. “Told you we should’ve taken a cab.”
“It’s just a bit of rain. Not the end of the world.” Noel’s sharp look suggested he felt otherwise, but he still relinquished his dripping anorak to Graham’s outstretched hand. “The tube is cheaper, anyway.”
“Can’t put a price on dignity. I feel like a fucking bellend, fucking soaked down to my pants.”
“Would you like me to get you a towel?”
“No, Graham, I thought I’d shake myself out like a fucking dog. How that sound?”
Graham just huffed, amusement tugging at his lips. He went to grab a towel from the bathroom, only to come back to Noel with his arms curled around himself, looking distrustfully around the hallway like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the place.
Though that wasn’t entirely unreasonable. He’d never been in Graham’s flat before.
He handed him the towel, his previous levity dimming as he noticed Noel’s white fingers shaking.
Graham shook his head. “D’you want a cuppa?”
With a surprising lack of malice, Noel nodded. “Yeah.”
Graham left him in the hall and turned to the kitchen, wordlessly giving him space to dry himself off. On the way he made sure to turn the thermostat up a few degrees, his chest twisting at the thought of Noel feeling cold and uncomfortable.
He was just setting the kettle in place and switching it on when he heard Noel shuffle into the kitchen behind him.
“I still need to go to the shop, so I haven’t got much in the way of options, I’m afraid.”
Noel shrugged, dropping onto a stool and setting the wet towel on the island. His hair was scrubbed dry, fluffier than Graham had ever seen it, making him look soft around the edges. “What have you got, then?”
“Er…” Graham turned and reached up into the cupboard to search. “Chamomile, Earl Grey…Yorkshire…I think I may have English Breakfast if you’d like that…”
He trailed off, hoping that Noel would find one of those to be suitable. When he didn’t get a response, he looked back at him.
Noel didn’t appear to be listening to him, his eyebrows lowered and his head tilted to the side. His eyes were far away, lost in thought, but they were resting heavily on Graham’s midsection.
“Noel?”
Noel’s eyes snapped up so quickly it almost startled a gasp out of Graham. “Come again?”
“I was asking which tea you’d like?”
To Graham’s surprise, a pale, rosy blush broke out across Noel’s nose and cheeks. He tilted his head back into a vertical position. “Don’t care. Anything.”
“Alright,” Graham said slowly. He went to grab the box of chamomile when he heard Noel speak again.
“Didn’t think they were selling jumpers by the half.”
Graham turned. “What?”
Noel raised his eyebrows and flicked his eyebrows down towards Graham’s waist. “Don’t tell me you paid full price for that mess.”
Graham tugged self consciously at the frayed bottom of his sweatshirt. He’d forgotten how high it rode up on him. “I bought it at a secondhand shop. I only tried it on once I got home, I didn’t think it would be so short.”
“Okay,” Noel said with a leisurely huff, like he didn’t quite believe him.
“I don’t know, it’s comfortable,” Graham responded defensively as he busied himself with opening the chamomile.
He heard a shifting sound, and then the air behind him seemed to move, but it was still a surprise when he looked back to find Noel suddenly standing only a foot away from him.
“Did you…did you want something else? Biscuits?”
“Nah, I’m alright,” Noel brushed him off. His eyes were back on Graham’s stomach, right where the edge of his jumper exposed a sliver of his skin.
Graham shivered, and then frowned. The fuck?
“The water should only take a few minutes. It’s a new kettle.”
Noel hummed. His gaze didn’t leave Graham’s waist.
Swallowing heavily, Graham leaned back on the counter, supporting himself with one hand on the edge behind him. The bottom of his shirt was pulled even higher as he shifted, so much so that he could feel the chill of the air nipping at him, just above the waistline of his pants.
His breath caught in his chest as Noel’s eyes widened a fraction. “If you—erm. I have coffee, too, if you’d like.”
Noel didn’t even bother to respond. He took a step closer.
As the cover of rain seemed to concentrate the earthy smell of anything and everything it touched, Noel was no exception. In this close proximity, Graham was inundated with a particular leathery kind of smell, something like dry sweat and dusty laundry that reminded him of the feeling of a long, tired hug.
He watched as Noel’s hand, so casual and carefree and easy unlike the steely expression on his face, slowly lifted and reached towards him, his fingers stopping just a few centimeters from his bare skin.
Graham’s heart stopped. And then started to thump so aggressively he was sure Noel could hear it.
Before he could question himself, he carefully wrapped his hand around Noel’s outstretched one and guided it towards him.
An electric jolt sparked through him the second Noel’s fingers made contact, but Graham was already biting his lip so hard he wasn’t able to gasp.
And that one small action seemed to be all the permission Noel needed. Graham let him go, bringing his hand back up to the counter in a similar position to his other one as Noel dragged his fingers over his navel.
Then Graham couldn’t help but gasp when they landed on his belt buckle, but Noel didn’t pause there for long. He brushed over the darker hair trailing down into Graham’s trousers, skating his thumb along the long, thin scar Graham still bore from his childhood appendectomy.
It was still riddled with a phantom sensitivity, even twenty years on, and with the way Noel’s jaw tightened as the muscles of Graham’s stomach clenched, he seemed to be aware of this fact. He pressed his thumb into the whitened tissue as if he knew it would startle a whimper out of Graham’s lips, and sure enough, he felt himself go red as a small whine escaped him.
“Noel,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to recover from such an embarrassing noise.
He got no response. Not an audible one, at least. But Noel moved on from the scar, sliding his hand around to Graham’s waist and suddenly bringing his other up to do the same on his opposite side.
With both of Noel’s hands on him, Graham broke out into a cold sweat. He felt completely frozen in place, caged in by Noel’s grip. His stomach was shaking, and he couldn't do much else besides stare at the top of Noel’s head as he refused to look away from Graham’s waistline.
It had never struck him until this moment how much shorter Noel was than him, and in a situation where he seemed to surround him completely, at that. The dichotomy of the observation left him reeling, so much so that he was unable to stop himself from crying out as Noel suddenly tightened his grip on his waist enough to hurt.
Noel crowded against him, closing that last possible bit of distance while continuing to squeeze the hell out of him. Graham automatically flung his arms around his neck and knocked their foreheads together, feeling drunk on the overwhelming, borderline painful sensation.
What the actual fuck? he wanted to ask, but he was already panting so heavily that all that came out was, “Noel— fuck—”
“Fucking hell, Graham.” Noel’s response was quick as lightning and as low as thunder. His hands finally touched as they both crept around to the small of Graham’s back.
Graham pawed at his shoulder, words completely useless to him now, but Noel got the message and dragged his gaze up to meet him. His pupils were blown so wide the blue rings around the edges were almost completely gone, though the whites of his eyes were as bright as ever.
Before Graham could even think, he surged forward, feeling the warm skin of Noel’s neck tilting back over his arm as he desperately crushed their lips together.
He had no fucking clue what he was doing. Up until a few minutes ago he had never even thought about Noel as someone he wanted to snog. But he was sure that if he didn’t feel his lips dragging and sliding across his own immediately he would actually burst into flames.
The weight on his back tightened and increased. Noel met his energy and then some, pushing back up into him and shoving his body so tightly against his that Graham felt the counter digging into his hips behind him.
A groan left him as Noel bit his bottom lip, and the sneaky bastard used the leverage to slip his tongue into his mouth.
“Fuck, Noel,” Graham gasped as he pulled away for air. But Noel left him little time to collect himself before he dived back in, and Graham was powerless to try and stop him.
He felt like he was melting. Noel’s touch dug into him and soothed him at the same time. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed when he felt himself begin to get hard as Noel pressed his leg up against him.
All because of a fucking cut-off jumper.
A sudden trilling sound came from behind him. The kettle had finished boiling.
Noel swiftly unsuctioned himself from Graham’s mouth and stepped back. Graham’s skin prickled, somehow already so acclimated to his touch that he felt naked and bare without it.
While his chest heaved, Noel’s stayed remarkably still. The only indication that that whole thing had not been some wild hallucination was the prominent tenting in his trousers.
Graham coughed. He couldn’t do much else but watch as Noel walked back over to reclaim his stool, settling into his same earlier position.
“I want Yorkshire.”
His heart pounding and his brain foggy, Graham nodded shakily. “Right.”
He turned to grab the tea box, but as he went to reach up, he paused. His cheeks warmed and a tentative grin broke out on his face.
He stretched his arm as far out as possible, reaching all the way back into the cupboard, the heavy weight of Noel’s eyes never leaving him for even a second.