DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Boosh.

10/16/08

Better Than Music

There were people in his home again. They were massing, globing together and dripping in a mess on his floor; he couldn't make anything out. But for this soup to not be present was somehow unacceptable. And who was he again? He was a comedy star, wasn't he? These were people he loved. Otherwise, why would they all be in his house? But the fact they were meshed together was an unpleasant one. He could never understand how this sort of thing worked. There was a ribbon of music coming from somewhere, but whenever he tried chasing it with his eyes, it would disappear between two globulus shapes in the crowd. He tried stumbling forward, needing to follow it, because it led somewhere not here. Someplace with solid shapes. He really needed to be there right now.

There was a sudden lurch in his lungs and he tipped to the side, squashing into one of the masses closest. There must have been some kind of protest, but he was suddenly flying. Or it felt like it. His feet were assuredly not touching earth. Which was just as well. The runny people were going to stain his shoes.

"C'mon, little man. Let's get you out of here."

Ah yes. The music had come and rescued him. What a relief.

Waking up was like kicking in a brick wall. Noel could not for the life of him understand how someone as small as he was had so many places to hurt. His nerves had been beaten into nothing less than a coma by whatever it was he had been drinking. He was fairly sure the fourteen vodka cocktails had something to do with it, but since he wasn't really sure even where he was, he supposed it was void in any case.

"I figured hibernation lasted for another month."

Julian was sitting on the sofa behind him, large hands folded loosely as he watched the stirrings of the bed's occupant. Even with eyes gummed nearly shut, Noel sent him a look over his shoulder that would burn toast.

"Good morning," Julian replied, unperturbed. Despite his nonchalance, his own face was a picture of death and an empty coffee mug sat on the stand next to him along with several empty sugar packets. Noel would have called him a git to his face for skipping sleep if his throat didn't feel made of felt.

Julian saved him the trouble as he stood and picked his way over to the bed, stepping over discarded clothes and paper scraps with black ink doodles peeking out from the margins. Leaning over, he planted an easy kiss on Noel's forehead. "You've had enough of the real world for now, time to play with everyone else."

Noel peered up at him through dry, squinted eyes. "Is it opposite day and no one told me?"

Julian laughed quietly, tugging at a tuft of Noel's hair. The sounds of KISS crept in through the cracked window from some distant speaker.

Being sleep deprived was not a good look on anyone. At least Noel had the option to hide the telltale bruise-black shadows with make-up. Poor Julian had nothing but another cuppa with whiskey and a slice of bread before that day's round of press, interviews, tour, more press, and exhaustive partying began. Nothing to do but keep marching; this was their circus life.

"Journalists should take a cue from comedians; why can't they change up their question material even a little bit, yeah?" Noel had watched Julian's mood slowly deteriorate throughout the day and his frustration finally peaked after leaving one particularly annoying interview. After welcoming the Boosh team and thanking them for their time etc, the woman reporter conducted the entire two hours by proceeding to ignore everything Julian had to say and instead favoring Noel on every question – questions they'd already been asked at least a million times over. Noel had done everything he could to make it easier, but the woman had somehow passed all his previous assumptions of what the word 'dense' really entailed. "Jesus Christ, I wanted to punch her fucking teeth in."

Noel raised his chin and looked at him sidelong from under sunglasses and a large red floppy hat. "Pity she weren't a kangaroo." He grinned.

Julian gave a last huff, but smiled back as they climbed into either side of the cab.

"Long as I can count on you to hold her balls for me."

"If this is what hell is, I swear to God I will sacrifice my firstborn son to nick some satanic real estate."

"You're drunk again."

"And still standing. Genius, innit?"

"Mmm."

The shapes were back. It was later – much later that night and the creatures had come out of their daytime holes to once again mash themselves into an orgy of unknown faces in Noel's apartment. He was not as drunk as he'd like to be, so he reached across the small table for a half-empty beer bottle abandoned by one of his anonymous guests. Julian glared at the action, as if that alone would make Noel quit while he was ahead.

"D'you think you should lay off for a bit?"

"I've had enough playing for one day, Julian. Time to come back to 'reality'." He half-giggled at his own joke down the neck of the bottle and took a swig, swerving slightly in his seat. Julian clasped thick fingers around Noel's thin ones and tugged slightly.

"C'mere, little man. Come lean on Papa Moon."

The process of Noel slinging his hips around the curve of the booth was painfully slow. Once he made it, he sighed in a great whoosh of relieved, liquored air and giggled again. Leaning back, he rested his head on his friend's shoulder, curling an arm with his, that familiar trickle of sound he always associated with the presence of Ju trailing through the wall of body heat to coil around the two of them there.

Noel turned to bury his head in Julian's jumper and murmured into his chest, almost to himself. "Y'know, you're better than music."

"Hmm?"

Before passing out, Noel's mouth turned in a secret smile. "Nothing."

A/N: A 10-word challenge I gave myself. These are remarkably fun! This is also my favorite brand of fic; snapshots of how things are :)

Please review! I can't get better if I don't have help!!