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booshslashhaven2009-04-03 11:44 pm
el-gardner.livejournal.com) wrote in booshslashhaven2009-04-03 11:44 pm
Entry tags:
Definition of Peace (Off-Topic - Noel/Julian friendship)
Title: Definition Of Peace
Fandom/Pairing: Boosh RPS. Noel/Julian (friendship)
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 776
Rating: G.
Summary: Sometimes we all need a little haven to escape to.
Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Noel or Julian. And in no way is any of this true; it's all just a figment of my sordid imagination. No harm meant and no money is being made.
Author's note: I needed some fluff after the last post and this is what I came up with this evening. Off-topic because it's not really slash, more implied, or friendship based.
As ever, cc is always welcome.
Noel watched as the smoke from his cigarette drifted and twirled in the barely-there breeze from the window. He was perched on the ledge of Julian's bay window, one leg stretched out along the wooden edge, and one resting on the floor, preventing him from sliding off.
It wasn't a hot day, but nor was it cold; late spring sun shone bright in the near cloudless sky and a gentle wind rustled through the lone apple tree in Julian's garden, as Noel looked out over the neatly mown, small courtyard of grass and flower beds.
It seemed like such a normal thing to be doing, sitting here, quiet and relaxed, removed from the usual eclectic madness of his life.
A moment's rest amongst the madness.
He'd spent the day at Julian's, just working and talking and laughing together. And it had been one of those days that seemed to stretch for ever. The stubbornly lingering sun refusing to fall and fade into the night, hanging low but persistent in the sky, lazy as their conversation but just as welcome.
It was just beginning to get dark now, the last few rays of red-gold sunlight hovering about the horizon, shadows creeping long and lazy across the garden.
Outside the house, drifting in through the window was the customary noise of London, sounding distant and muffled somehow; the hum of car engines and the rattling of bins, people shouting and dogs barking, all merged together in a muted soundtrack. Inside though, Noel's attention was drawn towards the softly lilting music of Julian's fingers as they played idly across the strings of his guitar in what had once been a purposeful tune, and what was now just a collection of chords and melody; still as beautiful though, almost ethereal, gentle and soft.
Noel smiled to himself, uncurling and stretching slowly as he drew one last time on his cigarette before stubbing it out in the little glass ashtray that rested on his knee. Shifting slightly, he set it on the floor, moving so he could see Julian now, sat on his sofa, slightly hunched over the acoustic in his lap.
Noel loved to watch Julian like this, loved to see the flex of his wrists and the shapes his fingers would make as they played. After a moment his gaze travelled up to Julian's face; his eyes narrowed and staring down at the guitar and the movement of his fingers, his tongue was poking slightly from between pursed lips. He looked completely and utterly engrossed and lost in his own little world of sound and song. Only the slight, barely there creasing of one corner of his mouth gave away the fact that he knew he was being watched.
There were times that Noel's life seemed like one long party; loud music and alcohol and taxis and singing; pretty girls and boys and fans wanting autographs; laughter and flirting and fun; body heated with dancing and blood strumming with adrenaline and euphoria.
And sometimes he felt like he was old before his time; aching muscles and shaky limbs, sallowed skin and sweat-greased hair greeted him in the morning after those heavy nights out.
Sometimes he wondered if that was all he was; days out and mornings after.
Sometimes it all got too much for him, and even Dee couldn't seem to get through to him. On days like that there was only one place he could go.
To the place where none of that mattered. Not the hangers on and the wannabes who seemed to flock around him; not the reporters who lived for a chance to snap a shot of him at his worst, and often did; not the swaying, hot bodies of the dance-floor or the drink and drug fuelled hedonistic buzz.
To the place he was always welcome.
Stomach fluttering with something, some sudden unexpected burst of creativity, he reached for the sketchpad and charcoal pencil laying abandoned on the floor by his feet, eyes never leaving Julian as he turned to a fresh page and began to draw.
The pencil seemed to move with ease across the page, lines of grey flowing and curving from the nib across the milky white surface.
He drew the soft lines of Julian's face; eyes crinkled and pink lips and the curve of his nose. He drew a slender neck and strong shoulders, firm, blue shirt-covered chest and muscular, flexed, dark hair-dappled arms. He drew big hands and long, nimble fingers, dancing across the strings of an old battered guitar. He drew long, ripped and faded jeans-covered legs and bare feet.
And all the while he sketched, the harmony played on.
And he smiled softly, as he drew his definition of peace.
Fandom/Pairing: Boosh RPS. Noel/Julian (friendship)
Genre: fluff
Word Count: 776
Rating: G.
Summary: Sometimes we all need a little haven to escape to.
Disclaimer: I, of course, do not own Noel or Julian. And in no way is any of this true; it's all just a figment of my sordid imagination. No harm meant and no money is being made.
Author's note: I needed some fluff after the last post and this is what I came up with this evening. Off-topic because it's not really slash, more implied, or friendship based.
As ever, cc is always welcome.
Noel watched as the smoke from his cigarette drifted and twirled in the barely-there breeze from the window. He was perched on the ledge of Julian's bay window, one leg stretched out along the wooden edge, and one resting on the floor, preventing him from sliding off.
It wasn't a hot day, but nor was it cold; late spring sun shone bright in the near cloudless sky and a gentle wind rustled through the lone apple tree in Julian's garden, as Noel looked out over the neatly mown, small courtyard of grass and flower beds.
It seemed like such a normal thing to be doing, sitting here, quiet and relaxed, removed from the usual eclectic madness of his life.
A moment's rest amongst the madness.
He'd spent the day at Julian's, just working and talking and laughing together. And it had been one of those days that seemed to stretch for ever. The stubbornly lingering sun refusing to fall and fade into the night, hanging low but persistent in the sky, lazy as their conversation but just as welcome.
It was just beginning to get dark now, the last few rays of red-gold sunlight hovering about the horizon, shadows creeping long and lazy across the garden.
Outside the house, drifting in through the window was the customary noise of London, sounding distant and muffled somehow; the hum of car engines and the rattling of bins, people shouting and dogs barking, all merged together in a muted soundtrack. Inside though, Noel's attention was drawn towards the softly lilting music of Julian's fingers as they played idly across the strings of his guitar in what had once been a purposeful tune, and what was now just a collection of chords and melody; still as beautiful though, almost ethereal, gentle and soft.
Noel smiled to himself, uncurling and stretching slowly as he drew one last time on his cigarette before stubbing it out in the little glass ashtray that rested on his knee. Shifting slightly, he set it on the floor, moving so he could see Julian now, sat on his sofa, slightly hunched over the acoustic in his lap.
Noel loved to watch Julian like this, loved to see the flex of his wrists and the shapes his fingers would make as they played. After a moment his gaze travelled up to Julian's face; his eyes narrowed and staring down at the guitar and the movement of his fingers, his tongue was poking slightly from between pursed lips. He looked completely and utterly engrossed and lost in his own little world of sound and song. Only the slight, barely there creasing of one corner of his mouth gave away the fact that he knew he was being watched.
There were times that Noel's life seemed like one long party; loud music and alcohol and taxis and singing; pretty girls and boys and fans wanting autographs; laughter and flirting and fun; body heated with dancing and blood strumming with adrenaline and euphoria.
And sometimes he felt like he was old before his time; aching muscles and shaky limbs, sallowed skin and sweat-greased hair greeted him in the morning after those heavy nights out.
Sometimes he wondered if that was all he was; days out and mornings after.
Sometimes it all got too much for him, and even Dee couldn't seem to get through to him. On days like that there was only one place he could go.
To the place where none of that mattered. Not the hangers on and the wannabes who seemed to flock around him; not the reporters who lived for a chance to snap a shot of him at his worst, and often did; not the swaying, hot bodies of the dance-floor or the drink and drug fuelled hedonistic buzz.
To the place he was always welcome.
Stomach fluttering with something, some sudden unexpected burst of creativity, he reached for the sketchpad and charcoal pencil laying abandoned on the floor by his feet, eyes never leaving Julian as he turned to a fresh page and began to draw.
The pencil seemed to move with ease across the page, lines of grey flowing and curving from the nib across the milky white surface.
He drew the soft lines of Julian's face; eyes crinkled and pink lips and the curve of his nose. He drew a slender neck and strong shoulders, firm, blue shirt-covered chest and muscular, flexed, dark hair-dappled arms. He drew big hands and long, nimble fingers, dancing across the strings of an old battered guitar. He drew long, ripped and faded jeans-covered legs and bare feet.
And all the while he sketched, the harmony played on.
And he smiled softly, as he drew his definition of peace.