Fic: Charlie Knows Fauns
Title: Charlie Knows Fauns
Fandom: RPS for the cast of The Mighty Boosh
Pairing: a main serving of Mike Fielding/Dave Brown, with a side helping of Mike Fielding/Noel Fielding (yes, brothers!)
Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sexy-times
Warning: This contains some very mild incest. Just a snog and that’s all, but if that might squick you, be warned.
Word Count: 1250 words
Disclaimer: Not mine, not real, no slander intended.
Summary: Mike knew this wouldn’t make sense sober. Dave was not saying anything in reply, just looking at him, smiling.
Author’s Notes: 1. This was going to be a main serve of Fielding brothers slash (Fieldcest?), but the OTP of Mike/Dave had other ideas. But that’s OK, because I love the OTP of Mike/Dave. Can I remind you how hot Dave Brown is? He's hot. Trufax.
2. My usual beta nixwilliams only did a quick read-through on this one, so if you notice any errors, typos etc, please tell me. Also any feedback, comments, concrit, would be welcomed. Should I post it to some Booshy comm? Should I change the title? Should I make the manips discover the pictorial proof that Mike Fielding is indeed a faun??!?!
Mike was saying something to Dave. Lisping more than usual, drunk and laughing.
“And you know but Charlie is, no, it’s Ronnie, Ronnie! He’s a faun!”
Mike knew this wouldn’t make sense sober. Dave was not saying anything in reply, just looking at him, smiling.
“No, he is!” Mike protested. “Noel’s met him and everything. No, he met Charlie and Charlie said so and Charlie wouldn’t lie about something like that. Charlie wouldn’t lie about anything. If I believe in a God then it’s him, it’s Charlie!” He was impassioned. He wasn’t getting through to Dave, he could tell. He was about to lean in and try and convince him with his mouth, with his lips and tongue, but then Noel appeared behind him.
“What you on about now then Mike?” He wrapped his arms around Mike’s middle and kissed him wetly on his cheek. “He boring you, is he, Dave?” Mike could tell Noel had one eyebrow cocked, a cheeky look on his face. He could tell just from Noel’s tone of voice.
“No,” said Dave, taking a sip of beer, his eyes fixed on them over the top of the glass.
“I was-” Mike began, but Noel spoke over him.
“Julian’s going now, the old fart. So I thought I-” He made some movement that Mike only caught in the corner of his vision. He looked at Noel. “You know,” said Noel. Mike nodded. It could mean anything with Noel, but he was used to that uncertainty. He looked at Noel but couldn’t tell how drunk he was.
“Will you two be-?” Noel asked.
“We’ll be fine,” said Dave. “We’ll catch a cab.”
“Sure,” said Mike, about to smile and wish Noel off, and get back to whatever important thing he’d been telling Dave. But then Noel kissed him. Right there, in front of the whole pub. On the mouth. With tongue and all. Tasted of something sickly sweet, some premixed drink. His hands held the side of Mike’s face, fingers warm and slightly damp. And it was firm - surprisingly firm - his grip on Mike. They broke apart and Noel laughed, straight away, into Mike’s mouth. Then Mike laughed too.
“I think you owe me a drink for that!” Mike said.
“Next time, sunshine,” Noel replied. Gave Mike a quick kiss again, and then leant across him to peck Dave on the lips, his fingers still in Mike’s hair.
They were silent after Noel left. The air was suddenly empty. Dave took another sip of beer, this time not looking at Mike but staring blankly down the pub. Mike touched his fingers to his lips. Wondered if they were different now he’d kissed his brother. Was suddenly too sober. He’d kissed him back, not pushed away.
“What was that all about?” said Dave, his voice half joking.
“I need another drink,” said Mike.
At the bar, he felt particularly small. Wondered who there had seen it. It seemed everyone knew Noel’s face these days. But his? He didn’t know if they knew his face. If they knew he was Noel’s brother. He played with his beard as he waited to be served, then tripped over his words and got Dave another drink even though he didn’t know if he wanted one or not. Back at the table, the beer tasted cold and fresh and bitter, and utterly unlike Noel.
Dave raised his eyebrows at Mike.
“What?” said Mike.
“Nothing, you,” said Dave. Mike took another gulp.
“It doesn’t bother me,” said Dave. His voice was carefully level.
“OK,” said Mike.
Dave shrugged. “He’s your brother.” As though that explained it.
“Yeah, well,” said Mike.
They ended up talking about animal sex, about if and how Bollo and Naboo did it, about how the short guy off Top Gear was a faun too (Mike had seen the pictures on the internet) and how they’d like to do him too, but only if he was a faun. They piled into a taxi at 1am, Dave’s hand tightly holding Mike’s on the backseat. His hand was hot and he didn’t look at Mike.
Back at the flat, he pushed Mike against the hallway wall and kissed him. He was eager and fast, his mouth open and his tongue strong against Mike’s. Mike almost said ‘Whoa!’ but stopped himself. It was completely different to kissing Noel. He tried not to think of Noel. Dave broke apart but kept Mike pinned to the wall, his hips pushed into Mike. He ran the backs of his fingers down Mike’s face, watching him. Mike tried to guess what he was thinking. He was too serious. Mike pulled a faux-seductive face and made Dave laugh. Then Dave pulled away and, kicking off his shoes, he said, “Make yourself at home,” and wandered away.
“OK,” said Mike. He reached down to undo his laces. Didn’t want to ruin his sneakers. Even though he could afford new ones now, could afford them whenever he wanted them, for the first time in his life. He caught a glimpse of the tight red jeans he was wearing. Suddenly felt that they were too tight, too obvious. He would have to make sure Dave didn’t see him anywhere too well lit. Leave something to the imagination. Surely they were passed all that? But no, they were going in a new direction tonight. Mike didn’t know where.
“Hey?” he called and heard a muffled response from Dave. “Hey!” said Mike, “I know what you’re doing. Not fair!” He found Dave in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.
“You can’t brush your teeth and leave me all… grungy,” Mike complained, pulling a face. Dave tilted his head, looking at Mike with laughing eyes.
“Is my toothbrush in there?” Mike asked.
Dave shook his head. “I threw it out,” - the toothbrush still in his mouth, his voice funny and constricted - “After…” He trailed off and went back to brushing.
Mike opened the bathroom cabinet. “You did not!” He held the toothbrush triumphant. Dave only raised his eyebrows.
They almost didn’t make it to the bedroom. Mike shed his embarrassing trousers on the stairs and half fell with one foot still caught in the leg. Dave caught him under the arms, but wouldn’t let him get away. Lowered Mike’s backside to the stairs and himself on top of Mike. Kissed him while Mike kicked off the jeans between Dave’s legs and complained about the stairs pressing into his back. Dave wove one arm under Mike’s head and reached with his other hand to Mike’s crotch. That make Mike shut up. He couldn’t concentrate enough to find the skin of Dave’s belly, so instead clung to his baggy sweater.
In the bedroom, Dave’s skin was burning hot and smooth under Mike’s hands. He loved the definition in Dave’s body, loved its compactness. He felt lightweight next to him, flimsy and insubstantial. Dave touched him and kissed him, watched his responses with eyes blue and thoughtful.
“Dave?” Mike whispered. Dave’s hand was resting on his chest, the duvet wrapped around them, tangled almost uncomfortably but for the post-sex haze.
“Mmm,” Dave sounded close to sleep.
“I don’t wish…” said Mike, wondering what he was doing as he said it.
“Mmm?” Dave’s hum close to his ear, more awake now.
“I don’t wish you were … a faun,” said Mike.
Dave’s laugh was breathy against his neck. He leaned in to kiss Mike.
“I don’t wish you were a faun either,” he said. He wrapped one leg across Mike’s body and shifted him closer. “Well, only sometimes,” he added.
Fandom: RPS for the cast of The Mighty Boosh
Pairing: a main serving of Mike Fielding/Dave Brown, with a side helping of Mike Fielding/Noel Fielding (yes, brothers!)
Rating: PG-13 for non-explicit sexy-times
Warning: This contains some very mild incest. Just a snog and that’s all, but if that might squick you, be warned.
Word Count: 1250 words
Disclaimer: Not mine, not real, no slander intended.
Summary: Mike knew this wouldn’t make sense sober. Dave was not saying anything in reply, just looking at him, smiling.
Author’s Notes: 1. This was going to be a main serve of Fielding brothers slash (Fieldcest?), but the OTP of Mike/Dave had other ideas. But that’s OK, because I love the OTP of Mike/Dave. Can I remind you how hot Dave Brown is? He's hot. Trufax.
2. My usual beta nixwilliams only did a quick read-through on this one, so if you notice any errors, typos etc, please tell me. Also any feedback, comments, concrit, would be welcomed. Should I post it to some Booshy comm? Should I change the title? Should I make the manips discover the pictorial proof that Mike Fielding is indeed a faun??!?!
Mike was saying something to Dave. Lisping more than usual, drunk and laughing.
“And you know but Charlie is, no, it’s Ronnie, Ronnie! He’s a faun!”
Mike knew this wouldn’t make sense sober. Dave was not saying anything in reply, just looking at him, smiling.
“No, he is!” Mike protested. “Noel’s met him and everything. No, he met Charlie and Charlie said so and Charlie wouldn’t lie about something like that. Charlie wouldn’t lie about anything. If I believe in a God then it’s him, it’s Charlie!” He was impassioned. He wasn’t getting through to Dave, he could tell. He was about to lean in and try and convince him with his mouth, with his lips and tongue, but then Noel appeared behind him.
“What you on about now then Mike?” He wrapped his arms around Mike’s middle and kissed him wetly on his cheek. “He boring you, is he, Dave?” Mike could tell Noel had one eyebrow cocked, a cheeky look on his face. He could tell just from Noel’s tone of voice.
“No,” said Dave, taking a sip of beer, his eyes fixed on them over the top of the glass.
“I was-” Mike began, but Noel spoke over him.
“Julian’s going now, the old fart. So I thought I-” He made some movement that Mike only caught in the corner of his vision. He looked at Noel. “You know,” said Noel. Mike nodded. It could mean anything with Noel, but he was used to that uncertainty. He looked at Noel but couldn’t tell how drunk he was.
“Will you two be-?” Noel asked.
“We’ll be fine,” said Dave. “We’ll catch a cab.”
“Sure,” said Mike, about to smile and wish Noel off, and get back to whatever important thing he’d been telling Dave. But then Noel kissed him. Right there, in front of the whole pub. On the mouth. With tongue and all. Tasted of something sickly sweet, some premixed drink. His hands held the side of Mike’s face, fingers warm and slightly damp. And it was firm - surprisingly firm - his grip on Mike. They broke apart and Noel laughed, straight away, into Mike’s mouth. Then Mike laughed too.
“I think you owe me a drink for that!” Mike said.
“Next time, sunshine,” Noel replied. Gave Mike a quick kiss again, and then leant across him to peck Dave on the lips, his fingers still in Mike’s hair.
They were silent after Noel left. The air was suddenly empty. Dave took another sip of beer, this time not looking at Mike but staring blankly down the pub. Mike touched his fingers to his lips. Wondered if they were different now he’d kissed his brother. Was suddenly too sober. He’d kissed him back, not pushed away.
“What was that all about?” said Dave, his voice half joking.
“I need another drink,” said Mike.
At the bar, he felt particularly small. Wondered who there had seen it. It seemed everyone knew Noel’s face these days. But his? He didn’t know if they knew his face. If they knew he was Noel’s brother. He played with his beard as he waited to be served, then tripped over his words and got Dave another drink even though he didn’t know if he wanted one or not. Back at the table, the beer tasted cold and fresh and bitter, and utterly unlike Noel.
Dave raised his eyebrows at Mike.
“What?” said Mike.
“Nothing, you,” said Dave. Mike took another gulp.
“It doesn’t bother me,” said Dave. His voice was carefully level.
“OK,” said Mike.
Dave shrugged. “He’s your brother.” As though that explained it.
“Yeah, well,” said Mike.
They ended up talking about animal sex, about if and how Bollo and Naboo did it, about how the short guy off Top Gear was a faun too (Mike had seen the pictures on the internet) and how they’d like to do him too, but only if he was a faun. They piled into a taxi at 1am, Dave’s hand tightly holding Mike’s on the backseat. His hand was hot and he didn’t look at Mike.
Back at the flat, he pushed Mike against the hallway wall and kissed him. He was eager and fast, his mouth open and his tongue strong against Mike’s. Mike almost said ‘Whoa!’ but stopped himself. It was completely different to kissing Noel. He tried not to think of Noel. Dave broke apart but kept Mike pinned to the wall, his hips pushed into Mike. He ran the backs of his fingers down Mike’s face, watching him. Mike tried to guess what he was thinking. He was too serious. Mike pulled a faux-seductive face and made Dave laugh. Then Dave pulled away and, kicking off his shoes, he said, “Make yourself at home,” and wandered away.
“OK,” said Mike. He reached down to undo his laces. Didn’t want to ruin his sneakers. Even though he could afford new ones now, could afford them whenever he wanted them, for the first time in his life. He caught a glimpse of the tight red jeans he was wearing. Suddenly felt that they were too tight, too obvious. He would have to make sure Dave didn’t see him anywhere too well lit. Leave something to the imagination. Surely they were passed all that? But no, they were going in a new direction tonight. Mike didn’t know where.
“Hey?” he called and heard a muffled response from Dave. “Hey!” said Mike, “I know what you’re doing. Not fair!” He found Dave in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.
“You can’t brush your teeth and leave me all… grungy,” Mike complained, pulling a face. Dave tilted his head, looking at Mike with laughing eyes.
“Is my toothbrush in there?” Mike asked.
Dave shook his head. “I threw it out,” - the toothbrush still in his mouth, his voice funny and constricted - “After…” He trailed off and went back to brushing.
Mike opened the bathroom cabinet. “You did not!” He held the toothbrush triumphant. Dave only raised his eyebrows.
They almost didn’t make it to the bedroom. Mike shed his embarrassing trousers on the stairs and half fell with one foot still caught in the leg. Dave caught him under the arms, but wouldn’t let him get away. Lowered Mike’s backside to the stairs and himself on top of Mike. Kissed him while Mike kicked off the jeans between Dave’s legs and complained about the stairs pressing into his back. Dave wove one arm under Mike’s head and reached with his other hand to Mike’s crotch. That make Mike shut up. He couldn’t concentrate enough to find the skin of Dave’s belly, so instead clung to his baggy sweater.
In the bedroom, Dave’s skin was burning hot and smooth under Mike’s hands. He loved the definition in Dave’s body, loved its compactness. He felt lightweight next to him, flimsy and insubstantial. Dave touched him and kissed him, watched his responses with eyes blue and thoughtful.
“Dave?” Mike whispered. Dave’s hand was resting on his chest, the duvet wrapped around them, tangled almost uncomfortably but for the post-sex haze.
“Mmm,” Dave sounded close to sleep.
“I don’t wish…” said Mike, wondering what he was doing as he said it.
“Mmm?” Dave’s hum close to his ear, more awake now.
“I don’t wish you were … a faun,” said Mike.
Dave’s laugh was breathy against his neck. He leaned in to kiss Mike.
“I don’t wish you were a faun either,” he said. He wrapped one leg across Mike’s body and shifted him closer. “Well, only sometimes,” he added.