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★ 2022.

"fruit. and plain yogurt."

"even if you're hungover?" matt asks with a small raise of his brows.

noel nods. "yeah, yeah, i'm a man of routine. i never break the routine. and, uh— three pieces of toast."

"every day?" matt says, a little baffled.

noel shakes his head once and gesticulates with his hand. the way he always does. "can't begin to tell ya how much of a creature of habit i am. i eat the same things every day, i do the same workouts every day, i—“

"hang on a minute." matt cuts in.

"what?" noel asks with a small tilt of his head – the way that always earns a small ‘aw’ from you, followed by hands grabbing his cheeks while you say he looks like a cute puppy. thank goodness you’re not here now. not in front of the cameras, for heaven’s sake!

"'what?' i ask you what, you work out? since when?" matt teases.

noel sighed, fighting a smile from growing on his face just because he was commited to the bit now. “wife’s making me do it.”

matt clicks his tongue, shaking his head once. “the old ball and chain.” he adds dryly, despite having admitted a few times during drinks at the firehouse that he might actually like you more than he likes noel.

“yeah, yeah...”

"how did she convince you?"

noel tilted his head, taking a breath in and parting his lips as his eyes squinted. what looks like a man getting ready to speak is actually noel coming up with a story. one that's not fully fake, but he couldn't tell the whole fucking truth, could he?

the one hundred percent truthful story started at the night of your 50th birthday.

for noel, the cheekiness started even as you were getting ready. he never really minded waiting for you to finish getting ready, since it always came with one hell of a view.

that night, a black dress was cladded around your body. the same body you complained about once in a while – most times disguised as jokes.

jokes about that annoying little pouch that wouldn't really go away no matter how many spinach you ate, or that little squishy part of your arms the kids would absentmindedly hold onto as "team NG" strolled down the streets, post dinners in the middle of the high flying birds tour.

the same body that noel had always been mad about, even when he couldn't really admit it for numerous reasons – pride, stupid american versus british rivalry, thinking you're annoying, you thinking he's even more annoying, etc etc.

you two would laughed about your past years later. and during those years, he made sure that not a single inch of that body would go on without being absolutely worshiped. which is how it ended up becoming the body that carried his three children. christ, thist last one did his head in every damn time.

his shoulder was rested against the doorway just like the top of his head, tilted, as his gaze shifted from your back to your face in the mirror’s reflection more times than he could count.

looking at his expression in the mirror, you breathed out a little laugh at it. "you always do that." your tone fond, followed by the soft clasp sound of your earring.

he smirked, pushing off the doorway and slowly making his way closer to you. "do what?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"look at me like that." you replied, smiling a little wider the moment his hands settled on your hips, his chest softly pressing against your back.

"well..." he started, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the side of your head, the tip of his nose burying inside your hair for a moment and immediately inhaling slowly, because when didn't he? then, noel rested his chin on your shoulder, finishing his point like it was the most simple thing in the world. "you could always try looking less sexy."

you chuckled, shaking your head and clasping the remaining pair of the gold jewelry. his smile grew wider at the sound, temple resting beside yours and his hands absentmindedly rubbing up and down, following the curve of your waist. "look fucking mental, yknow." he praised quietly, softly squeezing your sides for emphasis.

you hummed, hands reaching for his and shifting until his arms were properly wrapped around your torso. your eyes followed your own palms caressing his forearms in the reflection, while his blue gaze stayed in your face. it always did.

"will you still love me when i start my middle age crisis?" you joked.

he snorted. "'when you start?' what was last year's gardening all about?"

"hey,” you laughed, giving his hand a light slap. “you didn't complain when your tea always had fresh and organic mint leaves in it, you dick."

he chuckled, leaning down and giving your shoulder a playful bite at the same time his palms gave your asscheeks little 'let's go' pats, taking a small step behind. "you're all done?" he asked anyway.

"yup." still smiling, your hands went to the hair strands that framed your face, giving them one last tiny swoosh before you're off.

right. well, that's a part of the story noel could've told.

however, the rest of the night – to be blamed by the strong drinks and, allegedly, the way noel's hands stayed on his missus the whole night – was better left unsaid.

he's learned that after years of publicly being cheeky followed by an immediate swat of your hand on the back of his head. "the kids, dickhead!" with an exasperated tone to your voice that, in his opinion, sounded cute even when you scolded him.

you're right, though. the public information of what their parents were up to in the 90's it's enough as it is. you two surely can at least make an effort keep it more pg-13 now.

so, no mentioning in a radio interview how you two snogged in the car the whole way back. the alcohol running through your veins the same way your hand traced the outline of him over his pants, feeling it harden underneath your touch even though it took a little longer now. you smirked against his lips, fingers tracing circles around his tip, earning a needy groan pouring inside your mouth, while his chubby fingers digging deeper into the flesh of your thigh.

no mentioning how good you looked with his cock inside your mouth even after all this time. or how you looked even better now, if that was even possible. still cocky and still looking at him like he was sex in the shape of a man – a slightly chubbier one now, sure. but fuck me, he couldn't possibly mind when you looked like that. knickers still on, knees deep into the mattress and ass arched up so he could see them.

and your fucking eyes, god. the way they looked at him all droopy and needy whenever his fist would tighten inside your hair. how your brows furrowed in that pretty way whenever his free hand stroked your cheek before giving it tiny, mocking slaps. the way your eyes fluttered shut whenever his hips thrusted up.

and definitely not mention the way he dragged you back up and kissed you eagerly, tasting your smudged lipstick as you straddled his bare cock – moaning as you grinded your covered cunt over his throbbing length.

and, well, he knows a round two isn't as easy for a fifty-five year old noel as it was for the thirty-something-year old version of him. so cumming in his underwear and leaving his wife all high and dry on her birthday? would be a fucking crime, that.

what can you do? that's fucking life for you. nature doesn't make exceptions even for those who have given humankind a masterpiece like "definitely maybe".

that's why the real, real reason to noel's – and yours – new gym habits is only known to the both of you.

because as you were riding him – panties fabric shoved to the side, skins glistening with sweat, lips slick from spit and swollen from kissing – you started to slow down.

your jagged breathing mixed with moans, progressively becoming shakier as you slowly stopped. he kissed you despite the absence of friction, your tits staying pressed over his, heaving a little harder from the “exercise.”

all while his hands kept soothing you, rubbing up and down on the curve of your ass. you moaned softly at the tenderness, hands going up to his cheeks, that were softer now, and cradling him as you kissed him back.

he breathed out a laugh the second you clenched around him, breaking the kiss and making you weakly whimper against his mouth. "you okay?" he asked softly, hands still lingering, sliding over your asscheeks all the way to your lower back.

you slowly rocked over him despite it all, in a way that didn't take that much energy and still felt good. slow and gentle. intimate. a dazed smile grew on your lips at a low pleased hum he let out, feeling his hand squeeze your hip like a silent praise, the touch you know it means a "that feels nice."

then, the phrase left your lips.

"we used to be young, noel..."

he laughed properly at it then. his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer, his flushed face burying on the side of your neck while he still twitched inside you.

you laughed too. "don't laugh! i'm serious." even though your hand squeezed his arm – still, gladly leaning into the embrace.

"we're still alive and breathing, aren't we?" the positive words he saved for you despite the historical grumpy-gallagher persona didn't stop you from carrying on your moaning. not the usual moaning for... this particular activity you're engaged in right now.

"i used to... be able to ride you. for hours and hours."

"hm. did ya." he teased.

"well," you started, kissing his cheekbone and feeling the corner of his eyes crinkle up underneath the tip of your nose, same way it did whenever he smiled. "hours and hours is humanly impossible, but... definitely more than now." you slurred lightly, honest.

he laughed, fingers curling on the back of your neck and bringing you mouth to his, shutting you right up with a confident kiss.

you moaned into it, eyebrows furrowing softly and ass arching upwards like a cat in heat at the feeling of his free hand gave it another squeeze.

"yeah?..." he teased barely above a whisper, not even fully pulling away from the kiss, pushing his hips up.

you moaned in response, breathy and already dumb with the feeling of his hand slowly moving you up and down over his lenght. you nodded slowly, lips parted and eyes all needy. his teeth nibbled your bottom lip slowly, the quiet words brushing your warm skin, "yeah?..."

you moaned, "f-fuck. yeah..."

he hummed, slowly shifting until you were the one with your back on the mattress now. his belly pressed against your stomach as he pushed his hips foward, feeling your nails dig in his upper back once his tip pressing against your cervix. he leaned in closer to your ear, lips curled into a smug smirk as his hips moved back and foward teasingly slow.

"think we still got a few good years left in us yet, love." his tone is low, mouth brushing your earlobe, softly bumping over the gold earring he's gifted you a few years back. he smiles against your skin, "gonna make sure my birthday girl enjoys 'em, hm?"

he's a right lazy bastard, but c'mon now. that's the least he can do on your special day.

that's why he kept thrusting into you, even though that felt like a workout at his age – a good one, at least. his mouth kept kissing your neck, moaning in your ear and babbling all the dirty things he knew would you loved, especially when drunk and needy.

his hand traveled downwards, clumsily finding your clit, rubbing in sloppy circles while he fucked you. hitting that spot that always made you wrap your legs tightly around his hips and pull him impossibly closer.

and even though you two came at the same time, noel knew he couldn't quite call it a night just yet.

since he couldn't physically go for another round this fast without the help of a little blue pill, his mouth dragged down your torso with slow, wet kisses until his lips found your swollen clit.

his hands remained firm on your thighs, spreading them open, getting even drunker on your taste mixed with his. his eyes stayed on you, droopy and red by now, but attentive as ever – the view made him kiss your cunt even greedier, sliding two fingers inside your entrance while lowly muttering "one more, can y'do that f'me, darling?"

smirking. of fucking course he was. couldn't not do it, not when you nodded in that way that always gave away how gone you already were, fingers tugging on the soft and gray locks that drove you truly mad.

his head was still spinning afterwards, smirking as he finally shifted upwards, settling close to you. over you, actually – practically flattening you beneath him in a way he used to be cautious about, but completely unapologetic ever since that one time you said it was "comfy. like a weighted blanket."

he immediately laughed. "y'calling me fat?" he had taken the piss, but still didn’t move an inch. mostly because he couldn't – your arms had already wrapped around him, keeping him exactly where you wanted him.

clingy little thing. just like this moment, with older bodies, softer around the edges but still interlaced in messy sheets – the same way they had been ever since the very first night.

well, first time in a bed, at least... the car was too remarkable to forget.

"love you," you mumbled into his neck.

his eyes were already closing, but there was a faint smile on his lips either way. "yeah, yeah."

you laughed, hugging him tighter.

a beat later, "love you too."

and then sleep claimed both of you.

the middle age crisis hit you hard, apparently. because the next morning – where you were supposed to have a hangover just as bad as his – noel woke up with the smell of body soap pleasantly filling the room and your hand unpleasantly tugging the curtains open, allowing the 7am sunlight to disturb his sleep.

his whole face scrunched up in a way you almost felt bad, immediately dragging a pillow over his face like that would shield him from... whatever was wrong with you.

but the kids had already gone off to school and you were far too motivated for someone that was fifty years old.

so you ignored him, of course. the mattress dipped as you climbed onto the bed again, freshly showered and suspiciously energetic.

"noel." your hand reached out, softly shaking his shoulder.

it earned you a grunt from him.

you shook him again, "noel, baby."

he groaned louder this time. you laughed at it, leaning down, hand reaching to move the pillow off his face – and instantly replacing the soft cushion with your lips, pampering his soft cheeks with kisses. "rise and shine." you muttered against his skin.

"fuck off." was the immediate reply from him. his voice still raspy from sleep.

you laughed again, straigthening your back and softly shaking him again, "noel!"

only then his eyes opened, still squinting at you. gym clothes. hair tied in a ponytail. most likely already wearing trainers. and smiling like a fucking psychopath.

"good morning..." you said sweetly, palm sliding over his shoulders. yeah, suspiciously sweet now.

"morning." he replied.

you smiled, a beat of silence before you gently spoke. "thought we'd go for a run."

he scoffed, eyebrows raising automatically and eyes closing again. the pillow was brought back to his face to muffle down his incredulous laugh. you immediately took it away again, laughing too.

"a run." he said, baffled.

"yeah."

"a run."

"that's what i said, yeah."

he stared at you. you stared back, head tilting just for charm. didn't really work, because he pointed toward the door. "get out." he rasped, closing his eyes again and shifting into a more comfortable position.

you leaned down despite his protests, giggling as you kissed his forehead. "you'll feel better afterwards..."

he smiled despite himself, but still didn't give his arm to twist. "i feel pretty alright now, actually."

you smiled against his skin, placing a kiss on the big bridge of his nose now. "you'll feel better."

"nah, fuck that."

another kiss, now on his left cheek. "please?"

"no."

a kiss on his right cheek now, while your leg slowly shifted until it was beside his hip, the other staying on the other side as you comfortably straddled him. "please…”

his eyebrows immediately furrowed, he's a weak man and he knows it. his hands slowly shifted until they settled over your hips, feeling the soft gym fabric underneath his palm. "that's not fucking fair."

you kissed his jaw. "please."

"no."

the corner of his mouth, humming softly. "please."

"not a chance."

"i'll do anything."

he breathed out a laugh. "you already let me do anything." hands squeezing your hips like he's making a point, not even bothering to open his eyes again

“no, noel… anything.” you repeated, tone dipping now.

now his eyes opened. and he blinked, head still a little fuzzy, feeling it get even worse with the sight of you breaking into a cheeky little smile, head tilting. charming bastard, he thought.

he sighed, “give me five minutes.”

── .✦

so, that's the real beggining of it all.

“well, i have high blood pressure and some gobshite doctor told her exercise is necessary, so.” noel replied simply to matt.

matt scoffs. “how dare he.”

“she says she ‘wants me to be healthy and have muscles so i can carry our grandchildren’. and ‘if possible not have a heart attack, please’.”

matt laughs. “grandchildren?”

“gonna take a while, innit. so far all i do is carry shopping and grocery bags. sometimes her when we’re feeling cheeky.”

“does she ever carry you?”

“god, no. i love her too much. don’t want ‘er fucking up her back.”

“that’s fair.” matt said simply. “you two work out together, then?”

“yeah, yeah. we do.”

“with a personal trainer?”

“well, we used to have one. now that we got the hang of it, ‘s just me and her.”

“you two are that disciplined?”

well… discipline isn’t exactly what noel would call it.

the first month was, in noel’s opinion, hell.

during that time, he only managed to drag himself to the home gym because of you. always you. for three different reasons.

sometimes, you’d gently encourage him. slowly and sweetly running your hands through his hair like it would physically remove the laziness from his brain. you’d kiss his mouth as he grumbled under his breath and remind him that he’d feel better afterwards, before disappearing downstairs in your trainers. he’d follow you not long after.

other times, you’d just take the piss. shrug simply and say “one point for me, then.”

it wasn’t even a proper competition. there weren’t rules or an actual scoreboard. it was just one of those silent, cheeky games that had somehow survived from the days you still “hated” one another. every missed workout became an imaginary point for the other. those were the days where noel's pride and stubborness made him go earn an imaginary point.

and always the gym clothes you wore. he’d be lying if he said that those fitted tops and leggings weren’t a great motivational tool. even when he had sore thighs or stomach from the day’s before sit-ups.

you always heard him coming, smirking to yourself as you stretched your muscles. “thought you weren’t training today?”

“changed me mind.”

you laughed, leaning in and giving him a small kiss. “did you?” you teased, smirking.

he’d only shake his head, not even pursing his lips to kiss you back. “cunt.”

and you’d happily hum. “mhm. a healthy cunt.”

during that first month and the second, a personal trainer was around. a six foot tall bloke with muscles that probably weighed more than noel himself.

also a bloke that had more chances of flirting with noel than you – you swear the day you laughed the most was when he teasingly called your husband a silver fox and it made him blush like a school girl.

the first day without the his presence started like every other one. your elbows were propped in the kitchen counter, half full mug of tea beside you and phone in hand.

while noel sat on the stool not far from you, taking a sip from his own half empty mug while watching a footie segment from yesterday on his phone. kids already off to school, both of you already dressed in gym clothes. routine, by now.

“huh.” you said suddenly, eyes on your phone screen.

“what?”

“shawn can’t come today. aw, poor guy. has a stomach bug.”

noel’s lips pouted in that 'eh, well' way with a shrug, unbothered as he took another sip of his tea. "reckon we can manage not to kill ourselves for one day, can’t we." he said. then, wiggling his brows, noel leaned closer, placing a kiss on your nose. "unless you're looking for an excuse to slack off."

you laughed, softly shoving his face away. "in your dreams, gallagher.”

an hour later, you were both in the home gym. the morning sun softly shining through. you were in the middle of your second set of squats, feet planted, focusing on keeping your weight back.

noel was leaning against the dumbbell rack, supposedly resting between sets of bicep curls, but mostly just watching you with his arms crossed over his chest – those fitted gym leggings really did him massive favors.

you dropped down into another deep squat, holding it for a second at the bottom. you peeked at him through the mirror.

then, an idea sparked inside your brain.

"coach?" you called out, your voice in exaggeratedly sweet tone.

noel’s eyebrows raised while a slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. cheeky thing. "yeah? what's your problem, then?"

your head tilted as you watched him come closer through the reflection, slowly getting back into a position that didn’t strain your muscles. "can you tell me if my form is okay? feel like i'm not getting low enough. need an expert to help me..."

"right," he murmured, straight-faced now, playing along instantly. his hands unhurriedly went to your hips, gripping them firmly and tenderly all at once. "let's have a look at you, then."

he took one step closer, smirking just like you were. his chest pressed on your back, your ass deliberately rubbing him as you slowly squatted down – his hands not leaving you as he slowly dropped down with you, palms heavy on your hips for guidance.

as you two moved upwards again, he got even closer. his crotch pressing firmly on your ass, making you smirk as you felt his already half hard length through the thin material of your leggings.

his hand went to your front, squeezing your tit over the fabric. "keep your chest up," his breath was hot against the shell of your ear. his hands slid down from your chest, and he smirked as an attempt to hold in a laugh at the sight of you doing the same by biting your bottom lip.

with his palms flattening across your stomach, he pulled you back against him, shamelessly pressing his crotch closer to your ass. "don't rush it. gotta hold it right there." squeezing your hips for emphasis, letting his fingers linger closer to your mound.

"but it's so heavy, coach…" you whined, tilting your head back like a purring cat would, despite the corner of your lips curling upwards. a genuine laugh bubbling up inside your chest, though you could already feel yourself already dampening your knickers.

he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, fingers curling around your hip at the same time he slowly pushed forward. “yeah?” he whispered, eyes watching you from the mirror, smirking again as they leaned closer to your neck. “wanna skip right to cardio, then?” he teased, nibbling your pulse point and smiling to himself at the sight of your head tilting with a small breathy laugh.

ticklish or aroused, he never really knew which. all he knew was that he fucking loved it. every single time.

"aren't you supposed to be keeping me focused?" you breathed out, smirking. then, your head turned just enough to brush your lips against his. "i'm a married woman, you know. my husband wouldn't like you touching me like this."

his brows raised softly at the same time hands shifted again, sliding up your ribs. “married?” he asked lowly.

“mhm…” you hummed sweetly.

“yeah? happily?” he teased, fingers slipped inside the bottom elastic restraint of your top, kneading your breasts in that way that always made you gasp.

you breathed out a laugh, shaky and needy, despite entertained. head tilting to the side, keeping your eyes on him through the reflection. “mhm… i love my husband.”

his pointer and middle fingers rolled your nipples, making you inevitably arch yourself more to him, his clothed erection pressing even firmer on your ass. “yeah? why are you rubbing yourself on me then, hm?”

you bit down a laugh before clicking your tongue in mock sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your hand reached out behind you, palming him over the fabric. “because you’re so, so hot, coach…”

fucking hell, later you knew he’d tease you about all this. taking the piss and saying you should screenwrite for pornos for a living. but right now, he only smirked wider, cock throbbing underneath your touch.

"fuck him, then." noel muttered, smirking as he leaned in to place a wet and slow kiss on your mouth, hips slowly humping your hand. "he's not here, is he? probably at home being a lazy sod."

you couldn’t help but laugh at it, head throwing back despite the heat growing in your lower belly. noel smiled too, before leaning in to nibble your soft cheek, not minding the salty taste of sweat.

"he's not a lazy sod…" you giggled, moving your hand away only to grind your ass right against his cock. "he's got” – you interrupted yourself with a teasing kiss on his lips – “high blood pressure. i'm doing this for him..." you added, teasingly fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"that right?" he said lowly, teasing. then, his hand moved, sliding down the front of your leggings until his fingers firmly cupped your clothed cunt. his other hand stayed on your hip, keeping you glued to him. "well, he's a lucky fucking bastard, then.”

you nodded, humming softly as your hand reached out again, fingers curled around the outline of his hardened length, pulling out a low moan out of him right against your mouth.

"you’re a rubbish trainer." you teased, still feeling him throb under your touch.

"i’m expensive, though." he replied, head tilting and voice dropping.

you smirked, now turning around, chest pressing against his. "yeah? how much?" you asked without breaking eye contact or moving your hand away.

"kiss’ll do."

you breathed out a laugh, leaning in and giving him a slow, nearly teasing kiss. "just a kiss, coach?" murmuring against his lips, your hand kept teasing his cock.

he let out a breathless laugh, one hand sliding into your hair until his fingers were buried in it. with an easy tug, he spun you around, guiding you until your front was pressed against the wall.

instinctively, your spine arched, ass pushing back against his crotch and a silent moan escaping your lips.

he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “yeah? could show you what i really want.” he murmured, voice low and amused.

with one hand still firm inside your hair, the other moved to the waistband of your leggings, tugging it down past your ass with your knickers. “don’t think your husband would like it, though.”

you let out a shaky breath as your leggings and panties were strained around the top your thighs, palms settling on the cool mirror as you arched youself even more to him.

noel looked down, letting go of your hair to shove the waistband of his own gym shorts and his boxers in an impatient motion to free himself. his other hand went to his mouth, eyes darting up and meeting yours through the reflection as he licked the pad of his fingertips before they dissapeared between your thighs.

his slick fingers smeared your own wetness and his saliva around your clit before sliding down to coat your entrance. you moaned shakily, forehead dropping against the glass.

he didn't tease any further. he only wrapped his hand around himself, guiding his cock until the leaking tip pressed on your opening. then, pushing in with a pathetic ease. you gasped immediately, fingers smudging the mirror and a warm shaky breath fogging it up as he buried himself completely inside you, smirking at your reaction.

while he pounded inside you, your head was just him, him, him – his voice speaking dirty things in your ear. his hands groping you anywhere he could reach, tugging your sports bra down until the cold mirror bit your warm breasts. all while his cock hit that perfect spot inside you.

the aftermath came soon after a few breathless giggles and wobbly legs, where his hands smoothed you back into place, even though the mess he had made still dripped down your thighs.

“think we can dismiss shawn from now on?” you teased, immediately making him break into that raspy laugh you adored so much.

both of you obviously laughed at the foggy marks of your hands and your tits on the mirror.

"that's... impressive, actually." noel admitted, wiping at one with the sleeve of his shirt.

it only smeared more, making you laugh even harder. "don't make it worse!"

"well, what d'you want me to do?!" he asked with a smile across his lips, flushed cheeks and an amused expression on his face.

that led you shoving glass spray and a cloth into his hands. “it’s your fault!” you justified. even though it was very much yours.

a few other months went by, and, annoyingly, the doctors were right. but eh, noel supposes it’s quite alright. his back didn't hurt so badly anymore, neither did his knees. climbing the stairs wasn't accompanied by the dramatic old-man groan he'd become famous for around the house anymore.

he refused to mention any of this, of course. you noticed anyway. quietly and proudly and fond.

another day at the dinner, he’s yapping. something about football and how he wished to bomb united's dressing room. donovan and sonny are talking too – basically repeating what their dad has been going on and on about for years, like two little adorable parrots.

you huff out a fond air though your nose, but you're not really paying attention. because ten minutes ago, you noticed how his bicep now makes the sleeve of his shirt a bit tighter around him. your hand settles there absentmindedly, noel carries on anyway.

eventually, he looks at you and asks you a question.

you only reply with a distracted "hm?"

his brows furrow, "are you listenin'?"

you shake your head, hand squeezing his arm softly and completely ignoring the question. "it's really paying off, yknow."

his brows raise in a silent smug "oh, is it?" and he smirks like he's just been gifted a platter of gold, involuntarily flexing his muscle underneath your touch like a daft twenty year old would while pretending to be cool about it.

the kids gag in response. collectively.

"oh, come on."

"mum, ew."

"seriously?"

later that night – without the kids around to shame you for flirting with your husband. how the fuck do they think they were made, by the way? anyway, the television downstairs had been switched off, the dishwasher hummed somewhere in the background.

the house is finally quiet, kids asleep in their rooms, and you’re wrapped up against his back, both lazily resting underneath the duvet. you’re spooning him, front flushed against his spine and one of your arms draped over his waist. he’s warm and smells like the fresh laundry detergent that lingered on his soft cotton shirt.

as you're almost drifting off, he shifts softly. and your brows immediately furrow at the slight difference in the way he fits you now. your hand settles on his ass, squeezing a handful of it like you're trying to check. "jesus christ, noel." you mutter against his shoulder blade, a little amused laugh in your voice.

noel snaps out of the relaxed state he had been slowly slipping in for the last minutes, immediately choking out a startled laugh, his body jumping under your touch. "fucking hell, watch the hands! what’s gotten into you tonight?"

"serious," you mumble, voice thick with amusement as your free hand pushes the duvet to allow you to see your hand groping his ass. "feels bigger than mine."

he’s still chuckling, that low and raspy kind, as he tries to settle back down. but his ears are that cute shade of pink, despite you not being able to see how his cheeks match the tone in the darkness of the room.

"fuck off," he huffs, trying to sound unbothered and failling miserably. "you're sexually harassing me, yknow." he jokes, but embarrassment is mixed with that deeply ingrained gallagher cockiness.

you laugh, not pulling your hand away, amused by how easily you can still startle him after all these years.

"right..." you start, pressing a lazy kiss on the back of his neck, inhaling softly once the tip of your nose buries inside his gray hairs. your hand moves from his ass to trail slowly up his hip, sliding under the hem of his soft cotton shirt. "can stop if you' want."

"do i fuck," he grumbles, still smiling and not pulling away. he shifts, rolling over onto his back so he can look at you. he looks caught off guard and amused – a little flustered, maddeningly handsome. "you're fuckin’ obsessed tonight. can't keep your hands to yourself."

"can you blame me?" you prop yourself up on one elbow, looking down at him with an affectionate smile. you lean in, placing a tender kiss on his mouth while your hand slides up, brushing underneath the hem of his shirt as you softly caress his belly, feeling his warmth and his happy trail underneath your touch. "you're so handsome..."

noel swallows a rough little laugh, throat bobbing softly. "right." he rasps, his hips involuntarily pushing upwards, like the cotton covers will bring some relief to his needy cock, already stirring inside his underwear.

his hand comes up to catch your wrist. not to stop you, but just to hold on, his fingers brushing your knuckles.

you breathe out a tiny laugh at the gentleness, leaning in until your nose is pressed on the side of his neck. you hum softly at his scent, placing tender kisses along his pulse point.

"fucking hell," he breathes out in an amused little laugh. "trying to give me a heart attack?" he finishes in a whisper, breathier.

"just appreciating my husband..." you murmur, palm sliding down and finding him already semi-hard. he lets out a shaky breath through his nose at the touch, blue eyes fluttering shut for a second as your fingers curl around him over the fabric. you smile, kissing his jaw softly. then, you tease quietly, "know you like it."

"fuck, fucking love it," he rasps, his eyes opening just enough to look at you, completely glazed. "come here, darling. please." he pleas quietly, his palm settling on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer for a kiss, at the same time you're already leaning in.

as you slowly kiss, your hand slowly slips inside the elastic waistband of his underwear. you start slow, with rhythmic strokes, more appreaciative and caring than teasing – you moan softly inside his mouth as you feel him hardening even more under your touch.

your thumb slides over his tip, catching a small bead of pre cum. noel’s hips twitch instinctively, a soft involuntary moan catching in the back of his throat and his lips parting, still glued to yours. his hand behind your neck tightens softly as he whispers against your mouth. "love you."

you smile, kissing the corner of his mouth then his cheek while not faltering on your strokes around him. "love you too, my love."

── .✦

“at least she’s taking care of you.” matt says.

“no, yeah, she’s the best.”

“she could be, all due respect, getting all fit and leave you to be all… fat. on your own.”

noel laughs, “well, firstly. she’s always fit, she doesn’t need to try. and secondly, she’d like it. cause, for some odd reason, she likes me round.”

matt blinks, "that's..."

"yeah."

"odd."

"yeah, yeah. what can i say?" noel says with an unbothered shrug.

truth was, you loved whatever version of him to fucking bits. and he loved you right back. that's why taking care of one another had always been something as easy as breathing.

it happened in the late nineties. you took care of him through the withdrawls from coke.

some mornings he'd snap because the kettle took too long to boil, then apologize thirty seconds later with that guilty little wrinkle between his brows. you never took it personally.

sometimes, he'd wake up in the middle of the night, unable to breath and soaked in sweat. you'd calmly soothe him, tell him everything was okay until he drifted off again - sometimes minutes later, sometimes hours. you never complained.

he took care of you that one time you caught a terrible stomach bug in the middle of your new year vacation to greece – noel had no problem in spending the shift between milleniums beside you in a hospital bed, with rehydration saline dripping inside your veins and nurses speaking a language neither of you understood.

you had apologized, and he only shook his head and held your hand tighter, reassuring you that as long as he was with his favorite person, all is good.

you took care of him that one time a lunatic fan got upstage and shoved him right over the speakers, breaking three of his ribs. six weeks of taking it easy, the doctor said. you spent those six weeks helping him into jumpers every morning because lifting his arms made him hiss through his teeth.

the whole time, you pretended not to notice how embarrassed he looked every time you didn't let him lift a finger. or whenever you'd patiently wash his hair. or whenever you'd hand him the medication and a bottle of water before he could even remember on his own – even asking him if he wanted something to eat or tea as well.

one night, feeling your hands play with his hair and looking almost sheepish, he addressed it quietly. "never thought i'd have anyone looking after me like this."

you smiled so softly it nearly broke his heart, because of course he didn't. then, you shifted, leaned in and craddling his cheeks in your hands as you gave him a soft kiss. "good thing you married me, then."

he took care of you through all three pregnancies with the sort of devotion that bordered on superstition. the origin to that was even before you got pregnant with anais.

in the be here now gig in brazil, a local stage manager casually shared a superstition at the sight of a six month pregnant patsy across the room, telling liam that if a pregnant woman’s craving went unattended, the baby would be born looking like whatever food she’d wanted.

noel overheard and stared at the poor lady for a long second before slowly nodding. from that day on, it became a matter of honor.

because god forbid his missus – already carrying his child – wanted peaches at half eleven at night and didn’t get them. and god forbid the baby came out looking like a bloody pickle because he’d been too lazy to get it for his pregnant lady. or sausages. or crisps dipped in a milkshake. or a savory sandwich with french toast as buns.

some sounded criminal, yes. but a few others, strangely, weren’t half bad. which was exactly how he ended up putting on a bit of weight during every single one of your pregnancies.

“can’t leave you alone in this, can i?” was the excuse, already taking another bite. “gotta feed you and our baby.” he’d say gently, reaching out to your belly and softly rubbing it.

you’d laugh, breathless. “me… the baby… and yourself too, apparently.”

he’d shrug, completely unapologetic. “gotta be a team effort, innit?”

you took care of him once he got a vasectomy. even thought the idea sounded dreadful, it was only fair.

you made him tea, renewed ice packs that have gone too warm, carried everything for him and ignored every exaggerated sigh he let out just to make you laugh – he succeeded, he was a dramatic funny cunt after all. then, you’d lean down to kiss his forehead and smooth a hand through his hair. “you’re cute when you’re forced to let someone take care of you.”

truth be told, noel quite liked being fussed over. especially by you. the whole gym saga wasn’t that different from the mutual care-taking over the long years of your relationship.

the same way the previously mentioned unspoken score board was also similar to the early years, where all of this was just a rivalry.

in one particular occasion, your period came harsh the way you never got used to. as a woman in your fifties that got scared whenever a heat wave hit, you cherished every moment of a menopause-less life. even if it hurt like a fucking bitch.

you woke up from cramps before your alarm even rang, pressing the heated bag firmer against your lower belly. it was still warm from the night before – miraculously, it always was. and it made noel smirk every single time.

“those japanese blokes. technology. i’m telling ya.” would be the phrase he’d mutter every time he’d catch either of you filling it in the kitchen. nodding to himself with a satisfied smile on his lips, of course.

he came across them in a japanese shop while on tour. at first he laughed at the pink fuzzy material. but once the shop assistant had politely explained what they were for, he immediately stopped laughing and pulled out his card. two for you, two for anais. genetics are a bitch, his poor girls.

that morning, once the alarm woke noel up, he settled in the routine like muscle memory.

he took a shower, put on his clothes… and as he was quietly stepping into his trainers, he mentally celebrated a point ahead since you apparently had decided to stay in bed – trying not to look too pleased with himself.

he leaned down to press a kiss on your head, whispering “i’ll get going, alright?” before straightening up and making his way towards the bedroom door. the room was still too dark for him to notice you still curled beneath the duvet, eyebrows pinched together, one arm wrapped around your stomach.

“noel?” you said so quietly it immediately made his brows furrow, looking back in a heartbeat.

“hm?”

you seemed almost hesitant to ask, not even opening your eyes or making an effort to speak louder. “can you stay with me?…”

one thing about noel is that he loves the bossy, sharp and mouthy side of you. he loves the way you never let him get away with his own bullshit. he loves that you challenge him, that you laugh in his face when he gets too full of himself, that you always have something clever to say back.

but god, the sight of you like this – cute and cuddly and needy for your husband – made his heart melt every single time.

he looked down at the trainers he had just tied, then back at you. with a quiet sigh through his nose and without so much as a second thought, he nudged one shoe off with the heel of his other foot. “course i can, sweetheart.”

he watched your shoulders visibly loosen underneath the duvet and smiled to himself.

“bad?” he asked softly as he crossed back over to the bed.

you gave a tiny nod. “mhm.”

he clicked his tongue softly in sympathy, climbing back beneath the duvet carefully. immediately wrapping one arm before you instinctively shifted until your forehead found its familiar place beneath his chin. you let out a sleepy little hum, he kissed the top of your head.

somewhere downstairs, the coffee machine timer clicked exactly as programmed and the treadmill certainly waited for the usual two pairs of feet jogging over it. but inside your bedroom, none of it seemed particularly important anymore.

── .✦

“so if she likes you fat, you can loose weight, but not too much.” matt continued, truly amused.

noel laughed, nodding. “you have no fucking idea, mate.”

yeah, noel won’t publicly talk about the endorphin induced sex or the sex itself that has led up to this health kick. and he surely won’t talk about the only proper argument the two of you had since deciding to become healthier.

looking back now, it was a bit ridiculous.

it all started because he’d been sat on the sofa one day, early in the afternoon with his phone suspiciously angled away from you. your feet were on his lap, head resting comfortably on a soft pillow and eyes focused on a book page, love island quietly playing in the telly.

the sounds of noel’s tortoise paced typing made you look up. “what are you doing?”

his eyes darted at you, immediately locking his phone. “nothin’.”

your eyes narrowed. “you’re doing something.”

“am not.”

a beat.

then, you sat up straighter. “give me your phone, noel.”

“no.”

your brows furrowed, immediately pissed. “no?”

his mouth opened, then closed without another word.

“give.”

“love—”

“phone.”

he sighed, a little “christ” coming out under his breath, like you were the unreasonable one, before handing it over.

you expected him giving into twitter, mocking somehing liam had done even though you told him not to. or even, fuck me, porn – some daft mate of his sending a picture of a busty twenty something year old in their groupchat.

instead, his phone screen was settled in a conversation with one of his doctor friends.

your head immediately picked up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. “are you fucking kidding me?”

“darlin—“

“OZEMPIC?”

he sighed, scratching the side of his nose with his eyes closed. “maybe.”

“MAYBE?”

afterwards, all hell broke loose. noel sighed and rubbed both hands over his face, insisting you were making a fuss over nothing and that he was only asking questions.

you, on the other hand, couldn’t believe he was even entertaining the idea. you listed how he’d spent months building strength, that he’d finally stopped complaining about his knees every bloody morning, and that taking a dumb shortcut just because of his belly was stupid, stupid, stupid! – as you stormed off.

“you’re not gonna take it!” you yelled from the bedroom, then the door slammed. he could hear it all the way from the living room.

the rest of the day developed like a cold war, not standing in the same room for more than two minutes and the only words exchanged being "we're out of milk."

the kids shared looks and gossiped about it in the garden. while you went to bed far too early, leaving noel pacing around the house like he was deeply considering if it was too soon to walk into the bedroom or if he should just take the couch already.

he put on his best puppy face as he picked the first option. noel pushed the door open slowly, eyes immediately settling on you, expecting you to be asleep already – even though he knew it wasn't that easy for you whenever you were pissed. countless had been the times where something frustrated you while producting an album, where you ranted non-stop in bed at midnight, making him have to fight for his life to keep his eyes open and pay attention.

said and done, because he walked in and saw your eyes open, staring at the closet. if it hadn't been for the light botox you had done last month in your forehead, your brows would be angrily furrowed – in that soft way that got a small line to appear between them. he thought it was cute, and you always told him to fuck off while laughing whenever he'd say it.

he sighed softly, closing the door with a quiet thud. your eyes didn't follow him as he walked closer to the bed, and you didn't say anything either the second he laid down, feeling the mattress dip softly.

his body fit yours from behind, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into a tight spoon position that always felt like melatonin to you.

he leaned in, mouth pressing on the curve of your shoulder in a soft kiss, hand gently squeezing your waist for emphasis. "i'm not gonna take it."

"good." you replied dryly, even though your shoulders just properly relaxed for the first time today.

a beat.

"i don't want you to have sarcopenia." you added quietly.

so quietly his brows softly furrowed in confusion. "have what?"

you sighed. "sarcopenia..." you repeated just as quietly. "it's muscle loss. ozempic can do that to you if you use it without properly needing it. which you don't."

another moment of silence. then, it was cut off by a small, fond and amumsed huff of a laugh leaving noel's nostrils, propping his head up to try to get a better look at your face. “did you google that?”

you blinked, eyes darting down to your own fingertips brushing off a small remain of boots’ fur stuck on the sleeve of your jumper. “yeah…” you admitted quietly.

his forehead dropped fowards from laughing, hands shifting you until you faced him, immediately pulling you closer – feeling your mouth curl into a sheepish smile pressed against his chest, hands slowly sliding up his sides as you held him back.

your shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. "i'm sorry. i got worried."

his smile softened immediately, pulling away and taking your cheeks into his hand, your legs already tangled. “don’t worry,” then, he leaned forward until your foreheads touched. "i'm not taking it."

"promise?"

"promise."

you finally smiled, breathing out a little satisfied huff. "okay."

he leaned in and kissed your forehead. "okay."

── .✦

“so what do you do at the gym, then?” matt asks.

noel inhales softly, shaking his head. “just lift some weights.”

a beat, his expression clear that he's thinking about it.

“sometimes we run. treadmill or outside.” noel adds.

“yeah?”

“yeah, sometimes we take the bike as well and just… go.”

matt clicks his tongue, head tilting. “aw.” he teases, despite genuinely endeared.

noel raises his brows as he nods, like it isn't a big deal. “yeah.”

“do you gossip along the way?”

noel snorts softly, “like two lovely fucking ladies.”

truth be told, noel didn't even like biking that much. he didn't really like being forced to apply suncreen despite his protests about london being cloudy all the time. although your hands on his face did feel nice, and okay, the lotion did smell good. it smelled like you.

but eventually, biking had shifted into a little getaway and sightseeing rather than cardio. he could feel his heart beating inside his throat afterwards from the effort, but it always calmed down a few minutes after sitting down in some high hill, with your shoulders touching and water bottles half empty beside the two of you.

he liked how you always brought along a trail mix, and how you always placed the raisins and the cashews on his hand even as you talked, distracted. you knew he liked them, as natural as breathing at this point.

he liked how you always softly said "this is nice..." while looking at the view, tipping your head to rest on his shoulder. even though it was the sight every time – you've stuck to the same path once realizing it was the best one.

one day, as you were taking a gulp of your water, noel cut in the silence.

“i’m gonna tell you something.” he said, looking at the view. in his peripheral vision, he saw your head turning so fast he thought you'd have a whiplash.

“what?” you asked curiously, tone dipping like it always did when it came to hot gossip.

he turned his face to meet yours calmly, already smirking. “but you have to pretend you don’t know.”

your eyes widened. “oh god, what.”

his brows raised, “promise.”

you sighed, nodding eagerly for him to just spit it out already. “okay, okay. i promise.”

he licked his lips, looking ahead again. smug from holding onto a good piece of gossip. “sonny told me donovan fancies a girl from his class.”

you gasped. “WHAT?”

he smiled, still looking ahead, still smiling. “told ‘im i wouldn’t tell you.”

your jaw dropped, hand flying to his knee and shaking it. “oh my god, noel!”

he laughed, ”yeah, and he’s a fucking gossiper lad, that one. showed me pictures from instagram and everything.”

you laugh, looking down at the small package in your hand, tipping it until the small nuts fell over your palm. “is she cute?”

“don’t know." he said with a shrug, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion, same way it always did once he faced the generational differences. "kids take pictures covering their fucking faces with their phones nowadays.”

“oh my god, right?" deep from your soul, eyes even widening in agreement. "what is that all about?” you added, picking a few raisins and placing them in his palm, that opened without you even telling him to do so.

“i know.” he agreed with a shake of his head, shaking the raisins in his hand before shoving them inside his mouth. he had never really paid attention to that tiny thing he did until one day anais pointed it out, saying it's an universal dad thing. eh, guess so.

your eyes went back to the view, tongue clicking softly before you spoke in that soft tone you couldn't help yourself whenever it came to the kids. ”aw...”

he breathed out a small laugh, raising his brows in amusement before furrowing them softly, nodding. “yeah...”

your head tilted again until your temple rested on his shoulder. “our baby. growing up.”

for a little while, neither of you said anything else. the breeze carried the smell of grass and cobblestones. your bikes were abandoned against the wooden fence behind you while the morning sun softly warmed your skins. somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

you sighed contentedly. "we're getting old." you added.

he huffed, tilting his head until it rested against yours. "we are."

you turned your head to look at him. he did the same. you both smiled, leaning in to share a small kiss. one that felt like a silent agreement: with you, getting old isn’t that bad.

with a small smile, he pulled away first. only to fish his phone out of his pocket, then, standing up with a small groan. "c'mere."

you laughed, dusting off tiny stones off your ass and the back of your thighs as you stood. his arm extended with the phone in hand, his free one immediately wrapping around your shoulder at the same time yours hug his torso. your chin tipped up to look at the screen of his phone, now showing both of you in the camera's selfie mode.

you smiled, hugging him closer and shifting until your face was practically glued to his. unlike noel, who held that little smug expression he saves for photos.

you laughed immediately, eyebrows furrowing softly. "cmon, why are you making that face?"

his brows only furrowed more, winding you up. "what face?" he teased, free hand sliding down your waist and giving it that particular squeeze he knew made you ticklish.

you bite down a laugh, fingers sliding behind him and gave his ass a quick pinch.

he broke immediately, spine curving further away from you grip and lips curling up into a breathless surprised laugh. "little shit."

you laughed, tip toing to press a hard kiss on his cheek, hand going up to his jaw and squeezing it to pull him impossibly closer. cuteness agression towards your own husband, as one does.

── .✦

"biking's your cardio, then."

"yep."

before matt could finish his next phrase, noel cut in with a snap of his fingers and that little gesture he always does when remembering something. “oh, we’ve got a new punch bag now. that fucking thing, really gets a sweat out of ya. makes me feel like muhammad ali, mate."

matt laughs, “do you print out your brother’s face and glue it to it?”

noel laughs too, shaking his head. “she won’t let me.”

“huh.”

“yeah.”

a beat.

“it’s her exes face.” noel teases, completely serious. and as matt's laughing, noel shakes his head, finally breaking into that soft, nearly boyish smile. “i’m joking. he’s lovely.”

“now.” matt teases.

noel snorts, nodding. “yeah. now.”

“so that’s your cardio. biking and gossiping and punching a bag.”

"yeah."

“anything else?” matt asks with a tilt of his head, like he means "anything else, mr. fitness man?"

noel breathes out a laugh, raising his brows and tilting his head. “her, sometimes.” he adds smugly.

matt sighs, raising his brows and shaking his head, looking down at a paper sheet. mock dissapointed that he gave noel such a good cue. “dunno why i asked.”