stories from the city; damon albarn

72- the met

"How many times are you going to play this?" Chloe Erlich asked, scrolling through her phone nervously as their car drove through the streets of NYC.

The man seated next to her grins a little, pushing his sunglasses up his nose and shrugs. "I like the first couple of lines."

She rolls her eyes "Stop it."

"What?"

"You know what."

He pulls out his phone and starts the song over, filling the car with the same song again, only this time the bass is heavier.

And there he is, singing along.

"You will never need another lover-"

She looks up, raising an exasperated hand to her forehead, as if she hasn't seen him do this for the past five hours.

"Cause you're a milf and I'm a motherfucker."

And then he stops, leaning over to kiss her. But she swats him away instantly

"Stop it. You'll fuck up my face."

"Who cares?"

"I do. And maybe you should learn the rest of the words."

"Why? I think those are enough."

"You keep replaying the intro to the song. Over and over again."

"It's the truth though."

"That I'm a milf?" Chloe asks playfully

He looks away and shrugs again, before turning back to her, that same cheeky look in his face. The single earring in his ear dangling a little bit. She'd made him do that. Claimed it looked hotter.

The two were on their way to the Met Gala- someone had actually wanted the pair to attend. The two Brits who had become attached to the West Coast. Although Damon would prefer the term impartial.

"Nervous?" He asks her "Because we don't have to. I know you're worried about all the other nonsense."

"It's better than it coming out through someone else." She adds slowly and then says "Besides, I think Kendal and his girlfriend might be worse."

Damon snickers "Imagine if I'd dated a 20 year old."

"You're sexy enough, I might've forgiven you."

"Graham is seeing someone who's around thirty." He notes quickly "I don't know how I feel about it. But they seem into one another."

"Thirty is fine."

"True. I used to cut pictures of you out of magazines when we were in our thirties. Kept them in a box."

She wrinkles her nose "You didn't."

"I did. They were like substitutes for the real Chlo."

"Please never say that again."

The car seems to slow down, and as it does, it is revealed that the two have arrived. But the fucking music had been so loud that it had blocked out the sound of all the people watching from nearby. However, the minute the door opened and their teams had rushed over- they were engaged with the sound.

The cameras. The carpet. Everything.

"So this is real."

"Course it is." He steps out of the car, brushing off his suit. Which is of course baggy as all hell. And pink. For reasons unknown to everyone watching.

He holds a hand out to her, and she sighs- taking it immediately and letting him pull her out of the car and down the carpet in front of them.

"Neither of us fit the theme for this." She murmurs