Archive of Our Own ^beta

1: 

Howard doesn’t know why he’s so averse to being touched. It’s been like that for as long as he can remember; he has vague memories of a childhood spent dodging kisses from distant aunts and flinching away from the affection his parents would try to dote on him with. Even as a very small boy, he couldn’t imagine anything worse than someone trying to touch him in any way. His family got better at adapting to it as he got older, and his teachers were all well informed that he didn’t like being touched, but other children still didn’t understand. That or they took delight in pushing the young boy to his well-defined limits. He could scream at them that he didn’t want to be touched until his throat became sore but it didn’t stop them from planting hands in his shoulders or pushing him around to amuse themselves. It became automatic, the yell of “don’t touch me” that came alongside anyone coming close enough to touch him or even venture into his personal space. It did nothing to stop the bullies that took pleasure in torturing him, but it worked well for drawing the attention of others around them, including teachers who knew to step in and stop it before Howard had a meltdown. 

The touch aversion meant that Howard was almost hyper aware of people around him at any given moment. In his mind, if people were never given the opportunity to be close enough to him or sneak up on him then he wouldn’t have to deal with people touching him. This worked well for the most part but sometimes it left him so mentally exhausted that he just couldn’t keep it up for a while. The most common time for this to happen was on his walk home from school when the crowds of other school children disappeared and he was by himself. It was a time young Howard valued very highly as he could finally stop worrying about being touched and could just think about his future as a man of action and all the adventures he’d go on. That wasn’t how every walk home went though.

He’d been walking home from school, completely lost in thought, when a hand had wrapped itself around his lower arm. It was by no means a firm grip, more hesitant than the cruel touch Howard had become used to at that point, but it was still touch and it was still deeply unwelcome. Even just the gentlest brush seemed to set Howard’s skin alight and left him feeling itchy, as though he’d broken out in a rash at the mere brush of someone’s skin on his. He’d turned on his heel in an instant, yanking his arm away from whoever had touched him in a panic.

“Don’t touch me!” Howard had expected the person who grabbed him to laugh, probably one of the boys from school that took pleasure in making him miserable had followed him home to further punish him. It was only when he looked down that he saw a mess of blond hair on a much shorter boy than the people in his class. Vince . The two of them hadn’t been friends for long at that point, just a few months but the younger boy was quickly worming his way into Howard’s life in a way that he was coming to enjoy. The younger boy had stepped away when Howard had ripped his arm from his grip, and Howard assumed it was to avoid being hit. His eyes were wide, and it occurred to Howard that he’d never snapped at Vince before, not over this. A wave of guilt passed over the younger boy’s face as he chewed nervously on his lower lip. It didn’t suit him. Vince’s face was made for positive emotions, seeing him any other way was incredibly foreign and Howard didn’t like the idea that he had caused it. He wanted to apologise for snapping but Vince spoke before he could.

“Sorry Howard. Forgot.” 

“S’alright. Sorry I snapped at you.” The two started walking together at that point, though Howard didn’t know where Vince was going. Truth be told, he didn’t actually know where the younger boy lived. He knew he was fostered, his parents had sat him down and explained what that meant when he’d first met Vince, but he’d never been to any of Vince’s houses. The younger boy always favoured going to Howard’s which made sense. Vince went through foster families like they were going out of style and so had a new home address at least once every few months. If Howard was in a similar situation he would probably want to spend most of his time at a fixed location too. He was more than happy to provide that for up the younger boy.

“Why does it bother you? Touching, I mean.” That made the older boy stop in his tracks at least for a moment. No one had ever asked Howard that, not even his parents. He’d never really thought about it, if he was being honest with himself. He knew logically that nothing bad would happen if he was touched, it wasn’t as though he was actually allergic to being touched but the idea of it; of hands moving into his personal space and pressing into his very being left him feeling queasy and uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure. Just feels like it makes my skin itch.” The mere idea sent a shiver down Howard’s spine. Vince kept pace with the older boy, nodding his head emphatically.

“I know what that’s like! When I was in the jungle with Bryan, one of the monkeys I hung around with got fleas and then all of us got fleas and it was awful .” Vince dragged out the final syllables with an exaggeration that only he could make look effortless. Howard had to smile at it, which he assumed was Vince’s intention as the younger man’s eyes started to sparkle. He quickly jumped onto Vince’s change in conversation, happy to be led into a story of fantasy rather than trying to address his own flaws and quirks.

“What did you do about it?”

“Oh it was genius really. Bryan had to leave the jungle for a while to get a whole pet shop's worth of flea shampoo for everyone and we poured it into the nearest waterfall. It made massive bubbles, almost as big as my head, and the water turned purple so it was like a massive spa day!”

“Did it work?” Vince seemed to turn thoughtful at that. It was in moments like this that Howard wasn’t sure if Vince was being honest with him about his childhood or if he was just pulling his leg. Howard had no way to prove whether the younger boy had in fact lived in a jungle for most of his childhood but some of his stories felt so detached from reality that it seemed more likely that he hadn’t. The idea of a young child being raised by wild animals and a famous musician felt too whimsical to be something that happened outside the pages of Howard’s books. Howard was brought out of his musings by Vince speaking, this time in a softer voice than he’d used to tell the majority of the story.

“It worked for me. Can’t remember if it worked for everyone else. I left the jungle not long after. Bryan said it wasn’t good for me to be away from the world of man for so long, thought I might go feral or something.” 

“I mean you are a bit.” Vince smiled at that but there was still a glossed over look in his eyes that he tended to get when he got lost in his own past. Howard felt a lump grow in his throat as he realised he’d messed up the conversation. Vince was the sunshine kid, trying to comfort him was a situation Howard didn’t usually experience and he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. He’d clearly stepped wrong trying to start up some witty banter when Vince was going through something and he was scrambling to make up for it. 

“Hey, come on little man. You want to come to mine for dinner? I’m sure my mum wouldn’t mind.” The effect was instantaneous. The detached look disappeared from Vince’s eyes and a grin of pure joy overtook the sadness. A spring came back into his step as he practically danced a circle around Howard.

“That’d be well genius! Come on, hurry up then! I’m hungry!” Howard quickened his pace to keep up with his younger friend, hoping his mum really wouldn’t mind if he brought him home for tea again. It was the third time this week but even his mum had expressed concern that the younger boy seemed to live exclusively on strawberry bootlaces and was a lot thinner than was healthy for his age. It was only when Vince bet that he could run to Howard’s faster than him that the older boy stopped thinking and started running, determined to outrun his friend (even if he was forgetting that said friend was raised partially by a leopard which almost guaranteed that he would lose in a race against him).

2:

Although his parents and friends wish continuously for it, Howard never grows out of his hatred for touch. It affects a lot of his life and means that any kind of relationship is off the cards because he’s simply unable to accept touch of any kind off anyone. The only person that’s managed to stick around and deal with the issue is Vince, which even Howard will admit surprised him. Vince was many things but patient had never been one of them. His brain demanded instant gratification from whatever took its fancy and if that was denied he quickly lost interest and moved on. Everyone had expected Vince to grow bored of Howard at some point and ditch him for newer, shinier friends but the younger man had stuck around like some chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe and he showed no signs of budging. 

They've been through a lot together, especially when Howard manages to get Vince a job at Zooniverse. Bob Fossil was a strange man that held a deep distaste for Howard and had been incredibly hesitant to hire anyone he put forward for a job but upon meeting Vince for the first time he'd been spellbound, as was customary of anyone meeting Vince Noir for the first time, and offered him a job immediately. Howard couldn't even be mad that his boss loved his best friend so much, Vince being around meant that Fossil was sometimes almost pleasant towards Howard and that was a win from him assigning all the worst tasks to him because of his sheer hatred of the aspiring jazz musician. 

Vince joining him at Zooniverse meant that things started to get a lot more exciting in his life at least. Something about Vince seemed to encourage fantastical situations and crazy characters into their workplace and it kept things interesting. Take their current situation as an example. Bainbridge had come storming back into their lives, talking about some sapphire he hadn’t even found. The Egg of Mantumbi had caught Howard’s attention, especially since Bainbridge hadn’t managed to find it or Biggie Shackleton, the explorer that had initially gone to find it. As a self-proclaimed man of action, Howard had been captivated by the idea of succeeding where Bainbridge had failed, if only to get a one up on the irritating man.

Travelling to the Tundra was an idea that felt like a good one when he was blinded by the chance to be famous but has actually turned out to be a terrible idea. It's isolating and freezing and Howard has no idea what to do or how to start looking for the Egg. Vince followed him with his usual level of enthusiasm, somehow managing to get Gary Numan of all people to fly them there and then it was up to Howard to sort everything else out. It should be easy, Howard's read more than enough books on the Arctic to have some idea of how to survive out here, but the practical side of it seemed to have slipped his mind when he was daydreaming about coming here. 

It was freezing. It's a fairly obvious observation about a biome named the Arctic tundra but it hadn't fully clicked in Howard's mind just how cold he would be. The tent they'd packed had been a relic from an old camping holiday he and Vince had been on in their gap year; it wasn't designed to insulate heat and stop them from freezing to death. They'd packed warm clothes (well, he had anyway) but it wasn't going to be enough to keep them alive through the night on its own. The wind showed no sign of letting up and the temperature would only continue to plummet as the night dragged on.

"Howard?" Vince's voice was soft, so soft that Howard barely heard it over the howling wind that seemed to have no intention of settling down. The younger man sat with his knees pressed to his chest, shivering ever so slightly. "We need to share body heat." It hadn't occurred to Howard that Vince would have the slightest clue on how to survive out here; he'd been raised in a jungle after all. He’d never imagined Vince thriving in a cold environment, he’d always seemed as warm as the sun and so had demanded a climate that matched that. The mere idea of Vince, the sunshine kid, being in a cold climate was almost laughable and yet here he was. Living through the worst conditions on the planet just because Howard wanted him to. A knot of guilt made itself known in Howard’s chest at the sight of his best friend shivering away across the tent from him.

"I know." The sigh Howard released was a defeated one. Logically he knew that if they didn't huddle up they might not make it through the night. The issue was that this was something he couldn't logic his way around. His aversion to touch wasn't suddenly going to vanish because he was freezing and it was a mental hurdle that he wasn't just going to be able to overcome after two decades of hatred towards the sensation. 

"So why're you sat over there then? C'mere." Vince patted the space next to him as an attempt to encourage the man to join him. Vince wasn’t stupid, he could see Howard starting to shiver in his mink coat. He could all but hear the older man’s teeth chattering over the sound of the wind and he knew Howard well enough that he wouldn’t even consider voicing his suffering. It didn’t help that when they made eye contact, Vince could see the anxiety swirling in those tiny eyes, the recognition that the older man might have to accept some form of physical touch if he wanted to live after being so against the very idea of being touched for so very long.

“You know why I’m sat here.” 

“Howard, please. It’ll be okay. We need to do this.” It felt like everything started to move in slow motion as Vince rose up slightly so he could move across the tent. Howard felt like his body was frozen and this time it wasn’t from the plummeting temperature. Vince moved with a hesitancy Howard rarely saw, it was like he was approaching a cornered animal in the zoo. Howard’s usually tiny eyes were wide and Vince hated how much fear there was swimming in them. When Howard gave no audible request to back off he took it as a sign to proceed and made his way slowly towards the northerner. He gently sat down just a few inches in front of the older man, shifting the blankets so it was wrapped around his shoulders. When this once again went without protest, Vince moved closer once again. He was just in the process of closing the gap between them when-

"Don't touch me!" It’s an expected cry but it startles Vince all the same after getting so close to the source. He fell back with a soft groan, eyes wide. Howard’s eyes were wide for once, chest shaking more intensely and Vince couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from the panic of Vince being so close to his personal space. Vince lifted his hands up slightly as he shifted himself back, trying to calm the older man down. 

“I won’t. I’ll stay here, I promise.” Howard felt the sickening curl of shame rolling through his chest at the forlorn expression that grew on Vince’s face from the exchange. It both felt and looked like he just kicked a puppy and the guilt was almost unbearable. He wanted to reach out, to pull Vince into his side and apologise profusely, but his arms remained firmly by his sides. When he speaks, it’s with less conviction that he’d like.

“I’m sorry.” Vince smiles at him but it’s not as convincing as it should be and does nothing to stop Howard from feeling guilty. 

“I know it’s hard for you. We’ll work something else out.”

They do end up working something out. They end up spending the night huddled under the blankets fully dressed and facing opposite directions. Howard doesn’t sleep the entire night, too petrified that he’ll wake up and Vince will be racked with hypothermia due to Howard’s negligence and failings as a man of action. He aches to be able to take off his gloves and hold Vince’s hand through the experience but he never quite manages to build up the courage to do so. When they find the ruby and return back to the zoo, neither of them speak of what happened that night and Howard thinks that’s probably for the best.

3:

It was strange returning to the living world after having been to both Limbo and Monkey Hell. Death hadn’t been quite what Howard had imagined it would be, much closer and less welcoming than he’d assumed. That might have been something to do with being sent to the wrong place (and being taken before his time) but the whole thing had shaken Howard up more than he’d care to admit. 

He’d been more than happy to come back to the world of the living after their narrow escape from the ape of death and settle in for a sleep after a nice cup of tea and a brief period of listening to one of his favourite jazz records. It had been slightly strange that Vince had insisted he go check in with Naboo to check his return from the dead wasn’t going to have any long term effects on his body but Howard had just shrugged off the younger man’s concern and made his way to the shaman’s hut. The sign on the front clearly said closed to the public but Howard ignored it, walking to the side of the hut and letting himself in. 

As he’d expected, the shaman was where he always was. It was rare to see the shaman without his hookah pipe in his hand, so rare that Howard could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’d walked into the hut and Naboo hadn’t been smoking. It was for this reason that he jolted slightly when he saw the shaman sitting with a cup of tea rather than a pipe. He looked paler than usual, if that was possible, and he looked up at Howard with wary eyes. His gaze made Howard feel self-conscious, like he was staring directly into the musician’s soul.

“Alright Naboo?” 

“Sit.” The shaman lifted his chin in the general direction of the spare couch of the hut. His tone left no room for negotiation and the taller man was quick to take a seat.

“Is something wrong Naboo?”

“You need to be more careful.” Naboo’s tone remained even and it took Howard by surprise. 

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t let anything like this happen to you again.” It was with a degree of confusion that Howard looked at the shaman. Surely the shorter man didn’t think he’d been mistaken for Bollo on purpose? 

“I didn’t ask for this to happen to me, you know." 

“I know. But don’t let it happen again.” It was clear that there were no strong emotions from Naboo due to Howard's temporary passing so the taller man couldn't wrap his head around why he was sitting having this conversation right now.

“Where’s all this coming from Naboo?” For a brief moment, the neutral facade on Naboo’s face broke and he almost looked conflicted about whether to speak freely or not. He seemed to reach a decision quickly, his neutral expression returning soon after.

“You messed Vince up when you went. Don’t do it again.” Howard supposed that it made sense that Naboo was bringing this up out of concern for Vince rather than himself but it still left him confused. The shaman was always vague but this seemed to be a new record and when it came to Vince's wellbeing, Howard didn't want him to be vague.

“I won’t?” The words came out as more of a question than a statement but it seemed to satisfy Naboo enough for the shaman to nod before signalling for Howard to leave. The musician did so quickly, more than ready to escape this conversation and get back to the safety of the hut and Vince. He’d been so distracted by what Naboo had said that he hadn’t really been focusing on his surroundings until he was inside the keeper’s hut and had closed the door. “Vince? You’ll never believe what…”

The hut was a mess. It was always less than tidy, always visibly lived in, but never to this extent. It almost looked like a whirlwind had passed through, throwing their possessions all around the hut and leaving chaos in its wake. Some sections were somewhat tidier but none of it was how Howard had left it the morning before he ‘died’. Vince was standing in the middle of it, a half-full box in his arms. Howard could only assume the half-tidied sections were a result of Vince running around in the time between them getting back and now, desperately trying to clean up whatever had transpired. The younger man faltered under Howard’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” Vince remained where he stood, looking very much like a deer in the headlights. 

“Naboo was meant to keep you distracted for longer, he said he would stall for me.” Howard was starting to get worried at that point, and both men hadn’t moved since he’d entered the hut.

“Vince, what happened when I was gone?”

“When you were gone I just-” Vince’s voice cracked as his face morphed from panicked to distraught. The box he’d been holding dropped to the floor as he curled his arms around his torso in an attempt to comfort himself. “I couldn’t deal with it. Couldn’t deal with a world where you left me behind.” Vince’s bush baby eyes had filled with tears at that point, some of them flowing freely down his face.

“Vince.”

“When it sunk in that you were gone I just…lost it I guess. Didn’t want to face anyone ever again.” Vince’s face was filled with shame, as though this moment of vulnerability was something to hide away from rather than address head on. 

“Oh little man.” Howard took a step forward, then another. He only stopped when at the next step Vince flinched slightly and he remained where he was.

“I wanted to tidy up before you got back but Naboo said I had to hurry to Limbo or you might be gone for good. I didn’t want you to see the hut like this. I didn’t want you to see-” Vince’s sentence went unfinished but Howard picked up on unfinished words all the same. I didn’t want you to see me like this. 

There had been precious few times Howard had seen Vince break down like this. The most recent had been when an animal under Vince’s care had passed away and the younger man taken it hard. Being able to talk to the animals meant Vince bonded with the animals to a level the other zoo keepers couldn’t dream of. It also meant he took any bad developments worse than the other humans he worked alongside. Losing an animal had been like losing a limb to Vince and he’d spent almost a week walking around the zoo depressed and quiet. 

Howard had never considered how his death might affect his best friend. He hadn't expected to die until he was in his mid-80s at least but the whole experience had been rather sobering. Watching his own funeral from Limbo was one thing, but seeing his best friend break down right in front of him was making the whole experience painfully real. In a way, Howard had assumed Vince would hide how the whole experience had made him feel, it was weirdly reassuring to know how much his best friend cared about him.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere little man.” In a rare moment of vulnerability Howard crossed the final gap between him and Vince and pulled the younger man into a hug. It was a loose hug, more just an encompassing circle around the shorter man but it was an invitation Howard didn’t usually make and that was enough. Vince’s arms dropped from around his torso for only a moment before they wrapped around Howard’s back, clinging to him like a lifeline. Howard did his best to stop himself from flinching whenever he felt Vince shift closer to him, trying to think about anything but the awful sensation of hands clinging to him and Vince’s forehead pressed against his neck. Every hitched breath across his neck sent another tremor down Howard’s spine but he was determined to help his best friend when he was clearly in need of comfort. 

“Please don’t leave me Howard. Please.” Howard’s heart broke at the tone of Vince’s voice. He sounded so small, so defeated and it sent a pang of guilt through the taller man. He felt like it was getting harder to breathe and Howard wasn’t sure if it was from the overwhelming guilt or the proximity and touching.

“I won’t Vince. I promise.” His tone remained steady as Howard tried to remove Vince’s iron grip on his jacket. When he found himself failing to do so, the edges of panic were making Howard’s heart start racing. “I need you to let go, Vince. I’m sorry, please, I can’t-” Howard’s voice cracked as he felt himself succumbing to his panic, the only thing he became completely aware of was Vince letting go of him and trying to talk him through his breathing exercises to stop the panic attack and Howard feels like an utter failure for not even being able to comfort his best friend without having a panic attack.

4:

Howard was no stranger to the heavy weight of guilt resting on his chest. He felt guilty for a lot of things in his life, so much so that the feeling was almost second nature at this point. It was an old friend and had permeated most of his life, mainly as a result of his touch aversion. That did nothing to stop him feeling borderline nauseous with guilt for hurting Vince. It hadn’t been him, not really, but it was his body the spirit of jazz had used to push Vince off a stage and so Howard felt at least partially responsible. Fully responsible really. The younger man had assured him it was fine but when Naboo had banished the spirit from his body and he’d finally come to and seen the drying blood on Vince’s boiler suit he’d been wracked with guilt. Their walk back to the zoo had been filled with an uneasy silence, which was so uncharacteristic of Vince that it made Howard feel even worse. It was only when they’d parted ways with Naboo and were back in the safety of the keeper’s hut that Vince spoke. 

“Cup of tea?” His voice was thicker than normal, a result of very narrowly avoiding breaking it during the fall. The blood had taken almost fifteen minutes to stop according to Naboo. Howard nodded slightly, agreeing more to make the younger man feel better than through a genuine desire for a drink. He dropped himself down onto the couch, allowing himself to watch Vince as he moved around their makeshift kitchen to get everything he needed for the drinks. As soon as the kettle boiled he filled the two mugs, adding spoonfuls of sugar and pouring the milk then handing it over to Howard. He took the drink, allowing the warmth to seep into his hands before he finally spoke. Vince had settled himself on the arm of the couch, one knee pressed to his chest and the other swinging freely towards the ground.

“Why are you so calm about this?” A look of confusion passed over the younger man’s face as he looked down at Howard. There was still dried blood under his nose from after the fall when he’d not noticed it had started bleeding again and Howard found himself unable to look away. That was his fault. He’d been the one to hurt Vince, to almost ruin his face. Vince would never have forgiven him if he’d actually been seriously hurt. Not that he deserved forgiveness for what he’d done.

“Calm about what?”

“Vince, I hurt you.” The younger man shook his head, his hair shifting slightly so some of it landed in front of his eyes. He didn’t immediately move it like he normally would and Howard got the faint impression Vince was using his hair as a shield to avoid making eye contact with him.

“No you didn’t. That wasn’t you, it was the spirit of jazz.”

“It was still me Vince, still my body.”

“Well yeah but it was my fault. You told me you shouldn’t play and I didn’t listen. S’my own fault for getting carried away."

“This was not your fault.”

“Yeah well, it wasn’t yours either.” Vince slowly shifted himself down from the couch arm so he was sitting properly. There was still a gap between them; even now Vince was clearly conscious of not getting into Howard’s personal space. The guilt made the gap feel so much wider than it was, so much so that it almost felt suffocating. Vince never respected his desire for personal space this much without a fuss and, whilst he still didn't want to be touched, Howard was growing to hate the distance between them.

“Stay here for a minute, yeah?” Howard lifted himself to his feet, leaving Vince on the couch as he made his way to the bathroom. It was the smallest room in the hut with barely enough room for the shower, toilet, and sink. It was clearly a room made for one, if that, but Vince and Howard had made it work for them. Howard only stepped in for a moment, grabbing a clean flannel from the small radiator and running the tap until the water finally turned warm. He allowed the flannel to become fully saturated before turning the tap off and making his way back to Vince. The younger man seemed surprised to see the flannel but extended a hand to take it. When Howard didn’t hand the flannel over Vince’s brows furrowed.

“Howard?”

“Can I?” A beat of silence passed between them. Then another. Vince blinked up owlishly at him, eyes wide with confusion. He seemed to wait for Howard to speak again, to rescind his offer, and when he didn’t, he finally replied, hesitancy audible in his voice. 

“Uh, sure. Are you okay with it? You’ll have to, y’know…” Vince trailed off as he gestured to the space just in front of him and another pang of guilt made its way through Howard. The idea that Vince thought so little of him that he thought Howard wouldn’t want to be close to him even after causing him harm was doing nothing to remove the anxiety fuelled nausea in his chest.

“I know. I want to.” Vince continued to stare at him even as he crossed the room and sat in front of the younger man. He sat closer to Vince then they had been previously but still with a small gap between them. It was close enough that, should Vince move, their legs would bump against each other but the younger man seemed to be frozen to the spot. His eyes were still impossibly wide as his gaze focused on every move the older man made. The air between them seemed impossibly heavy as Howard decided to start.

Howard did his best to hide the slight tremor in his hand as he lifted the flannel up to the younger man’s face, still waiting for Vince to tell him this wasn't a good idea, that he would just do it himself. When no voice of protest came, Howard finally crossed over into Vince's space, pressing the flannel lightly to his face. The younger man flinched slightly, still sore from his fall, but didn't move any further. Howard refused to look up from the flannel, scared to make eye contact.

Physical intimacy was not a commonplace occurrence between them. Howard could count on one hand the amount of times they'd actually hugged through his own failings. They gravitated towards each other in a way that felt as natural as the laws of physics but it very rarely extended to physically touching. In a way this gesture felt to be crossing some invisible boundary that they'd never broached before and Howard couldn't tell if that was for the best or not. As it was, he continued to gently wipe the blood away from Vince's face, feeling infinitely more relieved when the younger man's eyes fluttered closed and the pressure of trying to make eye contact was removed. The only sounds in the hut was the noise of them breathing, Vince's more nasally as a result of his injuries. A few minutes later, Howard leaned back towards his usual spot on the couch.

"I think you're all clean now. Can't say it'll be that easy to wash the blood out of your clothes though." Vince opened his eyes again, looking down at his overalls.

"Probably won't wear it again. Don't think I'll be allowed back to Kraftwork Orange after that performance." Vince grimaced slightly at the reminder but the expression passed quickly back into a neutral expression. Howard winced at the reminder.

"Sorry."

"S'alright. Don't think an electro band is the one for me anyway." Vince shifted so he was able to stand up, stretching his arms slightly as he made his way over to the cabinet they kept all their clothes in. After retrieving his pyjamas, he started walking towards the bathroom. He stopped just short of the bathroom, poking his head round the corner. "Thanks Howard, really."

The older man sent a soft smile in his direction. "No problem little man." Howard remained where he was until he heard the soft lock of the bathroom door behind Vince and then he finally stood up. He grabbed their sleeping bags and blankets from the wardrobe, getting everything ready for them to go to sleep and finally let this day end.

5:

It had been Howard’s idea to go on holiday. They’d been working so hard on trying to make it with their band that Vince and him had been going through what could tentatively be described as a rough patch. The constant need to find their sound and build a stable career for themselves was putting a strain on both of them and Howard had taken it upon himself to sort out a weekend away from the hustle and bustle of Dalston. Naboo and Bollo coming hadn’t been part of the plan originally but it wasn’t a major issue. Howard got the impression that the two of them would piss off once they got there and it would just be Howard and Vince like the good old days back in the zoo. 

The others hadn’t been thrilled by the idea of going to a cabin in the middle of nowhere over a weekend in the Goofy Lodge at Eurodisney but a cheap holiday was something no one was going to pass up so they’d shut up quickly enough. Once everyone was packed (and Vince had been restricted from bringing five cases of clothes) the general spirit was a positive one. The others had laughed when the zip on Howard’s all in one suit had broken but Vince promised to have a go at fixing it in the car so even that wasn’t going to ruin his good mood. 

As expected, as soon as Howard had mentioned his introductory lecture to the wilderness Naboo and Bollo had pissed off. Something about going and stocking up on shaman supplies, an excuse that Howard actually half believed. It left him and Vince alone, as had been expected, and whilst he knew the younger man wouldn’t have the concentration abilities to pay attention for his entire lecture, he appreciated him sticking around all the same.

Howard had been in the middle of one of his better pre-planned jokes when Vince had let out a cry. He’d whipped round in an instant and had let out a similar cry at the sight of a rugged face staring at them through the half covered window. He’d moved back without thinking, an arm extending out in front of Vince as means of protecting the younger man. As the door was shoved open, Howard immediately took on a defensive stance, raising his arms in a pose he thought he'd seen in a film at some point. 

“Well, well. Lookie here.” The hulking form of the intruder walked further into the cabin, forcing Howard and Vince to retreat further back. Howard only stopped retreating when he felt Vince’s presence behind him and he stopped before the younger man had to touch him so they didn't bump into each other. The last thing Howard needed was to reveal a severe weakness in front of a threat.

“Keep back! I know wing chun.” He wasn’t sure how convincing his threat was based on his less-than-confident stance but the man stopped moving towards them so it did something at least. 

“You only had one lesson.” The conspiratorial whisper is entirely too close to Howard’s ear for him to not flinch slightly. Howard’s glad Vince had the good sense to say it quietly so as to not entirely ruin Howard’s threat but it does nothing to help his confidence levels or stop a shiver running down his spine at the proximity.

“Shut up!” 

“Cool your jets. I’m Kodiak Jack. I own this cabin. I’m just checkin’ in to see how y’all settling in.” The relief from both Vince and himself is palpable as the man in front of them morphs from a potential threat to a neutral person in an instant. Howard stepped forward, suddenly on more comfortable ground.

“Kodiak, it’s Howard Moon. We spoke on the phone this morning.”

“The what?”

“The telephone?”

“Oh, the talky stick. Your voice was trapped in there this morning.”

“Yeah, Howard Moon.” Kodiak seems to have enough awareness of polite society that he extended a hand for Howard to shake. Howard stares at it, and the gulp he took felt like it should be audible, like one from a cartoon that Vince watches on Saturday mornings sometimes. He wants to take the man’s hand, wants to establish himself as a man of action, but he finds his body won’t move. It doesn’t seem to particularly phase Kodiak whose attention has drifted from Howard to Vince in the meantime. 

“And hello. What’s your name, sugar dumplin’?” The mountain man is quick to sidestep Howard, pushing Vince back towards the wall he’d just started to move away from.

“Vince.”

“Mm, beautiful name.” There’s a particularly lecherous look in Kodiak’s eyes when he speaks to Vince that Howard finds himself disliking intensely. He’s not stupid, he knows that Vince attracts attention from people of any and all genders (and has come to expect it at this point), but seeing someone practically salivating over the younger man right in front of him rubs him the wrong way. 

“Well we were just doing a lecture on the wilderness. You’re welcome to stick around and join us.” Kodiak spins on his heel quickly at Howard’s comment and over his shoulder Howard sees Vince mouth a thank you his way and nods ever so slightly in his direction.

“Oh yeah? And what do you know about that, Mr City Balls?” Kodiak steps forward, suddenly seeming that bit more threatening once again. As he starts to list all the physical scars he’s received over the years Howard gets the impression he’s not going to be able to talk his way out of this confrontation. Vince seems to pick up on Howard’s internal panic as he decides to speak up, showing off his most recent scar.

“Big deal. See that? Straighteners, Nicky Clarke. Hottest you can get. Fell asleep on 'em when I was pissed.” Howard tries not to stare as Vince lifts his shirt to showcase the burn that extends down his stomach towards his hip. He’d been there when it happened, had helped Vince apply burn cream to it for the last few weeks, but seeing it be brandished like this felt different. It clearly left an impact on Kodiak as he looks on with a strange kind of awe that Howard is sure is mirrored on his face as well.

“Jiminy Christmas.” Vince looks more comfortable with the awe than he was with the lechery, more determined to take charge of the situation where Howard has failed.

“Now, can you get out, please? I wanna go to bed.” Kodiak seems to turn sheepish at that, almost cowering under the demand. Vince can have that effect on people and it always surprises Howard when he uses the ability, he’s far more used to the younger man being ambivalent about whatever comes his way than showing any kind of authority.

“Oh, yes. Pardonnez-moi. Of course. I hope we meet again under different circumstances.” He steps forward, taking one of Vince’s when in his and lifting it to his mouth. Howard expects him to plant a kiss there and is somewhat horrified when Kodiak instead licks from Vince’s knuckles down to his wrist. Vince seems equally mortified by the experience, pulling his arm back quickly and remaining frozen to the spot as the offending man walks out of the door. 

“What a character.” 

“What a freak.” Vince crosses the cabin to come towards Howard, clearly distracted by what just transpired. He comes up to Howard’s side, an arm moving to rest on Howard’s without considering the effects. Howard had been watching the door when he did it and it's only when the weight is added to his arm that the older man reacts.

“Don't touch-” Howard manages to catch himself before he finishes his usual outcry. Vince is visibly shaken up from the way Kodiak treated him, the last thing he needs is to be pushed away by his best friend when he’s clearly seeking some kind of comfort. He gently guides Vince's hand off his arm before finishing his sentence. “-without washing your hands. He might have some contagious diseases.” The sentence works to distract Vince as he immediately dashes over to the sink and starts scrubbing at his arms. 

Kodiak Jack returns just a few moments later, asking to see Howard outside and he's quick to join him. So quick that it doesn't even occur to Howard that Vince touching him hadn't sent him into a panic attack like touch usually did.

6:

Trying to impress the goth girls had been a complete and utter disaster. Howard should’ve known that from the offset it wouldn’t go well but he’d been caught in the whirlwind Vince had started and had been more than happy to go along with the younger man if it meant impressing Ebola and Anthrax. Vince never let Howard use his clothes, as much as the younger man criticised his fashion sense he seemed aware that forcing his clothes onto Howard wouldn’t serve him well, and it became incredibly obvious that Howard would never be allowed to borrow some of Vince’s clothes from the way the drain pipes ripped as soon as Howard tried to sit down in them. Vince had looked physically pained and Howard hadn’t been sure if it was from the embarrassment of it happening in front of others or from some of his clothes being destroyed in front of his very eyes. 

The idea of trying to summon a demon from Naboo’s black book of the occult was an even worse idea than Howard wearing Vince’s clothes. The old woman that showed up had been the final nail in the coffin of trying to impress Ebola and Anthrax and the girls had left in a huff with mocking laughs and cruel comments tossed over their shoulders as they went. They’d tried to convince them to come back but it had been clear they’d failed at impressing them and the night would be spent just Howard and Vince like always. The younger man had instantly fallen into a mood once the girls had slammed the door shut behind them.

“Well done. I knew it. You always have to spoil it. I knew I should have gone for the gothic three way.” Howard couldn't help but roll his eyes at how dramatic the younger man was being about the whole situation.

“It's not my fault. You summoned up Granny Scroggins.” The pair moved away from the staircase, making their way back into the main room of the flat. The pentagram lay undisturbed on the floor but the pathetic excuse for a demon was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?” Howard shrugged his shoulders slightly at Vince’s question as he joined his friend in looking around the flat for the demon. Nothing seemed out of place around the flat but that did nothing to ease the anxiety that was building within Howard’s chest. He’d been about to make a snide remark about Vince messing something up for once when the younger man had turned pale and whipped round to face him. “It's Naboo.” The panic was visible on Vince’s face as his eyes widened to an almost impossible size. 

“Put his book back or he'll kill you!” Vince had all but launched himself over the couch to where he’d left the book but he seemed to freeze in place once he’d landed on his feet. Howard couldn’t understand why until he joined Vince on the other side of the couch.

“Where's it gone?” 

“I don't know!” Howard was sure that the book had been left just next to the pentagram, he would’ve bet his life on it, but as it was the book wasn’t there anymore. Howard’s mind started to race as he considered whether one of the girls had managed to take it without them seeing but they’d been in such a rush to leave he doubted it. The two exchanged a look as Howard looked under the coffee table in case it had been kicked under in their haste to follow after the girls but he found nothing there.

“What are we gonna do?” 

“Act natural.” The two dropped almost in sync down onto the couch, moving like clockwork as they crossed their legs over each other. As Howard started to ramble on about musical notations and its importance within the movement of jazz, he felt Vince lean into his side and he lifted an arm without thinking so the younger man could slot into his side just in time for Naboo and Bollo to make their way up the stairs. 

“Hey guys.” Vince manages to sound relaxed in a way that has Howard impressed which he wasn’t convinced he could mirror. He settled for a shorter greeting that hopefully wouldn’t give away his anxiety. 

“Hey.” The weight of Vince by his side no longer sends him into a panic like it used to but Howard still finds himself struggling to accept the encroachment into his physical space. In a way it’s the perfect cover for their situation as he hopes that Naboo will read his uncomfortable expression as a result of Vince being in his space rather than any wrongdoing.

“How was the roller disco?” Bollo seemed more than happy to boast about his evening to Vince and Howard almost thought they were off the hook until Naboo’s eyes turned into slits as he peered down at the two of them. Fuck.

“I was on fire. Banging out tune after tune.”

“Drop any Weather Report?” The mention of jazz seemed to distract Naboo from his suspicions for at least a moment though Vince’s elbow digging into Howard’s side for a moment stopped him from pushing their luck any further.

“Get stuffed.”

“Fair enough.” As Bollo headed to his room, Howard decided to change tactics in the hope that it would placate the tiny shaman from whatever rage was definitely growing inside him. “Naboo, you are looking good today. You been working out? You’re looking fit and svelte.” Vince seemed to catch onto the distraction almost immediately, throwing on his most charming smile. 

“We love you Naboo. I dunno if we mentioned that.”

“Love what you’re about.”

“You’re a powerful character.” It’s clear from the growing suspicion on Naboo’s face that flattery will get them nowhere in this conversation but it feels like a valiant effort nonetheless.

“Have you been through my stuff?” Shit .

“No?” Howard tried to sound convincing, he swears he did, but under Naboo’s strict gaze he feels like a child who’s being told off by a parent and it’s hard to lie to his face.

“I knew it. I told you not to mess with the occult.” The comment was aimed at Vince, whose grin has turned from charming to sheepish. When the younger man spoke, he sounded just like when he was a child and Howard’s mum was lecturing him about whatever transgression he’d committed that day.

“Sorry about that.” It surprised Howard that Naboo’s expression remained stern. Vince had everyone wrapped around his finger, the tiny shaman included, and people normally soften instantly when Vince shows any kind of remorse. For Naboo to remain pissed off, Howard starts to think that this whole situation might have bigger implications than he initially assumed.

“What have you done?”

“I might have summoned up a tiny demon.”

“Demonette.” Howard tried to gesture that the demon was tiny (and how big a threat can a demon that looks like an old lady be really?) but it does nothing to reduce the frustration on Naboo’s face.

“I don’t believe this.” The two of them watched as Naboo stormed off to his room and only waited a few minutes after the door slammed behind the shaman to get up and try to beg for forgiveness. Howard only flinched slightly when Vince slipped his hand into his, tangling their fingers together. He gave Vince’s hand a gentle squeeze in an attempt to reassure him and, to his surprise, he found a pleasant warmth filled him when Vince squeezed back as he knocked on Naboo’s door. Whatever happens, at least they can try and deal with it together. Right now they have to try and beg forgiveness from their shaman friend, the demon can wait.

7:

Howard was growing to hate that fucking amulet. It had been a great idea initially, looking for the foundation of youth was a dream come true to any explorer worth their salt so the idea that Naboo had a way to it was perfect for Howard to both make a name for himself and take a few years off his face. His one issue was that they hadn’t thought about going to the desert of nightmares for long enough before jumping headfirst into finding the fountain of youth. He wasn’t dressed for the desert, he had far too much skin on show and Vince had used up all the sun cream, but he had high hopes things would change when they found the fountain and he de-aged himself by a few years. 

It was all going fine until they'd come across the group of blue buffoons that were travelling round the same endless desert he and Vince had found themselves in. They hadn’t taken too kindly to Howard and Vince’s quest, with the king saying he’d killed men for less. 

The remote failing on them was the first thing that went wrong. Howard had put his foot in it, like usual, and had immediately pissed the blue aliens off, putting a target on their back. Well, his back. 

As soon as the blue short arse had spotted the amulet in Vince’s hand, he’d proclaimed him the chosen one and started worshipping the ground he walked on. Vince had preened under the attention, like always, whilst Howard had been tied up and forced into slavery after being beaten up by the giant blue man. If the outfit he was wearing before was impractical for the harsh sunlight of the desert of nightmares then the outfit he’d been forced into was abysmal. It left barely anything to the imagination and the blue idiots had almost brushed against his skin countless times when trying to chain him, barely reacting when he’d flinched away from their hands and practically begged them not to touch him. 

He’d been trying to keep to himself as much as possible after it became clear that Vince wasn’t going to be doing anything to get them out of this situation any time soon, far too obsessed with his new adoring crowd. The last thing Howard needed was to make things worse for himself until Vince decided he’d had enough of the adoring crowd and made some kind of effort to fix everything. Once he’d stopped making scathing remarks at the entourage they’d pretty much left him to his own devices unless Vince needed something which he appreciated. The last thing he needed was to be prodded and poked by aliens in the same way bullies had treated him for his entire childhood.

When Vince had finally gone to sleep, the entourage had given Howard relatively free rein of his time, provided that he didn’t wander off too far. He was still chained, still almost fully in the nude, but he could spend some time by himself and decompress and for that he was incredibly thankful. His first course of action had been to find somewhere to sit so he could make the most of the respite from the boiling sun.

He’d just managed to find a rock that wasn’t quite as rough as the others when he noticed people starting to flee. The sun had almost fully set at that point and it seemed strange for people to start leaving at night but Howard had chalked it up to it being a different planet and thus having different customs. It was only when the first person screamed in the distance that he realised something very wrong was happening and he’d been on his feet in an instant. 

“Sandstorm! Sandstorm! Storm of sand!” The moment he’d processed what was being shouted, Howard had started running towards the tent Vince was staying in. He made it just in time to see Vince poking his head out of the tent, straighteners in hand and looking fairly pissed off. 

“Can you keep it down? I’m trying to straighten my hair!” The blue king stood just outside Vince’s tent, frantically yelling for his people to run. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to Vince for the first time since the younger man had pulled the amulet out of his jacket pocket.

“Run for your lives!” Howard watched as Vince’s brows furrowed as he finally made his way outside his tent and towards the king. 

“What’s happening? Where’s everyone going?” Alan seemed to light up as his eyes fell on his beloved chosen one, and the panic seemed to dissipate if only for a moment. The grin he sent Vince’s way was nervous but excited. 

“This is your first test.” In all the time they’d been here, the king had never mentioned any kind of tests and that fact showed on Vince’s face. His annoyed expression had faltered slightly under the gaze of the king.

“What test?”

“It is written that the chosen one must destroy the evil sand beast that has cursed our tribe for hundreds of tens of years. Unless perhaps, you are not the chosen one.” For the first time since Vince had pulled the amulet out of his pocket, the blue king looked with uncertainty at the younger man. If he was having doubts about the validity of Vince being the chosen one then it seemed like the cushy treatment Vince had been receiving was about to come to an end and the younger man seemed to realise that. Whatever this test was, Vince didn’t want to stick around for long enough for the king and his tribe to realise that he definitely wasn’t the chosen one they’ve been proclaiming him as for the past few days.

Vince had started to back away almost immediately, panic filled eyes wide. It was at that moment that Howard moved forward to stop Vince from doing a runner like he knew he wanted to. The younger man had seemed startled by the sudden appearance of his older friend, turning frantically and almost losing his balance in surprise.

As his hand came up to Howard’s chest to steady himself, Howard tried his best to swallow down the complaint about being touched but couldn’t hold back on flinching at the feeling of a hand on his skin. Vince’s hand was warm, probably residual heat from straightening his hair and Howard didn’t care for the shiver the feeling it sent down his spine. Howard knew he had to find a way to stop Vince from running away, if only as payback for letting him stay as a slave for the last few days, and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to hold the younger man in place. The panicked look in Vince’s eyes seemed to turn wilder at the gesture and, whilst it hadn’t occurred to Howard, it had occurred to Vince that the older man had just touched him willingly and without flinching away or complaining about the sensations it left behind. A glimmer of hope appeared in Vince’s wide eyes as he figured he was about to be saved but his hopes came crashing down when Howard spoke over him to the king.

“No, no. He is the chosen one. Good luck.” Howard can’t resist sending a wink in Vince’s direction before walking away from the stuttering man. Served him right for trying to get one up on Howard and leaving him to his misery for the last few days. Howard has no doubt that Vince would work out how to pass the first task, that or Naboo and Bollo would come and rescue them before anything bad could happen to him. For now he was content to let Vince suffer a bit.

8:

Howard never knows what to make of letters from Bryan Ferry. He understands the man’s desire to keep in touch with his foster son but it still sets Howard on edge whenever the familiar handwritten letters appear through the postbox. He’d never actively hide the letters from his little man but he’s never particularly thrilled to hand them over. They usually mean a grumpier than usual Vince and it’s Howard that has to deal with the younger man being in a huff for the next few days. 

This particular letter doesn’t seem any different from the others. It feels about the same weight, has the same handwriting and haphazardly placed stamp on it, and so Howard doesn’t think twice about handing it over to Vince for him to peruse as he has his morning cup of tea whilst Howard goes downstairs to open up the shop for the day.

Vince doesn’t normally come down to join him in the shop until about midday so Howard doesn’t notice anything being amiss until it hits around half one and Vince hadn’t shown his face yet. He normally came in armed with a fresh mug of tea and a packet of sugary biscuits as an apology and so Howard notices something is amiss when it hits 2pm and his mug and stomach remain empty. He’s overdue his thirty minute lunch break at that point, normally he leaves Vince alone in the shop so he can go out to buy their lunch, so he makes the decision to flip the sign for the shop from open to closed and head upstairs to find out why he’s been ditched all day.

It’s somewhat unnerving to walk upstairs and see the shaking frame of Vince exactly where it was when Howard went downstairs over five hours ago. The flat is silent, eerily so, and Howard takes a moment to consider whether this is some kind of weird prank the others are pulling on him. Maybe some horror prank? Although it’s May so nowhere near close enough to Halloween for there to be any real logic to that. When he stays on the landing for another minute or two and nothing happens, he decides to take action.

“Vince?” Howard’s voice seems to jolt Vince out of whatever trance he’d been in and the younger man quickly turned around to face him. Howard wasn’t sure what to expect when he turned but the tracks of mascara running down Vince’s face was jolting to say the least. When Vince raises a hand to wipe the stray tears away, Howard notices that his hand is shaking.

“Howard? I didn’t hear you come up.” 

“You’ve been up here for five hours.” Vince blinks at that, eyes darting to the clock hanging near the stairs before he looks back at Howard.

“Have I?” Both of them know that Vince isn’t the best at time keeping; one of his more prevalent ADHD traits is almost complete time blindness and the younger man lives outside of the concept of time, but never to this extent. For something to have messed him up enough that he lost over five hours from his day without even realising is an incredibly alarming development.

“Vince, what’s wrong?” When Vince raised the letter so it was in Howard’s eyeline the older man’s stomach sank. Of course this has something to do with Ferry. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Jahooli.” Howard is more than familiar with all of the characters that made up Vince’s childhood in the jungle. He could probably recite some of the stories better than Vince himself at this point so in a way they almost feel like long lost friends. Jahooli was always Vince’s favourite and it’s that knowledge that makes Howard think he knows what news Bryan’s letter has brought. 

“What about him?”

“He’s died.” A fresh round of tears pooled into Vince’s eyes as he spoke, a pained expression growing on his face. Howard softened instantly, any irritation melting away in an instant. Negative emotions are a stranger to Vince, they’ve never managed to sink their claws into the sunshine kid in a way that Howard is quite envious of. But it comes with a down side, namely that Vince is borderline incapable of processing news that has that effect on him or the emotions they bring, like grief. Howard has seen Vince grieve in the past at the zoo but an animal he’d known for six months could in no way compare to the animal that helped raise him.

“Oh Vince.” Howard moves to Vince’s side in an instant, dropping next to the younger man and immediately pulling him into his side. Vince goes boneless instantly, melting into Howard’s embrace with a pained cry. After a small amount of manoeuvring, Vince ends up on Howard’s lap, crying into his chest as Howard wraps an arm around his waist and strokes his other hand through the smaller man’s hair. Any other time he knows Vince would at least pretend to mind his hair being touched so when he merely leans closer into Howard as he continues to cry, a high keening noise that sounds like pure anguish. Howard tries to make soothing sounds as time passes and he resigns himself to the knowledge that he will not be returning to the shop today. This is far more important and he’s sure Naboo will understand. 

Time passes in a blur as Howard reaffirms his grip on his little man. He tries not to squirm when he starts to feel the front of his shirt dampening as Vince’s tears continue to soak it until the sobs quieten down to stilted breaths and a sniffling nose. 

“It’s not fair.” Vince’s voice is thick with emotion but quiet, almost to the point that Howard might not have understood him if they weren’t so close. His hand stills in Vince’s hair as he considers his next words. It’s times like this that Howard wishes he was more eloquent on his feet.

“It isn’t.”

“Why did he have to go?” Howard shrugs slightly, pressing his chin gently onto the crown of Vince’s head.

“Sometimes it’s just your time.” He can tell the younger man isn’t satisfied with that answer, not that he blames him. For someone that prides himself on his written words, Howard is remarkably bad at speaking as eloquently as he writes. Talking about death is uncomfortable at the best of times, let alone when your best friend is grieving the loss of his oldest friend.

“You came back when you died.” Vince’s comment surprises him. They don’t talk about the time Howard died very often, it’s a bit of a sore spot for the older man and he sometimes still has nightmares about Monkey Hell or being trapped in Limbo. It is a fair observation, one that Howard can’t refute, but that was a very different situation. Howard had been taken by mistake, Jahooli had lived long past his species life expectancy. It’s almost a miracle that he lived this long, though Howard would never vocalise that thought.

“I know, but it wasn’t my time.” Being taken instead of Bollo had been terrifying. Howard only hopes that Jahooli was taken at the right time and to the right place because the alternatives don’t bear thinking about.

“Why did it have to be his?”

“No one knows. But I know he loved you.”

“I loved him.”

“I know you did. Maybe that’s what grief is, your love for someone persevering through it all.” Vince goes quiet at that, though his silence seems thoughtful rather than morose. There’s a pregnant pause before he speaks again, this time with more certainty.

“I might go back to the jungle. Pay my respects. The funeral is in a few days according to Bryan.” Howard makes a quiet noise of agreement. It’s been a while since Vince has gone back home for a visit, it would probably be good for him to get out of the city, for a little while at least. “Would you come with me?” Howard’s brain short circuits at that. 

Vince doesn’t go home very often, but he’s never extended the invitation to Howard before. It’s one of the only parts of Vince’s life that he’s kept private to even Howard except through stories and it feels oddly intimate to be invited in after all this time. Under his arm, Howard feels Vince take a deep breath, like he’s about to speak and rescind the invitation so his next words tumble out of his mouth quickly.

“Of course I would. Whatever you need.” Vince relaxes back into his chest as he speaks, relief coursing through him. He presses his face into Howard’s shoulder, nuzzling against it slightly. It’s all Howard can do to pretend his face hasn’t bloomed a deep pink as a blush creeps up from his neck. When Vince next speaks, his breath fans across Howard’s neck sending an almost pleasurable shiver down his spine.

“Can we stay here for a while?”

“We can stay here for as long as you need, little man. I’m not going anywhere.” When Naboo and Bollo return to the flat a few hours later, they find the two men asleep on the couch, Howard’s arm wrapped around Vince’s waist like a lifeline and the younger man’s face curled into the crook of Howard’s neck. Neither of them mention it when they next interact with their flat mates.

9:

Howard and Vince had always been close, always together. They needed each other, and being apart wasn’t even a consideration after two decades of being joined at the hip. It had never extended so far as to being physically connected like they had been today. Howard had literally been inside Vince, travelling through his brain in order to save his life. It had worked, thank god, and he’d banished the spirit of jazz from his best friend who was all set to make a full recovery but the event was playing on Howard’s mind.

It wasn’t even to do with his jazz record, Vince had apologised for biting into it and Howard had just been happy his little man was okay. The thing that was weighing heavily on his mind was something Vince’s brain cell had said to him:

‘ I do swing both ways. ’ 

Vince’s romantic conquests weren’t exactly common topics of conversation between the two of them so it felt incredibly wrong for Vince’s brain cell to be the one to tell Howard something he sort of already knew but had been waiting to be told. There’d been many late night conversations when Howard had thought it would be the night the younger man might finally open up, but the words had never come. 

Not that Vince had to come out to Howard, it wasn’t something that he would ever question. Vince could be whatever he wanted, love whoever he wanted, and Howard would still care for him either way, still love him regardless. That's probably why Howard felt so uncomfortable with how he’d found out. For his brain to just casually say it felt like a betrayal of Vince’s trust even though if Howard hadn’t done something, they would’ve lost Vince for good. 

Naboo had given them both a few days off from the shop to recover from everything that had happened and Howard had been sure to dote on the younger man as much as possible without being too overbearing which he was sure he was failing at but he didn’t really care. The younger man had seemed to relish in the unwavering attention but his demands hadn’t been too extreme, just enough strawberry bootlaces and sugary tea to get his strength back. 

It was on the third day that Howard couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt was eating away at him and the need to confess his newfound knowledge was bubbling inside of him. They’d been sitting on the couch like normal, with Vince working on his sketchbook and Howard reading. Well, he’d been trying to read. The truth was that he hadn’t been able to focus on the words, and he’d been trying to read the same paragraph for almost ten minutes when he snapped the book shut without even thinking. The sudden noise had made Vince flinch slightly, and the younger man had looked up at Howard inquisitively.

“Y’alright Howard?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” The words come tumbling out of Howard’s mouth before he can stop them and he immediately regrets them. He knows he’s caught Vince off guard when the younger man’s brows furrowed in confusion and he lowers his pencil down so it’s not hovering aimlessly over his page.

“About what?”

“What your brain cell told me?” A look of recognition flashes over Vince’s face but it disappears almost as quickly as it arrived. Howard thought he saw a level of fear mixed with it but it went by so quickly that he couldn’t be sure. 

“I don’t know what it told you.” Vince’s tone is even, and any other time Howard would believe him but he knows when the younger man is avoiding a tough conversation and it won’t do either of them any good to pretend it didn’t happen. Vince’s eyes have dropped from Howard’s face to his sketchbook but his pencil remains flat against the paper.

“Vince.”

“Just leave it Howard, yeah?” Vince’s words are sharp and so unlike him that it takes Howard off guard for a moment. A silence fell between them and Howard decided that he would have to change tactics if he wanted this conversation to continue.

“Just so you know, I’m bisexual.” Vince looks up at that and blinks owlishly at him. It’s a truth Howard has known about himself for almost as long as he’s known Vince, back when he first developed a crush on the younger man with no clue as to his gender and found he didn’t care. It had been his crush on Tommy Nookah that led Howard towards his job at the zoo but it had felt strangely vulnerable having Vince question the nature of Howard’s relationship with his old mentor. In a way it feels good to finally voice it, to have the truth floating about in the open in a way he can control. He hates that it took Vince’s brain accidentally outing him for them to have this conversation.

“Are you?” Vince’s quiet is soft, almost disbelieving. Howard supposes that it could be surprising, most of his recent fixations have been women but that’s the nature of bisexuality he supposes. Tommy Nookah was his strongest crush, aside from Vince of course, but Howard doesn’t blame Vince for associating him closely with his minor obsession with Mrs Gideon at the zoo. That wasn’t his proudest moment. He still feels bad about the koi fish incident.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” The silence between the two of them feels lighter now than it had before. Vince’s eyes have gone back to his sketchbook again but his face seems less troubled than it did just a few minutes ago. “I am too.”

“Good to know.” Howard opens his book again before closing it again after realising he slammed it shut before replacing his bookmark, meaning he has no idea where he was up to. He spies the offending item on the table in front of them but can't even begin to remember whereabouts he was up to in his novel. Vince seems to be in a similar situation as his pencil hasn’t returned to his hand yet. When the two make eye contact, the younger man speaks.

“Do y’reckon any channels are playing Collobus the Crab? It’s been ages since we’ve binged it.” The older man smiles at the suggestion. The more Howard thinks about it, the more enthusiastic he becomes about spending some time watching something that requires minimal brain power.

“Maybe. I know where the box set is though if you want to watch the older episodes?” Howard voices it as a question though he knows the answer. He knows how much Vince prefers the first few seasons of Collobus, so he knows he’ll be grabbing the box set in a few minutes. As expected, the mention of starting from the beginning brings a huge grin to Vince’s face. 

“That’d be genius. Want me to make some popcorn?”

“Sure. Pop the kettle on whilst you’re there, yeah?” The younger man gets up and sets about making the popcorn whilst Howard moves to grab the box set. In the time it takes to set the dvd up, Howard can hear the popcorn popping and the familiar noise of the kettle as it finishes boiling. It takes the younger man two trips to bring the tea and the popcorn.

As Vince drops himself back onto the couch, placing the bowls of popcorn onto the table, Howard lifts an arm so the younger man can slot himself into his side. Vince settles his weight into Howard’s side and the older man gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before pressing play on the remote. As the familiar sounds of the Collobus theme tune fills the room, it’s easy to lose himself in the story he’s watched countless times. Vince always seems to laugh like it’s his first time hearing them, which given his terrible memory it could be. It’s easy for Howard to relax and enjoy the show, the guilt almost fully removed from his chest. It’s not the first time they fall asleep mid-marathon, and Howard hopes it won’t be the last.

10:

Vince is the sunshine kid. He’s always been the cheery one of the two of them, always seen with a spring in his step and a smile on his face. There are precious few times in the two decades Howard has known him that Vince has expressed any kind of negative thoughts and feelings in the light of day. The younger man has always been partial to a late night conversation and it was only in the comforting protection of the dark would Vince ever acknowledge his struggles or concerns with Howard. It had become habit after all those nights together in the keeper’s hut back in the Zooniverse days and they’d maintained it after moving into Naboo’s flat. Howard couldn’t count the number of nights he’d sat up with Vince trying his best to reassure his little man that most of his anxieties were easily fixed.

If Vince’s insecurities were making themselves known in the daylight hours then Howard knew they were having a serious impact on his friend and thus needed dealing with as firmly and as soon as possible. It definitely means that Howard is in for a rough few days when Vince starts showing familiar signs of insecurity, he’s always been partial to a tantrum if things look like they’re about to start falling apart around him. 

Howard can tell that something was wrong as soon as Vince sets foot into the shop. He was in the mirrorball suit, something he only wore during the day if he was feeling uncertain about his body, and he barely acknowledged Howard when he hung up his coat. The moment he refused to take part in any banter is when Howard knew something was definitely wrong. Vince never missed out on the opportunity to showcase his wit and the way he dropped himself into the barber’s chair by the door made it seem like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It sparked enough concern that Howard finally just decided to ask what was going on.

“Something bad’s happened to me.” The comment made the older man pause, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing bad happens to you. You’re made of sunshine.”

“Bad things can happen to sunshine people.”

“No. Bad things happen to me. That’s how it works.”

“I’ve got some bad news. I don’t even know where to begin.” It’s strange to hear Vince’s voice sounding so morose, so much so that it throws Howard into a bit of a loop.

“This isn’t like you. What’s the matter? What’s up?”

“I’ve felt there was something wrong for a while but I went to the doctors.” Howard’s world stops spinning on its axis when Vince speaks those words. He always assumed he would be the one to die first, and technically he was right since he did die when they were at the zoo, but this feels all too real. His death was a mix up, something that could be fixed. The idea of Vince being seriously ill isn’t a notion Howard wants to even entertain.

“Oh Christ.”

“He’s confirmed the worst.” 

“Hey, I’m here for you.” Howard's voice turns soft, though he has no idea how to start comforting Vince if he truly is seriously unwell. The young man acts like he's dying when he has a cold, the idea of something worse being wrong with him is sending Howard to the edge of a panic attack.

“Do you mean that?” Howard hates the uncertainty in the younger man’s eyes. It’s not very often that Vince looks afraid but right now it seems to permeate his very being.

“Of course I do. It’s me and you all the way. What’s the problem? What is it?" 

“Someone’s copying me.” As Vince's words sunk in, Howard's arm moved of its own volition, throwing his lukewarm cup of tea all over Vince. The younger man flinched as the liquid hit him squarely in the face but Howard didn't even think about apologising.

“You bitch! I thought you were dying.” Howard’s comment sets off a series of petty comments as the two fall into the usual kind of bickering that occurs between the two of them. Howard hopes that it will break the bad mood that’s settled on him but the frown seems to have taken up permanent residence on his face. 

As much as he wants to press the issue (as well as lecturing the younger man on how to appropriately deliver news moving forward), Howard can tell that the issue is truly bothering Vince and the older man doesn’t have the heart to start his lecture now. He instead changes tactics, trying to cheer Vince up instead. The hat was going to be a birthday present but it feels like the right time to give it to the younger man and Howard already had back up plans for another present for the actual day. It does exactly what Howard hopes it will do and a smile finally returns to the younger man’s face. 

“It is quite good.” As Vince moved closer, Howard could tell he’d succeeded in distracting the younger man. He could see Vince’s fingers twitching to take the hat and examine it to see what techniques had been used to create it.

“You’re liking that aren’t you? Came from Papua New Guinea that. Never been seen by human eyes before.”

“What about the guy that made it?”

“Blind.”

“This is well skilled. Cheers Howard, I feel much better.” It finally seemed like Vince had forgotten about his copycat and they could move on with their day. Howard had just been about to suggest popping the kettle on when a knock on the window had distracted both of them. It was almost uncanny, looking through the window and seeing someone that was almost identical to Vince when his little man was standing right next to him. Howard's hands closed around Vince's arm in an instant as the copycat continued staring at them through the window. Without even thinking about it, he pulled the younger man into his arms, wrapping a hand around his waist to stop him from getting into a scrap. The previously treasured present was dropped to the floor, forgotten, as Vince’s attention focused in on the man staring at them. His chest was heaving under Howard’s arms as his frustration grew. His metaphorical hackles had clearly been raised by the perceived threat but the last thing Howard needed was for Vince to run out and go all jungle boy on the stranger on the street. 

“Easy Vince. I’ll deal with this.” The younger man struggled in his grip but Howard remained firm until he settled down enough for Howard to know he wasn’t going to pounce over the front counter and start scrapping out on the street.

“How does he do it?”

“Get in the back. I’ll do this.” Howard gently pushed Vince in the direction of the store cupboard as the copycat sauntered over to the front counter. It was uncanny how similar his walk was to Vince's but in person it's easy to see the differences between the two men. Lance Dior struts but it’s not as effortless as when Vince does it. His mirrorball suit is impressive, but clearly manufactured unlike Vince’s which is homemade. Howard recalls the hours of trial and error, and the amount of fabric it took Vince to make the suit, and the joy when it had finally worked out. 

The man in front of him was doing a good job of copying the carefully constructed facade Vince has made for himself but it’s clear that he was only copying from a surface level. There was a lot more to Vince than the rest of the world would ever see but Howard was privy to it and it frustrated him to no end that the copycat would only further that narrative of Vince being a beach ball, a man with no internal substance.

“Alright Howard?”

“And you are?”

“Lance. Meant to pop by earlier only a frog stole my shoes. Vince around?”

“I don’t know where he is at all times, do I? I’m not his wife.”

“That’s not what I heard. Word on the street is you are his wife. Cook his food, straighten his hair, bake him little cakes.” Howard could feel his cheeks starting to warm as he shifted from one foot to the other. He was more than used to people calling Vince his wife and yet, now it had been reversed, it took him off guard. He cleared his throat nervously, choosing not to comment on the validity of Lance’s statement.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Actually I’ve come to see you.” Howard blinked at that.

“Me? Why?”

“Just thought I could run some ideas past you, test out some looks and some lyrics.”

“And why would you do that?”

“Cause you’re better than this Howard. You should be out there. I hear you’re a musical genius.” Howard chuckled nervously at the compliment.

“Thanks for noticing, I have my moments.” 

“Yeah, it’s no secret. You’re going somewhere.”

“Am I?” Howard watched as Lance moved so he was closer to the front counter. The copycat stopped just in front of the counter, much closer to Howard than he cared for. 

“Vince is keeping you back in the shadows. You should hang out with me.” 

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Lance Dior's hand reached over the counter towards Howard. It had been a while since Howard had felt so powerless as to be unable to stop someone touching him and yet part of him couldn't find it in himself to move. It was only when Lance's hand came to rest fully on his arm that the world sped up back to normal and Howard reacted to the gesture.

"Don't touch me!" The shout was joined by a sharp movement as Howard jolted back from the shorter man, coming very close to accidentally hitting him. It was clear that he startled Lance Dior with his shout when the copycat jumped back and almost fell over as a result, unsteady on his heels. He looked up at Howard with confusion and fear and a slightly smug part of Howard thought that this might reinforce the idea that Lance had done nowhere near enough research on Vince or himself to be able to copy on more than just the surface image of them. As it was, Howard gently ran his hand up and down the part of his arm that Lance touched, looking to all the world as though he had been burned.

"I’ll give you some time to think it over.” Lance Dior backed away from Howard, still looking unsteady on his feet. He no longer seemed keen to stick around and gloat, and Howard thought the expression that rested on his face was one of guilt though he couldn’t be sure.

Vince returned from the back as soon as the door swung shut behind Lance, concern evident on his face. "What happened? Heard you shout."

"He touched me. Well, he tried to.” Vince’s features harden immediately, a flash of rage and something else dominating his features.

“He what?” The younger man looked all but ready to run out after the copycat, gearing himself up for a fight.

“Vince, it's okay.” For the second time that day, Howard pulled Vince into his arms to stop him acting without thinking. The contact seemed to relax the shorter man into not pursuing Lance for which Howard was thankful for. Vince always relaxed under his touch and Howard had no problem utilising that information when it became necessary to do so. The younger man seemed to pick up on Howard’s concern as his focus shifted from eyeing the front door to his friend.

Vince laid a hand on Howard's arm without even thinking about it to try and reassure his friend that he wasn’t going to go and cause a scene. What neither of them saw was the bright eyes of Lance Dior watching them from outside, his eyes alight with curiosity.

11:

It is as much a fact of life that Vince Noir loves going clubbing as it is that Howard Moon despises it. In all their years of friendship Howard could probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s voluntarily gone out with the younger man and actually enjoyed it. Howard has always been an old soul, much more content to stay home with a new jazz record and a good book than go out and force himself into situations that make his skin crawl. The idea of being forced into such close proximity with so many strangers that didn’t care for his personal space was probably the closest Howard would get to hell whilst still being alive.

Vince spent at least two nights a week out in the various clubs around Camden or Dalston which meant that Howard spent at least two nights a week staying up until the early hours of the morning until his little man got home safe. He never slept well if Vince wasn’t lying next to him after so many years of listening to the younger man’s breathing to help lull him to sleep so it was easier to find ways to entertain himself and then just go to sleep once he’d put Vince to bed than spend the hours restlessly tossing and turning until Vince stumbled home.

It was this habit that meant Howard was awake to answer his phone at 3am. He’d been midway through a crossword when his phone had started to ring and in his mind there were only two people it could be calling at that time. His hunch was proven correct when he looked at the caller ID and saw Leroy’s name on the screen. It was with a heavy sigh that Howard answered the call.

“Y’alright Leroy?” 

“Yeah I’m alright. Your girlfriend ain’t though.” Howard didn't even blink at Leroy’s remark, more than used to people making similar comments about him and Vince. 

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Too many flirtinis I reckon. You okay to come and get him?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t let him do anything stupid in the meantime.”

“No promises. See you soon Howard.” As their mutual friend hangs up, Howard has to resist the urge to let out a curse or two. He instead settles for a frustrated groan as he pushes himself to his feet, moving to pull on some shoes and his coat. As he's walking out the door, he makes sure to grab another coat as well as his house keys so he can give it to Vince once he finds him. The younger man had gone out in yet another skimpy outfit unsuited to the early spring chill and Howard had no doubt that he would be freezing for the duration of the walk home if Howard left the jacket on the coat hanger. Worse still, he might ask Howard to surrender his coat and he knew he would give it up immediately if he was asked. Best to take the spare so neither of them have to walk home cold.

When Howard finally arrives at the street that houses the entrance to the Velvet Onion he's greeted by a frustrated looking Leroy and a very out of it Vince. The younger man was sitting on the floor, legs spread out in front of him and, from what Howard can tell, was talking animatedly in Leroy’s direction, using his arms to make lots of big gestures. As Howard gets closer he understands Leroy's frustration as most of the noises leaving Vince's mouth are utter nonsense. Leroy notices his presence first and relief becomes visible on his face as he realises his role of babysitter is quickly coming to an end and he can run off into the night to find the next club. Vince remained utterly oblivious to his surroundings until Howard crouched down in front of him. Vince's face lit up as his eyes focused on Howard's face and the older man couldn't help but smile back. When Vince smiled at him like that it felt like he was being warmed by the sun, it was an almost dizzying feeling at times. 

“Hiya Howard!” 

“Hi little man, ready to go home?” Vince took a moment to process what Howard had said to him, his brows furrowing as a pout settled on his features. His arms crossed across his chest though Howard couldn’t tell if it was from the idea of going home or from trying to warm himself. Maybe both since Vince was shivering slightly.

“Don’t wanna.” Howard tried to send an apologetic smile Vince’s way but was fairly sure he failed. The younger man didn’t seem to notice though, still set in his huff.

“Can you stand?” Vince shrugged slightly but uncrossed his arms and offered his hands to Howard. The older man raised himself to his feet before taking Vince’s hands and pulling him up. He kept Vince’s hands in his until the younger man seemed steady enough to stand without any aid. 

“I’m cold Howard.” The man in question pulled the spare coat from the crux of his arm and watched as Vince’s eyes lit up at the sight of it. 

“Thought you would be.” Howard held the coat up, helping Vince get his arms into it and couldn’t help but smile as Vince rubbed his face lightly against the fur that lined the collar of it. When he looked up to the taller man his eyes seemed to shine in the soft glow of the neon sign above them.

“That was magic ‘oward. Thanks.” 

“C’mon little man. We need to get you out of the cold.” Howard wrapped an arm around Vince’s shoulder without hesitating, pulling him flush against his side. He gave Vince a moment to steady himself under his arm before he started to walk, gently guiding Vince back to the flat. The walk home took longer than Howard had hoped, but they’d had to stop on multiple occasions when Vince had almost lost his balance in his less than sensible shoes so he wasn’t all that surprised. The younger man had spent most of the walk nattering away, most of it nonsensical but Howard had made the appropriate noises to keep Vince happy. A chatty and conscious Vince was easier to get home than a borderline unconscious Vince. 

Once they had made it back to the flat, Howard had been quick to guide Vince to their room, gathering Vince’s kimono and makeup wipes as the younger man made himself comfortable on the bed. The older man stopped darting about the room when Vince slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Thanks for looking after me Howard. Love you.”

“Love you too little man. Get some rest, you’re going to have a rough morning.”

“Stay with me?” Vince seemed to pick up on Howard's hesitance even though his drunken haze and his face shifted into his begging face, the one Howard could never resist. “Please?”

“Okay. I’m just going to go and get you some water, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Vince didn’t seem happy with Howard’s words but didn’t speak again as Howard left the room. He returned a few minutes later armed with a box of painkillers and a glass of water to see Vince slowly taking his makeup off. The younger man sent a sleep riddled smile his way as he continued to wipe away his eyeliner and foundation, looking sleepier with every swipe across his face. The clothes he’d gone out in had been tossed across the room, leaving Vince in his kimono and pants. Once he’d finished taking his makeup off, he quickly burrowed himself under the duvet, looking up expectantly at Howard. 

“You coming to bed?” Howard let out a soft noise of agreement and then made his way to his side of the bed. He felt Vince’s eyes on him as he settled himself down under the covers. The staring continued until Howard let out a dramatic sign, lifting his arm so Vince could slot into his side. The shorter man did so immediately, resting his head on Howard’s chest as he draped an arm over his chest. 

He sighed into Howard’s chest, pressing his face down as much as possible as their legs became tangled. Howard tensed initially, causing Vince to whine slightly but the older man felt Vince’s satisfied exhale as he felt his friend finally relax under him as he got used to the weight of a person on his chest and their bodies pressed together.

Vince’s breathing seemed to deepen within minutes of him settling into Howard’s side and the older man knew he’d already fallen asleep on him. He shifted the younger man slightly so he was comfortable before letting his eyes close and focusing on Vince’s breathing. Within minutes the peaceful breathing of his sleeping friend had done what it always did and Howard felt the warmth of sleep creeping into his consciousness. His last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep was to consider if making pancakes would be a good hangover cure for his little man. 

12:

Howard was not having a good time at his party. He’d been reluctant to agree to having a party in the first place, but Vince had insisted and Howard had never been good at saying no to the younger man. It hadn’t helped that Vince had decided to show up several hours after the party had started so he could get the undivided attention of the crowd when he debuted his newest outfit. It was a brilliant outfit, but Howard always struggled in crowds and needed the reassurance that Vince was at least nearby to stop himself from spiralling so for the younger man to be locked in his dressing room left Howard untethered and uncomfortable. 

He’d gone up to the roof to try and get away from all the judging stares and close proximity to other bodies when Vince had burst through the skylight, closely followed by a very pissed off Head Shaman who wanted to behead him. Vince had done well to think on his feet, insisting that the two of them were in love and kissing him before the Head Shaman could properly comprehend whether Vince was telling the truth or not. It had succeeded and the Head Shaman had been convinced, but the whole situation had sent Howard’s head spinning. 

He’d told Vince that he’d never kissed anyone before but that had been a lie, of sorts anyway. He’d never kissed anyone, but someone had kissed him. He’d been drunk on a night out with Leroy a good few years back and some girl had approached him and just pulled him into a kiss. She hadn’t known him, maybe she’d mistaken him for someone else, it didn’t really matter. It hadn’t gone well. The alcohol had done something to lessen his anxiety about being surrounded by so many people, being brushed against by so many bodies, but the girl had pushed him over the edge. Being touched like that, by a stranger and without warning, had sent him spiralling into a panic attack quicker than anything before and he'd had to fight his way out of the club to try and get the feeling of cold air on his body to stop himself from passing out. He’d been so ashamed of what happened that he’d never told anyone, not even Vince.

When Vince had pulled him into that kiss, Howard waited for the panic inside him to bubble over; for the all consuming fire to spread through his bloodstream like it did last time. It was only when Vince pulled away that Howard realised that there was no panic rising in him, and the heaving of his chest was from adrenaline not anxiety. If Vince noticed what a big deal the whole event had been to Howard, he didn’t let on, simply insisting that they go back downstairs and enjoy the party, mentioning something about his present finally arriving.

Howard couldn’t focus properly for the rest of the night. The next few hours passed in a technicolour blur, the kiss occupying his mind completely. He was so entirely preoccupied by it that even being in a crowd of drunk strangers on a bouncy castle didn’t have any effect on him. It almost feels like he’s disassociated and is simply drifting in his own bubble as he finally makes his way to his room. 

Howard has no idea how much time has passed between the kiss and Vince finally coming into their room but he assumes it’s been a good few hours. The older man had struggled to block out the noise coming from the party as it raged on in the flat but the music seemed to have died down a bit. Someone had decided to play Tusk in its entirety and it seemed to have put off most of the Camden trendies that Vince invited and there seemed to have been a mass exodus as people went in search of something more vogue. In all honesty, Howard had been surprised that Vince hadn't gone with them. When the younger man had made his way into their room, Howard expected it to be to kick him out so Vince could change into another outfit more suited to a club environment. When Vince had merely dropped onto his back besides Howard, it had taken him by surprise.

“You not going out?” Vince shrugged lightly, still on his back.

“Nah. Not feeling it.” The tone Vince uses is blasé but the words he speaks send alarm bells in Howard's head ringing. Vince is never not feeling like going out, never misses an opportunity to go and be adored by anyone he meets. Any other thoughts vanish from Howard's mind as his focus rests solely on Vince, eyes searching for something being amiss.

“Are you feeling alright?” Vince’s brows furrowed at the question, or maybe it was Howard’s tone, but the older man is so consumed with concern that he can’t find it in himself to care too much.

“Yeah?”

“You never miss an opportunity to go out.”

“Look I’m just not feeling it alright? It’s been a long day.” Vince’s arms shift so they’re crossed across his chest and the pout that settles in his face reminds Howard of a childhood spent watching Vince throw tantrums over any and all minor inconveniences.

“You woke up at 1pm.”

“And I was nearly murdered tonight by a lunatic shaman. Kind of killed the mood y’know.” The mention of the head shaman, and indeed the roof, sent Howard into another spiral about the kiss. The two fall into silence and Howard gets the vague feeling that Vince’s gaze rests on him but he refuses to look in his direction. 

Coward.

“Can I try something?” The words come tumbling out of Howard’s mouth before he can stop himself. He winces as he closes his mouth, daring to look in Vince’s direction. The younger man’s eyes are staring straight at him. Bush baby eyes are looking at him inquisitively, seemingly searching for something though what Howard couldn’t say for sure.

Vince nods at him and it’s all the invitation he needs to lean in closer. Howard waits for Vince to realise what he’s doing, to lean away and laugh in his face at his sheer audacity, but the younger man shows no sign of rescinding his permission. Howard lets himself react naturally as he aches to take Vince’s face in his hands so that’s what he does as he closes the gap between them and finally presses his lips to Vince’s. It's a soft kiss, more uncertain than the one they shared on the roof but that's because Vince is letting Howard lead and there's no threat of either of them being beheaded this time. Howard waits for the panic once more, waits for the unpleasant shiver down his spine when Vince's hands tangle themselves in his shirt to pull him closer but it never comes. It never comes . God he's been a complete idiot.

It's not a particularly long kiss, though it feels like an eternity in Howard's mind, and the older man's breathing is slightly ragged as they pull away from each other. Vince is still lying down and, though Howard can’t be sure since the room is dark, it almost looks like his face is flushed slightly.

“Find what you were looking for?” Vince's grin is toothy, like what Howard has just discovered hasn't changed everything between them. It occurs to Howard in that moment that this epiphany might have occurred to Vince a long time ago, the younger man has always been more attuned to his emotions. 

“Did you know?” Howard’s voice is quiet, too afraid to potentially break the quiet haze that has settled between the two of them. Vince shrugs again but Howard can tell the younger man is nervous as he watches Vince fingers start drumming a beat on his thigh.

“I suspected.”

“You kept that one quiet.” Howard can’t resist the urge to take Vince’s hands in his, if only to try and ease his little man’s anxiety, and so that’s what he does. It seems to work as the drumming stops and it strikes Howard that this kind of casual touch seemed so impossible to him just a few hours ago.

“Wanted to give you chance to figure it out in your own time.”

“Probably a good idea. Quite a big thing to realise.” Vince lets out a soft noise of agreement at Howard’s statement.

“What do you think? Now you’ve realised, I mean.” Howard takes a moment to consider Vince’s question, and how to formulate a decent response to it.

“I’ve always said when I make the leap across the physical boundary it would be forever. I think it just happened so gradually that I was blind to what was right in front of me." Howard lifted their joined hands to emphasise his point. The smile Vince sends his way is serene, like Howard has just given him the secret to eternal life. God, how long has Vince been looking at him like that? How has he spent so long being completely blind to what was right in front of him?

“Yeah well, you’ve never been the best at seeing the bigger picture.” Vince squeezes his hand as he speaks and every squeeze fills Howard’s heart.

“It’s you and me Vince, I think it always has been.”