Lost
Category: The Mighty Boosh
Characters: Howard Moon, Vince Noir
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Rating: NC-17
Status: Complete
Length: 10-20k words
Notes: I’m rating it as NC-17 to be on the safe side, although the first fic is probably more like a 15.
Lost by Alestrel
[nextpage title=”Fruit”]
Fruit
Howard leaned forward, peering out of the van’s windscreen at the ominous dark shapes that surrounded them. He sighed.
“Where the hell have you ended us up now?”
At his side Vince, who had been struggling to keep his eyes open, looked blankly around at what he could see of their surroundings.
“But you said it was a shortcut…”
“This isn’t another raspberry bootlace B road, is it?”
“No!” Vince could do wounded innocence when it suited him. “Look.” He thrust the map into Howard’s hands, pointing. “See? I was doin’ it right, followin’ that road, the one you said was the right one.”
And to Howard’s chagrin it was the correct road. He couldn’t blame this… lostness on Vince’s inept map-reading skills. So it must have been his own fault.
Damn. He glared uselessly at the map, which glared back at him, then turned to his partner.
“OK. But there’s no forest shown on the map.”
“Perhaps it grew while we were driving.”
“Vince, forest don’t just suddenly spring into being. They take years, sometimes hundreds of years, to grow.”
“Well, maybe the map’s hundreds of years old then.”
This was a surprisingly sensible suggestion, for Vince, and for a moment Howard wondered… then he checked the date on the front of the Road Atlas. Nope. Last year’s version. He said as much. Vince pouted and slumped down in the passenger seat.
“Well s’not my fault we’re lost.”
“We’re not lost. I just don’t know where we are. But don’t you worry, little man. You’re with Howard Moon, Man of Action…”
Vince pretended to yawn.
“Yeah yeah. Just get us out of here, will you? I’m runnin’ out of flyin’ saucers.”
Gritting his teeth, Howard took another long look at the map and started the van’s engine. The best bet seemed to be simply to continue down this road. No doubt it would come out of the forest at some point, and he could get his bearings. They’d be back to civilisation in no time.
Howard rubbed dry aching eyes and grinned mirthlessly at the disgustingly wide-eyed and alert electro ponce—or was he being a Mod at the moment? Or a punk? Howard was too tired to remember.
“No, Vince. It’s not a beach. It’s a desert.”
“… why’d you want to drive here then?” Vince peered out of the window, hand shading his eyes from a fiercely blazing sun. “There’s nothin’ here. And I ain’t brought me suncream.”
Howard was terribly tempted to let loose with a stream of caustic comments—but he was so bloody tired… He’d been driving for… how long? It had to have been at least twelve hours. Possibly longer: Vince had fallen asleep with his usual ease and facility soon after their altercation in the forest, leaving Howard to drive in silence through the night. He hadn’t even noticed they’d come out onto the sand until half an hour ago…
The van suddenly jerked and spluttered, sounding a little like Bollo after a night romancing the hookah.
And the engine died. Vince stopped fussing over his hair in the rear-view mirror and frowned at his friend.
“Why you stoppin’? This is nowhere.”
Howard rested his hands on the steering wheel then dropped his head to rest on their backs.
“We’re out of petrol.”
“Oh.” There was a moment’s silence, in which Howard could feel himself floating as exhaustion claimed him, then, “But there’s lots of oil in the desert, in’ there? In’ that where it comes from?”
“Not in this country…”
“Howard? Howard, you all right? Howard?”
But Howard was dead to the world.
“…. Howard… Howard?… Howard!… Howard. Howard. HowardHowardHoward… Howard… c’mon, wake up…” A hand impacted lightly with his face, and he jerked awake, brown eyes wide.
“Wha…? Who…?”
Vince grinned at him. Was there a glint of relief in his eyes?
“God you don’ ‘alf sleep sound! You awake now?”
Howard groaned and closed his eyes. His entire body was heavy and sluggish with too little rest, and he felt… wet…
Oh. Sweat. He suddenly realised how hot he was, and pushed himself up on his elbows. To his surprise he found himself lying on the sand in the shade of the van. He frowned at his partner, and Vince lowered his eyes.
“Yeah, well, it got a bit hot in the van. Thought you’d sleep better out here.” He scowled, though Howard thought it looked false. “Heavy bugger you are, too, ya great lump! Nearly bust a gut getting’ you out the door.”
Howard flopped back to the sand and closed his eyes again.
“… sorry…”
“S’OK.” A brief silence, then Howard felt a hand resting on his chest. He forced tired eyes open and squinted up at his partner. Vince managed a small smile.
“We goin’ to be all right?”
Howard struggled to a sitting position, rubbing at his face. All he could see in front of him was sand—rolling dunes to the horizon. Twisting and grabbing hold of the van’s wing mirror, he hauled himself upright and, hand shielding his eyes, gazed at the sunward side of the landscape, heart sinking. More sand. More dunes. The forest was the tiniest darkness on the far horizon, far too far away for them to reach on foot. Alive, at any rate.
He turned and slid down the van’s metal side, sitting back on the sand and swallowing hard, eyes lowered, avoiding looking at Vince’s hopeful expression.
“Yes, of course we will…”
“Really?”
For a moment he seriously considered telling the truth, but a glance at Vince’s face changed his mind. He managed a smile.
“Yes. We will.”
“How?”
Howard swallowed, then forced himself to think.
“What provisions do we have?”
Vince chewed on his lower lip for a moment, then dragged a bag from the van and rummaged in its depths. He glanced up at Howard, a little shame-faced.
“Um…”
Howard sighed.
“Let me guess. Black jacks and fruit salad chews, Parma violets, sherbet dips…”
“Well, yeah…”
“Do we have any water?”
“What?”
“Water. Anything to drink.”
Vince dug down into the bag and triumphantly held up a small plastic bottle of generic limeade.
“Yeah!”
Oh great. That’ll last us five minutes if we’re lucky…
Vince’s smile was fading, and Howard realised his own expression must have been somewhat less than ecstatic. He rubbed his face.
Then suddenly brightened. Vince watched him, cautiously hopeful. Howard caught his wrist.
“Mowgli.”
Vince looked bewildered.
“Wha…?”
“Mowgli in flares. You talk to animals, right?”
“Um, well, yeah…”
“So talk!”
Vince gazed at the desert blankly.
“What to?”
Fired up, Howard twisted to kneel in front of Vince, eyes alight.
“The desert is full of life, Vince. I read it in the Global Explorer. You just need to find it.” Howard glanced up: almost out of sight a bird was circling high overhead: on the downdune slope the sand stirred as a tiny, ochre-coloured lizard skittered across the shifting surface. “Lizards, Vince. You do lizards. Ask them where the nearest water is.”
A beautiful smile, a little like a sunrise, spread slowly over Vince’s face as he nodded.
“Genius.” He twisted and lay flat on the sand, face propped in his hands as the oddest hisses and croaks issued from his mouth. Howard watched, entranced, as the little lizard made its way up the slope and halted in front of his partner, then danced, its tiny legs flicking up and down as its head moved from side to side… After a couple of minutes Vince bowed his head and the lizard scuttled off.
“He says there’s an oasis about an hour’s walk that way.” Vince pointed deeper into the desert. “He says there’s food there too.”
Howard closed his eyes in relief, slumping against the slowly heating side of the van. “Oh, thank god…”
“Howard?” Vince was tugging at his arm. “You OK?”
“I will be.” Howard pushed himself upright, took a deep breath, and began to walk, Vince stumbling along beside him.
Half an hour later, Vince was flagging: Howard stopped to let him catch up, and Vince slumped against him.
“How’d you do that?”
Howard slid an arm around his waist in support.
“Do what?”
Vince was gasping, fanning his face with his hand.
“Jus’… keep… stridin’ on like that….”
“Ah…” For a moment Howard was tempted to strike a pose and spout the usual ‘Howard Moon, Man of Action’ rap, but… This was, somehow, real. Really real. They had no option but to rely on each other. He brushed Vince’s limp, sweat-damp hair back from his angular face and smiled.
“A little bit further and there’ll be shade, and water, and something to eat. We’ll be safe there while we sort out how we’re going to get back.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. C’mon, I’ll help you.”
The oasis was, for want of a better word, damn near perfect. A deep cool pool of pure water about the size of a tennis court, bordered by fragrant shrubs laden with strange but attractive rich red fruits, and shaded by graceful desert palms, their leaves a blissful source of shade after the blistering desert sun.
Howard gazed around the place with awe. It was beautiful. He could hear a soundtrack creating itself in his head as he watched Vince drag off his boots and top and kneel at the water’s edge, splashing the cool liquid over himself with a blissful sigh, the silvery drops trickling down over the pale smooth skin of his back. Soft, touchable skin…
Howard’s brain came to a screeching halt.
Nonononono.
No.
NO!
He swallowed hard, hands balled into fists. No. Vince was his friend.
And the other part of yourself…
Howard tasted copper in his mouth, realising with surprise that he’d bitten his lip hard enough to break the skin. He’d said it himself—he was the dark, broken side, while Vince was sunshine and rainbows. Together they made a complete person…
“What you standing there for? You’ll burn, ya twat.”
Howard jumped, blinking as he came back to himself. Smiling weakly he joined his friend under the tree, dragging off his shirt and vest. The heat really was intolerable here, but at least the tree offered some relief.
“You hungry?”
“Mm.”
Vince waved a hand at the ripe red fruit on the bushes.
“Wonder what they are?”
Howard pushed himself upright and plucked two, sniffing at them warily. The mouth-watering fragrance of strawberries and roses had him closing his eyes with an odd visceral jolt of pleasure.
“I think you’ll like these, little man.”
“Give us one, then.”
Their fingers brushed as Howard extended a hand, and he shivered. Vince grinned.
“Ta.” There was a moment of silence as he bit into the fruit, pink juice running down his chin. It took all of Howard’s willpower not to wipe it—or better, lick it away—then, “‘Om… s’goo’…”
Howard took a small bite of his own. Whatever the fruit was, it was indecently succulent. He closed his eyes, as much to focus on the taste as to block out the sight of Vince sucking juice from pale fingers…
Three fruits later Vince sighed contentedly and slumped against Howard’s suddenly tensed form.
“Mmmmm…. Think I need a little sleepie now.”
He wriggled, trying to get comfortable, and without thinking Howard wrapped an arm over his shoulders, allowing Vince to settle against his chest.
“Cheers mate. You’re quite comfy, you know. Though you should try using more deodorant…”
Irritably, Howard shoved him away and stood up, glowering. Vince shrugged and raised his hands.
“What? I only meant you’re hot. You could do with a shower.” He pulled at a lock of his hair, frowning at the ends. “So could I.”
“Yes, well you’re going to have to wait ‘til we get back to civilisation.”
Vince glanced up at him.
“How we gonna do that?”
Howard frowned pensively, then snapped his fingers.
“Ring Naboo. Wouldn’t take him more than a couple of hours to get here on that carpet of his.”
“Yeah. Only one problem.” Vince eyed him a little nervously. “I ain’t got my phone with me.”
“What! But you always have your phone!”
Vince shrugged.
“I forgot it, all right! It’s in the van.”
Howard groaned and gazed back the way they’d come. The van was hidden behind the numerous dunes they’d had to climb on the way here…
He couldn’t face it, not in this heat. He slumped down against the tree, resting his head against the rough bark and closing his eyes. Seconds later he felt Vince’s hand touching his face, and froze, eyes opening in alarm.
Vince’s face was very close to his. Too close. A matter of inches and they’d be kissing…
“I am sorry, y’know.” He was too, Howard could see it in his eyes. The maverick sighed.
“It’s all right. I’ll wait until evening and head back when the sun goes down. It’ll be cooler.”
“And leave me here all by myself? No way!”
“Vince, we have to get ourselves out of this mess…”
Vince was stroking his cheek.
“What mess? We got food, and water, and shade—it’s like a little holiday.”
Howard tried to object, but found himself rapidly becoming incoherent under the touch of Vince’s fingers. And really, the smaller man had a point. They could easily survive here for a week or so. Sooner or later, during one of his less stoned moments, Naboo would realise they were missing and use his shamanic powers to find and then rescue them. Well, rescue Vince, anyway: Howard was under no illusions as to the shaman’s opinion of him. He’d just be an afterthought.
The hand had moved from his face and was now stroking his chest, and Vince was snuggling against him again, getting comfortable as he drifted off to sleep. Sighing, Howard slid an arm around his shoulders again, closing his eyes and thinking firmly of anything other than the fact he had Vince in his arms…
“Birds.”
Vince shifted sleepily, heavy against his chest.
“Wha…?”
“Birds.”
Vince nuzzled him.
“Don’ need no birds… got us…”
Howard didn’t want to examine that too closely right now. Instead, he gently eased the smaller man upright and patted his arm.
“Wake up, Vince. You need to do your Mowgli thing again.”
Vince yawned widely, rubbing at his eyes.
“What you do that for? I was havin’ a lovely dream, we was on a bouncy castle made of rainbows, and you was wearing a pink schoolgirl outfit…”
Howard growled quietly and shook his partner.
“I don’t want to hear about your fetishes. I want you to talk to a bird, get it to fly to Naboo and tell him where we are.”
“Oh.” Vince frowned at the trees. “But birds don’t have a lot of brain. They’re a bit like me, that way. It’ll probably forget why it’s going there.”
“Try anyway.” Anything to avoid the trek back to the van. The more he thought about it, the more certain Howard became that he wouldn’t even be able to find the van again. He knew from bitter experience how easy it was to get lost in the desert.
“All right…” Vince took a deep breath and whistled, loud and high. Moments later a small raptor landed on a nearby bush, and Howard watched, fascinated, as Vince whistled and squawked at the bird. Finally it made a funny little cawing sound and flew off, and Vince settled back against the tree, looking satisfied.
“That was lucky.”
“Why?”
“Intelligent bird, that one. Think it’ll remember what it’s doin’.”
“Well that’s a relief.”
Vince nestled back down against Howard, who by now was having to mentally organise and categorise his record collection to take his mind off his partner’s nearness, and his scent, and the fact that it was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss him. Or do other, more intimate things…
Midnight, back in the Dalston flat. Howard had managed to ignore Naboo’s jibes about incompetent drivers who couldn’t read maps and didn’t carry spare petrol cans, and Bollo’s scolding as he checked Vince over for sun damage or other injuries, and now, freshly showered, lay on his back on his bed, consigning the whole weird experience to memory. He almost didn’t hear the quiet tap on the door.
“Howard? You awake?”
Vince, of course. He sighed and called out, “Yes, I’m awake.”
A pale face topped by a mop of black hair peered around the door, and Vince stepped into the room.
“All right?” He grinned, his teeth gleaming in the muted light, and sat down on the edge of Howard’s bed.
“Yeah. Just knackered.”
Never one to take a hint, Vince settled himself more comfortably.
“Think we could find that place again?”
Howard groaned.
“Why would we want to?”
“Well, it was fun! Wannit?”
Howard eyed him tiredly. But he did have a point.
“Yes. I suppose it was. Remember that fruit?”
“Oooh, yeah…
‘Red like a stop light
Smelt like a flower shop’…”
Grinning, Howard took up the crimp.
“‘Dancing in the sunshine
Tasting like a harem,
Rosy, rosy
Rosy in the garden’…”
“‘Lip lickin’ goodness
Juicy on yer fingers,
Plant it on the rooftop,
Water it with moonlight.
Ooooh yeah,
Ooooh no…
Rosy rosy—
Roseberry heaven.’“
They finished together. Howard sighed.
“Good times, good times…”
There was a momentary pause, then,
“Howard?”
“What is it, little man?”
“I was glad you were there.”
In the startled silence Howard stared at his partner. Vince leaned forwards and stroked his cheek, briefly.
“And you smell… nice. Even without deodorant.”
Speechless, Howard watched as Vince stood and headed for his own bed, one hand fluttering in a small wave.
“Sleep tight…”
[nextpage title=”Meat”]
Meat
Vince bounced into the flat with his usual enthusiasm, grinning at Howard’s somewhat stunned expression. He gave the maverick a twirl.
“Like it?”
“Um…” Vince’s current attire had a vague similarity to his Goth outfit—except for the tie-dyed silk sleeves attached to the torn black t-shirt with leather laces. And the rainbow coloured Doc Martens on his feet. And the glitter tear on his cheek. And the black lipstick and stark black eyeshadow. And the rainbow streaks in his hair. So, apart from the tight leather trousers, not really much like the Goth gear at all then… Howard frowned. “Don’t you be going all emo on me, now!”
Vince tossed his head, rolling his eyes. “That’s so last week! I’m all punk-hippy now…”
Howard stared, mentally shaking his head, wondering whether to point out the inherent contradiction in the two terms, then decided not to bother. Vince wouldn’t listen anyway—or if he did, he wouldn’t understand. Or pretend not to understand, anyway. Howard sometimes thought there was more of a working brain inside that fluffy head than experience would otherwise suggest.
“Well, it’s certainly… different…” Of course it suited him. Howard had never yet seen Vince wear anything that didn’t suit him. (Well, apart from that one time with that daft hat, but that had been Howard’s fault anyway… ) Bloody annoying it was. But he’d learned it wasn’t wise to say so if he didn’t want Vince to spend the rest of the day preening in front of a mirror. “Not sure about the lipstick though. It’s a bit dark for you, isn’t it?”
“I’m expressin’ the darkness inside me.”
“We’ve had this discussion before. You aren’t dark, Vince. There’s no darkness in you. At all. Ever.”
Vince sighed.
“Yeah, all right, I know.” He scrutinised himself in the mirror. “It’s a bit… all over the shop, innit?”
“Not up to your usual distinctive but coherent style, no.”
“P’raps the world ain’t ready for punk-hippy yet.”
“You’re ahead of your time, little man. But perhaps this time the look needs a bit more thought…”
“Yeah…” Vince grinned and rubbed Howard’s stomach in the old familiar greeting, then paused and frowned, pulling his hand away and prodding instead.
“Wha’s this? You been pilin’ on the sushi?
“Sushi’s low fat, low carb food, Vince. The Japanese are a slim and svelte race, very spiritual, very powerful.”
“Yeah, right, raw prawns an’ rice an’ seaweed. What kind of food is that?” Vince shook his head. “You’ve gone podgy, mate. That jazzercise stuff you do? Hate to tell you, but it ain’t workin’.”
Howard glanced down worriedly at his—shit… where’d that… bulge come from? —lower body and sucked in his belly.
“Good manly muscle, that, Vince. You don’t get that prancing around at a disco.”
“Too right, small eyes! That’s disgustin’. You gotta go on a diet, man. I don’ wanna be seen with a walrus in cords with eyes like a crab.”
Howard would have objected, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Vince was right. He glanced at himself sideways in the mirror, and wasn’t too happy with what he saw…
“Go live in forest for month. Get fit, catch own food.”
Howard eyed Bollo doubtfully.
“That’s all very well for you to say—you were born there. I’m a civilised man, a man about town. The only jungle I know is the urban one.”
“Howard want to lose weight, make Vince happy?”
“Yes… well, I suppose… yes, I do.” He did, too. Not that it was competitive, of course—after all, he was big-boned and solidly built, the complete opposite to Vince’s waif-like proportions, he’d never be thin, and in any case it would never suit him. But Vince had taken to giving little melodramatic shudders every time he looked Howard’s way, and pressing himself hard against the wall on his toes every time they passed each other in the flat, regardless of how much space there was between them. That he did so with his usual cheeky grin and a twinkle in those big blue eyes softened the insult a little, but Howard still felt uneasy about the situation. To himself he admitted that Vince’s opinion had started to mean a lot more to him than it should do. And he hated the thought of disappointing his partner.
At the same time, he didn’t want Vince to realise what he was up to. He wanted to shape up privately, so that when his new, fit body was revealed, Vince would be suitably impressed, surprised and pleased.
He wasn’t entirely sure that disappearing into the forest for a month was the right way to go about it, though. Unobservant and shallow as Vince could be, it was unlikely he’d not notice the Howard-shaped hole in the flat while the maverick was gone…
“Bollo tell Vince Howard had to go away for a bit. Do some business back home.”
Howard gazed doubtfully at the gorilla, unsure of the wisdom of the plan. Bollo gazed back and nodded.
“Bollo get Naboo to help.”
“Well…” Howard looked at himself in the mirror again, and sighed. He couldn’t get away from the fact that he looked portly. No wonder Vince was ashamed of him. “OK. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Howard go now. Come back sooner.”
“Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you?” Howard muttered under his breath, closing the door to the bedroom. Laid on his bed was the old tweed utility suit, a little the worse for wear and now sporting Survival Patches on the elbows and knees: Howard stripped and climbed into it, finding to his horror that it really didn’t fit any more. He sucked in his stomach and stretched, forcing the zips closed, then, trying not to breathe too deeply, made his way quietly out to the van.
He paused at the driver’s door, wondering if it was a bit of a cheat to take it. But neither Vince nor Naboo could drive, and since Bollo had lost his license it wasn’t as if anyone else would be using it. And anyway, how else was he to get to the wilderness?
“Awright?” Laden down with bags, Vince grinned at Bollo on his return from Top Shop. The apron-clad gorilla put down his large mixing bowl and wooden spoon and nodded.
“Vince found bargains?”
“Yeah! Check this out!” Vince rummaged in one of the larger bags and pulled out something that seemed to be all pink fur and feathers, purple leather straps and large shiny silver buckles. Bollo regarded the item from several different angles then scratched his head.
“What is it?”
“Not sure. But it was half-price! What a find…” He undid all the buckles and held the garment in front of him, twisting it this way and that in puzzlement, then shrugged it haphazardly over his shoulders and grabbed for another of the bags. “And I got this to go with it!
“
The ‘this’ in question was, possibly, a hat, an oddly elegant construction involving a lot of pink and purple feathers and a diamante-studded brim. He placed it on his head and posed for the gorilla.
“Vince look like bird of paradise.”
“Genius! I gotta show Howard.”
Bollo raised a paw.
“Howard not here.”
Vince was still admiring himself in the mirror.
“Where’s he gone?”
“Business trip.”
Vince frowned.
“Business trip? Without me?”
“Home business.”
“Oh.” Vince looked crestfallen. “When’ll he be back?”
“Next month.”
“What?!” Vince’s voice was an octave higher than normal. “He can’t be gone that long! What’m I s’posed to do while he’s gone?”
“Vince have fun.”
“Well, yeah—but it’s not so much fun if small eyes in’ here…” he flumped on the settee, pouting irritably. “Why din’ he tell me?”
“Urgent business. No time.”
Vince sighed and headed for the phone. “I’d better give him a bell, check he’s all right.”
Bollo raised his arms in alarm.
“No! Vince not do that.”
“Why not?”
“Um…”
Vince frowned.
“Bollo… what’s goin’ on?”
“Howard not want Vince to know.”
“Know what? C’mon you hairy git. Where’s he gone?”
“Howard gone to forest.”
Vince stared at the gorilla, confused.
“Why’s he gone there?”
“To get fit.”
“… what?…”
“Howard go native. Get fit. Lose weight.”
There was a moment’s silence, then Vince collapsed on the settee, arms wrapped around his stomach as he dissolved into helpless laughter.
“Howard? In the forest? By himself? Oh my cockney godfather… Bollo, why’d you let him do somethin’ that daft?”
Bollo stuck out his lower lip and avoided Vince’s eyes.
“Bollo thought it good idea.”
“He’s got no idea how to survive in the forest! He’ll die. He’ll get eaten! Bollo you twat, you should’ve stopped him.” Vince pushed himself upright and pulled off the headgear and strappy… thing, dumping them on the settee. “I’d better go an’ rescue him before he gets into trouble.”
“Howard only been gone six hour.”
“Yeah, well, Howard can get himself in deep shit in a couple of minutes…”
“… is true, Vince right…”
Howard was being stalked.
He wasn’t fully aware of it yet, as he was still trying to come to terms with being out here in the wilderness in only his hat, boots and swimming trunks—the zips had finally burst under the strain and the rest of the utility suit fallen apart. It was raining, and it was a lot colder than a forest had any right to be, and he was lost.
Lost. He had to admit it to himself. His jungle tracking skills simply weren’t as good as he’d always believed them to be. In fact, he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that they were just about non-existent…
Then he heard the low growl in the undergrowth behind him, and froze in terror.
Not much point appealing to the wildlife that he had so much to give.
There was a tree in front of him. A tree that looked like it might offer some sort of shelter—assuming that whatever was behind him couldn’t climb, anyway.
Not that Howard could climb either, but somehow he managed it, forced to a halt half way up when the branches became too thin to hold his weight, clinging to a dangerously-creaking bough, and squinting down at the ground ten feet below.
There was a large leopard sitting at the base of the tree, staring up at him and licking its lips.
Howard whimpered in fear and closed his eyes as the bough began to break…
Several branches and a bush helped to break his fall, but he still landed with a bone-shaking, massively-bruising thud that drove the breath from his lungs. He curled up into a ball, shivering, images from his life flitting through his mind as he waited for the leopard’s attack… he’d not said goodbye to Vince, and now Vince would never know what had happened to him… he’d never told Vince how he felt…
What was taking the ruddy animal so long? Why couldn’t he just get it over with? Hang on, what was that…?
Howard frowned to himself. He must be hallucinating. He could swear he could hear Vince…
“Howard? You OK?”
The maverick cautiously uncurled, wincing with pain, and looked in the direction of the voice. And there was Vince, sitting on the mossy ground, with the leopard curled around him.
Vince grinned.
“See you met Jahouley, then.”
Howard stared disbelievingly.
“What?”
Vince gestured to the leopard, who licked his hand.
“Jahouley. Me best friend from when I was a nipper.”
“Thought you said he was dead.”
“Nah. He was in that animal prison place. He got out when Ivan attacked that green geezer.”
Howard moved carelessly, hissing as something that shouldn’t move shifted painfully in his chest. Vince frowned and moved to squat beside him.
“Wassup? You hurt?”
“Think I’ve broken something.”
With surprisingly gentleness Vince eased Howard over onto his back, inspecting the damage with the lightest of touches as the maverick gritted his teeth and tried not to scream.
“Don’t think you’ll be movin’ for a bit.”
“I can’t stay here.”
“Hm.” Vince sat back for a moment, eyeing his partner thoughtfully. “The van’s about a mile back. Think you can make it?”
Howard slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, sweating with the effort and the pain of what felt like at least one broken rib. It took all of his strength, and he felt faint afterwards—but Vince had moved to sit beside him, supporting him with an arm carefully laid across his shoulders.
“OK?”
“I’ll live…” Though whether he’d enjoy it or not was a moot point at this juncture. His entire body felt like one enormous aching bruise. He glanced at Vince, trying to move as little as possible. “How the hell did you get here, anyway?”
Vince shrugged. “Hitched a lift off a passing zebra.”
Oh. Of course you did… Howard closed his eyes, and for a moment there was silence. At least the rain had stopped.
“Howard?”
“Yeah?”
“Why’re you doin’ this? Comin’ here to get fit, I mean.”
He was in too much pain to prevaricate. “… didn’t want you to be embarrassed… ashamed of me.”
“Aww, you did it for me?” Vince grinned. “Ya great Northern pillock! I’m not that bothered by yer blubber.”
“Yes, well, I…” Howard fell silent, suddenly realising that Vince had come after him. Rescued him. And was now holding him, protecting him. He began to shake, and Vince eyed him with alarm.
“Howard? What’s wrong?”
“Sh… shock…?”
There was a hint of panic in Vince’s voice. “What’m I s’posed to do for shock?”
“D…. dunno…” Howard’s eyes fluttered closed as he finally passed out.
There was a dead animal in front of him when he came to.
He stared at it, for a moment not remembering where he was. Then it all came back to him, and with the memory came his awareness of pain.
But Vince was still there, sitting at his side, supporting him—though he must have been unconscious for several hours if the fading light was any indication of the passing of time. He dragged his head up from where it had been resting on the smaller man’s shoulder and tried to move, to take more of his weight himself: Vince must be uncomfortable by now.
“Hey, s’OK. Hold still.” A slim hand cupped his face, gently pushing his head back down to the thin shoulder. “How you feelin’?”
Aching, pain spearing through him if he so much as breathed, legs cramping from sitting immobile for too long, neck stiff from being slumped against Vince—he felt like hell. And unspeakably happy. Vince was here…
“You need to eat, yeah? Jahouley got us a gazelle.” Vince hesitated for a moment. “But it’s raw. I can’t make a fire. That OK?”
“I’m sure I can manage, just this once.” It hurt to smile. But Vince lifted small pieces of gazelle to his lips, and after several mouthfuls of the soft, tasty meat he felt warmth spreading through him, the meal settling easily into his stomach and helping him recover his strength.
The urge to snuggle into Vince was almost irresistible—would have been had it not hurt so much to move. But eventually he’d eaten as much as he could without feeling nauseous, and managed to push himself a little more upright.
“If you can help me back to the van, I think I can drive.”
Vince sounded almost wistful. “You want to go back?”
“I think I need a doctor. Or Naboo. Or something.”
“Oh. Yeah. You not goin’ to pass out again, are you?”
“I don’t think so. We’ll drive very slowly. If I feel faint, I’ll pull over.”
“OK then.” Vince helped him to his feet, an operation that took several minutes as Howard tried to stretch cramped muscle without making his injuries any worse. It was well past midnight when the pair, accompanied and guarded by Jahouley, finally reached the van.
Howard slumped into the driver’s seat and closed his eyes. He was dimly aware of Vince outside, talking to his leopard friend. He wondered what was being said.
“He’s a good one. You should keep him.”
Vince stroked under Jahouley’s chin, grinning.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll do me best—but it’s not just up to me, is it? Howard gets a say in it too.”
Jahouley’s purr rumbled deep in his chest.
“The man isn’t as silly as he seems. His scent when you are with him—I’ve smelt the same, between lifemated beasts.”
Vince’s beaming smile was a beautiful thing to see.
Jahouley blinked slowly in the feline equivalent, then twitched an ear towards the van. “But he is hurt, and you should care for him. Go safely, old friend.”
Vince pressed a kiss to the leopard’s forehead and scrambled into the van…
“Howard?” It was whispered, but the maverick was having a lot of difficulty sleeping, even with the pain medication he’d been prescribed. Three broken ribs, a couple of dislocated joints and several torn ligaments will do that to you. He mumbled an irritable “What?”, and Vince slipped into the room with something hidden behind his back. He seated himself carefully on the edge of Howard’s bed and regarded him sombrely.
“How you feelin’ now?”
“Pissed off. Why can’t Naboo do something to help? Surely he’s got something that’ll heal broken bones.”
Vince shrugged.
“I asked, but he said no. Dunno if he was tellin’ the truth though. Anyway, don’ worry about that. Look what I found!” He brought his hand out from behind his back and presented Howard with something LP-sized and flat. Howard took it, moving carefully, frowning at the shape in his hands.
“It’s a record.”
“Yeah! Took me ages to find, too.”
The maverick eased the disc from its plain white cardboard sleeve and tilted it towards the light. His eyes widened.
“Voodoo Scat? But… there was only ever one…”
Vince grinned wickedly.
“Turns out there was two. Dunno if this one has blood in it though.” He grimaced. “Hope not.”
Howard goggled helplessly.
“But…”
Vince laughed.
“It’s the real thing. Honest. I checked.”
“But… why?”
“‘Cause… ‘cause I should never have broke it in the first place. You don’t do that to mates. Sorry.”
Had Howard been able to move his arms properly there was no doubt in his mind he’d have hugged the life out of the little ponce. Since he couldn’t, he took Vince’s hand, squeezing gently, deep brown eyes warm and wide in a pale, pain-haunted face.
“Thanks.”
“S’nuffin.”
Wincing infinitesimally, he raised his hand to cup Vince’s cheek. Did Vince push back against his palm, just a little?
“Oh, it’s a lot more than ‘nuffin’, little man…”
[nextpage title=”Onion”]
Onion
Author’s Notes: VERY LARGE SPOILER WARNING.
Here be BIG spoilers for The Power of the Crimp, and littler spoiler for Journey to the Centre of the Punk.
Enjoy the show…
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
“‘ello Vince… little Vincey Noir… the shiny charlatan…”
The voice echoed strangely in the dimly lit and filthy subway tunnel, but—with a sudden stab of icy fear—Vince recognised it. He stumbled to one side, pressing his back against the tunnel wall, head flicking left and right in panic as he tried to work out from which end the voice was coming. It seemed to surround him, licking at him with menace, vile slimy saliva dripping from its toxic tongue. He could imagine the face, so similar to his own yet so very very different, leering at him…
“Yeah, it’s me, Vincey… I’m back… an’ this time I’m gonna take all of you…”
“AAAAAHHHH!!” Vince jerked bolt upright, hands clenched tightly in the duvet, shaking in sheer, mind-numbing terror. In an instant Howard was at his side, rumpled, pyjama jacket unbuttoned, bags under his half-open eyes, still more than half asleep but there, always there, a bulwark against the harshnesses of reality. Regardless of the circumstances. The maverick laid big, strong, protective hands over Vince’s naked shoulders, his voice rough and mumbling in his half-awake state.
“‘m here, l’il man… ‘ll protect you…”
Without thinking Vince grabbed his partner, wrapping slim arms around the broad chest under the cotton of the pyjama top and burying his face in Howard’s neck. He was so distraught he didn’t notice the hand stroking his hair soothingly.
“Howard… thank god…”
“Wa’s wrong?”
“Bad dream.”
“Yes, I kind of gathered that.” More awake now, Howard tried to push the smaller man back a little, to ease the pressure on his barely-healed ribs if nothing else, but Vince was clinging to him like the proverbial limpet, fingers digging into the skin of his back, eyelashes tickling against his neck. He twisted his head as a half-naked and irate Naboo, closely followed by the growling Bollo, burst in through the door.
“What’re you doin’ to ‘im?” The shaman shouted at Howard. “Gerroff you pervert! Bollo? Sort ‘im out…”
Vince peered over Howard’s shoulder and shook his head hurriedly as Bollo, looking very large and threatening in the muted light, moved forward.
“No, s’awright Naboo. ‘ad a nightmare. Howard’s just… um… checkin’ I’m OK.”
The shaman scowled suspiciously at the maverick, then glanced back at Vince.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, honest.” Vince pulled back from Howard and yanked the duvet up to his chin. Howard, now fully awake with empty arms and silently cursing Naboo and his familiar, didn’t dare risk anything more intimate than laying a hand on the smaller man’s fingers where they held the edge of the cover.
“Want to talk about it, little man?”
Vince glanced up at Naboo and Bollo from under his dishevelled fringe and sighed.
“Lance Dior.”
Howard winced. He’d not forgotten Lance Dior and that oaf Harold Boon—how could he, when between them they’d battered Vince’s self-confidence and sense of worth so severely he’d almost left to go and work in Rumbelows. (Which, a tiny part of Howard’s brain insisted on pointing out, didn’t say a lot for the quality of the company’s personnel department if they’d take on Vince as a junior manager… ) But after the four-way crimp and the Flighty Zeus’ crushing defeat he’d thought that everything was back to normal. Certainly Vince had made no further reference to the impostors, and Howard had gladly consigned the memory to the back of his mind. He squeezed Vince’s fingers.
“Hey, hey now… that’s over, Vince. They’re gone. They won’t be coming back. We trounced them, sir. We came at them like crimping tornadoes of humiliation. They’ll never dare show their faces in Dalston again. Or Shoreditch. In fact, I’ll bet they never even come back to London.”
Vince rubbed a hand over his face.
“Yeah, I know. It’s just… it was ‘orrible, Howard. Lance said he was back and was goin’ to take all of me. Whatever that means.”
“Now, you don’t think I’d let him anywhere near you, do you?”
“S’pose not.”
“No ‘suppose’ about it, little man. I’ll protect you.”
“In me dreams?”
Howard paused and frowned, considering.
“Well…” he glanced at Naboo. “Is there any way I can do that?”
The shaman eyed him for a moment, then nodded slowly.
“Yeah, think I may have somethin’ that’ll do the trick. Wait here. Bollo?” The gorilla grunted affirmatively. Naboo gestured to the door. “We need to whip up a special…”
Vince’s gaze returned to Howard as the mismatched pair left the bedroom, and he managed a somewhat wavering smile.
“Thanks, Howard.”
“Think nothing of it. What are friends for?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Not another word.” Howard plumped up the pillows and pushed Vince back down, pulling the duvet up around his chin, then gently patted his cheek. “I’ll keep the monsters away.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Vince’s eyes slowly closing as exhaustion clawed at him—then Naboo returned, carrying an ornate goblet with exaggerated care. He handed it solemnly to Howard.
“Drink this.”
Howard half-drained the goblet before he thought to ask what it was.
“It’ll let you enter Vince’s dreams.”
Howard paused mid-swallow and nearly choked. Spluttering, he stared at the shaman.
“Vince’s dreams?”
“Yeah.”
“What, like, get inside his brain?” Howard shuddered at the memory of trying to pin down Vince’s braincell to any kind of rational action. Naboo shook his head.
“Nah, this is different. You won’t go physically. The potion lets your astral body travel into another person’s consciousness.”
“That sounds… interesting…”
“S’cool. You can fight his monsters for ‘im.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
Naboo raised an eyebrow and nodded at the goblet.
“You’ve got to drink it now. If you don’t finish it, you could get stuck on the astral plane.”
Howard hurriedly gulped down the rest, then handed the goblet back to the shaman.
“What happens now?”
“Lie down next to Vince. On top of the covers. Don’t want you gettin’ too eager.”
Damn said the lecherous part of Howard’s brain. He glanced at Vince, intending to check that his partner didn’t mind, but to his dreamy surprise saw that Vince was outlined in a shimmering silvery nimbus.
“Ooh. Pretty.”
Naboo sighed and gestured for Bollo.
“It’s affectin’ ‘im already. Bollo, get ‘im on the bed.”
The last thing Howard remembered, before he dropped into the weirdness that was Vince’s dreamscape, was a rainbow-coloured gorilla tossing him on the bed…
He was falling, falling, falling through soft sparkling whiteness shot through with tiny silver butterflies and what looked like rainbow-coloured flying saucers. He had no idea how long it took, but he finally landed, very softly, on something pink and yielding. He climbed to his feet, moving slowly to keep his balance on the shifting ground, and gazed at his surroundings…
Which were simultaneously familiar and strikingly odd.
But indisputably Vince. Everything was shiny, or sparkly, and a little out of focus—except where it was a lot out of focus…
Something felt wrong though. Howard glanced down at himself, eyes widening. This body was taller, and a lot more muscular, and currently clad in some sort of light armour the colour of old-gold, a soft, gleaming metal that was nevertheless as close-fitting and flexible as silk. There was what looked like a light-sabre in a holster at his side. He absently brushed a lock of hair back from where it fell over his eyes, realising as he did so that it was a lot longer and thicker than it should be—and a lighter and richer brown, with dark gold streaks…
He swallowed hard. Was this how Vince saw him in dreams? Some sort of knight? He felt simultaneously nervous and pleased… But it was probably just this particular dream—after all, Howard had promised to protect him. It was too much to hope that this was how Vince viewed him normally.
Something nudged his shoulder, and he swung around, dropping into a defensive crouch and drawing the light-sabre. Then falling over in shock at the sight that met his eyes.
Of course, a knight needed a white charger to ride on his quests, even Vince would be aware of that.
But Howard would be prepared to bet that only Vince would think of providing his dream-knight with a pink, My Pretty Pony winged unicorn for a trusty steed…
“I’m not riding you.”
“Aww, pweeese…” wheedled the unicorn, who had blithely informed Howard it was called George, but he could call it Petal as a special favour.
“No. Go away.”
“But Howawd…”
Howard gritted his teeth and trudged on, wobbling as he tried to walk on the spongy ground. The unicorn nudged him in the shoulder again, nearly pushing him over.
“But we’ww get thewe much more quickwier if you wide me.”
Howard halted and frowned at the ground. The animal had a point, he reluctantly admitted: he wasn’t making much headway by himself, and the unicorn did have wings… Gritting his teeth and ignoring the embarrassed flush that felt like it coloured his entire body, he grumpily climbed onto the unicorn’s back, closing his eyes tightly and gripping its fuchsia-pink mane as it bounced twice then took off, wings flapping furiously.
“S’awwight, Howawd. You can look. I pwomise I won’t dwop you.”
Howard preferred to keep his eyes closed. “Take me to Vince.”
The unicorn neighed musically and streaked off across the oddly darkening dreamscape…
After a little while, seeing nothing untoward had happened, Howard risked opening his eyes. To his surprise his ride was actually quite comfortable, and the unicorn was obviously in its element, soaring swiftly and elegantly on pretty twisting pale blue thermals that spiralled up from the dull pink ground far below.
But there were clouds ahead, dark grey and malevolent. Howard frowned. This wasn’t right. There should be—must be—no clouds in his Vince’s life, not in his mind, and absolutely not in his dreams. He pressed his heels to the unicorn’s side, urging it to greater speed, not noticing that the pinks of the animal’s hide and the feathers of its beautiful wings were slowly turning to gold. On the horizon ahead of them the clouds were focussed into a loose funnel shape, the base swirling slowly ten feet or so above the black slag of the ground…
There were two figures there, on the slickly gleaming ground under the unborn tornado. One of them Howard recognised immediately—Vince, the mirrorball suit sparkling incongruously in the darkening air—but the other figure… Drab, dull, lank black hair flopping over its face…
Vince looked up, his face twisted into a sneer of utter evil—and as Howard realised with a jolt of horror that it wasn’t Vince, it was Lance, the unicorn below him screamed in agony, rearing and throwing Howard from its body as it twisted in midair, bent obscenely back on itself as its spine broke and it dropped to the ground in a mangled mess of blood, meat and bone. Howard landed only a little more gently, slamming into the hard ground, able to spare just a moment’s brief, intense surge of grief at the unicorn’s death before dragging himself painfully upright, drawing his light-sabre and facing the pair of figures before him.
The sight was enough to freeze him to the spot. Vince gazed at him from half-closed, pain-filled eyes, his face distorted and his body limp in Lance’s arms as the impostor sneered at Howard over his captive’s thin, bleeding shoulder.
“Well, well, if it ain’t the other loser. Come to join ‘im, ‘ave you?”
Howard raised the light-sabre, eyes narrowed, lips a thin line.
“Let him go.”
“Uh, I don’t think so.” Lance wrapped one arm more securely around Vince’s waist: the other hand sprouted claws and ripped slowly down the front of the ragged black tee-shirt, scoring the pallid skin underneath. Vince cried out as the talons dragged down his chest, leaving bloody runnels behind them—then Lance’s hand moved upwards, his palm covering one pale nipple, fingers spread and claws pressing deeply into thin pectoral muscle. Vince shuddered and forced his eyes open.
“H… Howard…”
It was a desperate gasp from cracked lips: the maverick knight moved forward, fighting the sudden furious wind that sprang up from nowhere and seemed intent on driving him backwards. Lance giggled, the hand around Vince’s waist sliding downwards to cup his groin, claws erupting from the fingertips—then squeezing hard.
Vince screamed and tried to curl in on himself, but the claws embedded in his chest forced him to stay upright.
“Aww, poor li’l Vincey… You gonna rescue ‘im then, Howard? You’d better get a move on. Before I take the rest of ‘im.”
The claws ripped through the front of Vince’s leggings, tearing the thin fabric from him and tossing it carelessly aside. Vince’s hands struggled to cover his genitals—but Lance caught his wrists and dragged his arms to one side.
“Look at ‘im, Howard. Pathetic, in’ ‘e?”
Howard’s breath caught in his throat. No, not pathetic at all. Shapely, rather, and elegant. Quite beautiful, in fact. Perfectly in keeping with the rest of him.
Lance’s face turned ugly at Howard’s expression of reverent awe. He dropped Vince’s hands and slashed downwards with his claws, slicing open sensitive flesh and grinning at the shriek of agony twisting his captive’s mouth.
Rage filled the maverick knight, rage more intense than he had ever believed possible. With a cry of utter fury he flung himself at Lance, shoving Vince out of the way as he sliced upwards with the light-sabre and narrowly avoiding removing Lance’s head as the impostor jerked backwards out of reach.
“Why Howard, never knew you ‘ad it in you!” Lance minced backwards, grinning infuriatingly. “You can’t kill me. You know you can’t. I’m more than half Vincey now, and you can’t kill ‘im…”
And as the maverick watched, Lance’s features blurred, shifting into new planes and angles, becoming frighteningly familiar. Howard glanced quickly backwards, horrified to see Vince’s face slowly becoming more and more like Lance’s…
The impostor giggled, dragging Howard’s attention back to himself.
“What you gonna do, small eyes?”
Think fast, you great northern idiot… what’re you gonna do…
An idea hit him. On an immediate second thought, it seemed hopeless, useless, a waste of time. But it was all he had. He reholstered the light-sabre and mentally grabbed for the track he knew best.
“Doo wop… skiddly doo dee doo…”
“No… no, stop it…” Lance stepped backwards, alarm in his eyes. Howard stepped forwards, advancing on the impostor, shoulders and hands eloquent.
“Skee dee dee… skididly woo bowow…”
“Noooooo…” Howard’s eyes widened as Lance’s face grew plain, then ugly, his body shrinking, the borrowed blue of Vince’s eyes changing back to the original Dior darkness. He began to shrink, his legs dissolving, bubbling on the suddenly red-hot ground. Remorseless, Howard continued scatting.
“… please…” Lance held shrivelling hands pleadingly up to the maverick. “I don’t wanna die…”
Howard paused, gazing down at what was left of the impostor.
“You killed George. You were killing Vince. No, worse than that—you were destroying him, everything he is. Why, exactly, should I stop?”
“‘cause you’re a decent man, Howard. You’re not a killer.”
And the words pierced him, filling him with guilt…
Then he glanced back at Vince, slumped on the sand behind him, ragged and bleeding. He swung back to Lance, glowering.
“What were you going to do with him—afterwards?”
Lance’s gaze dropped to the sizzling stones. He stayed silent, and Howard nodded. “Yeah. No mercy, right? You bastard.” He raised his hands to deliver the final blow, ignoring Lance’s wailing voice. “Doo owww! Chickachicka…”
Vince was slumped in his arms, bleeding, semi-conscious, whimpering with pain. Howard tried to inspect the injuries, but Vince fought him, trying to cover himself. The knight caught his hand gently.
“I’m trying to help, Vince. Let me see what he’s done to you.”
His body was covered with deep, long claw marks; only his face had been spared. There was a lot of blood. And Vince was obviously in agony. But…
Howard frowned. This was a dream, right? Real enough while they were in it, but nevertheless not really real. So they should be able to change their personal reality…
“Vince… you are beautiful. All of you, inside and out.”
“No… he made me ugly…”
Howard cupped his partner’s face in one hand, thumb stroking the high cheekbone.
“You could never be ugly, little man. Filled with sunshine, you are. You brighten everyone’s world. Life would be so dull without you.”
Tired blue eyes gazed up at him.
“You mean that?”
Howard bent to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“With all my heart and soul. You can’t give up, Vince. We need you.”
Suffering blue eyes fluttered closed.
“But I’m so tired…”
“Vince?” But Vince was unconscious again.
Howard regarded him for long minutes, then sighed. This was going to hurt…
He closed his eyes, and pulled at his partner’s injuries, transferring them to his own body, leaving perfectly smooth, unblemished skin behind.
The pain was terrible, worse and worse with each claw-mark and slash, and Howard could feel himself growing faint. He took a shuddering breath and concentrated harder…
Gentle hands on his face, brushing hair back from his forehead.
“Howard… Howard… that’s enough…”
He dragged open aching eyes to find Vince gazing at him in awe. His throat was desert-dry, but he managed a small croak.
“… what…?”
Vince’s smile could have wakened the dead.
“I’m fine, Howard. All healed. You did it.”
“… oh… good…”
“But we gotta go back now. You need to recover.” He glanced down at the maverick’s body, cringing at the blood staining the armour. “Come with me.”
A slim hand took his, and he felt himself drifting upwards…
Cool cotton sheets, a hint of some strange spice in the air, and a hand resting on his chest. Vince’s voice gradually came into focus.
“But he’ll be OK, yeah?”
“Yeah.” That was Naboo. “His physical body is fine—it’s just the psychic one that’s damaged.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes. A lot. But it was worth it—you’re back and Lance is gone forever.”
“Yeah, I s’pose.” A thoughtful silence. “I didn’t want him hurt though. I never want that, not my Howard.”
My Howard? Did Vince really say that?
“So, anythin’ I can do to help him?”
“He needs to drink lots of water. And get some sleep. But he should be back to normal by the morning.”
“Thanks Naboo…”
Howard tried to open his eyes, he really did. But he was completely exhausted. He sighed with relief as something cool and damp was wiped over his face, and managed a tiny smile as Vince took his hand.
“Thanks, Howard. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Mm. Try not to need it too often.”
Vince laughed delightedly, and Howard froze as he felt firm lips against his cheek.
“I promise. Now you should get some sleep, yeah? I’ll stay with you.” Howard felt the bed shift as Vince lay beside him. “In case you need anythin’.”
It took the last of his energy, but Howard managed to slide an arm under Vince’s shoulders and pull him a little closer, resting his head against the smaller man’s chest. He would have been overjoyed to know that a few seconds later Vince snuggled into him, stroking his face and his hair, but Howard was soundly asleep by then, dreaming of carrying Vince off into a glorious sunset on the back of a magnificent golden unicorn…
[nextpage title=”MaIze”]
MaIze
Vince was frowning—a somewhat infrequent state of affairs. And for a change it wasn’t Howard’s fault; Howard wasn’t even in the flat. Once his ribs had healed he’d started going to jazzercise classes three times a week instead of just one. Vince was finding the results more and more appealing as the weeks went by…
The door slammed as Naboo arrived home, Bollo in tow. Vince grinned in welcome, then leaned forward as the shaman flopped on the settee.
“Hey Naboo? You know that potion you gave Howard? The one that got him into my dream?”
The shaman eyed him askance.
“Yeah…?”
“I was jus’ wonderin’… got any more of it?”
“Why?”
Vince suddenly found his fingernails to be intensely interesting.
“Jus’ thought… might be fun to see what Howard’s dreams are like…”
Naboo’s eyes widened in startlement. Vince, interested in something of Howard’s? What was the world coming to?
“Why’d you wanna do that? They’ll just be brown and boring, like ‘im.”
“I know, but… I jus’ wonder, that’s all. If he dreams about me.”
“Ah.” That was more like it—a Vince-centred request. The world hadn’t shifted on its axis after all. “I can make some more up.”
“Please?” Vince was bouncing very slightly in his seat, hands clasped together and eyes sparkling.
“OK, but just this once. And you’d better ask ‘im first if ‘e minds. I dont wanna be brought up on Invasion of Privacy charges by the Board.”
“What, the Board of Shamen cares about things like that?”
Naboo grinned.
“Not really. But it is polite to ask.”
Vince nodded.
“Awright.” He paused, watching as Naboo prepared the hookah, then, “Um… could you do it for tonight?”
Naboo sighed irritably and pushed himself to his feet.
“S’the only way I’m gonna get any peace, innit? Be back in a mo.”
Howard arrived back from the jazzercise class hot, tired and desperate for a bath. He was really not in the mood to listen to Vince’s wittering on about his latest Top Shop finds: he just wanted a quick soak and an early night. But for once Vince was restrained, and weirdly attentive, asking him how his day had gone, and even bringing him a cup of tea to drink while he soaked. Howard sipped the brew—not quite as much milk as he would have liked but he wasn’t going to complain, it was rare enough Vince made tea anyway—and lay back, eyes closing as he relaxed.
Then he frowned, eyes opening to find Vince sitting on the closed loo seat, watching him.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to have a bath here.”
“Did you know your hair looks like seaweed when it’s under water?”
Normally Howard would probably have retorted with some quip about the merman look being his style, but that brought up vaguely horrifying thoughts of Old Gregg. He scowled at his partner instead.
“I see your attempts to win people over are as subtle as ever.”
Vince grinned.
“But it looks… sorta cute.”
“Great. Thanks Vince.” Mentally he frowned at himself. Cute? Him? He sat up in the bath. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine.” He yawned. It didn’t look terribly convincing to Howard. “Think I’ll have an early night.”
Howard’s eyes widened.
“An early night? You? What’s wrong?”
“Nuffin’! Hey, sometimes I get tired too, y’know.”
“You must be losing your touch, little man. Fighting the crowds at Top Shop getting too much for you?”
“Somefin’ like that. See ya later, yeah?” He stood and loped out of the small room, closing the door carefully behind him. Howard watched him go with a faint sense of shock. What, no argument? No faked outrage? No banter? Whatever was the world coming to?
“Howard?” It was whispered, intended only to check if the maverick was asleep. There was no answer, and Vince quietly slipped out of his own bed, pulled the thermos from under his pillow, poured the contents into the cup that formed the lid, and drank the sparkling blue liquid down in one. Recapping the thermos, he moved quickly over to Howard’s bed and slid under the duvet, momentarily surprised but pleased when the sleeping maverick shifted over to make room for him, then laid a hand on his chest. It felt nice, Vince thought vaguely to himself as his world dissolved into infinite shades of green.
He was standing on mossy turf, soft, ankle deep and cool. In front of him was a hedge, a bit taller than Howard, he guessed, perfectly trimmed and very solid-looking. A little to his left was an opening—quite a wide one—which seemed to lead to a sort of corridor of green… There was something familiar-looking about it… Vince frowned, then his brow cleared. A maze! One made of hedges! Imagine that!
Something touched his shoulder, and he jumped. Swivelling round, eyes wide in alarm, he froze—then laughed delightedly and stroked the soft pink muzzle of the winged unicorn that stood behind him.
“Petal! What you doin’ here? I thought you died!”
“I did in youw dweam. But this is Howawd’s dweam. He can’t let me go.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe ‘cause you made me?”
“That’s a bit weird, innit?”
“Oh no. Howawd keeps evewything you evew gave him. Even the howwid bits.”
“I never gave ‘im anythin’ horrible! What you on about?”
The unicorn’s golden eyes regarded him solemnly.
“Memowies, Vince. All the howwid memowies.”
Vince would have objected, but the sudden recollections of biting into a precious record, of trading Howard in for a multi-coloured cape, of forcing him to play the prostitute, of constantly belittling and insulting him, played across his mind like a series of TV ads.
“Oh…”
The unicorn nodded.
“He fowgives you. Evewy time.”
Vince grimaced.
“I ‘ave been a bit of a tit, an’ I?”
The unicorn stayed silent, pointing towards the entrance to the maze, and Vince stepped forwards—only then thinking to glance down at himself. What he could see looked entirely normal, although the mirrorball suit was perhaps a little more shiny and sparkly than in real life, and felt light and luxuriously comfortable against his skin. He was mildly alarmed to notice he was barefoot though. But the moss underfoot felt… nice. A little tickly, but very nice, all the same. He touched his hair, relived to find it still pretty much the same as normal—perhaps a little longer, a little softer, a little silkier, and lacking the stiffness that came from the different chemicals he normally threw at it. His face was smooth and clean too, without makeup. Without his usual mask. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
But there was nothing he could do about it—this was, apparently, how Howard dreamed him. And the unicorn was huffing impatiently, prodding him towards the maze entrance…
The paths were wide, the light softly sunny, and the air smelt of quietly growing things. It was a little unnerving. But this was Howard. There could be nothing here to hurt him.
He hoped. He hadn’t been quite sure what to expect, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t this.
They followed the path’s twists and turns until they came to a square space, with three exits leading off in three different directions. In the centre of the square stood Howard…
Vince hurried forward, grinning, slowing to a halt as he realised the figure wasn’t moving. He turned to the unicorn.
“Wha’s wrong wiv ‘im?”
Petal sighed.
“It’s an owd Howawd. A Howawd that couwd have been.”
Frowning, Vince examined the figure. It was extraordinarily life-like, but obviously not alive. A waxwork, then. Or a statue. Howard looked younger, his face unlined, his expression… Vince studied it. Howard looked… eager, and excited. Glancing down, Vince was amused to see the figure dressed as Indiana Jones, even to the bullwhip coiled at the hip. It kind of suited him… Howard dreamed of being like Indie? A real heroic Man of Action? That was so sweet…
But the unicorn had said this was an old Howard, one that had never come to be.
That was sad. Vince brushed his fingers over the skin of Indie Howard’s face, distantly surprised to find it warm and almost alive. But there was no reaction from the figure, and reluctantly he stepped away, turning back to the unicorn.
“Which way now?”
Petal pointed with its horn…
They walked in silence. Vince had half-expected Howard’s dreamscape to be filled with the noise of jazz, but all he could hear was the occasional and very distant trill of birdsong, and the odd sough of the breeze through the maze. It should have been disconcerting: instead it was restful, peaceful…
There was another Howard at the next intersection of four paths. Vince grinned—he recognised this one, Howard the jazz musician, legs stretched wide, back arched, eyes tightly closed, head flung back and golden trumpet pointing skywards, caught in one sublime moment as he played his heart out to the crowds that should have been gathered at his feet…
Vince swallowed. He’d never loved anything with the sort of passion Howard felt for jazz. And Howard was talented, he knew that. It was so unfair he’d not been able to achieve the success he deserved.
Petal nudged him gently: Vince sighed and turned to follow the animal.
It was the same right the way through the maze: Howard the actor manqu�e, dressed as Hamlet; Howard the wildlife photographer, David Attenborough with a moustache; Howard the romantic poet, a moustachioed Lord Byron wielding a quill; Howard the novelist intent at his typewriter. And others that he’d never mentioned: Howard the oceanographer, swimming with orcas; Howard the Formula 1 racer, victorious grin on his face, cup at his feet and champagne spouting from the jereboam in his big, capable hands; pilot Howard, gazing into the distance with far-seeing eyes. It was a Boy’s Own parade of lost possibilities, failed hopes and dead and dying dreams…
Vince found himself walking more and more slowly as they approached the centre of the maze. The unicorn turned its head to gaze at him.
“What’s wong?”
“I… I think I’m scared. Don’t know if I want to go any further.”
“But you must! You must see Howawd’s heawt.”
Vince shivered, only then realising that it was much cooler here than it had been further out. He rubbed at his arms and turned back the way they’d come.
“Nah, think I’ll go back, thanks all the same.”
In less than a second the unicorn had leapt to block the path. It no longer looked cute.
“You awe hewe uninvited, wandewing the paths of youw pawtnews dweams. You awe not pewmitted to weturn until you have fouwnd his heawt.”
Vince cowered against the hedge, gazing up nervously at the golden animal.
“Petal?”
The unicorn nudged him with a horn that suddenly seemed very sharp indeed.
“Move.”
Vince moved…
He could hear the sound of waves on a shore. Frowning, he stepped through the last gap in the maze and came to a stumbling halt, staring disbelievingly, the unicorn at his back preventing him from acting on his first impulse—to turn and flee.
The dull, narrow expanse of grey, gravelly beach seemed to extend forever, bordering a sparkling turquoise sea, lacy silver waves rolling musically towards the land under a brilliant white sun. But they never quite reached it. A few feet out from the sunless shore, they slowed and stopped, turning dull and stagnant, lapping at the slime-encrusted rocks. And way off in the distance was a tiny figure, sitting alone.
“Howard?” Vince glanced at the unicorn for confirmation: the animal knelt and gestured to its back.
“We wiww wide.”
Vince obediently struggled up, settling himself between the great golden wings as the unicorn rose into the air: minutes later they’d reached the lonely figure and Vince was sliding to the rough gravel, wincing at the sharpness against his toes. Warily, he moved to stand beside Howard.
“Awright?”
“Hm?” Howard glanced up, and Vince bit his lip. He’d never seen such bleakness in anyone’s face. He sat down beside his friend, disregarding the spiky gravel, and laid a hand on Howard’s shoulder.
“‘Hey, small eyes. You awright?”
There was half a flash of recognition in the desolate brown eyes, a brief and half-hearted attempt at a smile, then Howard returned to watching the sparkling sunlit waves. Vince shivered—it was very cold here, with the warmth of the sun cut off a few feet away. Howard, dressed only in a ragged loin cloth, didn’t seem to feel it, although his skin was pimpled with gooseflesh and his nails were blue. Vince leaned against him, touching his arm, but there was no reaction.
“What you doin’ here, Howard?”
“Watching. He’ll leap again in a bit.”
Puzzled, Vince followed the direction of Howard’s stare—then gasped. In slow motion, flashing, twisting, the air around it seeming to turn to silver vapour, a figure leapt upwards from the sea.
It was impossibly beautiful. Its long, thick night-black hair had a deep, unearthly blue sheen and its eyes glowed like the dawn skies of spring. Its long, supple dolphin tail was almost silver, blending into the nacreous paleness of the skin of its human upper body. Its elaborate lacy fins were veined with gold. It laughed aloud as it flung elegant webbed hands to the sky in its joy.
It was himself, as Howard saw him.
Vince never cried. He was made of rainbows and sunshine and candyfloss, all the bright things of life. He had no need to cry. But glimpsing the unutterable hopelessness and loss and misery in Howard’s face as the maverick yearned for the mer-creature felt like a stab to the soul.
He swallowed hard, not knowing what to do. The unicorn huffed sadly against his shoulder.
“We must go back. Howawd wiww be waking up soon.”
“In a minute…” Vince shook Howard’s shoulder gently. The maverick turned to him, eyes empty, and Vince laid a hand against his cheek.
“Howard… tell Vince. Tell the selfish little ponce how you feel.”
Howard lowered his gaze.
“I can’t. He is everything I’m not. I don’t deserve him.”
“Howard!” But the unicorn was nudging him now, with more than a hint of very sharp horn against his neck.
“We must go.”
Vine leaned forward impulsively, pressing a rough kiss to the corner of Howard’s mouth. As the maverick eyed him, wide-eyed and startled, he grabbed the unicorn’s horn and allowed it to pull him upright.
“Tell ‘im, Howard! He won’t laugh, I promise.”
But Howard’s gaze had returned to the sea, and the unicorn wouldn’t let him delay any further.
Back in the bedroom Vince awoke suddenly, with no gentle transition from sleep to awareness. He was still in Howard’s bed, cuddled up to the man—and Howard was shifting restlessly, getting ready to wake up himself. For a second or two Vince debated staying where he was—but that would be a terrible shock to Howard. Not to mention he’d just invaded Howard’s very private dreams. He didn’t dare risk it.
He slid out of bed and back to his own, clutching the duvet tightly and staring unseeingly at the ceiling.
What was he supposed to do now?
[nextpage title=”Nuts”]
Nuts
Author’s Notes: There’s a sort of a spoiler for The Strange Tale of the Crack Fox here. Vince, after stating that he and Howard went to school and college together, then spent their gap year travelling together after Howard had spent the intervening week looking for the perfect flask, adds “you wanted a different flask for every continent.” Which would definitely be Howardish, but which also inspired this fic… The first line of the ostrich bit was inspired by a photo from a friend who went on safari last year.
It was unusual for Vince to be apprehensive, but he’d spent much of the rest of the night—a mostly sleepless night—torn between hoping and fearing Howard would speak to him. He couldn’t decide which he’d prefer. What would he do if Howard came straight out—well, perhaps ‘straight’ was the wrong word, in context—and declared his feelings? How would he respond? Come to that, how did he actually feel about the whole… thing?
What were his feelings for Howard, anyway?
Had it not been so heartbreaking, Howard’s perception of Vince would have been incredibly flattering. It was so much at odds with the way Howard seemed to see him in the real world—what was it he’d said? “I already have a shallow mate who dresses like a futuristic prostitute”; Howard didn’t appear to have any respect for him at all. Yet he was still oddly protective of his friend. And he dreamed of Vince, dreamed of him as a fabulous and completely unattainable creature from myth.
It wasn’t true, of course. All Howard had to do was stretch out his hand. Vince was always there. Always had been.
That morning Howard kept giving Vince little glances, frowning slightly, his lips parting as if he was about to speak—then closing again as he went about whatever makework he was currently engaged upon. It was driving Vince round the bend. Was he going to say something or not?
“Vince?”
Vince jumped, swallowed and smiled at his partner.
“Yeah?”
“I… did you…”
“Spit it out, small eyes.”
Howard licked dry lips and tried to smile back.
“Do… do you remember when we were in Italy?”
Vince would swear that was not what Howard wanted to say. But he grinned and nodded.
“Gap year, yeah. Remember the Coliseum?”
“Ah yes…
“Big round Roman O
All sandy in the middle
Spaghetti hoops and parmesan
Chuck a christian at a lion
Mozzarella sangria
Tomato calamari
Spagbol monster sleepin’ in me suitcase
Wake ‘im up
No let him sleep
Wake ‘im up
No let him sleep
Straighten up the leanin’ tower of Pisa.’“
Vince laughed. “Yeah, and then you got drunk and took off all your clothes and went and jumped in the Trippy Fountain…”
“Trevi Fountain, and thanks, I’ve been trying to forget that for years…”
“… an’ all those tourists took photos and you was arrested for being drunk in charge of a deranged bicycle…”
Howard gave him a baffled look.
“I don’t remember that.”
“You was very drunk.”
Howard was frowning, and shook his head.
“No, I’m sure I’d have remembered something like that…”
Vince shrugged.
“Whatever. Is it lunch time yet?”
Vince watched Howard, covertly, as they ate. He gave the big man an awful lot of stick about his eyes—but really, they weren’t that small. And they were a lovely lickably-chocolate-brown colour. And they were actually very expressive, if you bothered to really look at them.
When his face was relaxed, like now, he was quite good-looking too. Almost handsome, in a big northern pillock sort of way. And now he’d lost some weight and had been jazzercising, his bod wasn’t bad either. The pot-belly was gone. And he had that broad chest that was so comfy to lie against.
Pity about his hair though.
Though Vince was sure he could do something with it—if he could get his hands on it. That was something to keep in mind for later. Along with getting Howard out of those ‘orrible clothes and—eventually—into something a bit more stylish.
Vince sighed mentally. Well, the fact that he was thinking along those lines probably meant he’d already decided he wanted Howard. And the fact that Jahouley thought the match was a good idea had pretty much confirmed it for Vince: he trusted the leopard in such matters, despite his irresponsibility in others.
And Vince dreamed of Howard as a knight, his knight, the one who protected him. The one he always instinctively hid behind when anything threatened. That said an awful lot about how Vince felt about his mate, even if he never quite properly articulated it.
It probably helped that everyone else seemed to think he was Howard’s wife, already. At least no-one would be that surprised when they hooked up.
“Ready, little man?”
Vince blinked, and almost blushed. Howard was gathering up the plates and glasses ready for dumping in the sink for washing, and was eyeing his partner curiously: looking down, Vince realised he’d only picked at his lunch. He managed a grin.
“Yeah. Not all that hungry.”
“Was it OK? I can always make you something else if you didn’t like it.”
“Nah, was tasty. I prob’ly ate too many sweets this mornin’.”
Howard sighed.
“They’re not good for you, you know. They give you cavities. And make you fat.” He paused and ran his gaze down Vince’s skinny body. “Well, OK, that’s probably not something you have to worry about…”
“Yeah, OK, I’ll eat somefin’ later, yeah?”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll make something nice for dinner.” Howard dropped the dishes into the washing-up bowl and turned to Vince. “Shall we get back to work then?”
“Oi, Howard?”
The maverick straightened up from where he’d been bent nearly double cleaning shelves and winced as his back complained.
“What is it?”
Vince tilted his head.
“D’you remember when we got to Africa?”
Howard groaned melodramatically and shook his head, eyes closing.
“How could I ever forget…
“Ostrich on the seashore
Where do you run to?
Long legs, long neck,
Limbo dancing hurdler—
Where have your eggs gone?
Big eggs—HUGE eggs,
Cosmic eggs—galactic eggs!
Bigger-than-your-head-eggs.
Fry ‘em up for breakfast.’“
Howard chuckled. “And lunch, and dinner, and supper. But at least they kept us going.”
Vince grimaced. “Put me off eggs for years.”
Howard smirked. “And you insisting on trying on tribal gear and dancing with the Maasai.”
“Yeah—it was genius!”
“It was female clothing. You looked a right prat.”
“Did not!”
“Yes you did.”
Vince pouted. “Well at least I didn’t try to climb that mountain in it.”
Howard winced: he’d hoped his partner had forgotten about his attempt at climbing Mt Kilimanjaro on elephant-back…
Vince’s eyes were sparkling. “I tol’ you he din’t want to do it. And then when he chucked you in that water-’ole I ‘ad to put up wiv ‘is bellyachin’ for hours. I’m tellin’ you, that elephant was not ‘appy with you.”
“Yes, well, I wasn’t exactly overjoyed myself. Especially when that crocodile grabbed me.”
Vince rolled his eyes. “An’ I ‘ad to promise I’d marry ‘im to make ‘im let go! I can’t never show me face at that water-’ole again. He’ll ‘ave me for breach of promise or summin’.”
Howard chuckled. “It was fun though, wasn’t it?”
Vince grinned cheekily. “Yeah. It was.”
The maverick’s smile became almost wistful. “Be nice to go again, some day.”
And Vince nodded, although both of them knew it would never happen.
“So, what do you want for dinner?”
“Brontosaurus burger.”
Howard eyed him with mock exasperation.
“Have you been watching BBC 2 documentaries again?”
“The Flintstones.”
“Fair enough. But we’re right out of bronto-burgers. Might I suggest a cheeky little chicken teriyaki, as being the closest we can come to dinosaur these days?”
“Whatever.” Vince laid down the latest copy of Cheekbone magazine and gazed up at Howard from under strands of his fringe. It had been a strange day, both of them pretending everything was normal—well, as normal as things ever got in their vicinity, anyway—ignoring the simmering tension underneath, and Vince was very close to speaking out. The only thing stopping him was the fear that Howard would deny his own feelings. For Vince, used to saying the first thing that came to mind, regardless of how appropriate it was under the circumstances, this seemed particularly stupid—but it wouldn’t be the first time Howard had done it. And Howard didn’t think he deserved Vince, he’d said as much in the dream. So this really should be handled with delicacy. Like patiently encouraging an injured shrew out of its den and into the light to be tended to…
Or he could just get Howard off his tits drunk and drag him to bed.
That would be a simpler option, admittedly, and he wondered if Howard would find it easier to have control just taken from him. Quite possibly, he thought. But that would hardly be fair. And he did want things to be fair…
He was, he realised with a sense of shock, thinking commitment here, thinking equality.
“Vince? You all right, little man?”
“What?” Vince blinked rapidly, focussing on Howard’s concerned eyes.
“You suddenly went pale. Well, paler, anyway. I didn’t think that was possible, but you managed it. What’s wrong?”
Vince hesitated, then sighed.
“Prob’ly just hungry.”
Howard sat beside him, one big hand cupping his chin, the other laid across his forehead under his fringe.
“You sure you’re not ill? You do feel a bit warmer than normal.”
Yes, well, that’s ‘cause you’re touchin’ me… Vince shivered at the feel of Howard’s cool skin, and flopped back on the settee, closing his eyes. Howard frowned.
“Vince?”
“I do feel a bit… hot… P’raps I’m going down with summin…”
“Let’s get you into bed.” Howard stood, then leaned down to pull his partner to his feet. Vince slumped against him, concentrating on the sensation of Howard’s arm wrapping his waist, supporting him.
“Do you want me to carry you?”
“Mm?” Vince glanced up at his mate, eyes half-closed. “Oh. Yeah. Please.”
He shouldn’t have been surprised when Howard swept him up into strong arms, bride-fashion, knowing what he did of the maverick, but it still made him shiver with pleasure. Howard mistook the shudder for a symptom of whatever was wrong with his partner and hurried him through to the room, setting him down carefully on the bed and sitting down on the edge. He looked worried.
“Can you get yourself undressed?”
Feeling guilty—but only a little—Vince gazed up at him, eyes wide and pleading. Laying it on with the proverbial trowel.
“Not sure.”
Howard’s hands shook as he oh-so-carefully eased the tight top over Vince’s chest and head, then knelt on the floor to pull off the boots. Then focussed on the fastenings of the tight jeans. Still kneeling he looked up at his partner, face reddening.
“Um…”
It was so tempting to groan and fake-swoon, forcing Howard to take action. Though that might be just to cover Vince with the duvet rather than try to take off the rest of his clothes. The smaller man smiled weakly at his mate.
“S’awright. I can do the rest.”
Vince couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or relief in Howard’s face as he hauled himself up from the floor.
“You climb in. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Wha…? Where you goin’?”
Howard glanced back over his shoulder.
“To make you some soup. Something wholesome and easy to digest. You need feeding up.”
He left the door ajar. Vince dragged off the rest of his clothing and slid under the duvet, pulling it up to his chin and watching the door for Howard’s return.
It was rather nice being cared for.
Five minutes later Howard was back, a tray in his hands.
“Tomato soup with croutons. Should set you up fine.”
Vince crossed his legs and perched the tray on his knees, holding the bowl steady as he took small, quick spoonfuls. It was good, tastier than the usual tinned stuff. Howard smiled at his expression.
“I put a little sherry in it.”
“S’nice.”
“It’ll do you good. Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“Nah—it’s nuffin. Probly just shakin’ off a lurgy.”
“Perhaps you should stay in bed tomorrow, anyway. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Awright. Sorry.”
Howard smiled and brushed hair back from his forehead.
“Hey, don’t apologise. Not your fault you’re ill.”
Vince shoved the feelings of guilt very firmly to the back of his mind and locked them in a cabinet. He finished the soup and lay back on the pile of pillows, smiling up at his mate.
“Thanks Howard.”
“Any time, little man.”
“Will you stay with me?”
“Of course.”
Vince turned back the corner of the duvet.
“I mean, really with me?”
Howard looked doubtfully at the bed, then back at Vince.
“In the bed?”
“Yeah. I feel… safer when you’re near.”
“But you aren’t in danger. You’re ill.”
“I’d feel better if you were in ‘ere with me.”
“But what if I catch it?”
“Catch what?”
“Whatever it is you’ve got.”
Vince wriggled down and over, making space for Howard. He grinned.
“Then I can look after you, can’t I?”
Howard frowned.
“No offence, Vince, but strawberry bootlaces and black jacks aren’t my idea of food. Especially when you’re ill.”
Vince pouted. “I can do soup! I can even put sherry in it.”
Howard opened his mouth to object that that would probably mean a bowl of sherry with a little soup at the bottom, but then it occurred to him that Vince was inviting him to spend the night. In bed. With him.
“I’ll get changed…”
Vince’s hand on his wrist stopped him from heading for his own bed, and the pyjamas he kept under the pillow.
“You don’t need ‘em.”
Vince hadn’t known Howard could blush like that. He chuckled nd pulled the maverick back down onto the edge of the bed.
“S’more comfy without. Cooler too.”
“But…”
“Please, Howard. It’d make me feel much better.”
Head spinning, Howard slowly pulled off his clothing and slid into the bed beside his partner; Vince immediately nestled against him, head on his shoulder and arm across his chest—and groin against his hip.
Howard was absolutely rigid, all but the part of him that should be rigid. Vince sighed to himself and gently stroked his mate’s neck and shoulder, scratching at the stubble, trying to get him to relax. He brushed a light kiss against the broad chest.
“D’you remember Oz?”
Howard tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and all that came out was a strangled squeak. He coughed, swallowed, and tried again.
“Oh yes. Ayers Rock. The Great Barrier Reef.”
“Sydney ‘arbour Bridge…”
“And the opera house…”
“And the kangaroos…
“Kangaroo
Bouncing in the sunset
Kangaroo
With your little pocket
Like an apron
Pull out a koala
Wallaby, wallabye
Emu, emu
Didgeridoo
Bebop jellyfish waving in the water
Blind date with a platypus
Quacking in melody.’“
Vince chuckled. Howard had relaxed a little during the crimp: he’d enjoyed their stay in Australia. Even though they’d had to leave Melbourne in a hurry when the Killeroo, who’d been doing some sort of charity fight there, caught sight of him and threatened to rip his balls off before eating his face…
“Howard?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re great, y’know that?”
“What’re you after now?”
“Nuffin. Just thought I’d let you know.”
“… sleep, little man. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
I wouldn’t bet on it, said that irritating little voice. You’ve got him this far—now what?
But for once, Vince wasn’t going to hurry. He snuggled a little closer, comfortable and content, eyes closing as he listened to the sound of Howard’s breathing.
This was very nice.
[nextpage title=”Found”]
Found
Author’s Notes: Sorry the song isn’t much cop. I had the mellow loneliness of Isolation in my head when trying to write it, but it didn’t help all that much…
Howard dreamed…
The sun was setting ahead of him, a huge golden orb sliding slowly down the sky towards the ocean, burnishing the high light clouds. Between his thighs rolled the muscles of the unicorn’s powerful wings, pounding the air with a steady, forceful beat. A warm, salt-scented breeze blew his long hair backwards as he scanned the waves below him…
There. A tiny islet, little more than a rock jutting out of the sea, its minute white-sanded beach washed by gentle rollers and backed by a small patch of scrubby grass barely large enough for the unicorn’s alighting. Howard slid smoothly off the animal’s back, landing lightly and moving to the sand as the unicorn folded its wings and idly snatched a mouthful of the herbage.
A romantic, heroic figure in old-gold silken tunic and hose, his dark-gold leather thigh boots accentuating long lean legs, Howard stood on the shore, on a rock overhanging a deep channel, one hand resting on the hilt of the light-sabre, and gazed towards the horizon. Waiting. He’d wait forever if necessary…
There! A flash of silver in the sunset, a sleek shape leaping joyfully from the sea. Howard watched as the creature cavorted carelessly in the waves—then he began to sing, the rich sound echoing across the waters.
“Come to me, let me show you how much I long for you
Come with me, let me show you a world full of wonder
Come bright one, come waterchild, my light, my moon
Come to me, come for me, come with me, come home…”
The creature had paused, its head turning in his direction, rich blue eyes unblinking as it listened. Slowly, very slowly, it drifted closer, lips slightly parted, expression abstracted, until Howard could see the delicate traceries of light and dark azure in its eyes. He knelt on one knee on the rock and inclined his head.
“Hello.”
“‘ello.”
Even in the dreamscape, even envisaged as a fabulous mythical creature, Vince still sounded like Vince. Howard chuckled quietly as the mer-creature pulled itself up to rest its elbows on the rock and grinned cheekily at the knight.
“I thought I was the one s’posed to be doin’ the singin’“
Howard smiled, fingers trailing through the cascade of blue-sheened night-dark hair.
“And since when have we ever done the expected?”
“S’pose…” Vince inclined his head. “You goin’ to take me with you then?”
“You’d come with me?” There was surprise in Howard’s voice. Vince nodded vigorously.
“Dead right, mate! S’borin’ ‘ere, nuffin’ to do but swim all day and nobody t’talk to ‘cept the dolphins.”
“Truly, a fate worse than death!” The maverick reached out and pulled the mer-creature to him, lifting him a little awkwardly. Vince wrapped his arms around Howard’s neck, helping as best he could while the maverick stood upright, one arm under Vince’s shoulders, the other under his long supple tail—nearly dropping him as Vince kissed the corner of his mouth. The merman giggled.
“Oi, steady on!”
“Don’t surprise me then!”
Vince pulled himself closer, breath warm against Howard’s ear as he whispered, “Don’t you like surprises?”
Howard shivered. “Well… no… no, I prefer everything tidy, organised. Surprises aren’t organised. They upset the order of things.” But standing on a lonely beach with a double armful of fantastical beauty—beauty, moreover, that had come at his call and seemed willing to do as he wanted—he found himself revising his opinions. Perhaps surprises weren’t all so bad after all…
He turned from the shore to find the unicorn watching them, and wondered how they were going to manage. Vince would have to sit in front of him, so he could keep a safe hold of the fabulous creature: not having legs was going to prove tricky… He frowned. In more ways than one. He tried to glance down surreptitiously at what would be the groin in a human, but Vince noticed and chuckled.
“Want to see?”
Howard reddened and averted his eyes. Vince stroked his face until he looked back.
“S’nuffin’ to worry about. S’like a dolphin’s.”
“I don’t know anything about dolphin… anatomy.”
Vince’s grin became positively wicked.
“S’nearly a foot long, an’ it’s… wha’s that word that means you can move it around when you want?”
Howard swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Prehensile?”
“Yeah—prehensile.”
“Um… a foot long?”
Vince nodded. “Nearly.”
Shit…
“But that’s OK. You can do me, it’ll be safer.”
Perhaps dolphins weren’t evil after all… Howard shook his head, eyes closing briefly. When did this encounter change from the deliciously romantic to the crudely pragmatic? A touch to his mouth had him opening his eyes again, to find Vince tracing his lips with one cool webbed finger, blue eyes intense. Impulsively Howard pulled the merman closer and kissed him, just a light brushing of lips to lips, and Vince sighed against his mouth, body moulding itself to the knight’s. And do I really care…?
Howard strode the few paces to where the unicorn had dropped to its knees and was awaiting them. Vince still in his arms, Howard wrestled them both onto the animal’s back, settling them more or less comfortably. He smiled at the merman.
“OK?”
“Yeah, s’OK. You awright?”
“Never better, little man.” He touched his heels to the unicorn’s sides, holding Vince close as the animal rose to its feet and leapt into the air, skimming the waves as it circled to gain height then heading off towards the sunset.
Howard nuzzled Vince’s hair—hair that smelt of the sea—and dared to run his hand down the smooth cool back to the base of one of the lacy fins, the sleek skin under his fingers strangely arousing…
… but something else was impinging on his consciousness, something more substantial than the dream… a warm body close to him—very close to him—half on top of him… and a hand, touching him… no, gripping him, gripping his erection firmly, sliding slowly up and down… something else… something else pressed against the length of it, stroking both… warmth and pressure building at his groin…
Howard moaned, then gasped, hips bucking upwards against the body lying over him, arms instinctively wrapping the thin frame tightly as he shuddered and came, feeling the other cock jerking against his own…
Panting he forced open tired eyes to see Vince gazing down at him. The smaller man offered a quick, nervous grin, kissed the corner of his mouth, then snuggled down against his warmth, the hand that had been wrapped around their cocks sliding wetly up Howard’s chest to rest over his pectoral muscle, the hot sticky palm covering his nipple.
“Mornin’.”
Speechless, Howard closed his eyes again, not at all convinced that this wasn’t simply a more realistic continuation of his dream.
Vince lifted his head. Howard lay beneath him, loose and trembling very slightly. One long curling tendril of hair lay over his right eye, brushing his cheek: it suddenly looked endearingly cute to Vince, whose previous concept of cute had been anything frilly, pink and sparkly. Which categorically did not include Howard Moon. Wasn’t it strange how realising you loved someone changed your whole outlook?
But Howard was tensing, his breathing becoming shaky, and Vince could see he was waking up enough to start panicking. He had to put a stop to that right away!
He lowered his head again, brushing a little kiss to the corner of the maverick’s mouth, then moving downwards, nibbling gently along his jaw then down his neck, ignoring the prickling of the stubble and grinning to himself as Howard moaned very quietly, his head rolling back to make access easier. He jerked when Vince bit more firmly at the skin where his neck met his shoulder, and to his delight Vince felt a twitching movement at groin level. He slid his sticky hand back down to cup Howard’s balls—then stretched his neck, tongue lapping at the semen-slicked nipple in front of his face.
Howard yelped and tried to pull away: a hint of nails on the vulnerable part Vince was holding convinced him to remain still. He looked down, eyes wide, as the smaller man licked again, lapping up their mingled come, then bit lightly at the nipple.
Howard closed his eyes with another moan. Like most men he wasn’t particularly sensitive there, but what Vince was doing was so… sick… depraved… so fucking erotic… He could feel his cock hardening in response, and a second later Vince had wrapped his fingers around it, squeezing and fondling, thumb rubbing over the head, pushing down the foreskin to tease the silky firm flesh underneath.
“Vince…” It came out as a groan, and Vince chuckled, moving his head back up to the maverick’s neck and biting his earlobe.
“Yeah?”
“What… are you… doing…?”
Vince nipped his jaw.
“What d’you think I’m doin’? God Howard, I know you’re a virgin but you must ‘ave some idea…”
“… why…?”
“‘cos it’s you, ya great pillock. It’s always been you. Now shurrup, lie back, an’ think of England.”
“… rather think of you…”
“Whatever.” But Vince was grinning, his eyes sparkling with delight, as he began to pump the cock in his hand, relishing every moan and shudder from the big man below him…
“Nuffin’ wrong with your stamina, small eyes!”
Howard’s eyes did indeed look particularly small at that moment—mostly due to them being more than half shut, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. Vince had woken him at nine in the morning: it was now one thirty in the afternoon and so far the little bastard had wrung four orgasms out of him. Almost as though he was trying to make up for lost time. Howard felt as though he’d melted into the mattress: it took just too much effort to move as much as a finger. Not to mention the soreness at his groin: Vince was incredibly talented with his hands, no doubt of that, and considerate, but all the same, Howard’s cock ached from the manhandling, and his balls felt drained and wrung dry. Which they were, in effect, he reminded himself…
Vince slid an arm over the body below him, straddling Howard’s hips and resting his arse—lightly, carefully—over the maverick’s limp and tender genitals. Palms over Howard’s chest, he leaned forwards, gazing into what he could see of the rich brown eyes.
“You OK, Howard?”
Howard grunted an affirmative—all he could manage right now—and Vince sighed happily. And leaned forwards, settling against his knight’s strong body, to kiss him.
A real kiss. A proper kiss. Not the awkward sham of Howard’s birthday, oh no. This was warm and affectionate, leisurely and… loving? Yes, Howard decided, loving. There was nothing aggressive about it. Vince took his time, tongue licking his mate’s lips, asking for entry, and Howard parted them with a contented sigh. And it was oddly soft and gentle, an exploration of each other, a learning, an acceptance, a sealing of intimacy. Wherever this strangest of pairings took them, there was always that quiet promise of trust…
Howard gradually became aware of the hardness pressing into his belly, and forced his eyes open to frown at the smaller man.
“Um, Vince?”
“Mm?”
“You’re… unsatisfied.”
“Nah. I’m very happy.”
“I meant…” Howard slid a hand between their bodies, touching Vince’s cock for the first time with a shiver of something part fear, part excitement, part exhilaration. Vince chuckled.
“Oh, that. Yeah, well, I can see to that later.”
Howard wrapped hesitant fingers around the firm flesh, encouraged when Vince groaned and shifted so the maverick could get a stronger grip, fondling and squeezing. And Vince didn’t—couldn’t—last for long. Howard watched his face as he came, drinking in the expression of near-ecstasy with a sense of awe.
He’d done that. Didn’t matter if Vince was the same with everyone he’d ever had sex with; right here and now, that expression was for Howard.
Vince collapsed against the maverick, panting, slim hand weakly stroking the broad chest.
“Fuck, Howard…”
“Would… would you like to do that too?”
There was a startled silence, then Vince laughed affectionately.
“Oh yeah. But maybe not today. Not sure I could get it up again so soon.”
“We could wait a bit…”
Vince pushed himself up to grin into Howard’s face.
“You’re eager!”
Howard lifted his head and kissed the smaller man.
“I want… everything…”
“An’ we will. We’ll do everythin’. There’s lots to try. But we don’t need to do it all at once.”
Howard closed his eyes with a contented sigh.
“And here I thought I was the patient one.”
“Jus’ goes to show…”
The following week was an expedition of discovery for them both. The first time Vince had crept up silently behind Howard and wrapped slim arms around his chest while kissing the nape of his neck the maverick had nearly shot through the roof with alarm. And embarrassment: Naboo and Bollo were sitting opposite at the table. But to his utter surprise Naboo simply rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly then went back to reading his paper, while Bollo grunted an incomprehensible warning then ignored them. Little by little Howard grew more accustomed to having Vince—tactile, demonstrative Vince—hug or kiss or grope him in public. Well, outside of their room, anyway, if not exactly in public public.
Then the first time Vince had settled between his wide-spread thighs and taken his aching cock into that hot wet mouth… Howard lasted less than a minute, so overcome by the sensations that he almost passed out. Vince had been quite worried for a moment or two!
Howard reciprocated, of course, as soon as he’d got his breath back, and while he wasn’t entirely happy with his performance—it was the first time he’d tried it, after all—Vince seemed perfectly happy. Howard promised himself he’d get more practise. He doubted Vince would mind…
“Naboo?”
The shaman glanced up at Vince, who looked unusually reticent.
“What d’you want?”
“Um… you remember that oasis place? When Howard got lost and I sent the falcon to find you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well… d’you think you can find it again?”
“‘course I can. I’m a shaman.” He frowned. “Why?”
“I wanna take Howard back there.”
“Why?”
“… cause it was lovely there.”
Naboo studied Vince’s face: he seemed hesitant and refused to meet the shaman’s eyes.
Ah… OK… Naboo smiled.
“You wanna take a big blanket. An’ somethin’ good to drink. An’ some food. An’ lubricant. How long d’you need?”
Vince grinned happily.
“Think a week would be enough?”
“Pro’bly. An’ I reckon I can spare you for a week.”
“Thanks! You’re a diamond, Naboo.”
The shaman scrutinised him closely, then nodded, apparently satisfied with what he’d seen.
“You’re happy?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
“OK then. When d’you wanna go?”
“What’s this all about?”
Vince looked up from packing his case—yes, case, singular, and a small one at that—to scowl at his mate.
“It’s a surprise.”
“I don’t like surprises.”
“Yes you do. Now ‘urry up. We won’t need much.”
Huffing irritably, Howard opened his mostly-empty wardrobe and dragged out a handful of items almost at random, folding them neatly and pushing them into his carryall. Two minutes later he turned to Vince.
“Happy now?”
“It’ll do.” Vince smiled and leaned forwards to kiss him, thoroughly, and by the time they pulled apart Howard’s grumpiness had evaporated. He shook his head, mock-despairingly.
“You know me too well.”
“Good thing too!” Vince grinned and grabbed his hand. “C’mon.”
It always quietly amazed Vince that despite Howard’s fear of flying, he was perfectly at ease on the flying carpet. And on the winged unicorn, for that matter. One of these days he’d have to see if Naboo would lend them the carpet for a little mid-air fun…
It took less than two hours to reach the oasis, and Naboo landed with the minimum of fuss. To Vince’s surprise, instead of dropping them off and returning right away, he climbed off the carpet, and produced a large, soft blanket that he unrolled under a group of palm trees, strewing cushions and pillows over it. A large, enchanted coolbox came next, full of bottles of wine and packets of foods. And finally, the shaman magicked up a small pool separate from the oasis itself, and filled it with cool fresh water. Vince frowned, puzzled, and Naboo glowered at him.
“That’s for you two. The oasis is drinkin’ water for everythin’ ‘round ‘ere—don’t you dare pollute it!”
Vince’s eyes widened, then he nodded solemnly. That hadn’t occurred to him.
“I promise, Naboo.”
“‘ave a good time! I’ll pick you up in seven days.”
The shaman climbed back onto the carpet, waved briefly and was soon lost to sight. Vince turned to a stunned-looking Howard and grinned.
“Awright?”
“You’ve marooned us in the middle of the desert?”
“No, you twat! It’s the oasis.”
“In the middle of the desert.”
“Yeah. But this time we got food, an’ drink, an’ somethin’ to lie on so the sand don’t get up your bum.”
Howard just stared at him, speechless. Vince sighed and began to unbutton his shirt.
“Don’t touch m… umph.” Vince’s mouth on his shut Howard up, and by the time the kiss ended, some minutes later, he was so flustered and aroused he forgot what he’d been going to say. Vince grinned up at him.
“C’mon.”
Leading his almost incoherent mate over to the blanket, Vince swiftly divested him of his clothing, stepping back to admire what was revealed.
“Lookin’ good, small eyes.” He wriggled out of his own clothes, dropping them carelessly to the sand, and pressed himself to Howard. Who moaned and wrapped his arms tightly around the thin body moulded to his. Vince nipped his earlobe.
“I want you.”
The whispered words evoked another of those moans that Vince had come to love so much, and a shudder that rippled through both bodies. Howard’s legs suddenly seemed to give way, and he dropped inelegantly to the blanket, dragging Vince with him.
“… Vince…?” His voice was unsteady. Vince kissed his neck.
“Yeah?”
“Will it hurt?”
Vince chuckled and nipped his jaw.
“Nah. I’ll make sure it’s good.”
“… thank you…”
Vince had pampered him, taking his time, kissing and licking his face and body, making sure Howard was a quivering heap of yearning flesh before urging him over onto his stomach—but Howard had just enough willpower left to object.
“Want to see you…”
Vince kissed him, pushed his knees up a little more, and reached for the tube, slathering his cock with gel then pausing. It would be more comfortable for Howard if he eased some lubricant inside—but now it came down to it, he really wanted his cock to be the thing that took the big man’s virginity. He ran a slick finger experimentally down the smooth skin behind Howard’s balls and around the puckered entrance, expecting him to flinch, but instead he moaned, spreading his thighs wide and pushing back against the gentle pressure. Settling between the long, lean legs, Vince centred himself and began a slow, steady, tantalising thrust inwards…
“… oh god…” Neither of them knew which had said it: neither of them was quite sure where Howard ended and Vince began. Lying in a sated tangle of limbs, sweat drying on tired, quivering bodies, neither wanted to move ever again…
“OK?” It was Vince’s voice, quiet, soft, loving. Howard nuzzled the silky black hair, kissing the smaller man’s forehead.
“I’ll never be the same again…”
Vince giggled. “Yeah, well, that was the general idea.” He kissed Howard’s neck. “Are you OK, though? Not hurtin’ too much?”
“My arse is a bit sore. But I don’t care.” He ran a hand down Vince’s back, making him shiver. “That was wonderful. That was the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.” A moment’s silence, then, cautiously, “Can we do it again?”
Vince pushed himself wearily up so he could look into Howard’s face, smiling at the expression of reverence there.
“Oh yeah. Any time you like. But it’s your turn next time.”
“But I’ve never… I don’t know…”
Vince silenced him with a kiss.
“You’ll learn…”
Howard sighed contentedly.
“I have a very good teacher.”
Vince trickled water over Howard’s broad back, then ran his hands through the dark hair. Leaning forwards to rest his chin on the maverick’s shoulder, he slid his hands down Howard’s chest to his groin, fingers teasing the half-hard cock there. He chuckled.
“Hungry again?”
Howard leaned back against him, turning his head and nibbling at Vince’s angular jaw.
“Can’t resist you, little man.” Never could…
Vince kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Howard…”
“Mm?”
“Will you let your hair grow a bit? And let me style it?”
There was a pensive silence, then Howard sighed.
“If it’ll make you happy.”
“Thanks Howard.” Good first move. We’ll worry about getting’ you into somethin’ more this century later. No point in hurryin’ you…
His stomach gurgled. Howard turned his head, eyebrow raised.
“You’re hungry too.”
Vince looked sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Howard twisted up onto his knees facing his lover, pulling him close, shivering as their cocks pressed together under the water, hardening immediately.
“Oh god…”
But Vince’s stomach growled again, and Howard hauled them both upright.
“Let’s eat first…”
“Howard?”
“Mm?” The maverick was stretched out on the blanket, relaxed and at peace for possibly the first time in his life. Vince ran a finger down his leg.
“D’you want some roseberries?”
“That would be nice…”
Vince loped over to the nearest bush, gathering a double handful and carrying them carefully back. His attention was caught by one of the fruits, and he held it up for closer examination.
Perfect. He tickled Howard’s ribs, waking the dozing maverick with a start.
“Don’t tickle me.”
“Awright. But look at this.”
Howard sat up, scrutinising the fruit, then smiling. Two of the crimson berries had grown together, creating a near-perfect heart shape.
“Lovely.”
“It’s for you. From me.”
Howard quirked an eyebrow.
“You found it. It’s yours.”
“Yeah, but… it’s like two things in one. And a heart. And if you eat it, it’ll become part of you, and it’ll be like part of me will be in you forever.”
Stunned and moved, Howard gently took the fruit and slipped it into his mouth, eyes closed as he savoured the taste.
“Perfect. The best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Vince grinned and kissed him. Howard reached behind him, feeling under one of the pillows, and pulled out his closed hand.
“I found this earlier. It’s not as pretty, or as tasty—but it’s from me, for you.” He opened his hand, offering it to Vince. On his palm lay a small stone, a dull, dark red, shaped roughly like a heart. Vince took it curiously: Howard gestured upwards.
“Hold it in the light.”
Vince did—and gasped quietly as the sunlight fired the stone with flashes of ruby and shimmering silver.
“It’s beautiful!”
“It’s yours.”
“Oh, Howard…”
The maverick touched a fingertip to his nose.
“Don’t you go getting all soppy on me, now!”
“As if…” Vince closed the stone in his hand, its solidity comforting, reassuring. A bit like Howard himself, in fact. “I could have it made into a necklace or bangle or somethin’.”
Howard nodded, quietly pleased.
“We’ll do that, when we get back. But for now…” He pulled Vince back down and rolled onto his side, gazing down into bright blue eyes. “… I’m still hungry. Think I always will be.”
Vince grinned and tweaked his cock.
“Have to see if we can’t do somethin’ about that, then…”
