Category: The Mighty Boosh
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Length: 1-5k words
Notes: Title: Snapshots
Pairing: mostly Howard/Vince ranging from friendship to love
Summary: Forty ficlets spanning Vince and Howard’s relationship
Disclaimer: None of teh characters you recognize are mine, I just borrow them for my own amusement.
Snapahots by hilsonFTW
It started with a simple smile on the first day of Secondary School. Their assigned seats were next to each other – Moon and Noir – and they were pairing for the first class project. From that day on, Howard Moon and Vince Noir were inseparable.
They were stuck in the middle, teetering on the edge. They had been friends for so long that they couldn’t just stop, but there was definitely somewhere more to go to. Vince had crossed the line at the party, but quickly drew back when Howard showed his willingness. Now, after that disastrous night, it was once again Vince’s turn to make a move. So, they were stuck in the middle, teetering on the edge between friendship and love.
It lasted quite a long time, longer than even Howard or Vince could have suspected. But then, they always had got on well together. Naboo witnessed the fallout first hand. It was Vince’s fault – surprise surprise – that the row began and Howard’s insistence – who would have thought? – to bring it to a tearful end. And when it was over, no one could believe that the two had separated for good.
It was their first kiss, their first real kiss. Neither counted the roof, it hadn’t been genuine. This was different. He wasn’t surprised, wasn’t caught off guard this time, and let himself melt into it, hands gripping tightly onto Vince’s narrow hips, eyes closing blissfully.
It was their final gig as the Might Boosh. PieFace Records had signed Vince for a solo album on the single condition that he would leave Howard behind. And Vince went ahead and took the deal. At first, Howard had been resentful, but eventually he had come to realize that Vince couldn’t be dragged down by and old man like himself. And so the concert was a bittersweet experience for the both of them as their duo career came to an end and they embarked on the next chapter of their lives.
Vince was the one who pointed it out, a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Frankly, Howard was rather surprised that Vince would admit to having anything that marred his perfect appearance. But Vince only chuckled, kissed his cheek and said, ‘I don’t mind that I’m getting old, as long as I can get old with you.’
‘Oh, thank you Howard!’
‘What’re you doing? Don’t touch me, sir!
pout ‘Just one measly little hug?’
‘Howard Moon is not afraid of anything, sir!’
These words,, pronounced grandly, were the only preamble as Howard climbed into the dusty crawlspace they had found in the wall of the Nabootique’s storage room. Howard sneezed.
‘You alright?’ Vince asked.
‘Yes, yes,’ Howard called back impatiently.
Suddenly, he let out a loud yelp and came zooming out, blabbering about spiders. Even a smack on the arm couldn’t stop Vince’s laughter.
Vince Noir was a ver confusing person. Sometimes he would be very hateful, teasing and taunting Howard, constantly insulting him. Yet, sometimes he would be Howard’s best friend, laughing and joking with him, creating songs and making crimps. When Vince first kissed him, Howard didn’t know if it was niceVince or meanVince, and so he ran away, mind ringing with confusion.
It was painfully bright. So much so, that even Vince had to squint, his usually wide and expressive eyes narrowed to slits.
‘What is that?’
Howard frowned. ‘You don’t like my new shirt? You’re always saying that I need more bright colours in my wardrobe.’
‘Well, I would like it if I wanted to blinded,’ Vince complained, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.
‘It’s not that bad… is it?’
‘Yeah, Howrad,’ Vince replied, ‘It is that bad.’
Howard had been with Vince through many phases – from electro to punk and back again – and normally he enjoyed watching the changes. There was one time that Vince went into a goth phase, causing him to dye his hair back, wear makeup that made his lips look like an onyx blemish on his pale face and his kohl-rimmed eyes too wide. Howard was very happy when Vince moved on from that phase.
Uh, when you’re the Moon, uh, you don’t really have to worry about getting the, heh heh, uh, a suntan, eh because you’re never really in the sky with, uh, with the sun. I met the sun once, but, but we were in the orbiting so I could only say hi, like this ‘helloooo sun!’ and then, eh, then he was gone. No one can hurt my creamy white face. I’m the Moon.
Howard Moon never wore gray. He refused to. Howard would take a nice slate or graphite or ever a storm cloud, but never gray.
Howard had never really noticed how blue Vince’s eyes were. They were usually covered by black fringe and over shadowed by the mirrorball suit or brightly coloured shirt Vince chose to wear. But when they came face to face, nose to nose, lips separated by only millimeters of space, Howard gazed into Vince’s blue blue eyes, and he felt like he was spiraling out of control, falling into the sky.
He feels bad about what he’s doing, the lies he’s building every time her goes out.
‘Going to Leroy’s,’ he’ll shout over his shoulder, closing the door quickly behind him.
In truth, he hasn’t seen Leroy for months.
Every time he lay in an unfamiliar bed with an unfamiliar body beside him, Vince feels ill, yet he can’t stop himself from doing it all over again.
Truth (companion to Lies)
He hates the way he’s acting, tears streaming from red-rimmed eyes as Vince apologizes again and again. He can’t help that he feels hurt and betrayed and used. Vince stands off to the side, his own eyes moist, expression broken, arms beckoning. But Howard doesn’t deign to comply; he simply storms to their room, slams the door, and wishes that he had never learned the truth.
It was uncommon, but not unheard of, for there to be sunny days in Dalston in the autumn. This was one of those days, where beams of sunlight snaked between the hastily closed curtains, leaving a stripe of warmth cutting diagonally across his chest and the head pillowed there. He let out a happy sigh, eyes still closed, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight and the joy of sleeping in, one hand idly stroking Vince’s soft hair.
Howard felt like he was in a Disney film, with the three Muses from Hercules crooning in his ear.
you swoon, you sigh, check the grin you’re in love
He wasn’t in love, couldn’t be, not Vince. He refused to say it, to even think it. He lifted the needle off the record player of his mind and silenced the song.
Acceptance (companion to Denial)
It took close to two years – one year, ten months, two weeks, and half a day to be exact – since their first kiss that night on the roof before Howard even let the tiniest trickle of the possibility of love to enter his mind. But once he started to think of it, he couldn’t stop, and that song that had haunted him before came back in full force.
At least out loud, I won’t say I’m in love
It had been ten long fun-filled years since the friendship between Howard Moon and Vince Noir first began. Contrary to popular belief, however, they hadn’t always been friends.
Enemies (continuation of Friends)
For three years, Howard Moon and Vince Noir had been the bitterest of enemies. For three years they had traded barbed insults and childish pranks. They each had their own friend groups – Vince’s larger than Howard’s – and stuck with them. Despite this long history, neither could ever pinpoint the moment when they stopped being enemies and became friends.
Lovers (continuation of Enemies)
It just seemed logical to them both, the next step in their ever growing relationship. They slipped easily into the role of lovers. Besides, half the people they knew thought that they were dating anyway.
‘What is that?’
‘It’s an iPod.’
‘A what now?’
‘You know, a little music player.’
‘That tiny thing plays music?’
‘Yeah, it holds like 10,000 songs. It’s genius!’
‘You’ve probably filled it with your electro junk.’
‘Actually, this one’s for you.’
‘Do you really think that I would special order a brown iPod for myself? Mine’s this really genius hot pink colour!’
‘Why am I not surprised?’
Howard Moon considered himself a true Brit. So, because he was a true Brit, he rarely ever drank coffee, preferring the more old-fashioned option of tea. One year on Howard’s birthday, Vince gave him a tall coffee mug that he had painted himself with all sorts of images that symbolized their many adventures, a short crimp written on it in Vince’s childish scrawl. Howard decided that he might start drinking coffee more often.
Howard Moon was a morning person. He enjoyed nothing more than to wake up early enough to see the sun begin to rise, its light muted by the morning fog that permeated the town, sending a ghostly light over everything.
Sunset (companion to Sunrise)
Vince Noir was a night owl. He often stayed out partying long after the sun sank behind the horizon and the glowing orb of the Moon took its place in the star-spotted sky.
Vince Noir wasn’t known for his patience. He was the kind of bloke who liked to get out there and just do it, and, if his first desire failed to occur, he simply moved on to the next thing on his list. When it came to his relationship with Howard Moon, however, Vince had all the patience in the world, content to take tings as slow and leisurely as Howard wanted.
It came out as a moaning whine, begging and pleading, eliciting a predatorial grin from the man above him and a breathy laugh. He said it again – panting, chest heaving – pushing back against lithe fingers, digging blunt nails into narrow shoulders.
Happily, Vince complied.
They thought that they had all of the time in the world, to spend it learning, noting sensitivities, likes and dislikes. Yet now time’s running out and they have to rush, no pauses, no fond caress. They can learn about one another later, now is the time for doing.
Vince watched as it swirled from the glowing cigarette tip, small wisps twisting and twining in the air, pulling shapes almost as well as he could. He took a drag and watched the glow sputter slightly. He let out a large smoke ring, watching as it grew and then faded into nothingness. Vince dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it beneath his Cuban heel, turning around to go back inside.
He liked his night life; the clubs, the girls, the booze, it was all known to him. Sure, he enjoyed it, but he didn’t always want to go out and party until dawn every night. Every once in a while, even an active person like Vince liked a quiet night at home, watching crappy late-night telly with Howard, Bollo, and Naboo.
His finger combs through the black fringe, brushing lightly over a smooth forehead, down the sharp slope of nose and touching the tip before moving to trace slightly parted lips, feeling hot breath on the pad of his finger, letting the digit fall softly on a sharp chin then continue down a smooth, pale throat.
Taste (continuation of Touch)
He sucks lightly on Vince’s neck, tongue brushing soft, heated skin, tasting mango body wash and the unique musk of Vince combined with the bitter tang of hairspray. It’s his favourite flavour.
Sight (continuation of Taste)
He pulled back, eyes weeping over a tossed-back head, closed eyes, parted lips, coming to rest on the slowly reddening mark on Vince’s neck.
Smile (continuation of Sight)
He took in this observation, enjoying it, reveling in it, a smile upon his lips.
They ran hotly down his face, leaving salty streaks on his cheeks.
‘What’s wrong?’ Howard asked worriedly.
Without a word, Vince help up a scarf, pointing tearfully to a tiny rip at one corner. Howard let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.
On warm days, he would set of a chaise lounge, using an attic crawlspace to get up on the Nabootique’s sturdy roof. He would lay on the chair, extra-strength sun block spread on his pale skin, fringe pushed off his forehead, large sunglasses perched on his nose with his eyes closed beneath them. He would sigh in content and think to himself, This is the life.
Vince wasn’t afraid of Death, I mean, he had met the guy when he went to save Howard from the Ape of Death that one time. It was the actual dying part that frightened him. Yet, it wasn’t his own death that Vince avoided thinking of, it was Howard’s. His own death he could deal with, but if Howard died before him, then he would be alone.
Writer’s Choice: Dreams
They were happy, more than happy. Every tingling touch and lingering kiss left his mind fizzing, like over-carbonated soda pop was filling his brain and body instead of blood. They languished together, hands exploring and caressing with feather-light touches and barely-there brushes.
And then he wakes up and everything runs away, leaving him desolate and alone except in his dreams.
Writer’s Choice: Happy Ending
Once upon a time, there was a genius electro boy and a jazz freak
Excuse me? More like electro ponce and jazz genius.
It’s my story, I can do what ever I want! Anyway, these two slags-
What, are you the Hitcher now?
What else do you want me to say? People? Dudes?
How about ‘these two men’.
Now who’s being poncey?
Alright, alright you didn’t have to hit me. These two… men… lived a genius life as a genius zoo.
I wouldn’t call the Zooniverse ‘genius’.
You want to tell the story?
No, no, continue.
Alright then. Once upon a time there was an electro boy and a jazz genius.
These two guys – don’t grumble at me – these two guys lived a genius life at a not-so-genius zoo, owned by the definitely not genius Dixon Bainbridge.
So one day, after Bainbridge’s stooge Bob Fossil made one too many rude comments about the jazz genius, the electro boy went completely mental and attacked Fossil.
That never happened.
Alright, so he had this genius gorilla named Bollo beat Fossil up.
Is everything ‘genius’ to you?
Yes. So somehow, the jazz genius still got all bruised up, ’cause that’s what he does best, so the electro boy decided to kiss it all better. The end.
That’s it? That’s you sto-mmmmmph