Category: The Mighty Boosh
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir
Length: 5-10k words
Notes: The story is set after season 3 and assuming that the Old Gregg scene at the end of the Boosh Live happened just after the final episode “The chokes”.
At the moment it’s pretty tame, but that will most likely change tho. I don’t know exactly how heavy themes will get (due to my sick mind probs pretty raunchy, lols. No guarantee that there will be though for those “thrill-seekers” out there ;D) but I will probably put any hard-core smexii stuff in a separate chapter so as peeps can choose to read or skip, and I will also say if plot vital to the story is contained within them; IF there is tho I will give the lo-down at the beginning of the next chapter so no one panic!! However there is nothing I can do about swearing so be WARNED. If smexii stuff is all ur are concerned about and swearing doesn’t phase you then read on knowing in all confidence that it will be sanctioned off, but if u do care about swearing (f-words and so on), scurry to safer reading! 😉
Too Late? by BooshSlave
Chapter 1 – A Sudden Realization
Author’s Notes: There isn’t much (if any) adult stuffs in this chapter (a teensy bit of groping, tho nothing under clothing lol, and Naboo says sais the s-word, GASP!).
The Lowdown, setting the scene-
-Vince only has 4 invites to an exclusive club, giving one to himself and three to Naboo, Bollo and Fossil. Howard is left alone and depressed believing that Vince (his best friend) and the others don’t really care about him. He sings ‘isolation’ (from the ‘Milky Joe’ episode) when even the Moon shuns him and calls him a ‘ball-bag’. Soon after this a large present is delivered to him and he begins to contemplate who sent it and whether it really means that he is needed in the world, when who should burst out: Old Gregg! (Duh.) Gregg proceeds to describe his undying love and his ordeal in tracking the jazz-maverick down, saying that he recognized Howard’s ‘Patrick Swayze’ (his words, not mine) eyes on a promotional leaflet. At first Howard is reluctant to encourage his intentions but is won over by Gregg’s “charms” (He threatens to suck his eyes out with a powerful Hoover and tuck them ‘up his downstairs mixer’ (again, his words). They then sing ‘Love Games’ and a new re-vamped techno version and it seems Howard has rebuffed his advances once again until we see them making out (really, making out). Howard then rushes off and comes back with a wheelbarrow. ‘You’ve got a mangina and I’ve got a shenis. Let’s make sweet love’, he proclaims and Gregg hops into the wheelbarrow and off they scoot to do, we can only assume, just that! –
The actual story 🙂
‘This is ridiculous,’ Vince thought vehemently as he paced back and forth, ‘Bloody ridiculous! More ridiculous even than when people thought platforms wiv’ goldfish were makin’ a comeback! What were they thinkin’? They were ‘ideous not to mention the poor fish’…Vince shook his head angrily to rid himself of the unbidden tangent of thought. Usually Vince let the stream of consciousness carry him through life, dropping one thought as soon as his child-like mind latched on to another, this more than anything resulted in his seemingly fickle nature. Which he supposed it was, but he had decided long ago that he could hardly be held accountable; it wasn’t his fault he got bored easily. That was why he had such a symbiotic relationship with the fashion industry; it got bored quickly too, changing intermittently. Vince gave a toothpaste commercial grin at the mention of fashion before growling in frustration as he realized he’d once again lost his train of thought. He begun to pace again, then stopped abruptly when he remembered why he was so angry.
Howard and that ruddy great fish finger.
He threw his arms up in frustration. ‘Sure, Howard had felt rejected cos’ he thought we’d all ditched ‘im for some exclusive club, that didn’t mean he ‘ad to fall straight into the arms of the only creature who’d ‘ave ‘im: a gender confused sea monster!’ Vince scowled at the harshness of his own words and their deeper implications, and then flinched as he recalled a bitter memory…Howard, face flushed with excitement as he desperately kissed the tutu-clad figure. His (or was it her?) green, scaled arms wrapped possessively around Howard’s neck as Howard’s hands caressed his back, thighs, arse…letting out another cry of rage he brashly swiped at the hot tears that were beginning to fill his eyes. What was wrong with him?
‘No. What’s wrong wiv’ Howard!?’ He screamed mentally as he launched back into violent pacing, ‘S’not as if I was really gonna leave ‘im behind! I was just messin’ wiv’ ‘im! Like I’d really invite Fossil over ‘im, he’s my best mate for Christ’s sake!’ Vince looked up as the bell over the shop door rang, breaking Vince out of his bitter reverie and announcing the arrival of a diminutive and slightly miffed looking shaman.
“Yo Vince, you comin’?” Naboo asked, his voice its usual dead-pan tone, “We’ve been waitin’ for 10 minutes now, if you don’t hurry the club will fill and then I’ll ‘ave to turn my back on…” Naboo stopped half way through his equivalent of an angry tirade as he shuffled around the counter and saw Vince’s face. Despite all effort to quell his emotion, tears were now falling thick and fast down his cheeks, black eyeliner following suit and creating little black rivulets along his face. As soon as he had heard Naboo enter, he had tried in vain to wipe away the evidence, rubbing furiously at his eyes. Vince Noir didn’t cry. Vince Noir was the sunshine child. Nothing got to him. Naboo flinched at the red, puffy and abused eyes; Vince smirked, it took more than a bit to make the ancient man flinch: he was stoned the majority of the time.
“What?!” Vince snapped in irritation when he noticed Naboo’s expression had changed to one of pity and sympathy. He slumped into a near-by chair as he felt his breath start to catch.
“You’re crying,” Naboo pointed out, slightly taken aback at the violence of Vince’s words, something must be seriously wrong for him to be acting so much out of character…
“Yeah, so?” Vince sniffed defensively, “aren’t I allowed to…to…c-c…” Vince couldn’t say the word ‘cry’ knowing that a tidal wave of tears would follow. As it was he had already begun to sob great heaving gasps. Naboo just stared bemusedly at him.
“St-stop, stop it!” Vince hiccupped, “I’m not c-c-cry-cry…” once again his emotion got the better of him.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Naboo asked, his voice remained devoid of emotion, but his eyes held comforting warmth.
“N-no, there’s nothing…”
“Why?” Naboo asked solemnly and then added matter-of-factly, “Is it about you being in love with Howard?” Vince sat up in shock, mouth agape, eyes wide, tears momentarily forgotten. Quiet ensued and then…
“I, I-I’m not…I’m not in love with h-him!” Vince gushed regaining control over his tongue after the several minutes of stunned silence. Naboo gave him a withering look.
“Whatever,” he sighed, “that’s why you’re crying over him, at the back of the shop, alone, feeling sorry for yourself and jealous of the attention he’s bestowing on a hermaphroditic merman”. Vince flinched; is that what he’d come to? Vince Noir was never jealous of anyone, envy was what people felt for him, envy was not an emotion he was by any means used to feeling…is this what it felt like?
‘Is this what bald men feel when they see my divine locks?’ Vince gasped at the thought, ‘I’m jealous of Old Gregg? Me? I’m jealous…of him? ME? Vince Noir, King of the Mods, green about that fashion handicapped (although that silver jacket was pretty genius), seaweed for hair, pasty green-skinned, webbed-fingered, monosyllabic (Whoa, where’d that word come from?), lonely, desperate, murdering, cannibalistic berk?? Why? Why? WHY?? WHY? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy…’
Then it hit him.
“You’re right,” Vince said simply, eyes wide open.
Naboo, who had patiently waited through the silence for Vince’s lengthy thought process to come to a conclusion, stared fixedly at Vince’s face. It displayed a mixture of confusion, anger, sadness, but mostly now: astonishment.
“I usually am.”
“No really,” Vince pressed, his eyes wide in sudden realization, “You’re right, I love ‘im.”
“I know,” Naboo rolled his eyes, “everyone does. You’re the only one who doesn’t. Oh, and Howard himself…and Bollo…oh, and Fossil…and, yeah, okay so I’m the only one.” Vince giggled, temporarily forgetting his situation and Naboo smiled (a rare expression for him).
“You’re a nutter, Boolio,” Vince grinned feeling a blanket of contentment and relief settle on his shoulders; because he knew exactly what he wanted now, why he was having these strange feelings, what he had to do; he was Vince Noir, he loved Howard Moon and nothing stood in his way…abruptly a look of pure terror came over his face, “I love ‘im!”
“Yeah, that’s established now,” Naboo, drawled faking a shudder, “I’m not that keen on the details…”
“I-I… I love ‘im!” Vince stammered, starting to blubber again.
“Look, I know it’s all very emotional, but you don’t need to start the waterworks up again…”
“D-don’t you get it?!” Vince sobbed, “I l…luh-luh-LOVE ‘im and ‘e’s off wiv’ that f-fish-man!” As he said these last words a fresh wave of tears cascaded down his face and he threw himself frantically on a very startled Naboo, shuddering tearfully.
“Look, calm down,” Naboo said patting his back awkwardly, “s’not as if Howard loves Gregg, yeah? It’s just a fling, Howard’s lonely, desperate…”
“What if it’s not?” Vince interrupted quietly, “What if ‘e does love ‘im?”
“I…” Naboo started.
“What if I’ve bloody realized my own stupid feelings too late?” his voice was unstable, wavering.
“I don’t thin…”
“I messed it up Naboo!” he cried, “’e doesn’t need me anymore! I finally figure out how I feel and ‘e goes and falls for someone else! It’s hopeless.”
“I don’t think that he…”
“What am I gonna do? I love…”
“Are you gonna listen to what I’ve got to say or not!?” Naboo raised his voice in exasperation, it seemed it was a night of firsts for him; needless to say Vince looked quite taken aback.
Vince nodded mutely, swiping away the last few stray tears.
“I don’t think Howard loves Gregg,” Naboo said slowly to emphasize his meaning, “he’ll regret what ever he’s doin’ in the morning. And when ‘e’s all typical Howard tomorrow mornin’: down, miserable, pathetic…”
“Oi! Watch it!”
“Whatever,” Naboo shrugged, “point is when ‘e’s regretting bonkin’ that Gregg character…” Vince flinched.
“…In denial and what ‘ave you,” Naboo quickly amended, “you can sweep in, all glitter n’ glam, pull some shapes. Reassure him that it isn’t so bad, that you couldn’t care less and profess your undying love.” He sneered and made a gagging motion, but otherwise was sincere. Vince furrowed his brow, in deep thought.
“You reckon?” Vince sniffed hopefully after a moment, “you think he likes me back, that he’ll just forget Old Gregg?”
“Dunno,” he shrugged, Vince’s face fell, “probably.”
“Of course Howard will love precious Vince,” said a gruff voice from behind them. Vince jumped, he hadn’t even noticed Bollo and Fossil come in; Naboo jerked his head up in greeting un-phased. Bollo lumbered up to them and began to stroke Vince’s hair; Vince recoiled slightly at the contact with his beloved mane, but allowed him to continue and smiled gratefully up at him.
“How could he not? You’re such pretty girl Vincey,” Fossil gushed, a scarily intense look in his eyes. He also approached Vince and began stroking his hair, but Vince had reached the end of his tolerance and slapped their hands away.
“Enough hair touchin’!” Vince snapped, careful fingers quickly re-perking his disgruntled tresses. “So in the morning you reckon? And if ‘e rejects me?”
“He won’t,” Bollo said calmly, “if he want to keep head.”
“Yeah! I’ll ride him like a purple sasquatch!” The group pulled disgusted faces at Fossil who just stood stoically, a look of complete seriousness on his face. Bollo patted Vince’s knee.
“You make cute couple,” he reassured.
“Howard?” Naboo scoffed “Cute?” Vince gave him pained look; evidently he thought that Howard was exactly that.
“Vince make couple cute,” Bollo insisted, “Vince help Howard, he stop being so miserable.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Vince grinned returning to his usual bouncy optimism, “maybe I can! This is gonna be genius!”
End Notes: You there! Hello, thankey for reading, please veviewwwwwwwwwwww.
TA!! Brie xx
Chapter 2 – Remeniscing
Author’s Notes: Warning: There is a bit of naughtiness in this, but nothing too explicit…just rather uncomfortable for a certain Mr. Moon (Howard that is, not the actual moon as he doesn’t have genitals)…
Howard stared silently at the roof of his small room, deep in contemplation. He shivered slightly as the duvet provided little warmth against the acute chill of the winter night and he subconsciously reached out for the sleeping body next to him, seeking its warmth. Feeling the scaled, cold-blooded skin, he flinched slightly, before sighing and wrapping a long arm around their waist, pulling them in closer. Gregg made a hum of contentment and snuggled into his chest, resting a web-fingered hand on his abdomen. Howard closed his eyes. If he concentrated hard enough, he could imagine it was Vince lying in the bed with him…almost.
He knew it was wrong. Wrong to Vince who was, well, whom he had thought was his best friend, to be thinking of him in such a way. Wrong to Gregg, that he should sleep with him and all the while be thinking of another. But mostly, and selfishly he supposed it was wrong to himself that he should still be pining over a man who obviously wanted so little to do with him. It was selfish to deny himself the love of Gregg, who was only too willing to show affection to him and instead prefer to just chew-over how Vince could treat him so painfully callous. To imagine that the lithe body wrapped so lovingly against his side belonged to that of his trend-obsessed electro-loving best friend. Howard flinched inwardly at this misnomer. Best friend. He had thought they were best friends once. Back at the Zooniverse. Even after that, they were as close as two friends could be without the relationship becoming more…becoming more…Howard suppressed a moan, afraid of waking the slumbering merman.
Howard had always loved the little man, ever since they first met back in school. When he first saw the mischievous, almost white, blue eyes peeking out coyly from behind that cheeky fringe, an almost-shy grin meant just for him plastered on his face, Howard had known he was hooked for life.
“Ey, I’m Vince Noir, rock n’ roll star,” Vince had casually introduced himself to a stupefied 13-year-old Howard, not used to being talked too by anyone, let alone someone as popular as Vince, “you’re Howard Moon, yeah?” Vince’s smile was one of genuine warmth and Howard had found himself choked, tripping over his words as he hastened to return the greeting.
“I…I, I am yeah!” he had spluttered, “Howard Moon that is, that’s me Howard Moon. I’m Howard Moon, Howard Moon is me…” The memory still made him blush.
“Genius,” Vince had giggled. He still didn’t know why Vince had approached him all those years ago; three years his junior, Vince was new to the school and already had a clique of adoring fans swooning in admiration at his charming style and happy-go-lucky attitude and yet of all people Vince had chosen to approach him, Howard Moon. Loner. Loser. The kid who people chose to give a 5-meter berth at all times. He still remembered Vince willingly spending the rest of the day in his company, and how Vince had kept up the talking, never letting his timid silence and predominantly introverted nature deter the conversation. Vince had acted as if Howard was readily supplying replies and comments the whole time, jovial, carefree and always laughing. In truth Howard was so star-struck by Vince that he was for the most part rendered speechless, offering only a few hesitant yes/no answers; he had been petrified of saying the wrong thing, of scaring him off, that if he were to speak he might reveal that repulsive trait within him that Vince had yet to notice and if he did, Vince would have been revolted and despised him, just like everyone else. But Vince hadn’t noticed and the week that followed was, no doubt, the best time of his life up until then; for once he had a friend, someone who genuinely seemed to enjoy being in his company. And gradually Vince’s unhindered, infectious optimism rubbed off on him, making him happier, more confidant; even the kids at school showed more respect for him. His life had become infinitely better with Vince.
Howard was startled from his reminiscing as Gregg shifted in his sleep, mumbling incoherently something about a “fuzzy man-peach”. Howard clumsily stroked his seaweed hair to sooth him back into a dreamless sleep, feeing a pang of guilt when he inadvertently reflected on how much nicer Vince’s silky black hair would feel beneath his fingers.
‘How quickly my thoughts turn back to the little rock-ponce’, he thought using the affectionate title bitterly, ‘why can’t I just stop thinking about him?’
This disturbance to his happy memories reminded him starkly of the events that directly followed that week of bliss. Though they had become friends there and then, Vince was shockingly and cruelly uprooted from the school only a week later. Vince had been living with foster parents (having left Brian Ferry and his home in the jungle) and they felt they couldn’t financially support his growing need for expensive hair products, so he left for greener (more monetarily blessed) pastures. It was the first of many times where he would feel Vince had chosen beautification over their friendship, the burn had been bad that first time, like a physical blow to his heart…maybe Vince hadn’t cared that much?
Soon after this things returned to normal, the kids reinstated the 5-meter radius, treating him with the same cold indifference as if Vince had never existed (Howard had often contemplated that possibility), the only thing that had changed was Howard found he didn’t mind so much anymore. Vince may have been a figment of his imagination (it would make sense that his self-deprecating mind would make an excuse to send away the only light in his life), but during his brief apparition he’d given Howard a confidence in himself. It had been this that gave Howard his ambition for fame as a musician…or a writer…or an explorer…or, well, whatever he put his mind too really. He felt that, even against all adversity, he could achieve anything. That week had passed like a dream, but he awoke from it feeling more real than ever before in his life and although Howard’s mind became cynical and dark at the prospect of a world where a person like Vince existed only as a cruel trick of his own mind, he was now determined to scour the world in search of the truth, in search of Vince.
Then he had returned.
Howard remembered the shock and disbelief he had felt on seeing the 14 year-old mod strut through the school gates one morning. He had walked like a catwalk model even back then, proud yet relaxed at the same time, like he owned the place wherever he went yet was still approachable due to his infectious smile and innocent humour; that adorable pigeon-toed pose he adopted whenever he stood still, hands on hips, grinning like a maniac. He’s does exactly the same pose to this day. Just thinking about it made Howard tingle all over…suddenly the bed felt almost too warm.
‘Um, Fossil naked!’ Howard thought frantically at all-too-familiar stirrings in all-too-private places, ‘Fossil and Bainbridge mud-wrestling!’
It was no use. Although he desperately clutched at the most disparaging and degenerate thoughts he could think of, they weren’t strong enough to dispel the image of Vince’s slender figure, clad in figure-hugging denim and cotton, his pale angelic-like face framed in stark contrast with his liquorish-coloured mane and plump, pink, lip-gloss-coated lips stretched in one of his trademark smiles and thus not strong enough to halt the rapid rush of blood leaving his head making him dizzy and making a dogged race to his groin…he was sweating almost profusely now…
Quickly, but carefully he extricated himself from the tangle of Gregg’s wiry limbs and swung his legs out of the bed. He froze in alarm when he heard Gregg stir…he waited for him fall back asleep but when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to Howard grabbed a spare pillow quickly covering the offending bulge that was throbbing impatiently at its restraints (Howard’s Y-fronts).
“What’s goin’ on Howard?” Gregg groaned tiredly, half-asleep and then when he opened his eyes and noticed Howard was leaving, “where’re you goin’?”
“Nowhere Gregg,” Howard sighed, uncomfortable, the added pressure of the pillow and the prospect of getting found out was having an adverse effect on his current predicament, “just getting a glass of water”, he lied.
‘Vince’d laugh his tits off if he saw this,’ he thought vehemently. He should have known better. Just this thought of the younger man was enough to send an intense throb of desire coursing through him, making all the hair on his body stand on end. Howard let out an inadvertent and poorly suppressed moan of unfulfillable need.
Gregg frowned up at him from the pillows, confused. His bright make-up was smudged from their earlier ‘activities’. Ice-blue eyes were quizzical and full of distrust…funny, they were so similar in size and colour to Vince’s and yet completely different in feel: Gregg’s eyes held a constant crazy, glazed look, Vince’s eyes were innocent, piercing…beautiful. Howard growled at himself as the thought sent a thrill up his spine. A look of understanding dawned on Gregg’s face.
“Does Howard want to play more “love games” with Greggory?” Gregg asked suggestively, propping himself up on one elbow and smiling in what Howard supposed he must have thought was a seductive manner. He could take advantage of the offer if he wanted, it would be release if not anything else…Howard looked down at him and sighed, he couldn’t do that to someone his mind told him (his nether regions had different thoughts on subject but he ignored them), not even to this scaly man-fish, he wasn’t that type of man, no sir!
“No…I mean I do, but not now Gregg, I’m fine, I’m just getting a drink, yeah?” Howard reassured soothingly, Gregg nodded and attempted to stifle a yawn, “you’re tired, you should go back to sleep.” He placed a kiss on Gregg’s cheek, before walking urgently towards the door. Gregg settled back into the pillows, seeming to accept his words.
“Sure thing Howard Moon,” Howard heard him answer, slightly muffled by the sheets, “I’m old Gregg”.
Howard gasped as the freezing water hit his naked skin, causing him to jump and quickly ending any remaining ‘enthusiasm’ in his lower half. Howard waited for his body to become accustomed to the temperature and his shallow breathing to even out before returning his thoughts to where he had left off, the constant stream of water eliminating any need for caution.
‘What were you thinking about, Howard,’ he asked himself bemusedly, Vince’s return he remembered with a grimace, ‘and why were you thinking about that?’ Howard shrugged and remembered back anyway…
It had been 4 years since he’d last seen him, during which Howard had all but convinced himself that he had been a crazed imagining of his lonely mind…but there he stood, surrounded by a cluster of admirers (already! Howard had thought enviously), telling wild and impossible stories of his absence: many about face-stealing monkeys, cockney nut-jobs and the ever-increasing elusiveness of a decent hair spray with maximum hold…
Howard had kept a safe distance, head low, unsure how to react…should he march in there (he had thought) and whisk Vince away for his own? Maybe demand an explanation…that hopefully he’d get. An account from Vince that perfectly justified his painful actions as a masked declaration of love…
‘Howard!’ Vince would swoon (in young-Howard’s imaginings) as he saw Howard push valiantly through the crowd, ‘I never wanted to leave you, but they would’ve killed us both!’ He sounded much like a romance novel heroine, breathy and sexy…it was a good thing Howard was under the shower…
‘I know,’ Howard had imagined himself saying in a voice much deeper and more heroic than his own natural Northern lilt, ‘frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn…’ He knew it was in completely the wrong context, but he was 17 at the time.
‘But Howard, I…’ Vince would begin, despair-filled.
‘…I’m just glad you’re back,’ Howard would finish, cutting him off and sweeping him into deep, passionate kiss worthy of a Mills and Boon…yes, very lucky he was under the shower…
He may have been young, but he was no idiot, no sir… young Howard knew that that would never happen, besides, what if Vince didn’t want to be friends anymore? No, he had decided it was much safer to stay out of his way, not cramp his style…
Howard had managed to avoid him for the day, quite hard because he couldn’t help but sneak glances at him across the school yard, from his hiding places in bushes and behind trees and bins. People had kept giving him weird looks, wondering why he was lurking around so creepily; he hadn’t cared. As long as it had meant that he could get a look at the raven-haired socialite. Vince had of-course quickly risen back to prime position of most popular within those first few hours of his arrival, every time Howard had looked he was laughing merrily with his admirers, completely at ease, only now and then stopping to quickly glance around as if searching for something. Or someone. Howard’s stomach did back flips at the idea it might be him Vince was looking for. His self doubt came crashing down only instants later, telling him ‘Don’t be a fool Howard Moon, he’s not looking for you, you jazzy berk’. So he would remain hidden.
He exceeded at this most of the day, it was until after the final dismissal bell had rung that the fa�ade ended. Howard had just grabbed his bag from his locker and after a quick glance to check the coast was clear he made a beeline for the door…
Howard froze; time around him seemed to slow down, the students in the corridor walked in slow motion. Not daring to hope yet feeling sick to his stomach, he slowly turned around.
‘Howard?’ Vince grinned, half jogging down the corridor to meet him, when he standing right in front of him he added, ‘Howard is that you?’ Howard had felt giddily happy, ready to burst at the seams; Vince remembered, he cared.
‘Howard Moon, Jazz maverick,’ Howard grinned broadly; using a similar greeting to the one Vince had done 4 years ago.
‘Howard!’ Vince laughed, throwing his arms almost violently around his neck in a desperate hug. Howard was terrified. No one had ever hugged him like that before (well his parents had, but surely they didn’t count); the contact was close to overwhelming especially seeing as it came from Vince. If he did that too often, Howard would struggle to contain the urge to kiss him, something he was sure would earn no favour from the younger boy.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Howard yelped, not for the last time.
‘What?’ Vince had asked, pulling back in confusion. His hands however remained on Howard’s shoulders as he stared up at him clearly puzzled.
‘I just don’t like to be touched,’ Howard quickly explained, hoping that this would keep Vince from testing his willpower in such a way, ‘don’t ever touch me, sir. Not when we’re here, not when were there…not when we’re anywhere…never touch me’. Vince gaped like a stunned fish and then laughed happily, removing his hands as he did so.
‘You sounded like Doctor Seuss’s ‘Green eggs and ham’,’ Vince giggled, ‘get a load of you!’ Vince looked him up and down. Howard blushed.
‘You’re so…’Vince struggled for the right word, frowning almost comically, Howard thought, if it hadn’t looked so cute, ‘…so beige!’ He finished with a disbelieving shake of his head.
‘Did I teach you nothing?’ he asked, ‘we’ll ‘ave to do something about that!’
‘I’ll have you know, sir, that beige is the colour of a man-of-action,’ Howard retorted defensively, ‘and that’s me Howard moon, man-of-action, sir…’
‘I was only jokin’ you berk!’ Vince interjected, rolling his eyes playfully.
“Watch it, little man,’ Howard growled warningly, ‘or I’ll come at you like a northern bullet,’ a playful grin teased the corners of his mouth so the threat lost its potency.
‘I missed you Howard,’ Vince had said with such honest sincerity that it had made Howard’s knees go weak, ‘you gonna walk me home?’ Howard just smiled. The walk home had been just like old times, with Vince’s enthusiastic chatter, but Howard joined in more this time around, creating a carefree, playful banter between their two opposing personalities. Sometimes they made each other laugh to the point of tears. When they arrived at Vince’s new place, Vince had turned to him giving him a soft, spine-melting smile.
‘You can come in,’ he had said as he motioned towards the house, ‘but you’ll never be allowed to leave.’
‘S’ok,’ Howard had said without any hesitation, ‘I don’t have much on.’ Vince had positively beamed at him.
And the rest was history. They’d been best friends ever since. At least until they started working in the Nabootique…
End Notes: I spose you could kinda call that a cliff-hanger… if you do then, lolz, sorry, but cliffers rock!
Awwww, that last scene where V says, “you can come in, but you’ll never be allowed to leave” and H says, “S’ok I don’t have much on”, is a direct steal from real life when Julian drove Noel home when they first met. Bit o’ trivia for you there, how cute is that????? MUCHLY CUTE I SAY! Next chapter will be from Old Gregg’s perspective for the first half (or all, haven’t fully worked out the kinks yet) but could be a while so SORRY in advance.
Also sorry it’s mostly just Howard thinking and there isn’t much dialog…but its early days, early days, early days!
In the mean time send me some gorgeous (even two-worded if you want) reviews to motivate me! I thank everyone who reads, but those who review, make me feel all loved! A lot of effort goes to writing these chapters coz I want to get them right…tell me if I didn’t, but be constructive! Ideas welcome!
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3 – Intents and Purposes
Author’s Notes: Disclaimer: Boosh unfortunately = not mine…though that’s probably a good thing…regretfully, I’m not nearly as funny as the gods of comedy Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding.
Old Gregg shifted restlessly in the large, cold and now empty bed, trying in vain to return to sleep. At the sound of a shower turning on full-ball, however, all aspirations of slumber were quickly discarded and Gregg sat up in confusion and a little in irritation.
“What’s up with my fuzzy man-peach?” Gregg wondered aloud, “Maybe he needs some creamy Baileys, to makes him feel better?”
‘Shut-up Greggory’, little ever-present anti-Gregg spat in his mind, ‘S’got nothin’ to do wiv’ Baileys and you know it’.
“He’s playin’ love games?” Gregg asked hopefully. Anti-Gregg snorted derisively.
‘Yeah,’ came the reply, ‘but not with Gregg.’ By this time Gregg had gotten up off the bed and was nervously swaying in place, hands placed lightly on his thighs, slightly hunched over. It was a well-worn posture, adopted whenever in the centre of his own mental torment, which was evidently was quite often, practically relentless.
‘Then who…?” Gregg asked, shuffling over to Howard’s chest-of-draws.
‘Greggory knows already,’ he laughed at himself, picking up a framed photo from the top of the bureau; it depicted Howard and that sparkly man-woman, arms around each other’s shoulders smiling. Gregg realized he had been laughing out loud, his mind had shifted into the control of evil-Gregg; with a start he clamped his lips shut, cutting him off mid-laugh and seizing back control. His gaze drifted nervously to the other, previously ignored, side in the room. It was so bright; it almost hurt Gregg’s eyes to stare too long, which said a lot, considering Gregg felt himself a very bright, sparkly person; a lover of discos and outlandish outfits. The walls there were painted silver, embedded with glitter, adorned with numerous colourful posters…Gregg ticked them off mentally: Gary Newman, Human League, The Rolling Stones, Guns N’ Roses (mmm, Slash)…funny, under any other circumstances, he and the silky-hair-girly-man could probably have been friends.
“No, he’s playin’ love games with me!” Gregg frowned, “not the glittery-man”.
‘Why would he want to play love games with you?’ came the snide reply, ‘who are you?’
“I’m Ol’ Gregg,” he huffed adamantly, crossing his arms across his chest briefly, before returning them to his thighs as the gesture felt alien: too confident, when normal Gregg was in charge anyway.
‘A scaly man-fish’, he was laughing again, causing Gregg’s physical lips to curve up in a devilish smile, ‘why would he want to play love games with you? Who are you?’
“I’m Ol’ Gregg…?” he had meant to say it with an air of determination, dismissing the concerning words as ridiculous, instead it came out as a question.
‘Exactly.’ Anti-Gregg sneered, ‘why would he play love games with you when he has the pretty-walking-disco-ball? All shiny, much nicer than Greggory…Old Gregg’s crazy and smells like the fishies! And who are YOU?’
“I’m Ol’ Gregg,” he whispered forlornly, shifting from foot to foot, then meekly, hopefully he added, “glittery-man doesn’t want to play his love games with Howard thou…”
‘Wrong!’ furiously, the word blasted like a thunder-clap in his mind, making Gregg jump and clap his hands over his ears as the word echoed, reverberating around his head, ‘wrong, and you know it!’ His mind sent him flashes of a memory: the sparkly man-woman coming to rescue Howard from Gregg’s funky underwater cave. He remembered being shocked at the rescue full stop, not to mention the rescue being made by such a charismatic someone, clearly a popularity elitist; the man wreaked of adoration, held an air of confidence that begat his comfort within the popular scene. When Gregg had first met Howard aboard the little rowboat in middle of his lake, the man had seemed petrified; Gregg had read on his face a look of hopelessness, like his doom was decided, with no hope of escape…no hope of rescue…resigned to his fate. It had been this that had first drawn Gregg to him, Gregg wanted an easy to maintain lover…after the disaster of his previous affairs, chiefly the one shared with Slash of Guns N’ Roses; they all ended with daring rescues (Axl had been quite annoyingly persistent) and/or attempted murder (although he inflexibly insisted that Slash had jumped out of the helicopter over those sharp rocks of his own volition) and he had come to the conclusion that he needed to find someone who wouldn’t be missed and would relish the opportunity to be loved by Gregg, even if he was a cross dressing, scaly merman with a mangina (i.e. Not an international rock guitar-legend). Naturally Howard Moon had seemed perfect.
Was he alone?
Apparently not so.
Not only had Mirror-ball ‘saved’ Howard from Gregg’s webbed clutches, he had loyally followed Howard on every ensuing wild, fantastical adventure, coming through for, and more often than otherwise, coming to the rescue of the ill fortuned northerner; granted it was often Sparkles that got them into trouble in the first place, but it was always together that they narrowly dodged misfortune, the electro kid steadfastly by his side. Gregg knew this because he had ‘discreetly observed’ Howard from a ‘respectful distance’ (what those funny blue-men with the shiny badges referred to as ‘stalking’) and it confused Gregg to no end…why had he thought he would be abandoned? Surely he saw the devotion, beneath the fa�ade of ‘coolness’, behind the mask of relaxed indifference, the playful argumentative banter and momentary lapses in better judgement (Greg thought the whole cape/bin bags/crazy-fox-man episode had been hilarious)? His affection was unmistakable…Howard was most definitely not friendless…Gregg had been deceived, the glitter-man loved Howard, just as much as Axl had loved Slash, more even…
‘You see?’ his mind hissed, ‘don’t act stupid. You know what’s going on…’
“No,” Gregg whimpered weakly.
‘Yes, Greggory,’ he hissed.
“No,” Gregg felt hot rage and jealousy build within his stomach as he fought desperately with the darker, stronger side of his mind.
‘No,’ he grunted through clenched teeth as his mind sent him crude and bloody images of removing Mirror-ball from the picture…bludgeoning, slashing, smothering and irrevocably permanent.
‘No?’ His mind asked, taunting.
“NO!” Gregg yelled, picking up the framed picture and hurling it at the far wall (hitting an unresponsive Gary Newman -in poster format- square in the face), his futile attempts at quashing the overpowering, possessive, violent side that threatened to take control were failing, miserably. “Aw, shit.” Gregg flung himself remorsefully after the picture, scrabbling to pick it up, luckily the glass had fractured but not shattered; Gregg didn’t think Howard would be too happy if the photo had been ruined and the glass scattered across the floor. He gingerly replaced it atop the chest of drawers. Suddenly he realized he had seen Glitter-hair-man earlier that night, back behind the shop: Howard had been hugging him tightly, clinging as if his life depended on it, hands roaming freely; Gregg had been so happy, he almost hadn’t noticed the lean figure watching in disbelief from the doorway…now he thought about it, he could clearly remember Mirror-ball’s thin shoulders hunched in defeat, the quiver of his lips gaped in shock, the moist glistening of his wide eyes under the low lighting… Evil Gregg cackled gleefully at the image, cackles quickly grew to unrestrained sobbing laughter as he watched the emotionally distraught man give a silent cry of pain and hurriedly retreat back into the business end of the shop. Gregg frowned at himself; it wasn’t that funny…well it kinda was, but mostly because:
“He thinks Howard loves Gregg,” Gregg interposed his rival’s hysterics smugly.
‘No, he thinks Howard’s makin’ love to Gregg,” he sniggered, ‘there’s a difference.’
“He’ll want Howard to be happy,” Gregg quipped back angrily “Gregg’ll make Howard happy”.
‘Greggory can’t make himself happy,’ his mind scoffed, ‘let alone Howard. Sparkly-man will want to tell him how Howard gives him the love butterflies…when he see’s Howard’s not really got the butterflies for Gregg he’ll tell him and then Gregg’ll lose his fuzzy man-peach. And who are you?’
“I’m Ol’ Gregg,” Gregg replied thoughtfully, his mind was being strangely coherent and reasonable. It made a good point and Gregg found himself assenting, willingly letting some control over to anti-Gregg, “Howard could love Gregg, eventually…”
‘Eventually,’ his mind granted, surprisingly, ‘but Electro-hair-ball won’t wait long to tell him,’
“What does Greggory do?” Gregg asks, already knowing what the answer will be.
‘We take him down to the cave and suck his veins dry,’ it was said matter-of-factly, but the blood lust was evident in his voice. As before, flashes of horrific, vicious murder flashes through his head. Gregg finds that this time that the option seems exceedingly tempting, licking his lips…he thinks again and then shakes his head emphatically…
“Howard’ll know,” Gregg says as his eyes shift nervously around the room as if he expects Howard to leap out from behind a piece of furniture.
‘Then we’ll tell him that he must stay will Gregg anyway,’ he replied sardonically, ‘or else we’ll suck him dry too…’
“Gregg doesn’t think Howard’d mind dying if Glittery-man’s already had his light snuffed out…” Gregg pointed out morosely.
‘Well what then?!’ anti-Gregg interjected, fuming at being denied the hunt, unable to deny the truth of his ‘saner’ personality’s words, ‘we must have Howard!’ Hissing like water on hot coals, anti-Gregg sent a wave of ever-present, hot, blinding jealousy down Gregg’s being.
‘Howard is ours, he’s yours, and you’re…!’
“I’m Ol’ Gregg!” Gregg snapped, flustered by the cacophony of animal sounds, screaming protestations and the insatiable feelings of possessiveness flooding his mind and gripping his core. His other side shut-up begrudgingly, leaving his mind in cold silence… “Gregg’s gots an idea.” Anti-Gregg forced their lips up in a decidedly evil grin, approving of the plan forming in their twisted mind…
End Notes: Reviews Make Old Gregg Dance 😀