Category: The Mighty Boosh
Length: 1-5k words
Notes: Set after the live show, when Vince and Howard are living seperately to Naboo and Bollo, and with Old Gregg, for whatever reason.
Disclaimer- I own none of this. Except the OCs, but they’re not very nice people.
When You Came Home Late by Thingogram
I’m alone. Gregg’s turned in early, tired for whatever reason, and Vince is out. That’s all he said. “Out”. I don’t know where he’s gone, or what he’s doing, or who with. Just that he’s “out”.
I turn off the TV. ‘Colobus the Crab’. It was funny at first, but so many repeats have made it unwatchable. Why did I ever let Vince get me into this shit?
I hear a voice outside. That’s him, come back. Three twenty-six. He’s late.
Out of kindness, or boredom, I go to open the door for you. And then I find you tongue-tied and arm-locked with another man.
I shut the door and lean back, grinning so my face aches and trying too hard not to laugh. The bloke he’s with is huge. Fucking huge. Probably not quite as tall as me, but a good few inches up on you, and built like a wrestler. This guy could probably take Bollo on if he wanted to.
You enter a moment later, smiling your bye-byes with a big coy grin on your face, trying to be cute. In a way it suits you, in another way it doesn’t.
Who was that?
It was Terry, you tell me, your cheeky coy smile widening, your fingers in your pockets and your body going tense and introverted, so that I almost think you might be flirting with me. Except you’re looking down. Not in some sweet shy way either. You never look me in the eye any more.
I’m going to bed, you say, going for the stairs.
Wait, stay down here, talk to me.
Talk? About what? you ask.
Just talk. Come down here and talk to me.
I sit down. You follow, still not looking at me, and sit down on the other side. You sigh, staring straight at the television as though there’s something on it. So… you breathe.
I look over at you and realise how tired you look. You must have tried to hide it when you came in. but I can see it now. You’re slouching, your eyelids are half shut, your legs are crossed and you’ve got your arms wrapped around yourself.
I have a strange urge to hold you. I lean over and put my hands on your shoulders. To my surprise, you lean back over on to me. I move closer, touching my thigh to yours, put my arms right around you, hold you close. You cuddle up to me like a sleepy child, sighing so sweetly.
It’s been months since I saw you so… comfortable.
I put a hand behind your head and cradle it. Then I’m drawn to the jutting edge of your cheekbone. I move my thumb down and stroke it. Are you smiling? I think I caught the flicker of a smile on your face.
I carry on stroking, softly and repeatedly, and then I think of your eyes. Your big blue, beautiful eyes. Why is it you never look me in the eyes any more?
Is it because I hit you?
I want to see those eyes. I’m compelled to see them.
I take my arms off you, and they open in mild surprise, not looking at my face, just down at my waist, the highest you can still bear to look. Without hesitation I take your face under the chin and lift it to mine.
And those eyes stare up into mine, enormous water-blue orbs, begging and screaming but deathly silent. They scare me, but I can’t stop looking. I haven’t seen your eyes in so long, and I’m so so sorry I made you feel so bad you couldn’t even meet my gaze.
Is that a tear? I’m sorry; I let you go. Your head drops down again, but then you look up, and meet my eye, just for a split second, but my heart lifts so high, because I’d forgotten how you used to do it at all.
Naboo heard the knock on the door and ran to answer it. Vince stood there, shivering through his thin jacket, but smiling warmly.
“Hi, come on in,” Naboo greeted him, moving aside to let him pass. They sat down on Naboo’s new sofa, and Bollo amiably made tea.
“So what’s up,” smiled Naboo. “Tell me everything.”
“He hardly talks to me any more. Ever since he got with Old Gregg it’s been them, twenty-four-seven, I don’t even get a look in. And Gregg’s got it in for me. He hates me. I feel like a parasite around them.”
“Alright, alright,” soothed Naboo. “Slow down. You were talking about what happened earlier tonight. Start from there.”
“I got into a fight with Gregg again…”
Naboo gave a one-sided smile of accepting disapproval.
“…and Howard had to pull me off him, like physically pull me off, and while he was holding me back, Gregg comes at me and thumps me one in the belly. So then Howard’s trying to stand between us so I can get Gregg and Gregg can’t get me, ‘cept he’s just standing in front of Gregg and he’s got me by the hair, the bastard. And then he dragged me into his room and held me on the wall by the front of my shirt, and my feet were off the floor, and he was staring right in my face and shouting at me, saying why did me and Gregg always have to be at each other’s throats, and why can’t I leave him alone for once, what’s he ever done to me, and can’t I get over the fact that he’s got someone else in his life now besides me. Then he punched me-”
“He hit you?” Naboo asked, his eyes wide and filling with anger. He had nothing against Howard, in fact he thought Howard really was a lovely man, but if he ever raised a hand to Vince, Naboo would not be happy.
“It was just a punch on the thigh,” Vince said quickly. “I think he was just a bit exasperated. But then he told me to never ever fight with Gregg again, and he wasn’t joking, he was really pissed off. Then he threw me out the door and called Gregg in, and then I could just hear them banging and banging till I went upstairs.”
Naboo regarded him for a while. Eventually he came up with the advice. “Don’t worry about it so much. It’s a new relationship so he’s gonna be a bit protective for a while. He will want to make the most of it and spend a lot of time with Gregg. But after a while, they’ll get used to each other, the honeymoon period will be over, and it’ll get back to normal. They’ll still be with each other a lot, but he’ll pay more attention to you, I promise. It won’t be the same, but it’ll get better than this.”
“Yeah?” Vince asked, his big eyes staring into Naboo’s.
“Yeah,” the shaman confirmed. “Don’t you worry about it.”
Vince smiled a small smile. Naboo didn’t think he looked completely happy. In fact, he had a definite worried air about him. Something was definitely troubling him.
“Something else?” Naboo asked.
“It’s just… nah,” said Vince.
“No, come on, tell me,” urged Naboo.
“It’s just, well… I went upstairs, and… I looked at my thigh, where Howard punched me, and I saw the bruise, and… I felt sad, and I wanted…” he smiled an awkward, nervous smile and tried to make it sound silly. “I wanted him to hit me again.”
“So I thought, y’know, too much, so I thought I’d come and see you, get some advice,” stammered Vince.
“Again, I’d say don’t worry too much. I think you just miss Howard’s attention a bit more than I thought you did, so you want it in any way you can, even if that means provoking him to violence. Don’t try that. Whatever you do, don’t try and make him hit you again. It won’t be this bad much longer, so just wait it out. Don’t fight with Gregg, and don’t piss off Howard, ‘cause that’ll just prolong the problem. Wait it out, and it’ll be over so much faster.”
“If you’re still having problems, you come see me again, alright,” the tiny shaman smiled, putting a hand on Vince’s arm. Vince smiled back, grateful and a little tired. “Stay the night,” Naboo offered.
“Nah, I can’t,” said Vince. “I didn’t tell Howard I was out. He’ll get worried.” Vince seemed to droop. “If he can possibly tear himself away from Old Gregg’s arsehole.”
“Don’t think like that,” advised Naboo. “Remember; it. Will. Be. Fine.”
Vince smiled. “Yeah, I know.”
“Come on, stay a bit,” coaxed Naboo. “Colobus marathon.”
Vince grinned. “Well, I never could resist Colobus.”
Vince actually watched very little Colobus. Naboo put on a couple of episodes, and they and Bollo watched them joyfully, but then Vince announced that he was going, because he hadn’t told Howard where he was and he was getting up in the morning anyway, and wanted to be back before midnight.
“Do you want me to take you back on the carpet?” Naboo asked.
“Nah, you enjoy yourself, I’ll walk,” said Vince.
“At least let Bollo come back with you,” advised Naboo. “I know your neighbourhood, it’s not safe this late, especially for a feminine boy like you.”
“I’ll be fine, Naboo,” insisted Vince, opening the door.
“Alright, you look after yourself,” said Naboo. “And I’m here if you need me again.”
“Thanks Naboo, you’re a real diamond,” Vince replied from the doorway. Quite suddenly, he looked into Naboo’s eyes, and his tone became much more honest and serious. “Really, Naboo. Thanks for everything.”
So tell me about Terry.
You shrug. What’s to know?
He works in the post office. Big family. Drinks Fosters. I’m the first boy he’s ever been with. You smile proudly.
I didn’t realise you were gay.
You are, aren’t you?
You shrug again.
Do you love him?
You shrug once again, looking a little sheepish this time.
Why are you with him if you don’t love him?
I’ve met him before, you tell me.
You don’t say anything.
Perhaps you’d rather go to bed than listen to me question you all night.
He used to be a gang rapist.
He used to be a gang rapist, you repeat.
How did you find that out?
Oh god, Vince…
Vince hurried through the streets, wishing he still lived with the lifesaving shaman. It was freezing and the streets were dark and empty. Why the hell hadn’t he accepted Naboo’s offer of a magic carpet ride home?
He shivered, quickening his pace.
“Alright, love!” someone shouts. “In a hurry, are we?”
He kept on walking. The last thing he wanted was to be annoyed by some backstreet loser who thought he was a woman.
“Why don’t you stop and come out with me?” a man asks, creeping up behind him.
Vince jumped, yelping.
“Did I scare you babe?” the man asked, running his hands around Vince’s waist. “Let me make it up to you.”
He leaned around and pressed his lips to Vince’s. Vince turned his head away, point blank refusing to indulge his assailant.
“Well, that’s not very nice, is it,” the man chided. “I’m trying to apologise to you, lady!”
He was getting angry. Fuck. If only Bollo was here.
“Look,” said Vince. “I could call the pigs if I wanted to. Let me go, and I won’t.”
“Ey lads, we got ourselves a cheeky one!” the man called to a group of others Vince hadn’t noticed hiding in the shadows. The emerged, silhouetted against the drizzle-curtained yellow glow of the street lights.
Fearing the worst, Vince tried to make a break for it. He ran in the opposite direction, hoping to hide in a twenty-four hour supermarket or something, or get back to Naboo’s, where he’d be safe.
But with a painful crash of pavement, sending him dizzy and disorientated, he was on the ground, the man on top of him. Why hadn’t he noticed this guy was huge? He must have been six feet or close, and about twenty stone worth of muscle. Even Bollo might not have been able to fight him off, but at least with Bollo there Vince would have stood a better chance than alone. Why had he been so fucking stupid?
“We want to hang with you, girl,” the muscular bastard told him. “It wouldn’t be nice or sensible to refuse us that now, would it.” He reinforced his words with punches to Vince’s lower back.
Vince tried to escape again, but the man caught him and yanked his trousers and underpants down, and Vince spun to better defend himself, leaving his attacker face-to-face with his manhood.
“Holy shit,” the assailant grinned. “She’s a boy!” he shouted at the others. “She’s a fucking boy!”
The others had reached them by now.
“Do him anyway; he’s girly enough,” one suggested.
There was a general holler of agreement.
“That’s disgusting,” one said. “I ain’t giving no cock to a fucking boy just ‘cause you’re too blind to see he ain’t got no tits.”
“Get out of here then, Jake,” the man holding Vince sneered. “’Cause we’re all gonna do this prettyboy.”
Vince watched one of the group turn on his heels and storm off. That still left him with a fairly big gang.
The muscular bastard forced Vince over onto his hands and knees on the wet concrete, and pushed himself on top, pinning Vince down. The next thing Vince felt was a burning, excruciating pain in his anus.
“Listen to him go,” his rapist gloated.
He felt several agonizing thrusts, combined with gripping hands and a bite to the shoulder. Through it all he kept screaming, as thrust after thrust gave him more pain.
He felt instant relief as the huge cock pulled out of him, only to scream again as it was replaced with another; a smaller man, but still bigger than Vince himself. This one combined his fucking with punches to Vince’s hips, and a few to his abdomen. This one seemed to finish faster than the first, spurred to hurry by the impatient calls of his accomplices. The third was again no better, grabbing Vince by the hips and pulling him into him as he thrust, making Vince scream even louder and louder, and he felt his throat becoming sore as well as his arse, his palms, his knees, his hips, and many other parts of him. The fourth was a little more gentle, and seemed to know what he was doing. Or maybe he just took pity on Vince. He came in slower, and thrust less forcefully, groping Vince’s waist rather than seizing his hips. The fifth came and it was back to strong and painful, and Vince screamed extra loudly as this brute penetrated him, provoking cheers from the group, and his current invader to wave his arm like a cowboy and slap him on the side of the arse, rousing even more cheers. He took his time, until Vince became too tired to carry on screaming, and just moaned painfully. The sixth went in all guns blazing, not really caring what happened as long as it went in, causing Vince as much undue suffering as was possible. Once he pulled out, Vince slumped to the floor.
“Look at that,” the first one laughed. “He’s bleeding.”
Vince felt himself burn, through pain and exhaustion, and now through embarrassment. “Nice one boy,” the muscle-bound fucker grinned. “Gave us a good fuck you did.” He leaned down a little, glaring Vince in the eye. “Hope to see you again.”
They walked off, laughing, leaving him there on the rain-sodden floor, wet and in pain and bleeding, his arse out to the elements. He lay there a while, and no one came, so he raised himself, the most difficult thing he felt he’d ever done, pulled up his trousers, and made his way home.
It was ages before he made it, but at least by the time he got there, he’d managed to make himself walk like nothing had happened.
Was it that night? The night I hit you, and you came home at two-thirty am. Wasn’t that the first time you couldn’t look me in the eye? When Gregg had gone to sleep and I heard you come in, so went to meet you and found you soaking wet, dishevelled and knackered, listening to something on the answering machine.
Was it the night you told me it was a wrong number?
Message received on the ~twenty~-first~ of ~March~ at ~eleven~ fifty-eight~ pm~.
“Hi, it’s Naboo. I just wanted to make sure Vince got home alright. Vince, call me back as soon as you get home, alright.”
“Hey, I’m Old Gregg. Vince got home fine.”
Read the sequel: Married on the Morrow.