severity_softly | The Arduous Wooing [...] part VI: Wife and...Wife, Howard/Vince (The Mighty Boosh) PG

Title: The Arduous Wooing of a Tall Northern Jazzy Freak, part VI: Wife and... Wife
Author:

severity_softly
Fandom: The Mighty Boosh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Word count: ~1,100
Summary: Vince doesn't exactly get what he wants when he decides to take a chance the night after the crimp off.
Notes: A tag to "The Power of the Crimp". This is a new part of the series I've been writing (I haz a serees title nao!). Beta'd by

innerslytherin, who's still reading this for me against her will, the darling.

Previous Installments: 1. Nightmare After The Nightmare, 2. The Engine of an Aeroplane, 3. With Eyes Closed, 4. Lipstick, 5. The Brain Cell That Wouldn't Shut Up

They collapsed on the floor of Vince's room after the gig. Vince couldn't help laughing, and Howard's smile was broad. They'd blown Lance Dior and Harold Boom off the map. They were it again. Well, Vince was it. Howard had never been it to begin with, but he hung out with Vince, so that was close enough.

They went on for a bit about how well they'd done in the crimp off and how fantastic the look on Lance and Harold's face had been, and then they fell silent for a long time, Howard's face turning thoughtful after a while, while Vince just stared at the ceiling, grinning and replaying the night's events in his mind.

Vince wasn't really sure how long they'd been laying there when Howard's words cut through the silence. "Am I really like your wife?" he blurted.

Vince rolled his head to meet Howard's eyes. "Yeah," he said, a laugh running through his words as he remembered what Lance had said to Howard the first time they'd met. Word on the street is you are his wife. Cook his food, straighten his hair, bake him little cakes...

Howard pressed his lips together and looked back at the ceiling. "I'm not sure if that's better or worse than being your handbag."

Vince laughed. "I told you I didn't mean it like that." He reached over and nudged Howard, watching Howard's eyes dart to his hand, then back up. "You take care of me, Howard. And I can put stuff in you... like a bag. You're always there, holding everything." Howard was frowning in confusion.

"What, like eyeliner?" Howard asked, his tone grumpy.

"No," Vince said. "I can't explain it, but it's more abstract than that. It's like... I just... put things in you."

"Stop saying that," Howard said, his voice oddly tight.

Vince eyed him for a moment, then grinned again. "Why?"

"It just... sounds weird."

Oh. Vince's grin went wider, and then he snickered and rolled over onto his side. Howard had been a little more awkward with him lately. Not much, but enough that Vince had a feeling he knew why, and it only spurred Vince on. "Got something you're not telling me, Howard?" he said, poking Howard in the ribs.

"Don't touch me," Howard said, but didn't move.

Vince didn't move either. He wasn't sure what attracted him to Howard. Howard was fussy, anal retentive, a jazz freak, and had an appalling fashion sense. He had beady eyes, he usually avoided physical affection, he was broody, and his hair was an utter disaster area.

But he was always there. Always.

Maybe that was it.

Vince left his fingertips touching Howard's side, and watched him for a moment. Then he shifted closer and slid his leg over so that the length of his shin pressed up against Howard's calf, his foot cradled under Howard's. Howard looked frozen, staring at him, but he wasn't pulling away.

Vince sucked in a breath, his heart speeding as he realized this might be the calmest Howard would get touching like. Until Howard got used to it. God, he hoped Howard would get used to it. Of course, that was all dependent on whether or not Howard ever let Vince get over this particular hurdle.

He shifted closer again, his eyes falling to Howard's lips, moving slowly. He almost laughed--it was like approaching a frightened animal; Howard, the big chicken--but he managed to keep it in. "Howard," he murmured instead, his tone questioning, and then he made the mistake of letting his hand slide to Howard's stomach before he got close enough to actually kiss him.

Howard jerked, then bolted upright to a seated position next to Vince, and Vince held a sigh.

"I have to-- I forgot I have to meet Lester."

"It's two o'clock in the morning," Vince protested, and sat up to look at Howard.

"Best time to listen to Coltrane, sir. Under the light of the full moon."

"The moon isn't full tonight," Vince said, and followed Howard when he stood.

"I can't expect you to understand," Howard said, turning to look at Vince. He was putting on that face again, the mask that he thought protected him. The one Vince knew full well he'd already seen underneath of, even if Howard wouldn't admit it.

"What? I can't understand the difference between a full moon and a sliver?"

Howard looked at Vince for a moment, then looked out the window at the moon. "You just don't get it."

"Yeah, you keep saying that, but I think it's you who's utterly confused," Vince said. He wasn't really talking about the moon now, but Howard probably wouldn't realize that.

"Oh, is that right?" Howard said, straightening up to his full height.

"Yeah," Vince said, following suit and wishing he still had his heels on. "Anyway, Lester is like nine hundred years old. He's not gonna be awake this time of night!"

"I don't think I like your tone very much right now, sir," Howard said, scowling. "Lester's older, but he's full of sprite."

Vince scrunched his nose. "He doesn't even like Sprite. He drinks coffee. How do you think he has so much energy? There's no caffeine in Sprite."

"Lester doesn't need caffeine. He's high on life."

"He's high on something," Vince said, sarcasm creeping into his voice.

"He's high on jazz," Howard replied.

Vince snorted. "Funny. Jazz always puts me to sleep."

"You'd better be careful what you say, sir," Howard threatened, pointing his finger in Vince's face. "One day I might just put you on a jazz plane and fly you straight to the moon."

Vince's face scrunched. "What does that even mean?"

Howard opened his mouth, then shut it, his eyes darting away. Vince pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. Howard was disgustingly cute when he couldn't think of a comeback.

"What were we talking about?" Howard said finally.

"You have to go," Vince reminded him.

Howard suddenly looked affronted. "Well, that's not a very subtle hint."

"What?!" Vince said, his mouth dropping open.

"I'll take my leave of you now, so as not to waste any more of your time," Howard said, sounding actually hurt.

"Howard," Vince started to protest, but Howard had immediately turned and left the room.

Vince watched the door shut, and then heaved a sigh, collapsing onto his bed and dropping his head in his hands. Maybe it was time to just accept that Howard wasn't going to come around.

~
Next Installment: Guillotine
~