Fic: Oscar Wilde, the Mighty Boosh
Fandom: The Mighty Boosh
Title: Food of Love
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Rating: PG-13 for references to sex
Word Count: 1287
Summary: Vince and Howard annoy each other with their music and the fact that they're so stupidly in love with each other
Disclaimer: I have no right to do what I'm doing. Don't tell.
Author's Notes: Written for the Oscar Wilde challenge I proposed. It would be bad form to expect people to write things for me and not contribute anything in return. Incidentally if anyone can think of a less fail worthy title I'd be very grateful.
“Music makes one feel so romantic - at least it always gets on one's nerves - which is the same thing nowadays.”- Oscar Wilde
Loving Vince was like electro: confusing, frustrating and headache-inducing. The same tedious refrain over and over with synth and androgynous posturing over it. Nothing significant ever happened.
In his youth, Howard had been sure that he would fall in love with an elegant, beautiful, intelligent woman who adored him. He had been so certain that he would grow up to be dashing and successful and that girls would grow on him given time.
Unfortunately this particular ugly duckling had grown up and become an uglier drake and by some cruel twist of fate the person he did fall hopelessly in love with was a vain tart who thought he was an idiot.
It was annoying, there was no two ways about it. He'd waited his whole life and for what exactly? To be a nobody, a garish mistake that snuck into the gene pool when the lifeguard was looking the other way.
“Here in my car, I feel safest of all, I can lock all the doors...”
Oh for God's sake.
“VINCE!”
Being in love with Howard was like listening to jazz: stupid, a waste of time and more than a little naff. Most of that shit Howard liked was like listening to a mediocre player trying to remember a tune. Whenever you got something that seemed to be making sense, he would abruptly change his mind, say, “Oh no, that's not it” and go off again.
He would have to fall in love with the one person he couldn't have, wouldn't he? Anyone else would throw themselves at him the least bit of encouragement, but not Howard. He could surprise him naked in the hallway and Howard wouldn't take a blind bit of notice, except to maybe offer him a jumper and remark that it was getting a bit nippy.
And maybe it was shallow, but falling for his geography-impersonator of a mate was just embarrassing. It would kill his image if that got about. He was supposed to like lithe, shiny, pretty people. Not overtly-manly Northern jazz enthusiasts.
Unfortunately, you don't get to pick who you fall for. It's not like style or music or something you can learn good taste in, if you don't have it naturally. Not that Vince didn't have natural good taste of course, he'd cut his teeth on Gary Numan. Not literally obviously, Gary was a mate, but there were some boundaries. Speaking of Gary Numan, some electro might wash the taste of jazz out of his head.
Barely ten seconds into Cars and Howard was shouting at him from downstairs.
“WHAT?” he called down angrily
“TURN THAT TRIPE DOWN!”
“I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I'M LISTENING TO MUSIC!” Vince lied and settled down on his bed, closed his eyes and turned the speakers up to full volume.
Why that little... there were no words to describe adequately, what Vince Noir was. Howard frowned and kicked the door, splintering the wood. He hopped around on one foot cursing for a minute and then put on one of his own records at full blast. That'll show him. He sat down and waited for Vince to appear at the top of the stairs like an avenging angel.
They didn't know why they constantly pushed and needled each other so much. They never used to fight like they did now, let alone provoke each other so much. The innocent bickering of their days in the Zooniverse was long gone.
“What is your problem?” Vince spat, hand on his hip, from the top of the stairs.
Howard laughed sarcastically.
“Oh yes, I'm the one with the problem. Do you ever think of anyone but yourself, or is that too much of a strain?” he sneered
“Yeah actually, you are the one with the problem!” Vince was in front of him now with his chest heaving, his face and neck flushed and his fists stiffly by his sides.
“Really? Do tell, Vince”
Vince snapped and slapped him sharply across his face and instantly regretted it. Howard put his hand to his cheek and looked at him disbelievingly.
“You hit me,” he said calmly
“I'm sorry,” Vince said quietly, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I'm alright,” Howard replied, rubbing the imprint of Vince's hand on his face.
“Let me have a look at it,” Vince said reaching out hesitantly.
Howard flinched, but let Vince gently probe his face with tentative fingers. He poked a delicate spot and Howard let out an involuntary hiss.
“I'm so stupid,” Vince said, “I'm sorry Howard, I'm such a prick”
Howard reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder
“There, there,” he said awkwardly, feeling like Vince was the one who needed comforting more than him.
Vince stood up onto the tips of his toes and kissed Howard on the cheek. Or rather, he would have, had Howard not moved his head slightly. Their lips glanced off each other and Vince pulled back quickly.
“I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!” he said hysterically.
“Oh, right,” Howard replied.
Vince stopped apologizing and looked at Howard carefully. He'd sounded almost disappointed. Oh well only one way to make sure. He cupped Howard's face and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
“I meant that one though,” he said softly.
Howard looked at him with eyes as round as saucers. For one horrible second, Vince thought he'd misjudged the situation and his face fell. He made to run off, but Howard grabbed him by the wrist.
“Do it again,” he said with a strange look on his face.
Vince blushed and nodded. He looked up at Howard and wrapped his arms around his neck before kissing him again. This time, Howard kissed him back, slowly and hesitantly. Vince chanced his luck and slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth slightly, before retreating back behind his own lips. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt Howard licking his lower lip and eagerly opened his mouth. Howard's hands were resting on his hips, tracing little circles with his thumbs in Vince's flesh.
After a few minutes, air became an issue and they broke apart reluctantly.
“You're not going to say that it was just a kiss again are you?” Howard asked nervously
Vince felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn't taken Howard seriously when he said that he loved him. Either of the times he said that, actually. He didn't want to have his heart broken when Howard came to his senses. Fat lot of good that did.
“No, I'm not,” he replied, shaking his head, “You're not going to say that you're a massive gayist are you?”
Howard chuckled self consciously. He put his hand behind Vince's head and rested their foreheads together.
“How long?” Howard asked more calmly.
Vince chewed his lip and looked into Howard's eyes.
“I think always,” he said carefully, “I always knew I loved you, but I figured out that was in love with you when you pulled me out of school.”
Howard looked at him incredulously.
“You mean to say that I've been pining away for you for all these years and you loved me back the whole bloody time?” he snapped
“Well it takes two to tango. You didn't exactly go out of your way to tell me that you were pining away for the love of me,” Vince snapped back.
Howard frowned and then smiled.
“Lets not fight. We've wasted enough time as it is,” he said, stroking Vince's cheek.
Vince covered his large hand with his smaller one and grinned.
“Hey Howard. Can we bum now? Cos I really want to bum you. Please?”
Howard looked set to argue but one look into those blue eyes and the fight went out of him.
“Yeah alright”
“Genius!”
Title: Food of Love
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Rating: PG-13 for references to sex
Word Count: 1287
Summary: Vince and Howard annoy each other with their music and the fact that they're so stupidly in love with each other
Disclaimer: I have no right to do what I'm doing. Don't tell.
Author's Notes: Written for the Oscar Wilde challenge I proposed. It would be bad form to expect people to write things for me and not contribute anything in return. Incidentally if anyone can think of a less fail worthy title I'd be very grateful.
“Music makes one feel so romantic - at least it always gets on one's nerves - which is the same thing nowadays.”- Oscar Wilde
Loving Vince was like electro: confusing, frustrating and headache-inducing. The same tedious refrain over and over with synth and androgynous posturing over it. Nothing significant ever happened.
In his youth, Howard had been sure that he would fall in love with an elegant, beautiful, intelligent woman who adored him. He had been so certain that he would grow up to be dashing and successful and that girls would grow on him given time.
Unfortunately this particular ugly duckling had grown up and become an uglier drake and by some cruel twist of fate the person he did fall hopelessly in love with was a vain tart who thought he was an idiot.
It was annoying, there was no two ways about it. He'd waited his whole life and for what exactly? To be a nobody, a garish mistake that snuck into the gene pool when the lifeguard was looking the other way.
“Here in my car, I feel safest of all, I can lock all the doors...”
Oh for God's sake.
“VINCE!”
Being in love with Howard was like listening to jazz: stupid, a waste of time and more than a little naff. Most of that shit Howard liked was like listening to a mediocre player trying to remember a tune. Whenever you got something that seemed to be making sense, he would abruptly change his mind, say, “Oh no, that's not it” and go off again.
He would have to fall in love with the one person he couldn't have, wouldn't he? Anyone else would throw themselves at him the least bit of encouragement, but not Howard. He could surprise him naked in the hallway and Howard wouldn't take a blind bit of notice, except to maybe offer him a jumper and remark that it was getting a bit nippy.
And maybe it was shallow, but falling for his geography-impersonator of a mate was just embarrassing. It would kill his image if that got about. He was supposed to like lithe, shiny, pretty people. Not overtly-manly Northern jazz enthusiasts.
Unfortunately, you don't get to pick who you fall for. It's not like style or music or something you can learn good taste in, if you don't have it naturally. Not that Vince didn't have natural good taste of course, he'd cut his teeth on Gary Numan. Not literally obviously, Gary was a mate, but there were some boundaries. Speaking of Gary Numan, some electro might wash the taste of jazz out of his head.
Barely ten seconds into Cars and Howard was shouting at him from downstairs.
“WHAT?” he called down angrily
“TURN THAT TRIPE DOWN!”
“I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I'M LISTENING TO MUSIC!” Vince lied and settled down on his bed, closed his eyes and turned the speakers up to full volume.
Why that little... there were no words to describe adequately, what Vince Noir was. Howard frowned and kicked the door, splintering the wood. He hopped around on one foot cursing for a minute and then put on one of his own records at full blast. That'll show him. He sat down and waited for Vince to appear at the top of the stairs like an avenging angel.
They didn't know why they constantly pushed and needled each other so much. They never used to fight like they did now, let alone provoke each other so much. The innocent bickering of their days in the Zooniverse was long gone.
“What is your problem?” Vince spat, hand on his hip, from the top of the stairs.
Howard laughed sarcastically.
“Oh yes, I'm the one with the problem. Do you ever think of anyone but yourself, or is that too much of a strain?” he sneered
“Yeah actually, you are the one with the problem!” Vince was in front of him now with his chest heaving, his face and neck flushed and his fists stiffly by his sides.
“Really? Do tell, Vince”
Vince snapped and slapped him sharply across his face and instantly regretted it. Howard put his hand to his cheek and looked at him disbelievingly.
“You hit me,” he said calmly
“I'm sorry,” Vince said quietly, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I'm alright,” Howard replied, rubbing the imprint of Vince's hand on his face.
“Let me have a look at it,” Vince said reaching out hesitantly.
Howard flinched, but let Vince gently probe his face with tentative fingers. He poked a delicate spot and Howard let out an involuntary hiss.
“I'm so stupid,” Vince said, “I'm sorry Howard, I'm such a prick”
Howard reached out to pat his friend on the shoulder
“There, there,” he said awkwardly, feeling like Vince was the one who needed comforting more than him.
Vince stood up onto the tips of his toes and kissed Howard on the cheek. Or rather, he would have, had Howard not moved his head slightly. Their lips glanced off each other and Vince pulled back quickly.
“I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!” he said hysterically.
“Oh, right,” Howard replied.
Vince stopped apologizing and looked at Howard carefully. He'd sounded almost disappointed. Oh well only one way to make sure. He cupped Howard's face and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
“I meant that one though,” he said softly.
Howard looked at him with eyes as round as saucers. For one horrible second, Vince thought he'd misjudged the situation and his face fell. He made to run off, but Howard grabbed him by the wrist.
“Do it again,” he said with a strange look on his face.
Vince blushed and nodded. He looked up at Howard and wrapped his arms around his neck before kissing him again. This time, Howard kissed him back, slowly and hesitantly. Vince chanced his luck and slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth slightly, before retreating back behind his own lips. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt Howard licking his lower lip and eagerly opened his mouth. Howard's hands were resting on his hips, tracing little circles with his thumbs in Vince's flesh.
After a few minutes, air became an issue and they broke apart reluctantly.
“You're not going to say that it was just a kiss again are you?” Howard asked nervously
Vince felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn't taken Howard seriously when he said that he loved him. Either of the times he said that, actually. He didn't want to have his heart broken when Howard came to his senses. Fat lot of good that did.
“No, I'm not,” he replied, shaking his head, “You're not going to say that you're a massive gayist are you?”
Howard chuckled self consciously. He put his hand behind Vince's head and rested their foreheads together.
“How long?” Howard asked more calmly.
Vince chewed his lip and looked into Howard's eyes.
“I think always,” he said carefully, “I always knew I loved you, but I figured out that was in love with you when you pulled me out of school.”
Howard looked at him incredulously.
“You mean to say that I've been pining away for you for all these years and you loved me back the whole bloody time?” he snapped
“Well it takes two to tango. You didn't exactly go out of your way to tell me that you were pining away for the love of me,” Vince snapped back.
Howard frowned and then smiled.
“Lets not fight. We've wasted enough time as it is,” he said, stroking Vince's cheek.
Vince covered his large hand with his smaller one and grinned.
“Hey Howard. Can we bum now? Cos I really want to bum you. Please?”
Howard looked set to argue but one look into those blue eyes and the fight went out of him.
“Yeah alright”
“Genius!”