The Willow Tree
Title: The Willow Tree
Pairing: Howard & Vince
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,022
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters! Don't sue me, I've got so much to give...
Summary: An exploration of the changing nature of Howard and Vince's relationship.
"Why are they called Weeping Willows, Howard?"
Vince was tucked against the side of the trunk, roughly half of the way up the tree: a lone, scuffed white cowboy boot traced the edge of the branch that he was balanced on; the other was nestled against him, with his arms loosely entwined about his knees. He cocked his head as he looked down at Howard - still safely stood on the ground - and beamed.
"It's just - I ain't never been sad in one of them," he confessed, all hurried words and wide eyes. "They're like, oh; like a big friend, stretched halfway between the floor and the stars. And you can be part of that, even if it's just for a little bit - and their leafy arms reach down, so you're still connected to the Earth, nice and cosy - but you're among the clouds. Yeah," he nodded, looking to Howard for approval.
"It's the ground, Vince - not the floor. Do you see any tiles, or any carpet, out here?" Howard smiled smugly. Vince may be a dreamer - but he, Howard Moon, was a man of substance; of intelligence.
"Sure I can see a carpet! A big green grassy carpet, all soft and snug for when you want an outside sleepy. Now, c'mon Howard - aren't you coming up?"
"Whilst the ground may well be nice for a power nap, I doubt it'd cushion me if I fell."
"You won't fall!"
"Promise?"
"Of course I promise! Now, get your big man-bones up here, you coward."
"I'll have you know Howard Moon is no coward, no sir. He is merely cautious: always alert, aware - thinking about potential dangers. It's called being prepared, Vince; it's not cowardice."
"If you ain't a coward, stop stallin' and climb the damn tree," Vince laughed, leaning down fearlessly and extending a hand. This, however, was an utterly useless offer of help, as Howard and Vince were, at the very least, a good six feet from one another. Smirking, he pretended to slip - just a little - knowing that Howard couldn't pass up the opportunity to act heroicly. He expertly hooked a boot under the branch, and leant further forwards, grinning.
"Woah there, little man. I'm coming - coming at you like a beam, like a ray-"
"Yeah, mmkay." Vince interrupted, slowly pulling himself upright. He raised an eyebrow as he idly surveyed Howard's attempts to get a firm grip on the base of the tree, so that he'd be able to pull himself up to the lowest branches. Leaning backwards, he extracted a banana from an unfathomable pocket hidden somewhere on his person. From his reclined position, he could watch Howard's failed attempts as he munched down his banana, hiding his snorts of amusement through mouthfuls of food.
As Howard finally groped at the branch Vince was sat on, and began to haul himself up, the tip of Vince's boot poked him in the armpit. Frowning, brow crinkled in exasperation, he looked up.
The sunlight fell in dapples across the small alcove they'd discovered: small, golden specks highlighting the sharp planes of Vince's face; the rough texture of the bark he was leant against; the delicate folds and creases of the leaves. Filtered as it was through the swathes of greenery, the light was cast with a green tint in places - some of the more shadowed areas lay in gentle contrast to the glow of sunshine, which fell softly through the gaps in the blades.
Vince scooted impossibly further backwards, wriggling as he got comfy against the firm trunk. Sincerely this time, he held out a hand for Howard to grab - albeit a somewhat sticky hand, a little smudged with banana, but a helpful one nonetheless - and yanked his friend up next to him.
"A banana, Vince? In a tree? I knew it. I knew you were a monkey."
"Hey! I'm not all monkey. It's more of an eighty-twenty split."
"Eighty percent monkey?"
"Eighty percent plonker - that's what you are."
"Hey, now. No need to be rude." Howard squinted, tiny eyes screwing up as he peered at his friend, making good use of the age-old sidelong glance. "Where were you even keeping that 'nana, Vince?"
"My nana? She's out on the streets of Bethnal Green, wacking teenagers with her handbag. I ain't keeping her anywhere - she's a free spirit, that one."
"Not your nana - your 'nana. Y'know - your banana?"
"Oh! You should've said. In this Poncho-Pocket - Fossil's idea."
"He's mental," Howard shook his head, smiling.
"Or he's a genius. This idea is actually pretty useful."
"Mm."
"I'm going to miss him. Maybe. I am gonna miss the zoo though, Howard."
"Me too, little man. But we'll figure something out."
"Yeah, I guess. Something always turns up." Vince then shook himself free of the melancholic conversation, and beamed. "I quite fancy that sleepy now, actually. Coming?"
"'Course I am. This tree is nothing short of a death-trap, Vince."
"Down you go, then."
"Um."
"Yeah?"
"Would you mind going first?"
Vince laughed.
::::
The next time Vince came to the tree, he was alone. He scrambled up the trunk, the pointed toes of his Chelsea boots digging in to the rough dips in the bark. The enclosed area he usually occupied with Howard was barren - it had been unseasonably cold this autumn, and the leaves had fallen earlier than usual. Once he was safely settled among the prickly branches, he looked up to the sky and closed his eyes.
The waning sunlight made patterns inside his eyelids, dancing in front of his retinas. They were surrounded by the warm darkness of his shut eyes, tiny bright sparks in an overwhelming blackness. Peeling them open again, slowly, he shuffled so that he was sat astride the branch, facing out, with his legs crossed underneath, dangling in the air.
He missed the animals. All he had to talk to in Dalston were the pigeons, and they only stopped by every so often to regale accounts of chip-theft. He looked about longingly for a sparrow, or a jackdaw - but they'd all left for warmer climates.
The sun began to set: creeping down the sky, inching through palettes of blue and purple and red and pink and orange, casting long shadows across the mossy grass below. It tipped buckets of darkness over Vince's still form, shrouding him in the inky black of the beginnings of the night sky. His hair, no longer a mass of lighter tones and honeyed strands, bled into the shade.
Vince looked up, focusing on the fading daylight rather than the encroaching night-time. He'd paint it, when he got home - home to the flat, to Howard. His one constant, ever since they'd been at school together: his best friend, like an oversized teddy bear, but with all the stuffing taken out and thrown away. He'd deflated somewhat, since they'd left the zoo.
Vince sighed.
::::
They didn't return to the tree, not together, for over a year. Howard never managed to go up it alone - without Vince, he had no need to prove himself, and remained nestled amongst the roots. He doubted that, without Vince's influence, he'd feel any pull or desire to go there whatsoever, now.
He didn't know why Vince bothered, not really. He had new friends, new opportunities - yet he'd still come and sit amongst the higher branches, claiming that it helped him to think. Howard had snorted at that, though he wasn't proud of it. He'd just been taken aback by the thought of Vince thinking, was all. He hadn't, however, missed the brief flash of hurt that had crossed his friend's features.
He'd left a packet of strawberry bootlaces on the table for him, after that. It'd been to no avail - Naboo had swiped them, claiming that his munchies took priority.
It was rare that they'd even spend the day together, now. Vince often took to seeing a number of his nameless, faceless friends; sauntering about Camden in a number of quickly-forgotten fashions. Howard would attempt to retaliate, heading over to Lester's more and more frequently. He knew it wasn't the same.
"Howard? Howard. Howard?"
"Yes, Vince?"
"D'ya reckon things'll go back to the way they were?"
"Hey, what's brought this on?"
"I don't see you anymore," Vince frowned.
"We work together."
"That's not what I meant."
"We worked together at the zoo, too, y'know."
"I do know, Howard - I was there, actually."
"Okay." Howard bit back an angry retort. "Well, we could, I don't know - go to the pub?"
"The pub?" Vince repeated, somewhat snidely.
"If that's not good enough for you, then I don't know what to offer."
"I miss our adventures."
"You miss those? I thought you missed spending time with me." Howard turned away slightly, facing the expanse of woodland that stretched out ahead of them. It was too dense for any sunlight to permeate it, despite the rich quality of the early afternoon light. Vince shifted, ever so carefully, so that he was close enough to lean against Howard's broad side.
"You know what I mean. I miss all of it - we only argue, nowadays."
"What about the seashell times? We didn't argue then - they were good times, yes Sir."
"Classic times, Howard," Vince said, with a hint of a smile in his voice. He put a little of his weight against Howard, and, when he was not instantly shunned with a haughty 'Don't touch me!', he decided that it was safe for him to slump against his friend. Howard breathed out heavily through his nose, as though bracing himself, and curled an arm around Vince.
A ray of sunlight poked through the leaves, far below them; it lit up a small patch of grass, filled with weeds - but it became much more beautiful, for the light.
Far above it, Vince snuggled into Howard's side, and smiled.
::::
When they next went back, the Weeping Willow had been cut down. The red spray paint, used hastily to mark the tree, splayed off the lifeless stump, and onto the ground, splattered like blood. Vince had begun to shake, quivering angrily in his heeled boots. Conversing rapidly with a passing badger, he learnt that the small area of woodland surrounding the clearing in which their tree had stood was being removed, so as to allow for construction work. Vince dug his fingernails into the thick material of his leather jacket, winding his hands further into the fabric. Howard, very awkwardly, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey there, little man. It'll be all right." Vince looked up at him, eyes full of uncertainty.
"Do you really mean that, Howard?"
"Of course. I'm no liar, Vince - Howard Moon is a man of integrity, oh yes."
::::
With the trees gone, the sunshine could filter freely into the open space. Howard and Vince began to sit on the roof, rather than in their tree - with Howard leant against the chimney, and Vince leant against him. Whilst they couldn't go back in time, they were still most capable of moving on.
Vince, cupping a pleasantly warm mug of tea in his hands, wrapped in a blanket, sat atop the roof. He could hear Howard bustling about below him - trying to stuff everything a rough-and-ready Man of Action, such as himself, may need into his multitude of pockets. The stars were just coming out, beginning to peep through the hazy smog coating London's sky. The moon hung amongst them, beaming at everything, and nothing at all. As Vince heard Howard bang his head on the still-open skylight, he chuckled.
A mop of brown hair was followed by a pair of crazed brown eyes, and something of a scowl, as Howard finally made his way onto the roof.
"Shift over, will you?"
"Mmkay."
Howard scooted along, until he was sat with a small gap between himself and Vince. With all the grace of a drunk Bob Fossil - something he never wanted to experience again - he passed Vince a pack of strawberry bootlaces.
"Genius," said Vince, eyes twinkling as a broad grin stretched across his face. He opened the packet with something akin to reverence, before stuffing the majority of the laces into his mouth.
And Howard laughed.
Pairing: Howard & Vince
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,022
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters! Don't sue me, I've got so much to give...
Summary: An exploration of the changing nature of Howard and Vince's relationship.
"Why are they called Weeping Willows, Howard?"
Vince was tucked against the side of the trunk, roughly half of the way up the tree: a lone, scuffed white cowboy boot traced the edge of the branch that he was balanced on; the other was nestled against him, with his arms loosely entwined about his knees. He cocked his head as he looked down at Howard - still safely stood on the ground - and beamed.
"It's just - I ain't never been sad in one of them," he confessed, all hurried words and wide eyes. "They're like, oh; like a big friend, stretched halfway between the floor and the stars. And you can be part of that, even if it's just for a little bit - and their leafy arms reach down, so you're still connected to the Earth, nice and cosy - but you're among the clouds. Yeah," he nodded, looking to Howard for approval.
"It's the ground, Vince - not the floor. Do you see any tiles, or any carpet, out here?" Howard smiled smugly. Vince may be a dreamer - but he, Howard Moon, was a man of substance; of intelligence.
"Sure I can see a carpet! A big green grassy carpet, all soft and snug for when you want an outside sleepy. Now, c'mon Howard - aren't you coming up?"
"Whilst the ground may well be nice for a power nap, I doubt it'd cushion me if I fell."
"You won't fall!"
"Promise?"
"Of course I promise! Now, get your big man-bones up here, you coward."
"I'll have you know Howard Moon is no coward, no sir. He is merely cautious: always alert, aware - thinking about potential dangers. It's called being prepared, Vince; it's not cowardice."
"If you ain't a coward, stop stallin' and climb the damn tree," Vince laughed, leaning down fearlessly and extending a hand. This, however, was an utterly useless offer of help, as Howard and Vince were, at the very least, a good six feet from one another. Smirking, he pretended to slip - just a little - knowing that Howard couldn't pass up the opportunity to act heroicly. He expertly hooked a boot under the branch, and leant further forwards, grinning.
"Woah there, little man. I'm coming - coming at you like a beam, like a ray-"
"Yeah, mmkay." Vince interrupted, slowly pulling himself upright. He raised an eyebrow as he idly surveyed Howard's attempts to get a firm grip on the base of the tree, so that he'd be able to pull himself up to the lowest branches. Leaning backwards, he extracted a banana from an unfathomable pocket hidden somewhere on his person. From his reclined position, he could watch Howard's failed attempts as he munched down his banana, hiding his snorts of amusement through mouthfuls of food.
As Howard finally groped at the branch Vince was sat on, and began to haul himself up, the tip of Vince's boot poked him in the armpit. Frowning, brow crinkled in exasperation, he looked up.
The sunlight fell in dapples across the small alcove they'd discovered: small, golden specks highlighting the sharp planes of Vince's face; the rough texture of the bark he was leant against; the delicate folds and creases of the leaves. Filtered as it was through the swathes of greenery, the light was cast with a green tint in places - some of the more shadowed areas lay in gentle contrast to the glow of sunshine, which fell softly through the gaps in the blades.
Vince scooted impossibly further backwards, wriggling as he got comfy against the firm trunk. Sincerely this time, he held out a hand for Howard to grab - albeit a somewhat sticky hand, a little smudged with banana, but a helpful one nonetheless - and yanked his friend up next to him.
"A banana, Vince? In a tree? I knew it. I knew you were a monkey."
"Hey! I'm not all monkey. It's more of an eighty-twenty split."
"Eighty percent monkey?"
"Eighty percent plonker - that's what you are."
"Hey, now. No need to be rude." Howard squinted, tiny eyes screwing up as he peered at his friend, making good use of the age-old sidelong glance. "Where were you even keeping that 'nana, Vince?"
"My nana? She's out on the streets of Bethnal Green, wacking teenagers with her handbag. I ain't keeping her anywhere - she's a free spirit, that one."
"Not your nana - your 'nana. Y'know - your banana?"
"Oh! You should've said. In this Poncho-Pocket - Fossil's idea."
"He's mental," Howard shook his head, smiling.
"Or he's a genius. This idea is actually pretty useful."
"Mm."
"I'm going to miss him. Maybe. I am gonna miss the zoo though, Howard."
"Me too, little man. But we'll figure something out."
"Yeah, I guess. Something always turns up." Vince then shook himself free of the melancholic conversation, and beamed. "I quite fancy that sleepy now, actually. Coming?"
"'Course I am. This tree is nothing short of a death-trap, Vince."
"Down you go, then."
"Um."
"Yeah?"
"Would you mind going first?"
Vince laughed.
::::
The next time Vince came to the tree, he was alone. He scrambled up the trunk, the pointed toes of his Chelsea boots digging in to the rough dips in the bark. The enclosed area he usually occupied with Howard was barren - it had been unseasonably cold this autumn, and the leaves had fallen earlier than usual. Once he was safely settled among the prickly branches, he looked up to the sky and closed his eyes.
The waning sunlight made patterns inside his eyelids, dancing in front of his retinas. They were surrounded by the warm darkness of his shut eyes, tiny bright sparks in an overwhelming blackness. Peeling them open again, slowly, he shuffled so that he was sat astride the branch, facing out, with his legs crossed underneath, dangling in the air.
He missed the animals. All he had to talk to in Dalston were the pigeons, and they only stopped by every so often to regale accounts of chip-theft. He looked about longingly for a sparrow, or a jackdaw - but they'd all left for warmer climates.
The sun began to set: creeping down the sky, inching through palettes of blue and purple and red and pink and orange, casting long shadows across the mossy grass below. It tipped buckets of darkness over Vince's still form, shrouding him in the inky black of the beginnings of the night sky. His hair, no longer a mass of lighter tones and honeyed strands, bled into the shade.
Vince looked up, focusing on the fading daylight rather than the encroaching night-time. He'd paint it, when he got home - home to the flat, to Howard. His one constant, ever since they'd been at school together: his best friend, like an oversized teddy bear, but with all the stuffing taken out and thrown away. He'd deflated somewhat, since they'd left the zoo.
Vince sighed.
::::
They didn't return to the tree, not together, for over a year. Howard never managed to go up it alone - without Vince, he had no need to prove himself, and remained nestled amongst the roots. He doubted that, without Vince's influence, he'd feel any pull or desire to go there whatsoever, now.
He didn't know why Vince bothered, not really. He had new friends, new opportunities - yet he'd still come and sit amongst the higher branches, claiming that it helped him to think. Howard had snorted at that, though he wasn't proud of it. He'd just been taken aback by the thought of Vince thinking, was all. He hadn't, however, missed the brief flash of hurt that had crossed his friend's features.
He'd left a packet of strawberry bootlaces on the table for him, after that. It'd been to no avail - Naboo had swiped them, claiming that his munchies took priority.
It was rare that they'd even spend the day together, now. Vince often took to seeing a number of his nameless, faceless friends; sauntering about Camden in a number of quickly-forgotten fashions. Howard would attempt to retaliate, heading over to Lester's more and more frequently. He knew it wasn't the same.
"Howard? Howard. Howard?"
"Yes, Vince?"
"D'ya reckon things'll go back to the way they were?"
"Hey, what's brought this on?"
"I don't see you anymore," Vince frowned.
"We work together."
"That's not what I meant."
"We worked together at the zoo, too, y'know."
"I do know, Howard - I was there, actually."
"Okay." Howard bit back an angry retort. "Well, we could, I don't know - go to the pub?"
"The pub?" Vince repeated, somewhat snidely.
"If that's not good enough for you, then I don't know what to offer."
"I miss our adventures."
"You miss those? I thought you missed spending time with me." Howard turned away slightly, facing the expanse of woodland that stretched out ahead of them. It was too dense for any sunlight to permeate it, despite the rich quality of the early afternoon light. Vince shifted, ever so carefully, so that he was close enough to lean against Howard's broad side.
"You know what I mean. I miss all of it - we only argue, nowadays."
"What about the seashell times? We didn't argue then - they were good times, yes Sir."
"Classic times, Howard," Vince said, with a hint of a smile in his voice. He put a little of his weight against Howard, and, when he was not instantly shunned with a haughty 'Don't touch me!', he decided that it was safe for him to slump against his friend. Howard breathed out heavily through his nose, as though bracing himself, and curled an arm around Vince.
A ray of sunlight poked through the leaves, far below them; it lit up a small patch of grass, filled with weeds - but it became much more beautiful, for the light.
Far above it, Vince snuggled into Howard's side, and smiled.
::::
When they next went back, the Weeping Willow had been cut down. The red spray paint, used hastily to mark the tree, splayed off the lifeless stump, and onto the ground, splattered like blood. Vince had begun to shake, quivering angrily in his heeled boots. Conversing rapidly with a passing badger, he learnt that the small area of woodland surrounding the clearing in which their tree had stood was being removed, so as to allow for construction work. Vince dug his fingernails into the thick material of his leather jacket, winding his hands further into the fabric. Howard, very awkwardly, placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey there, little man. It'll be all right." Vince looked up at him, eyes full of uncertainty.
"Do you really mean that, Howard?"
"Of course. I'm no liar, Vince - Howard Moon is a man of integrity, oh yes."
::::
With the trees gone, the sunshine could filter freely into the open space. Howard and Vince began to sit on the roof, rather than in their tree - with Howard leant against the chimney, and Vince leant against him. Whilst they couldn't go back in time, they were still most capable of moving on.
Vince, cupping a pleasantly warm mug of tea in his hands, wrapped in a blanket, sat atop the roof. He could hear Howard bustling about below him - trying to stuff everything a rough-and-ready Man of Action, such as himself, may need into his multitude of pockets. The stars were just coming out, beginning to peep through the hazy smog coating London's sky. The moon hung amongst them, beaming at everything, and nothing at all. As Vince heard Howard bang his head on the still-open skylight, he chuckled.
A mop of brown hair was followed by a pair of crazed brown eyes, and something of a scowl, as Howard finally made his way onto the roof.
"Shift over, will you?"
"Mmkay."
Howard scooted along, until he was sat with a small gap between himself and Vince. With all the grace of a drunk Bob Fossil - something he never wanted to experience again - he passed Vince a pack of strawberry bootlaces.
"Genius," said Vince, eyes twinkling as a broad grin stretched across his face. He opened the packet with something akin to reverence, before stuffing the majority of the laces into his mouth.
And Howard laughed.