The Mighty Boosh Halloween Special of Doom 2015: Chapter 7
Pairing: Howard Moon/Vince Noir a bit, also (seeing as it's me) Naboo/Saboo a tiny bit because I can never resist that.
Author: ideserveyou (nemeton)
Summary: Howard and Vince are in a tricky situation. Will anyone come to the rescue?
Spoilers: Course they will
Rating: possibly PG for a teensy bit of swearing
Word count: way too long, 1200-ish, because I basically wrote two alternate chapters and couldn't bear to delete either of them
Notes: not my characters etc. etc. also written in a hurry and un-beta'd so apologies for repetition, clunkiness, punctuation errors and complete lack of smut, also for any weird spacing errors caused by the fact that LJ is being very flaky today and has already eaten my post title once...
Link to masterpost with all the chapters: here
Howard stares round at the white dusty desert, the too-blue sky. It’s bluer even than Vince’s eyes, and that is just wrong; Vince’s eyes are the bluest thing on earth.
But then, they’re not on earth any more.
‘What’re we gonna do, Howard?’
Howard takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, becoming once again a Man of Action, or at any rate a man who is trying not to feel like a complete tit for having spent the past two hours walking in a circle.
‘We’re going to get out of here, Vince, that’s what we’re going to do.’
‘But how?’
Whatever reply Howard might have been about to make is drowned out by a sudden rumble of thunder right overhead.
Vince jumps and staggers, blundering into Howard, who instinctively puts out an arm to steady him.
‘Whoa there, little man. It’s just a bit of weather.’
‘Yeah, but where’s it comin’ from? There ain’t no clouds in that sky.’
He’s right. That sky is as clear and blue as ever. Howard tightens his grip on Vince.
‘Howard, I don’t like this.’ Vince is trembling. ‘I don’t like thunder an’ I really, really don’t like thunder that you can’t see where it’s comin’ from.’
A drop of something cold hits Howard’s cheek. He dabs at it with a finger: wet.
‘An’ now it’s rainin’,’ Vince wails. ‘An’ we’re only in pyjamas, an’ what’s it gonna do to my hair?’
More drops fall, heavy and chill, making little circles of grey in the white dust, and little patches of damp on Vince’s pyjamas. Vince whimpers and pats anxiously at his fringe.
‘Here.’ Howard lets go of Vince and strips off his own shirt; puts it over Vince’s head. ‘Not the most fashionable hat, but it’ll keep you a bit drier. And you did say that all hats suit you.’
‘All hats do suit me.’ Vince flashes a brief, tight smile. ‘Thanks, Howard.’
‘We should go,’ Howard says.
‘Go where?’
‘Anywhere but here. There’s nothing here but that damn mirror, we can’t risk going back through it.’
‘An’ what if someone else comes out of it?’
‘My thoughts exactly. Come on then, shake a leg.’
Another roll of thunder fills the air, and all of Vince is shaking. Howard wraps an arm around him again. He’s so thin. Hardly anything to him at all. And he barely comes up to Howard’s shoulder, whereas a few moments ago -
Howard’s blood runs cold.
Vince is shrinking.
‘Change of plan,’ Howard says hastily, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘We should stay here. This is the only shelter we’ve got.’
He lets go of Vince and takes hold of the mirror frame, careful not to touch the surface; lifts it up, rests the bottom of the frame on the ground, and tilts it at an angle. The fat raindrops splatter and stream down the top side, but the ground underneath stays relatively dry.
‘Get under there, Vince.’
‘I don’t want to, what if -’
‘Vince, don’t argue, get under there. We need to keep you dry. Keep your hair dry, I mean. You know what you’re like when it gets in a mess. And the rain will ruin your sequins. Get in there and we’ll wait until it stops.’
‘I won’t fit.’
‘You will fit. Please, Vince.’
Vince crawls underneath the angle of the mirror. ‘There’s more room under here than I thought.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive, Vince.’ Howard swallows hard.
‘You’re sure you’re OK holdin’ the mirror up?’
‘I’m fine.’ This is possibly the biggest lie Howard’s ever told, but Vince must be protected from the rain, and from truth, for as long as Howard can protect him, until they find some way to fix whatever’s happened. Assuming it can be fixed...
Howard shivers, and not just with the cold.
The rain stops, as suddenly as it began.
Howard is about to suggest they start walking, when Vince looks up, into the mirror.
His eyes widen in horror.
‘No,’ Vince whispers. ‘Oh, no...’
***
‘Kirk. Kirkey. Special K. Anybody home?’
‘It’s no use, Saboo you slag, ’e’s off ’is tiny tits in another dimension. I told you you shouldn’t let ’im drink that ’erbal tea.’
Kirk’s wide eyes are staring into space; he makes no reply, but pushes one of his empty teacups across the table to Naboo.
‘Well?’ Saboo snaps impatiently, after the annoying little shaman has stared into it for some minutes. ‘What does it say?’
Wordlessly, Naboo turns the cup so they can all read the wobbly letters.
HOWARD AND VINCE ARE IN DANGER
‘Oh, only the usual.’ Saboo shrugs. ‘Tell us something we don’t know. Naboo, I’ve told you before about taking personal prophecies at work. Now if we can all just get on with the business in hand -’
Kirk pushes another teacup across the table. Naboo reaches for it, but Saboo’s arm is longer.
‘You plum pudding, we can’t be doing with all these interruptions. You can read it at the end of the meeting.’
Naboo looks appealingly at the Head Shaman, seated at the head of the table and doing his best to look dignified in his regalia and robes.
‘Saboo,’ Dennis says mildly, ‘let him read it now. It might be important.’
Saboo sighs, and hands the teacup to Naboo.
‘Well?’ Saboo snaps again.
‘Dunno.’ Naboo glares up at him, then down at the teacup. ‘Not very helpful, this one.’ He turns it round.
LOOK AT THEM SHINE
‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’ Tony snorts. ‘The stars? HGV headlights?’
‘Your bald head and Dennis’s on a moonlit night?’ Saboo suggests, under his breath.
Kirk sighs, a sigh of utter contempt for beings of so few dimensions and such limited understanding, and turns the third cup on its side so they can all read it.
MIRRORBALLS
‘An’ the same to you,’ Tony replies cheerfully.
‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the stonedest of them all?’ Saboo murmurs to himself.
‘Is that the last of them?’ Dennis asks Kirk.
Kirk nods.
‘Um, does anyone here know what these messages mean?’
Silence. Kirk shrugs.
‘Right.’ Dennis shuffles the pile of papers in front of him. ‘Yes. Um, item 26 of the agenda, then.’
‘Hang on,’ Naboo objects, ‘what about the teacups? Howard and Vince are in danger!’
‘And we’re at a meeting of the Board of Shamen,’ Saboo says sharply, ‘and we’re neither the fire service nor the lifeboatmen.’
‘But we need to rescue Howard and Vince.’ Naboo’s voice trembles in a ridiculously pathetic way.
‘No, we don’t.’
‘But - but - We’re the shamen. That’s what we do.’ Naboo looks as though he might cry.
‘It’s what you do, Naboo, at least where those two idiots are concerned. We have better things to do.’
Naboo looks down, biting his lip. Then looks Saboo right in the eyes. ‘Y’know, you’re right.’
Saboo leans back in his chair. ‘Finally you admit it. Now can we get on with the agenda?’
‘No, I mean you’re right. Rescuin’ those idiots is what I do.’ Naboo pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. ‘Yeah. It’s what I do, an’ now I’ve worked out how to do it, so I’m gonna do it right now. C’m’on, Bollo.’
Naboo’s incompetent apology for a familiar scrambles up from the corner where it’s been intently reading some sort of magazine with a plain brown cover.
‘I gotta bad feelin’ about dis,’ it mutters, as the pair of them leave the room.
‘You’re not the only one,’ Saboo sighs.
Then gets to his feet and follows them.
Author: ideserveyou (nemeton)
Summary: Howard and Vince are in a tricky situation. Will anyone come to the rescue?
Spoilers: Course they will
Rating: possibly PG for a teensy bit of swearing
Word count: way too long, 1200-ish, because I basically wrote two alternate chapters and couldn't bear to delete either of them
Notes: not my characters etc. etc. also written in a hurry and un-beta'd so apologies for repetition, clunkiness, punctuation errors and complete lack of smut, also for any weird spacing errors caused by the fact that LJ is being very flaky today and has already eaten my post title once...
Link to masterpost with all the chapters: here
Howard stares round at the white dusty desert, the too-blue sky. It’s bluer even than Vince’s eyes, and that is just wrong; Vince’s eyes are the bluest thing on earth.
But then, they’re not on earth any more.
‘What’re we gonna do, Howard?’
Howard takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, becoming once again a Man of Action, or at any rate a man who is trying not to feel like a complete tit for having spent the past two hours walking in a circle.
‘We’re going to get out of here, Vince, that’s what we’re going to do.’
‘But how?’
Whatever reply Howard might have been about to make is drowned out by a sudden rumble of thunder right overhead.
Vince jumps and staggers, blundering into Howard, who instinctively puts out an arm to steady him.
‘Whoa there, little man. It’s just a bit of weather.’
‘Yeah, but where’s it comin’ from? There ain’t no clouds in that sky.’
He’s right. That sky is as clear and blue as ever. Howard tightens his grip on Vince.
‘Howard, I don’t like this.’ Vince is trembling. ‘I don’t like thunder an’ I really, really don’t like thunder that you can’t see where it’s comin’ from.’
A drop of something cold hits Howard’s cheek. He dabs at it with a finger: wet.
‘An’ now it’s rainin’,’ Vince wails. ‘An’ we’re only in pyjamas, an’ what’s it gonna do to my hair?’
More drops fall, heavy and chill, making little circles of grey in the white dust, and little patches of damp on Vince’s pyjamas. Vince whimpers and pats anxiously at his fringe.
‘Here.’ Howard lets go of Vince and strips off his own shirt; puts it over Vince’s head. ‘Not the most fashionable hat, but it’ll keep you a bit drier. And you did say that all hats suit you.’
‘All hats do suit me.’ Vince flashes a brief, tight smile. ‘Thanks, Howard.’
‘We should go,’ Howard says.
‘Go where?’
‘Anywhere but here. There’s nothing here but that damn mirror, we can’t risk going back through it.’
‘An’ what if someone else comes out of it?’
‘My thoughts exactly. Come on then, shake a leg.’
Another roll of thunder fills the air, and all of Vince is shaking. Howard wraps an arm around him again. He’s so thin. Hardly anything to him at all. And he barely comes up to Howard’s shoulder, whereas a few moments ago -
Howard’s blood runs cold.
Vince is shrinking.
‘Change of plan,’ Howard says hastily, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘We should stay here. This is the only shelter we’ve got.’
He lets go of Vince and takes hold of the mirror frame, careful not to touch the surface; lifts it up, rests the bottom of the frame on the ground, and tilts it at an angle. The fat raindrops splatter and stream down the top side, but the ground underneath stays relatively dry.
‘Get under there, Vince.’
‘I don’t want to, what if -’
‘Vince, don’t argue, get under there. We need to keep you dry. Keep your hair dry, I mean. You know what you’re like when it gets in a mess. And the rain will ruin your sequins. Get in there and we’ll wait until it stops.’
‘I won’t fit.’
‘You will fit. Please, Vince.’
Vince crawls underneath the angle of the mirror. ‘There’s more room under here than I thought.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive, Vince.’ Howard swallows hard.
‘You’re sure you’re OK holdin’ the mirror up?’
‘I’m fine.’ This is possibly the biggest lie Howard’s ever told, but Vince must be protected from the rain, and from truth, for as long as Howard can protect him, until they find some way to fix whatever’s happened. Assuming it can be fixed...
Howard shivers, and not just with the cold.
The rain stops, as suddenly as it began.
Howard is about to suggest they start walking, when Vince looks up, into the mirror.
His eyes widen in horror.
‘No,’ Vince whispers. ‘Oh, no...’
***
‘Kirk. Kirkey. Special K. Anybody home?’
‘It’s no use, Saboo you slag, ’e’s off ’is tiny tits in another dimension. I told you you shouldn’t let ’im drink that ’erbal tea.’
Kirk’s wide eyes are staring into space; he makes no reply, but pushes one of his empty teacups across the table to Naboo.
‘Well?’ Saboo snaps impatiently, after the annoying little shaman has stared into it for some minutes. ‘What does it say?’
Wordlessly, Naboo turns the cup so they can all read the wobbly letters.
HOWARD AND VINCE ARE IN DANGER
‘Oh, only the usual.’ Saboo shrugs. ‘Tell us something we don’t know. Naboo, I’ve told you before about taking personal prophecies at work. Now if we can all just get on with the business in hand -’
Kirk pushes another teacup across the table. Naboo reaches for it, but Saboo’s arm is longer.
‘You plum pudding, we can’t be doing with all these interruptions. You can read it at the end of the meeting.’
Naboo looks appealingly at the Head Shaman, seated at the head of the table and doing his best to look dignified in his regalia and robes.
‘Saboo,’ Dennis says mildly, ‘let him read it now. It might be important.’
Saboo sighs, and hands the teacup to Naboo.
‘Well?’ Saboo snaps again.
‘Dunno.’ Naboo glares up at him, then down at the teacup. ‘Not very helpful, this one.’ He turns it round.
LOOK AT THEM SHINE
‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’ Tony snorts. ‘The stars? HGV headlights?’
‘Your bald head and Dennis’s on a moonlit night?’ Saboo suggests, under his breath.
Kirk sighs, a sigh of utter contempt for beings of so few dimensions and such limited understanding, and turns the third cup on its side so they can all read it.
MIRRORBALLS
‘An’ the same to you,’ Tony replies cheerfully.
‘Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the stonedest of them all?’ Saboo murmurs to himself.
‘Is that the last of them?’ Dennis asks Kirk.
Kirk nods.
‘Um, does anyone here know what these messages mean?’
Silence. Kirk shrugs.
‘Right.’ Dennis shuffles the pile of papers in front of him. ‘Yes. Um, item 26 of the agenda, then.’
‘Hang on,’ Naboo objects, ‘what about the teacups? Howard and Vince are in danger!’
‘And we’re at a meeting of the Board of Shamen,’ Saboo says sharply, ‘and we’re neither the fire service nor the lifeboatmen.’
‘But we need to rescue Howard and Vince.’ Naboo’s voice trembles in a ridiculously pathetic way.
‘No, we don’t.’
‘But - but - We’re the shamen. That’s what we do.’ Naboo looks as though he might cry.
‘It’s what you do, Naboo, at least where those two idiots are concerned. We have better things to do.’
Naboo looks down, biting his lip. Then looks Saboo right in the eyes. ‘Y’know, you’re right.’
Saboo leans back in his chair. ‘Finally you admit it. Now can we get on with the agenda?’
‘No, I mean you’re right. Rescuin’ those idiots is what I do.’ Naboo pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. ‘Yeah. It’s what I do, an’ now I’ve worked out how to do it, so I’m gonna do it right now. C’m’on, Bollo.’
Naboo’s incompetent apology for a familiar scrambles up from the corner where it’s been intently reading some sort of magazine with a plain brown cover.
‘I gotta bad feelin’ about dis,’ it mutters, as the pair of them leave the room.
‘You’re not the only one,’ Saboo sighs.
Then gets to his feet and follows them.