Let the Good Times Roll Part 38
Title: Let the Good Times Roll
Author: Concupid
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Rating: R
Warnings: angst, a little sex, sappiness
Summary: Vince has a lot of regrets, Howard does not.
Author's note: I've had terrible writer's block. I'm really trying to finish this story! Thank you to anyone who has held on. I really appreciate your patience and support.
Vince would joke that he'd never left Shoreditch, but it wasn't that much of an exaggeration. His parents had created their own happy little family in London and rarely strayed. Vince had some relatives scattered about, but his family had consisted of his mother, father and Howard. Other than the occasional foray into Monkey Hell or the wooded mountains (that happened to be right outside of Dalston), Vince rarely left the city.
Sometimes he wished he'd traveled a bit more. Not because he felt he was missing out on anything, anywhere without Howard would surely be boring, but because everyone he'd ever slept with also lived in the city and it could get a little claustrophobic. He'd been his most promiscuous as a teen and while under the influence, so he wasn't sure he could even recognize half of his partners.
It wasn't a good feeling.
Especially when Howard was still struggling with so many insecurities. Every time they came across someone Vince knew, even if it was just an old friend, Howard had a setback. He never said anything, or even asked about Vince's history, but if a good looking man smiled at Vince, Howard inevitably had nightmares. Worst of all, Howard blamed himself for his reaction, as if he could control his feelings if he just worked hard enough. Howard had himself on some kind of timeline, convinced his healing could be scheduled. Vince had run out of ways to try and tell Howard he was doing fine, and that his resilience was beautiful. Sometimes he wondered if Howard would have believed someone a little smarter or more grown-up.
Vince and Howard were supposed to be out for a romantic meal, and now Vince was being trapped in a corner by an unwanted blast from his past.
"You look good," Geoffrey murmured in a husky voice, as though it had been days rather than years since their tryst. "I've thought about you. A lot."
"But not enough to return my phone calls." Vince's tone was harsher than he'd intended. He was surprised by the resurfacing of such an old hurt. Vince wasn't usually deluded about one night stands, not even as a teen, but Geoffrey had seemed so nice and caring. He had looked enough like Howard to inspire something a little like love in Vince's eighteen-year-old heart. The memory of getting the cold shoulder from Geoffrey after their night together still made Vince feel small.
Why hadn't he gone a bit further from home for his little sexual adventures? Why didn't he ever think things out?
Vince jerked away when he felt Geoffrey's hand on his face, but Geoffrey held on to Vince's hair.
"Oi! Don't grab the hair," Vince snapped. Only Howard was allowed to grab his hair, and he would be wandering back from the men's room at any moment. Vince needed to get rid of Geoffrey before he had a chance to ruin their dinner (and Howard's sleep).
"It was great running into you and all," Vince lied, taking a step backwards, "but, I'm here with my boyfriend and our table is probably ready. Catch you next decade!"
Vince tried to walk away, but Geoffrey grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Why don't we exchange numbers?" Geoffrey asked in what he must have considered a sexy voice. "Just in case you ever want to catch up?"
Vince was in the process of shaking his arm free when he heard someone yell, "Leave him!"
Vince barely recognized the sound of Howard's voice. When Howard yelled, there was usually a tinge of panic in his voice, but he sounded firm and authoritative as he told Geoffrey to piss off.
Vince grabbed Howard by the hand, hoping to assure his partner that he was in no way interested in Geoffrey, but Howard was in Man of Action mode.
"Relax," Geoffrey said, putting his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Just catching up with an old friend."
"No, you were grabbing at my mate, sir. You need to learn some manners. Learn to respect a person's personal space."
Howard continued to glare at Geoffrey as he subtly moved in front of Vince, as though he feared Geoffrey was going to make another grab for Vince's hair.
"Harold?" Geoffrey asked, his eyes widening in surprise. "No, what was it...?"
"It's Howard T.J. Moon, and I'm Vince's... I'm Vince's, and I won't have you pawing at him and being disrespectful."
Vince smiled and squeezed Howard's hand. Howard couldn't bring himself to say 'boyfriend' or 'lover'. He thought those terms sounded silly. Vince had rejected 'partner' as too business-like and 'gentleman companion' as too Howardy, leaving them at an impasse.
Geoffrey stared at Howard, taking in his height and build, his wavy dark hair and warm brown eyes and clearly seeing the resemblance.
"My apologies," Geoffrey said, raising his hands in surrender. "Good for you, Vince. I'm glad things worked out for you. Truly."
"Yeah, well..." Vince wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "Thanks."
Geoffrey told Howard he was a lucky man.
Howard responded somberly, "I know that, sir."
xxx
Vince found Howard in a sinking boat, bailing water with a shoe.
"Howard, you're having one of those dreams," Vince called out as he walked across the water. "You're upset about that wanker we ran into. Believe me, Howard. You have nothing to be worried about."
The water and boat disappeared, and Vince and Howard were left in a featureless room. It was Howard's default setting. Whenever he realized he was dreaming, he would go to this room.
"They're all so good looking! And tall. That berk looked like a movie star," Howard wailed, throwing his soggy shoes in the air. "I know you don't care what I look like, but it gets to me sometimes."
Vince wrapped his arms around him and began to imagine Howard projected against a bare wall. He created the image slowly, one feature at a time, as though he were painting it. In real life, he could never draw Howard quite right. He never looked beautiful enough to be confused with the real thing.
"That's not what I look like, Little Man," Howard chided him, gently.
"S'what I see."
Howard rested his chin on Vince's head. They sat in comfortable silence as Vince tried to show his lifelong friends what he saw when he looked at Howard. Perhaps if Howard could see himself through Vince's eyes...
"What's wrong, Little Man?"
Howard picked up on the shift in Vince's mood before Vince had formed a full thought.
"I just wonder..." Vince was not surprised that he couldn't articulate his feelings.
Howard pulled Vince to his chest, and threw his own image up on a wall of Vince - black haired and laughing.
"You used to be so happy," Howard said quietly.
"I look like an anime character with those big eyes," Vince teased as his real eyes filled with tears. If Vince's image of Howard was a bit rose tinted, Howard's image of Vince had been given some kind of Disney cartoon filter. Whenever Howard projected an image of Vince in his dreams, it was either of exaggerated innocence and sweetness or of harsh beauty. Vince's nose never looked weird and he was never pulling a mad face. In Howard's mind, Vince was always physically perfect.
Disney Vince suddenly stopped laughing, and looked grief-stricken. Vince's eyes darted between the image and Howard's face. Howard looked unspeakably sad, and something clicked in Vince's brain cell.
"I'm sad because you're sad, you big muppet! You don't make me sad, seeing people I love in pain makes me sad. Just like anyone else," Vince explained. Howard's guilty expression told Vince he'd hit the nail on the head. "I'm happy when you're happy. If you want me to be happy, then take care of yourself and stopping beating yourself up so much. You didn't do anything wrong."
That was where the problems always came in. Howard couldn't seem to shake his lingering guilt over what happened. Seeing his dreams, Vince knew exactly how badly Howard was still hurting from his ordeal. Even when he was bright and happy during the day, and things felt like old times, Howard's dreams played out his subconscious struggles.
"You were ready to rip someone's head off for grabbing my arm, but you keep beating yourself up over what happened to you," Vince pointed out. Immediately, an image projected on the wall of a massive, model-handsome giant as he man-handled a big-eyed (and Bambi-like) Vince.
"No one should ever treat you like that. That tit box doesn't know who you are if he thinks it's okay to treat you like that," was Howard's whispered response. Vince had never felt threatened by Geoffrey, but he had been very afraid of Howard seeing and being hurt by the conversation. Howard had misunderstood Vince's fear, but he had come to the rescue. Howard was still Vince's hero.
"He didn't know me, did he? I was just some dumb kid who was up for it. Not everyone thinks I'm something special, Howard. Most people don't think I'm special."
"I think you're special."
Vince pulled Howard down for a kiss. Even in their shared dream, Howard's mustache poked at Vince's nose. He knew the feel of every part of the Northerner's body against his own. They had been together for almost nine months, and even during Howard's occasional bouts of stress-induced impotence, they were physically intimate on a daily basis. Sometimes they had crazy, mind-blowing, skin chaffing sex and sometimes they just snuggled or snogged. Howard was very worried every time he couldn't perform, but Vince loved the nights he spent holding and comforting Howard. During the day, they joked and sparred and exchanged dopey, loving looks - the way they always had - but at night, they didn't need to speak. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they crimped, but sometimes they would just lie in silence and hold one another - grateful to finally give in to all their soppiest romantic fantasies. Vince and Howard had made love on a bed of roses (after Howard carefully checked each stem for thorns), by candlelight, and while listening to 'Angie' by the Stones. Clever Howard had given Vince blowies while playing Weather Report until the ghastly noise of jazz fusion actually started to turn Vince on. They were living Vince's fantasy of being best friends and family, and having frequent (and sometimes freaky) sex.
"I have everything I ever wanted," Vince whispered into Howard's ear. "The only thing that could make me happier is if you were a little happier. I'm sorry for what you went through, Howard, and I'm sorry I don't really know how to take care of you. I don't know how to take care of myself. I ate five donuts for breakfast today. It's like I don't understand how food works..."
Howard pulled Vince's hand to his mouth and kissed it, "No one has ever taken better care of me, than you."
Sadly, that was probably true.
"I'm sorry I didn't do better in the beginning, and that I kind of took advantage of you, early on. I didn't mean..."
Vince was silenced by a sloppy kiss from Howard. Howard leaned them back until they were lying down. Howard was hard against Vince's hip. The panic that kept Howard from performing when awake generally didn't follow him into his dreams. Their clothes just sort of disappeared, the way things do in dreams, leaving them naked in one another's arms.
"You saved my life, Vince. In more ways than one," Howard explained as he kissed his way down Vince's chest and stomach. Don't let me make you paranoid, you're find just the way you are."
Vince could hardly argue when Howard's mouth wrapped around his cock. Clearly, Vince Noir had done something right.
Author: Concupid
Pairing: Howard/Vince
Rating: R
Warnings: angst, a little sex, sappiness
Summary: Vince has a lot of regrets, Howard does not.
Author's note: I've had terrible writer's block. I'm really trying to finish this story! Thank you to anyone who has held on. I really appreciate your patience and support.
Vince would joke that he'd never left Shoreditch, but it wasn't that much of an exaggeration. His parents had created their own happy little family in London and rarely strayed. Vince had some relatives scattered about, but his family had consisted of his mother, father and Howard. Other than the occasional foray into Monkey Hell or the wooded mountains (that happened to be right outside of Dalston), Vince rarely left the city.
Sometimes he wished he'd traveled a bit more. Not because he felt he was missing out on anything, anywhere without Howard would surely be boring, but because everyone he'd ever slept with also lived in the city and it could get a little claustrophobic. He'd been his most promiscuous as a teen and while under the influence, so he wasn't sure he could even recognize half of his partners.
It wasn't a good feeling.
Especially when Howard was still struggling with so many insecurities. Every time they came across someone Vince knew, even if it was just an old friend, Howard had a setback. He never said anything, or even asked about Vince's history, but if a good looking man smiled at Vince, Howard inevitably had nightmares. Worst of all, Howard blamed himself for his reaction, as if he could control his feelings if he just worked hard enough. Howard had himself on some kind of timeline, convinced his healing could be scheduled. Vince had run out of ways to try and tell Howard he was doing fine, and that his resilience was beautiful. Sometimes he wondered if Howard would have believed someone a little smarter or more grown-up.
Vince and Howard were supposed to be out for a romantic meal, and now Vince was being trapped in a corner by an unwanted blast from his past.
"You look good," Geoffrey murmured in a husky voice, as though it had been days rather than years since their tryst. "I've thought about you. A lot."
"But not enough to return my phone calls." Vince's tone was harsher than he'd intended. He was surprised by the resurfacing of such an old hurt. Vince wasn't usually deluded about one night stands, not even as a teen, but Geoffrey had seemed so nice and caring. He had looked enough like Howard to inspire something a little like love in Vince's eighteen-year-old heart. The memory of getting the cold shoulder from Geoffrey after their night together still made Vince feel small.
Why hadn't he gone a bit further from home for his little sexual adventures? Why didn't he ever think things out?
Vince jerked away when he felt Geoffrey's hand on his face, but Geoffrey held on to Vince's hair.
"Oi! Don't grab the hair," Vince snapped. Only Howard was allowed to grab his hair, and he would be wandering back from the men's room at any moment. Vince needed to get rid of Geoffrey before he had a chance to ruin their dinner (and Howard's sleep).
"It was great running into you and all," Vince lied, taking a step backwards, "but, I'm here with my boyfriend and our table is probably ready. Catch you next decade!"
Vince tried to walk away, but Geoffrey grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"Why don't we exchange numbers?" Geoffrey asked in what he must have considered a sexy voice. "Just in case you ever want to catch up?"
Vince was in the process of shaking his arm free when he heard someone yell, "Leave him!"
Vince barely recognized the sound of Howard's voice. When Howard yelled, there was usually a tinge of panic in his voice, but he sounded firm and authoritative as he told Geoffrey to piss off.
Vince grabbed Howard by the hand, hoping to assure his partner that he was in no way interested in Geoffrey, but Howard was in Man of Action mode.
"Relax," Geoffrey said, putting his hands up in a non-threatening gesture. "Just catching up with an old friend."
"No, you were grabbing at my mate, sir. You need to learn some manners. Learn to respect a person's personal space."
Howard continued to glare at Geoffrey as he subtly moved in front of Vince, as though he feared Geoffrey was going to make another grab for Vince's hair.
"Harold?" Geoffrey asked, his eyes widening in surprise. "No, what was it...?"
"It's Howard T.J. Moon, and I'm Vince's... I'm Vince's, and I won't have you pawing at him and being disrespectful."
Vince smiled and squeezed Howard's hand. Howard couldn't bring himself to say 'boyfriend' or 'lover'. He thought those terms sounded silly. Vince had rejected 'partner' as too business-like and 'gentleman companion' as too Howardy, leaving them at an impasse.
Geoffrey stared at Howard, taking in his height and build, his wavy dark hair and warm brown eyes and clearly seeing the resemblance.
"My apologies," Geoffrey said, raising his hands in surrender. "Good for you, Vince. I'm glad things worked out for you. Truly."
"Yeah, well..." Vince wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "Thanks."
Geoffrey told Howard he was a lucky man.
Howard responded somberly, "I know that, sir."
xxx
Vince found Howard in a sinking boat, bailing water with a shoe.
"Howard, you're having one of those dreams," Vince called out as he walked across the water. "You're upset about that wanker we ran into. Believe me, Howard. You have nothing to be worried about."
The water and boat disappeared, and Vince and Howard were left in a featureless room. It was Howard's default setting. Whenever he realized he was dreaming, he would go to this room.
"They're all so good looking! And tall. That berk looked like a movie star," Howard wailed, throwing his soggy shoes in the air. "I know you don't care what I look like, but it gets to me sometimes."
Vince wrapped his arms around him and began to imagine Howard projected against a bare wall. He created the image slowly, one feature at a time, as though he were painting it. In real life, he could never draw Howard quite right. He never looked beautiful enough to be confused with the real thing.
"That's not what I look like, Little Man," Howard chided him, gently.
"S'what I see."
Howard rested his chin on Vince's head. They sat in comfortable silence as Vince tried to show his lifelong friends what he saw when he looked at Howard. Perhaps if Howard could see himself through Vince's eyes...
"What's wrong, Little Man?"
Howard picked up on the shift in Vince's mood before Vince had formed a full thought.
"I just wonder..." Vince was not surprised that he couldn't articulate his feelings.
Howard pulled Vince to his chest, and threw his own image up on a wall of Vince - black haired and laughing.
"You used to be so happy," Howard said quietly.
"I look like an anime character with those big eyes," Vince teased as his real eyes filled with tears. If Vince's image of Howard was a bit rose tinted, Howard's image of Vince had been given some kind of Disney cartoon filter. Whenever Howard projected an image of Vince in his dreams, it was either of exaggerated innocence and sweetness or of harsh beauty. Vince's nose never looked weird and he was never pulling a mad face. In Howard's mind, Vince was always physically perfect.
Disney Vince suddenly stopped laughing, and looked grief-stricken. Vince's eyes darted between the image and Howard's face. Howard looked unspeakably sad, and something clicked in Vince's brain cell.
"I'm sad because you're sad, you big muppet! You don't make me sad, seeing people I love in pain makes me sad. Just like anyone else," Vince explained. Howard's guilty expression told Vince he'd hit the nail on the head. "I'm happy when you're happy. If you want me to be happy, then take care of yourself and stopping beating yourself up so much. You didn't do anything wrong."
That was where the problems always came in. Howard couldn't seem to shake his lingering guilt over what happened. Seeing his dreams, Vince knew exactly how badly Howard was still hurting from his ordeal. Even when he was bright and happy during the day, and things felt like old times, Howard's dreams played out his subconscious struggles.
"You were ready to rip someone's head off for grabbing my arm, but you keep beating yourself up over what happened to you," Vince pointed out. Immediately, an image projected on the wall of a massive, model-handsome giant as he man-handled a big-eyed (and Bambi-like) Vince.
"No one should ever treat you like that. That tit box doesn't know who you are if he thinks it's okay to treat you like that," was Howard's whispered response. Vince had never felt threatened by Geoffrey, but he had been very afraid of Howard seeing and being hurt by the conversation. Howard had misunderstood Vince's fear, but he had come to the rescue. Howard was still Vince's hero.
"He didn't know me, did he? I was just some dumb kid who was up for it. Not everyone thinks I'm something special, Howard. Most people don't think I'm special."
"I think you're special."
Vince pulled Howard down for a kiss. Even in their shared dream, Howard's mustache poked at Vince's nose. He knew the feel of every part of the Northerner's body against his own. They had been together for almost nine months, and even during Howard's occasional bouts of stress-induced impotence, they were physically intimate on a daily basis. Sometimes they had crazy, mind-blowing, skin chaffing sex and sometimes they just snuggled or snogged. Howard was very worried every time he couldn't perform, but Vince loved the nights he spent holding and comforting Howard. During the day, they joked and sparred and exchanged dopey, loving looks - the way they always had - but at night, they didn't need to speak. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they crimped, but sometimes they would just lie in silence and hold one another - grateful to finally give in to all their soppiest romantic fantasies. Vince and Howard had made love on a bed of roses (after Howard carefully checked each stem for thorns), by candlelight, and while listening to 'Angie' by the Stones. Clever Howard had given Vince blowies while playing Weather Report until the ghastly noise of jazz fusion actually started to turn Vince on. They were living Vince's fantasy of being best friends and family, and having frequent (and sometimes freaky) sex.
"I have everything I ever wanted," Vince whispered into Howard's ear. "The only thing that could make me happier is if you were a little happier. I'm sorry for what you went through, Howard, and I'm sorry I don't really know how to take care of you. I don't know how to take care of myself. I ate five donuts for breakfast today. It's like I don't understand how food works..."
Howard pulled Vince's hand to his mouth and kissed it, "No one has ever taken better care of me, than you."
Sadly, that was probably true.
"I'm sorry I didn't do better in the beginning, and that I kind of took advantage of you, early on. I didn't mean..."
Vince was silenced by a sloppy kiss from Howard. Howard leaned them back until they were lying down. Howard was hard against Vince's hip. The panic that kept Howard from performing when awake generally didn't follow him into his dreams. Their clothes just sort of disappeared, the way things do in dreams, leaving them naked in one another's arms.
"You saved my life, Vince. In more ways than one," Howard explained as he kissed his way down Vince's chest and stomach. Don't let me make you paranoid, you're find just the way you are."
Vince could hardly argue when Howard's mouth wrapped around his cock. Clearly, Vince Noir had done something right.