Fic: Flying Lessons (4/12)
Flying Lessons (4/12)
by Me, doctorpancakes
Fandoms: Boosh/Barley crossover
Pairings: Dan/Jones and Howard/Vince
Rating: PG, this chapter
Word Count: 1302, this chapter (4972 so far)
Warnings: implied past heterosexual relations and coffee
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys. I guess I own the special guest star of this chapter, but meh.
Author's Notes: I'm wearing a parka.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
If there was one thing that was universally true about hotel rooms, it was that in spite of the coffee maker graciously provided in the room, there was never enough coffee and its accoutrements provided to last even a fraction of one's stay. This necessitated that a handful of desperate coffee runs to the coffee shop across the road from the hotel be made each day. Thus, once all the members of their little expatriate household had awoken that first morning, the task fell to Dan and Jones to caffeinate themselves and their colleagues.
Dan fumbled with the shopping list that Vince had shoved into his shirt pocket, straining to decipher the handwriting.
“Right, umm, I'll have a large dark roast, one sugar, large earl grey with milk, extra large fat free caramel iced latte, extra whipped cream, and an extra large hazelnut red-eye on ice, please,” said Dan.
“Twelve dollars,” said the barista. Dan squinted into his wallet, handing her a wad of indecipherably almost identical bills and hoping it was enough.
“How come they never give you enough coffee in hotel rooms?” asked Jones. “They might as well not even bother.”
“No idea,” said Dan, attempting to negotiate the logistics of placing a plastic lid on a mountain of whipped cream without it spurting out in all directions.
Jones noticed a petite, red-haired woman (though her colour was clearly not one found in nature) who seemed to be eyeing Dan suspiciously.
“Dan, is there some reason why that bird's staring at us?” asked Jones, mildly concerned. “I think she fancies you.”
Dan blanched. “Oh God.”
“What oh God, Dan?” asked Jones.
“It's my ex. What the hell is she doing here?” he wondered, gripping his temples in confusion and fear.
“You have an ex?” asked Jones.
“Yes, thank you,” grumbled Dan.
“I meant, you have an ex in New York?” elaborated Jones.
“Her name's Madeleine. We met when she was doing a year on exchange at Leeds, went out for a few months. Pretend you didn't see her,” muttered Dan, under his breath, decidedly not looking at the woman.
“Dean?” she shouted out, in bubbly surprise.
“I think you've been spotted, Dean,” said Jones.
“Dean Ashcroft! Fancy meeting you here!” smiled Madeleine, folding Dan into a mildly uncomfortable hug.
“It's Dan. Hi Madeleine,” mumbled Dan.
“Dan, right. Sorry. Gah, it's been, like, forever, hasn't it?” she laughed.
“Since school, yeah,” said Dan.
“Oh my God, how are you? What are you doing now?” she asked.
“Just... writing. Book comes out this week,” he blushed.
“Oh! Congratulations! So you're still writing, that's great! I still remember those angry rambles you used to make me read at school. Guess you grew out of that, though,” she said, punching him lightly on the arm.
“More or less,” he said, seemingly retreating into himself, as though trying to make himself as small as possible in the hopes that she'd assume he'd imploded and leave without making any inquiries as to the scientific impossibility of such an event.
“So... you live here now, or...?”
“We're just here for a couple days,” explained Dan. “Jones has a show, and then there's the book launch - ”
“Oh, right, hi. Jones, is it? Madeleine,” she said, extending a hand in Jones' direction. He accepted it, and they shook.
“Alright,” he said, smiling.
“So, you two...?” she trailed off, vaguely hand-gesturing.
“Flatmates,” said Dan, at the same time as Jones.
“Lovers,” said Jones, at the same time as Dan.
“Uhh...” her gaze flickered between the two of them, as though trying to discern if one was being deadpan funny, or if one was being evasive.
“He's shy,” said Jones, rolling his eyes.
“I know,” she smiled. “So you're gay now. That's... yeah, I see it.”
Dan squinted in annoyance.
“What the hell does that - “
But his thought was interrupted by the sound of some tinny, insipid pop song coming from her purse.
“Shit, there's my reminder. I gotta go pick up Tobias from daycare. It was really good seeing you again, Dan. Nice meeting you, John!” she shouted as she ran out the door, trying to flag down a taxi.
“It's Jones!” he shouted after her, but doubted that she heard.
It was awkward.
---
“I have to say I was skeptical at first, Vince, but that Jones has some very interesting theories about music,” enthused Howard, tucking into his tea.
“Yeah, he's brilliant,” said Vince, sipping his drink in that innocently seductive way he had of doing things.
“Before you got up, we spent ages talking about all kinds of things, after we jazz tranced,” smiled Howard.
Vince's jaw dropped in horror. He scrambled to pick it up from the floor before the five-second rule could elapse.
“You jazz tranced? With Jones?” asked Vince, fuming.
“Of course I did, why not?” replied Howard. “It's nice to meet someone who can fully appreciate the bliss that comes from being smacked in the face with a wall of jazz fusion.”
“Did you crimp with him too, then?” asked Vince, in a decidedly pouty tone of voice.
“Of course not,” said Howard, scrutinizing Vince's pout. It was most definitely a Pout of Jealousy, he surmised. “Surely you're not jealous of Jones, are you?
“Should I be jealous? You two seem to be getting on so very well,” accused Vince.
“What are you on about? This is stupid,” said Howard.
“You're right, this is completely stupid,” replied Vince, setting down his drink and standing with great determination. “I'm going shopping. With Dan. My new friend. Who I've got loads in common with and who thinks I'm great. Don't you, Dan?”
“What?” shouted Dan from the next room.
“We're going shopping!” shouted Vince in reply.
There was a long pause.
“Really?” came the reluctant response.
“Yes we are,” Vince resolved, poking his head into Dan and Jones' room. “And it's going to be completely brilliant. You need a new outfit, Dan. We can't have you going to your own book launch dressed like a hobo rapist!”
Dan looked down at what he had on. It looked fine to him: the trainers were a bit worn, admittedly, but his jeans were clean and there weren't too many holes in his only slightly threadbare button-down shirt. And what's more, he had deliberately packed the white tee that didn't have any coffee stains on it.
“I don't see what's wrong with - “
“Hobo. Rapist. Dan,” reiterated Vince. “Not a good look. Come on, then.”
Dan sighed. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He tapped Jones on the shoulder, who jumped slightly, throwing off his headphones.
“Gah! What! Oh, hey Dan,” he laughed, catching his breath.
“I'm going shopping, uhh... with Vince,” said Dan. “You want to come?”
“Think I'm about to reach a major breakthrough on this song,” said Jones, pointing to a collection of incomprehensible knobs and buttons next to his turntables. “Just be back before dinner, all right, babe?”
“Right,” said Dan, giving Jones a small kiss on his way out the door.
“Dan and I are going now, Howard,” Vince shouted from the doorway.
“Have fun!” Howard shouted after them.
And that was that. He hoped Vince would realize how silly it was to be jealous by the time they returned from a few hours of retail therapy. Howard certainly wasn't about to be jealous that Vince was spending the day, alone, with that admittedly ruggedly handsome Northern intellectual gayist friend of Jones'. No sir.
Except maybe he was, a little.
“All right Howard, I'm well caffeinated,” announced Jones. “Did you bring the electric bassoon?”
“Right here,” said Howard, brandishing a large instrument case.
“Let's get to work, then,” said Jones.
Chapter Five
by Me, doctorpancakes
Fandoms: Boosh/Barley crossover
Pairings: Dan/Jones and Howard/Vince
Rating: PG, this chapter
Word Count: 1302, this chapter (4972 so far)
Warnings: implied past heterosexual relations and coffee
Disclaimer: I don't own these guys. I guess I own the special guest star of this chapter, but meh.
Author's Notes: I'm wearing a parka.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
If there was one thing that was universally true about hotel rooms, it was that in spite of the coffee maker graciously provided in the room, there was never enough coffee and its accoutrements provided to last even a fraction of one's stay. This necessitated that a handful of desperate coffee runs to the coffee shop across the road from the hotel be made each day. Thus, once all the members of their little expatriate household had awoken that first morning, the task fell to Dan and Jones to caffeinate themselves and their colleagues.
Dan fumbled with the shopping list that Vince had shoved into his shirt pocket, straining to decipher the handwriting.
“Right, umm, I'll have a large dark roast, one sugar, large earl grey with milk, extra large fat free caramel iced latte, extra whipped cream, and an extra large hazelnut red-eye on ice, please,” said Dan.
“Twelve dollars,” said the barista. Dan squinted into his wallet, handing her a wad of indecipherably almost identical bills and hoping it was enough.
“How come they never give you enough coffee in hotel rooms?” asked Jones. “They might as well not even bother.”
“No idea,” said Dan, attempting to negotiate the logistics of placing a plastic lid on a mountain of whipped cream without it spurting out in all directions.
Jones noticed a petite, red-haired woman (though her colour was clearly not one found in nature) who seemed to be eyeing Dan suspiciously.
“Dan, is there some reason why that bird's staring at us?” asked Jones, mildly concerned. “I think she fancies you.”
Dan blanched. “Oh God.”
“What oh God, Dan?” asked Jones.
“It's my ex. What the hell is she doing here?” he wondered, gripping his temples in confusion and fear.
“You have an ex?” asked Jones.
“Yes, thank you,” grumbled Dan.
“I meant, you have an ex in New York?” elaborated Jones.
“Her name's Madeleine. We met when she was doing a year on exchange at Leeds, went out for a few months. Pretend you didn't see her,” muttered Dan, under his breath, decidedly not looking at the woman.
“Dean?” she shouted out, in bubbly surprise.
“I think you've been spotted, Dean,” said Jones.
“Dean Ashcroft! Fancy meeting you here!” smiled Madeleine, folding Dan into a mildly uncomfortable hug.
“It's Dan. Hi Madeleine,” mumbled Dan.
“Dan, right. Sorry. Gah, it's been, like, forever, hasn't it?” she laughed.
“Since school, yeah,” said Dan.
“Oh my God, how are you? What are you doing now?” she asked.
“Just... writing. Book comes out this week,” he blushed.
“Oh! Congratulations! So you're still writing, that's great! I still remember those angry rambles you used to make me read at school. Guess you grew out of that, though,” she said, punching him lightly on the arm.
“More or less,” he said, seemingly retreating into himself, as though trying to make himself as small as possible in the hopes that she'd assume he'd imploded and leave without making any inquiries as to the scientific impossibility of such an event.
“So... you live here now, or...?”
“We're just here for a couple days,” explained Dan. “Jones has a show, and then there's the book launch - ”
“Oh, right, hi. Jones, is it? Madeleine,” she said, extending a hand in Jones' direction. He accepted it, and they shook.
“Alright,” he said, smiling.
“So, you two...?” she trailed off, vaguely hand-gesturing.
“Flatmates,” said Dan, at the same time as Jones.
“Lovers,” said Jones, at the same time as Dan.
“Uhh...” her gaze flickered between the two of them, as though trying to discern if one was being deadpan funny, or if one was being evasive.
“He's shy,” said Jones, rolling his eyes.
“I know,” she smiled. “So you're gay now. That's... yeah, I see it.”
Dan squinted in annoyance.
“What the hell does that - “
But his thought was interrupted by the sound of some tinny, insipid pop song coming from her purse.
“Shit, there's my reminder. I gotta go pick up Tobias from daycare. It was really good seeing you again, Dan. Nice meeting you, John!” she shouted as she ran out the door, trying to flag down a taxi.
“It's Jones!” he shouted after her, but doubted that she heard.
It was awkward.
---
“I have to say I was skeptical at first, Vince, but that Jones has some very interesting theories about music,” enthused Howard, tucking into his tea.
“Yeah, he's brilliant,” said Vince, sipping his drink in that innocently seductive way he had of doing things.
“Before you got up, we spent ages talking about all kinds of things, after we jazz tranced,” smiled Howard.
Vince's jaw dropped in horror. He scrambled to pick it up from the floor before the five-second rule could elapse.
“You jazz tranced? With Jones?” asked Vince, fuming.
“Of course I did, why not?” replied Howard. “It's nice to meet someone who can fully appreciate the bliss that comes from being smacked in the face with a wall of jazz fusion.”
“Did you crimp with him too, then?” asked Vince, in a decidedly pouty tone of voice.
“Of course not,” said Howard, scrutinizing Vince's pout. It was most definitely a Pout of Jealousy, he surmised. “Surely you're not jealous of Jones, are you?
“Should I be jealous? You two seem to be getting on so very well,” accused Vince.
“What are you on about? This is stupid,” said Howard.
“You're right, this is completely stupid,” replied Vince, setting down his drink and standing with great determination. “I'm going shopping. With Dan. My new friend. Who I've got loads in common with and who thinks I'm great. Don't you, Dan?”
“What?” shouted Dan from the next room.
“We're going shopping!” shouted Vince in reply.
There was a long pause.
“Really?” came the reluctant response.
“Yes we are,” Vince resolved, poking his head into Dan and Jones' room. “And it's going to be completely brilliant. You need a new outfit, Dan. We can't have you going to your own book launch dressed like a hobo rapist!”
Dan looked down at what he had on. It looked fine to him: the trainers were a bit worn, admittedly, but his jeans were clean and there weren't too many holes in his only slightly threadbare button-down shirt. And what's more, he had deliberately packed the white tee that didn't have any coffee stains on it.
“I don't see what's wrong with - “
“Hobo. Rapist. Dan,” reiterated Vince. “Not a good look. Come on, then.”
Dan sighed. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. He tapped Jones on the shoulder, who jumped slightly, throwing off his headphones.
“Gah! What! Oh, hey Dan,” he laughed, catching his breath.
“I'm going shopping, uhh... with Vince,” said Dan. “You want to come?”
“Think I'm about to reach a major breakthrough on this song,” said Jones, pointing to a collection of incomprehensible knobs and buttons next to his turntables. “Just be back before dinner, all right, babe?”
“Right,” said Dan, giving Jones a small kiss on his way out the door.
“Dan and I are going now, Howard,” Vince shouted from the doorway.
“Have fun!” Howard shouted after them.
And that was that. He hoped Vince would realize how silly it was to be jealous by the time they returned from a few hours of retail therapy. Howard certainly wasn't about to be jealous that Vince was spending the day, alone, with that admittedly ruggedly handsome Northern intellectual gayist friend of Jones'. No sir.
Except maybe he was, a little.
“All right Howard, I'm well caffeinated,” announced Jones. “Did you bring the electric bassoon?”
“Right here,” said Howard, brandishing a large instrument case.
“Let's get to work, then,” said Jones.
Chapter Five