I think I promised this in one of my earlier fics. Totally breaks some series 3 canon, but you might get used to that from me. I'm starting to notice my fic trademarks. O well...

Btw, I don't know if anyone here checks out the British comedy section, because there's some great stuff in there too. (Yes, this is just me trying to plug my own IT Crowd stuff, but seriously, it's cool in there and I don't think many people see it.)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding own it, like they own my soul and mind.

Friends and Lovers

Dressed in sexily slashed black jeans and a t-shirt he might just have accidentally spilled a bit of curry sauce on once, Vince let Leroy in and waited while his sweet yet terminally underdressed friend looked him up and down.

"That's gonna get wrecked," Leroy said by way of greeting.

"It already is," insisted Vince.

Leroy rolled his eyes and came in. Leroy, of course, was as dressed-down as ever, wearing the merchandise t-shirt of some obscure folk group Vince had never heard of, a size too big, a pair of faded, worn jeans that looked just about ready to fall apart, and heavy Doc Martens.

"Your hair'll be a nightmare too," said Leroy, unconsciously reaching up to finger one of his newly-acquired braids, which he insisted would make the experience more comfortable. "Remember, there'll be mud. Hippies and tents in a field. And rain. Lots and lots of mud."

"Well, if it's going to be that bad I might not come," replied Vince, turning away and sticking his nose in the air in mock-snubbing. "I'm only coming as it is because you were so desperate that I did."

Leroy snorted. Vince knew that Leroy knew that Vince was inexplicably fascinated by the happy-go-lucky folk dropout. He had held down a string of non-committal low-paid jobs since he had forgotten to turn up for all of his GCSE exams and compensated by only buying the cheap, the shop-soiled and things that people had died in, yet he seemed to be all the better for it. To Vince, who wanted to coast through life doing no work, and more than likely would if not for Howard, but had in the last few years or so realised that he liked money a lot, that made Leroy like some kind of hero. Except of course, had Leroy either couldn't or wouldn't see that in himself. It came as a relief to Vince, who spent practically every waking hour with Howard, who seemed to think himself worthy of hero-worship and spent day after day trying to coax it out of some poor unfortunate person, despite the fact that Vince and most other people he had spoken to just couldn't see the many amazing qualities that Howard seemed to believe were so blindingly obvious.

Speak of the devil. "Hey, you," Howard said, coming out of his new bedroom. Leroy flashed him a grin and gave him a nanosecond hug, which left Howard looking quite confused. Vince couldn't help giggling. That was another great thing about Leroy; he got on with people. Even ridiculously anal people who went to extreme lengths to prove that they weren't anal.

"Coming?" Leroy asked, turning back to Vince.

"Yeah, yeah," replied Vince, grabbing his bag. "See ya, Howard," he called back as he left his new flat for his first folk festival. It was quite an exciting week in the life of Vince Noir. He and Howard had just left the Zooniverse in a scandal, and though a lot of effort had gone into trying to hush it up, several people had found out, quit in protest and called in the media. Among them were Naboo and Bollo, who Vince suspected were responsible for everyone finding out in the first place, and both of whom seemed convinced that Vince and Howard would wind up living with them. But they wouldn't; they had found their own little place, which Howard was going to find some way of paying for and Vince was going to decorate whether Howard liked it or not.

"Shit!" cried Leroy suddenly. "I've left the tent back at your place. Carry on without me; I'll run back and get it."

Without waiting for an answer, Leroy was gone. Vince laughed under his breath and perched himself on a garden wall. Leroy wouldn't be long; they had only gone a few streets.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

He must be on his way back now.

Twenty minutes.

Any second now.

Twenty-five minutes.

Where was that boy?

Thirty minutes.

Time to go back and meet him.

Vince got up, rubbing grit from his arse, and started back the way he had come. After a few streets and no sign of Leroy, he began to get slightly worried, but decided that his best bet would be to keep going and make sure Leroy had actually gone back.

But by the time he reached his flat, he still hadn't found Leroy, so he decided to let himself in and ask Howard if Leroy had been there.

He found the flat empty, devoid of any sign of life except for some loud, breathless moans coming from the vicinity of Howard's bedroom. Great. Leroy goes missing and Vince almost walks in on Howard in the middle of a particularly energetic wanking session.

Except there were two voices. There were two voices moaning in the bedroom.

Holy shit, Howard was shagging Leroy!

That explained a lot.

This was just too cool. His two best mates having it off in secret! They must be in love. Leroy so wanted it, it was obvious. And Howard did too, he kept trying to hide it but he couldn't do it. He wondered whether he should tell them after the festival that he had heard them and let them know that their relationship was fine with him, or whether he should wait until they told him themselves and them watch the sheepish looks on their faces when he played the "oh yeah, I knew all along" card. He decided to go with the latter option. It would be more fun when they did tell him.

He decided it would be best to leave them to it. No one likes to find out someone's been listening to them do it, and besides which, he had heard Howard wank in the middle of the night before, when he thought Vince was asleep, and right now he sounded dangerously close to coming. Vince had better get out before it was too late.

"OOOOOOOooooooooooohhhhhhh god…"

Too late.

Creeping to the door, being very careful to be quiet because they had shut up a lot since their climax, Vince heard heavy, satisfied, erotic breathing.

"I love you," he heard Leroy whisper.

Aaaaaw, sweet!

"Me too, baby."

This was just the cutest thing he'd ever heard. He knew he really should go, but he stayed, hovering in the doorway, because the whole exchange was so damned cute. He could just imagine them cuddling up to each other, kissing, smelling each other's skin, all warm and high on endorphins. He felt a strange sense of pride, because he had sort of set them up. True, he hadn't done it consciously, but the two of them wouldn't even know each other if they didn't both know him.

"Look at that," Howard said suddenly. "Baby, you should be going or he'll wonder where you are."

"No."

Giggling, saucy muttering and the sound of kissing.

"I don't want him; I only want you and the bed."

"Now come on, don't go breaking promises now. I might even have something special planned for you when you get back."

"Can't I just stay with you and do lots of sex?"

"No, baby. Go and play with Vince like you told him you would."

"He's a twat."

…

What?

Charming.

"What d'you mean, 'he's a twat'?" Howard was obviously as shocked as Vince himself was.

"He's a twat. A pain-in-the-arse hoebag. I've only ever wanted you. That's all he was for."

The silence that followed made Vince's own thoughts resonate and echo through his mind, loud enough to deafen him.

Leroy.

His Leroy.

His best mate. How could he think that?

Eventually the silence of the room and the pounding flow of Vince's thoughts were punctured and stemmed by Howard's shocked voice.

"Leroy… that's cruel."

Cruel. Vince'd give him cruel.

In pure rage he grabbed the nearest thing to him, a small table serving little more purpose than to appear misleadingly useful, and smashed it on the floor.

"What was that?"

There was a sound of scuffling from behind the door, and a moment later Howard emerged, his hair a mess and his body only covered by a pair of baggy jeans with the zip up but the button left unfastened. "Vince…" he gasped, but Vince wasn't listening. Leroy had come over and was standing just behind Howard, shock, almost fear, on his face. His jeans had torn. The stitching at the pockets had come away and the tainted flesh of Leroy's thighs was taunting Vince from beneath.

"You BASTARD!" Vince screamed at him, fury clouding his mind.

Barely aware of what he was doing, and not aware at all of making the decision to do it, Vince hurled himself at Leroy, roughly pushing Howard to the side and knocking Leroy to the floor. His senses numbed by anger, he was only dimly aware of his fist meeting Leroy's face, or his other hammering into Leroy's naked belly, or of Howard's arms pulling him by the torso and lifting him upwards. Still in the same sensory catatonia, he was dimly aware of his centre of balance shifting and the ceiling coming into view as he realised the floor was coming at him from behind. When he hit it, he felt a dull, flat sort of half-pain, the first thing he had felt since he smashed the table, which almost made him want to be sick. He saw something, moving at blinding speed and coming down on the ground he lay on, and he realised as the adrenaline continued to fuel his heartbeat that it was Leroy. He braced his arms above him to shield himself, but still felt a clenched fist bounce off his chest. Then he let go. He lashed out, biting, scratching, punching, trying to knee Leroy in the knackers; nothing was beneath him. He managed to get Leroy to overbalance, forcing himself on top of him as he continued to pound down on him, both of them grappling for control over the other. Leroy caught the upper hand again, now Vince, Leroy… Vince felt a hard slam at his jaw, and suddenly all the weight was lifted off him and he went cold. Wanting the heat of battle back, he sprang onto his feet and straight at Leroy, aiming punches at his face and his torso, until he felt himself being forced back. He tried to spring again, but he couldn't. He couldn't move forward. He was being held back.

Howard. Howard was restraining him, like he was restraining Leroy with his other arm. He felt his adrenaline-fuelled instincts fall away and let himself be still, swaying back and almost falling in the process. He could just about feel a sort of tingling all over his body.

Leroy was still struggling, grimacing and trying to duck under Howard's fist that had him by a handful of his braids.

"Calm down, now!" Howard thundered, and Leroy stopped struggling, seeming to come back to his senses. He looked up at Howard in what could have been fear.

Dragging Vince by the t-shirt and Leroy by the braids, Howard threw them both against the back of the sofa and pinned them down between the shoulder blades.

"What the hell is all this?" he fumed, digging the knuckle of a thumb into both of them simultaneously.

Leroy turned his head to Vince with a look of contempt. "Jealous whore," he spat.

Ignoring Howard's much stronger presence behind him, Vince tried to throw himself at Leroy again. But the bulk of Howard's side stopped him as he moved between them, blocking Vince's path and knocking him back, and moving the hand restraining him to a vicelike squeeze on the back of his neck. Vince looked back in Leroy's direction, but found himself facing a glare from Howard that was so harsh, so downright furious that he understood why Leroy had looked so afraid earlier.

"Vince," prompted Howard.

Vince didn't respond. He tried to restore some assertion over his own body by pushing his hands against the back of the sofa, regardless of how ineffectual it was against Howard's formidable strength.

"Jealous…" he finally whispered, somehow conscious of the fact that his voice was much, much higher than he wanted it to be. He turned back to look at Leroy's sneering face. "I was fucking happy for you."

He felt his eyes welling up and willed himself not to cry. Because that would probably be the most embarrassing thing he'd ever do. He felt Howard's hand move back from his neck to his shoulders, but holding him more gently this time. Taking advantage of it, he pushed away, and Howard let him go.

"I'm sorry," he said to Howard, his voice about to crack. He fixed Leroy a cold, vicious stare to let him know that none of that apology had been meant for him. Then he turned away and left the flat.