Written By: Summer Carlisle

Disclaimer: I do not own the Boosh or anything from within it. If I did, the show would look a lot less like a campy adventure comedy series and a lot more like gratuitous pornography.

Setting: A few weeks after the end of series three.

Rating: K+

Genre: Unashamedly fluffy romance.

Warnings: Mild sexual themes

Note: Since I am American; please pardon any issues with colloquialisms.

Vince Noir woke up late one Sunday morn to the sounds of someone blundering about the kitchen. He had been out on the town with Leroy exceptionally late the night before and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. It became clear though, after stuffing his head under two of his fluffy turquoise pillows, that the noise in the kitchen wasn't going to stop soon. Groaning, he pulled himself out of bed, nearly falling back down onto his glittery duvet when his head throbbed and the dazzling sunlight reached his eyes. Cursing himself for having thought when they first moved in that a sheer silver curtain would be a good idea, he pulled on his dressing gown and a pair of fluffy slippers before shuffling out of the room.

Upon turning the corner, Vince saw none other than Howard Moon, his roommate and best friend, in the kitchen with his back toward him, sliding a tray of biscuits into the oven. He stood there for a minute, head still pounding, and watched Howard trundle about, seemingly making breakfast. It wasn't unusual for Howard to be up hours before Vince was, every morning the Northern mantis dressed silently before stealing out of their shared bedroom without once waking Vince. Cooking, at this hour on a Sunday, was unusual, however. On a typical day, Howard would simply have tea and a baguette or croissant for breakfast. Still hidden from the other man's view, Vince couldn't help but smile. As Howard started laying out bacon on a tray to be cooked, he bit his lip in concentration, making sure each slice was perfectly parallel with the others. Vince nearly giggled aloud as he finally tore his gaze from Howard's lips and noticed half his mustache was covered in flour. Suddenly overcome with an unusual feeling of affection for Howard, Vince completely forgot about his previous desire to tell him off for making so much noise before noon. Instead, he padded into the kitchen, his footsteps silenced by his thick slippers, and wrapped his slender arms around Howard's waist from behind.

Immediately, the larger man's entire body stiffened.

"Don't touch me!"

Vince ignored this and settled his head down on Howard's shoulder.

"It's only me," he muttered, wishing for that once Howard wasn't so concerned about his boundaries and personal space.

Howard relaxed only slightly and returned to the bacon; his stomach still felt tense and stony under Vince's hands.

"Did you want something?" Howard asked apprehensively. Although it hadn't been mentioned once since it happened, Vince knew what Howard was thinking of. The last time they'd had this much physical contact –or any physical contact at all, for that matter –had been at Howard's birthday party, when Vince had only broken Howard's physical boundaries to save his own neck. Howard had been unresponsive at best when Vince had kissed him, but Vince found himself unable to get that moment out of his mind. Every night he lay in bed, watching Howard's chest rise and fall as he slept, replaying that moment over and over in his head. How long had he wanted to do that? A year? Two years? Longer? He only wished Howard's response had been something more than catatonic. Despite how much Vince had secretly wanted it, they both knew he wouldn't have kissed Howard if it hadn't been the only way he could think of to save his own life. There had been an odd, unspoken tension between them ever since.

"Are you making me breakfast?" Vince asked, his voice uncharacteristically shy, even to his own ears. Vince relinquished his hold and Howard turned to face him, his cheeks tinged pink.

"I…er…well I knew you came in late last night and I found a new omelet recipe and…I just thought…" Vince never found out what Howard had thought, however, because he threw his arms around him again with a surprising amount of force for such a small man that nearly knocked them both over. After a moment, Howard hugged him back, albeit lightly and hesitantly. Vince wasn't sure why but all the things holding him back over the past weeks, all the reasons he repeated to himself day after day to not tell Howard how he felt, quickly evaporated. Suddenly, Howard's arms around his waist, his soft curls brushing against Vince's forehead, the scent of his woodsy aftershave Vince had always pretended to hate, everything about him was too much to bear. He couldn't hold back anymore.

"HowardIloveyou," he said in a rush, pressing his quickly reddening face into the other man's neck. He felt, more than heard, Howard's sharp intake of breath and bit his lip anxiously. He'd never felt so nervous before in all his life, and was abruptly very scared of how the jazz maverick would respond to his confession. As the silence stretched on, Vince began to wish he hadn't said anything at all. He didn't look up then, when Howard pulled back to stare dazedly down at him. Howard, however, was having none of this and reached forward to tilt Vince's head up. Reluctantly, blue eyes met brown, although all Vince really wanted to do was shut himself in their room and hide for the rest of the day. Having expected the worst, Vince was not prepared for the soft smile playing at the older man's lips as they looked at each other.

"Vince," he said quietly, "I love you too. Of course I do."

Shocked, and excited beyond belief, Vince wanted nothing more at that moment than to throw himself at Howard again and press their lips together until the end of the world itself. Keeping his head though, Vince figured it would be best if he didn't rush Howard into anything. So instead of shoving the other man against the wall and shagging him senseless, Vince settled for taking both of Howard's hands in his and smiling broadly up at him. It was a shock, then, when Howard suddenly pulled Vince against him and kissed him with a passion and desperation Vince had fantasized about for years.

Several minutes later when they both pulled away in need of oxygen, Howard's gazed flicked over to the counter where the bacon still lay, perfectly aligned, waiting to be fried. He looked at Vince, who now had flour on his face too, a smile brighter and more genuine than he'd seen in years lighting up his face.

"Hungry?"