A/N: Hmm, the plan was to have a little break from writing after I finished 'From London to New York', but this popped into my head and demanded to be written. I'm not quite sure what to make of it to be honest, and it's probably not very good, but meh. It's not what you think it is though...
xxxx
Panic set in before coherent thought, as it would with anyone in the same situation. Howard swallowed heavily between taking in short, sharp gasps of breath. His skin burned and his head spun as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Tiny whimpers fell from his lips as he slowly reached out a shaking hand, needing to find out but at the same time terrified at the thought of making it real. Because 'real' meant that his life, which was currently moving in slow motion, would suddenly fall down with an almighty, horrifying crash. He already knew what the outcome would be – how could someone look like that and not be? What would confirming it actually do? But then, he had to. Had to. Just in case.
It had started out as any normal day, but when Vince became more than a few hours late for work, Howard, starting to get peeved at having to run the shop on his own, had flipped the 'back in 5 mins' sign on the door and stomped off up the stairs, fully intending to drag Vince's lazy arse out of bed and down to the shop, not letting him change out of his pyjamas first or do his hair. But when he'd entered the bedroom and yanked the duvet from Vince's sleeping form, the sight he was met with instantly made his stomach feel as though it had been hit by a lorry, because he knew it wasn't right, and he knew it wasn't right because Vince always, always, protested if his duvet was pulled away – asleep or not. And he might be pale, but he wasn't...
Howard tried to steady his hand as he inched ever closer to the grey skin. He wanted to close his eyes but his brain wouldn't let him look away. When his fingers finally brushed lightly over a cool cheek, over blue lips, and were not met with even the smallest ghost of a breath, the lorry that had previously rammed into him reversed and struck for the second time. He began to tremble violently, holding his breath as his fingers ran over where the pulse point in the neck should have been. Nothing. Howard reeled, choking as he tried to breathe and retching at the same time. Dizzy, he stumbled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet and throwing up. He coughed and heaved, finally sitting up and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.
Vince.
Vince.
Howard crawled back to the bedroom, stopping at the door and using the handle to pull himself upright. His mouth and lips were dry and sour, the taste of vomit burning his throat. The whole flat had a chilling iciness to it now, the windows reflecting the sun away, the cracks in their frames, in the walls, in the floor drawing out all the heat, sucking away everything that was familiar and safe. Howard didn't want to look, but he knew he had to – knew he couldn't just leave Vince as he was. He reached the bed, not expecting to see the rise and fall of Vince's chest, but hoping all the same, praying that he was just stuck in a twisted nightmare. He focused his eyes, but couldn't see any movement. He could feel his heart shattering like fragile glass as he stood there, just looking at the pale, still body; the life completely drained from it. It wasn't right. Vince wasn't supposed to be still. He wasn't supposed to be pale – not like that. He was supposed to be a shimmering pale, not a sallow one. Howard sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at Vince's face. He looked so peaceful, so angelic, and Howard didn't want to believe it anymore.
"Vince." Howard placed a hand on his arm, wincing at how cold it was but completely determined to rouse his friend from his deep slumber. "Vince, come on, stop mucking about. I'm not mad at you, I promise I'm not, so you can open your eyes now." Howard shook him gently. "Come on, little man, please." He shook him a bit harder. "Vince, up you get! Wake up. Wake up!" The shaking got even harder, Vince flopping about like an old rag doll, Howard's voice breaking. "Wake up! Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!" Howard screamed in frustration, hands pulling at his hair, and then burst into tears. "Vince, oh, Vince. Please, please don't leave me. Don't leave me!" Howard didn't understand. Vince had been fine the night before. There was no logical explanation as to why his life had suddenly been taken from him. He hadn't been attacked, he hadn't taken drugs, he hadn't been drinking, he hadn't hurt himself. He'd gone to bed with a smile on his face, a beautiful beaming smile that was the result of a very successful crimping session.
Howard choked, coughing and gasping, his sobbing loud and wretched. Tears spilled down his cheeks like a burst dam, and he moved further up the bed and pulled Vince into his lap, lifting his head to hold it against his chest, hand moving to push his raven hair away from his face. Howard rocked him, whimpering and pleading with the powers that be to bring his best friend back. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Vince hadn't done anything wrong.
After a while, Howard quietened. He leant back against the headboard with Vince in his arms, stroking his hair and hiccupping every so often. Finally, slowly, he moved. Placing Vince's head carefully on the pillows, he stood, pulling the duvet over his friend to keep him warm. Then, completely heartbroken, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Vince's cold lips. "I love you," Howard whispered, strangled and hoarse.
He didn't notice when Vince's little finger twitched.
xxxx
Somehow, Howard had made it into the living room and over to where the phone was resting on the coffee table. His hand hovered over it, a confused frown settling over his already devastated features. Were you supposed to dial nine-nine-nine if the person you were ringing for was already dead?
Dead.
Howard heaved painfully as the word hit him like a thousand knives stabbing at his soul, and he fell back against the sofa and wailed, his voice ripping open the eerie silence in the flat. He picked up a cushion and threw it across the room.
It felt good.
But it wasn't enough.
He threw another cushion, then saw the remote for the telly beside him and threw that too. It hit the wall with a loud crack. Fuelled by grief and despair, he stood and kicked the coffee table, then bent down and shoved it hard, upending it and causing one of the legs to break. Then he picked it up as best he could and hurled it across the room, screaming as he did so.
xxxx
"Howard. Howard?"
Howard looked up and saw a small blue figure looming over him. He blinked blearily and tried to focus, but it was difficult when his eyes were swollen and sore.
"Naboo?"
It was obvious to Naboo from the offset that something was terribly wrong. Seeing Howard slunk down against the wall outside his and Vince's bedroom, Naboo normally would have assumed that the jazz maverick was drunk or moping over something Vince had done to him. But now, with the flat a wreck and Howard looking so broken... Naboo knelt down in front of him, shaking slightly from the readings he was getting from Howard's aura. Bollo hovered behind him, not even attempting to make some quip as to how stupid Howard was.
Howard's eyes moved and held on a fixed point in front of him. "He won't wake up," he said, barely audible, and Naboo had to strain to hear him.
"What?" Naboo asked, dreading that he already knew what Howard was talking about.
Howard's gaze stayed firmly ahead of him as he spoke. "He won't wake up. He was late for work so I came up to wake him and... he won't wake up."
Naboo stood and turned gravely to Bollo. "Get him over to the sofa and stay with him," he commanded, before turning and walking into the bedroom.
Howard didn't even try to protest as Bollo hauled him up off the floor, he barely even noticed. He didn't even notice when the gorilla went to get him a glass of water and instead ended up taking an empty bottle from the kitchen work-top and disappearing from the room.
"Howard," Naboo said softly, minutes later as he perched on the edge of the sofa. "Howard, it's okay. Vince isn't dead."
But Howard didn't hear him, lost in his own world as he tried to think of happier times where Vince was alive and they were laughing and joking around and everything was fine and -
"Howard? Did you hear what I said?"
Howard turned his head slowly. "What?"
Naboo placed a hand on his arm. "Vince isn't dead, Howard. He's in hibernation."
Howard's mind reeled. Vince wasn't dead? Hibernation?
"I don't understand," he said, voice trembling. He couldn't afford to hope.
Naboo sighed. "Vince drank a potion of mine that I left in the fridge. Thing is, I forgot to label it, so he didn't know what it was. It just looks and tastes like orange juice. It's a hibernation potion and it's only supposed to be used by shamen who are recuperating from illness – helps us to heal quicker. Thing is, if it's drunk by a human, the only way they can wake from it is by receiving a kiss from their true love. The reason you thought Vince was dead is because the body goes into a temporary shut down – the potion is what keeps the body alive, until the spell is removed and the body starts up again."
Howard frowned, thinking over what he'd just been told, his face going through a range of emotions. It was difficult to believe because Naboo was usually so careful with the stuff he left around the flat, knowing that Vince had a habit of eating or drinking anything that looked pretty and colourful. Could he have really been that stupid? Howard fixed Naboo with an angry glare. "I was led to believe that Vince was dead, all because you forgot to label a bottle?" he said, his voice dangerously low and filled with a barely controlled fury that threatened to burst at any second.
"Howard -"
"Do you have any idea what it felt like to find him like that? To think that I'd lost my best friend? Do you have any idea? Do you? Do you? DO YOU?!" Howard flew at Naboo, using a strength he didn't know he possessed to grab the shaman by his neck and hold him against the back of the sofa.
Naboo tried to wriggle out of his grasp, holding a hand out to stop Bollo from grabbing hold of the furious maverick, knowing full well Howard had every right to be this angry. This didn't stop his faithful familiar though, who grabbed Howard's shoulders and hauled him off of Naboo at lightening speed. Howard struggled against him, until he realised there was no need as Bollo, who was actually being surprisingly gentle, released him as quickly as he'd picked him up, standing between him and Naboo.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Howard, I'm so sorry," Naboo said, looking truly ashamed as he tried to calm his friend down.
"I thought he was dead! Dead! I've been grieving for him, feeling like my soul has been ripped out, and it was all because you forgot to label the bottle?! For fuck's sake, Naboo! And how the hell are we supposed to find his true love?!"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? Oh, well that's just great, isn't it?! So, what? Vince just stays like that? Forever?!"
"No, Howard – I'll think of something."
"Yeah, you'd better." Howard stormed from the living room and into the bedroom.
"Howard loves Vince."
Naboo looked up at Bollo, eyebrows raised. "What?"
"Howard loves Vince. It's obvious."
Naboo pondered this for a second. "Even if that were true, the kiss would only work if Vince felt the same way."
Bollo shrugged. "Worth a try."
"I suppose."
xxxx
Howard sat on Vince's bed, stroking the smaller man's hair and looking at him through watery eyes.
"Is it true?" he whispered. "Are you really still here? Can you hear me?"
"Howard?"
Howard tensed as Naboo came up behind him. "What do you want?"
"Kiss him."
"What?" Howard spun round so fast he nearly fell off the bed.
"Kiss him. It can't hurt to try, can it?"
Howard almost laughed.
Almost.
"Vince doesn't feel that way about me."
"How do you know?"
This time he did laugh, although it was devoid of all humour. "Have you met Vince?"
"Just do it," Bollo grunted.
Howard shook his head and sighed. "I... I kissed him earlier – a good-bye kiss."
Naboo didn't even blink. "On the lips? It has to be on the lips."
"Yeah."
Naboo nodded. "Right."
"So, what do we do now?"
"We wait and see if it works."
Howard looked at the tiny shaman in confusion. "But it obviously hasn't."
"This isn't a fairy-tale Howard. It takes a while. His body will wake up a little bit at a time. It might have started already – we just haven't noticed it yet."
Daringly, Howard peeled the duvet away from Vince so that his chest was exposed, and placed a hand over his heart. He smiled sadly.
"Nothing." Then he realised the implication of what he was doing. "Anyway, I'm not in love with Vince."
"Yeah, right."
"I'm..." but Howard trailed off as Naboo fixed him with one his all-knowing stares. "Well, whatever. He's not in love with me, anyway. And if he never wakes up, I swear to God, Naboo, I'll – Argh!" The three of them yelped and jumped at the same time as Vince sat bolt upright, spluttering and gasping, trying to force air down his lungs.
"Vince!"
"Bollo, get him some water!"
"Vince, Vince!" Howard grabbed Vince's arms and tried to calm him, his heart hammering at a hundred miles an hour, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing. "It's all right, you're okay, calm down. You're safe."
Vince breathed harshly and Howard put his hands on his face and turned his head to face him. "Vince, look at me. I've got you, I've got you."
Vince blinked drowsily. His mouth was dry and his lungs were burning. "Howard?" he rasped, reaching out to touch the bigger man's cheek.
"I'm right here," Howard soothed, pulling Vince into a hug and rubbing his back in relief.
"What happened?"
"You drank one of my potions," Naboo explained. "My fault – I didn't label it. I'm sorry, Vince."
Vince stayed silent while he processed this. "Will I be okay?"
"Yeah, you'll be fine, you'll just be a bit weak for a few days," Naboo replied, as Bollo handed Vince the water he'd fetched.
"Cheers, Bollo." Vince took a few small sips and then twisted to reach the bedside table. Howard took the glass from his hands and placed it down for him, which earned him a tired smile.
"We'll leave Howard to explain how you woke up," Naboo said, motioning for Bollo to follow him. "I think you two have a lot to talk about."
"Vince," Howard started, as soon as the shaman and his familiar had left the room. Vince smiled at him softly.
"I know."
"You – what?"
Vince blushed, bringing some welcome colour back into his cheeks. "I-I couldn't move or open my eyes or do anything, but somehow, I heard you, and I tried to reach out to you, but I couldn't." A tear ran down his face, and Howard brushed it away impulsively, his hand lingering on Vince's face.
"You heard everything?"
Vince nodded. "Everything," he whispered.
Howard felt himself grow hot. "Then you know -"
"That you kissed me."
"And you know -"
"That you love me."
"And -"
"You saved me."
Howard bit his lip as he felt himself start to cry again. "I thought you'd died – I thought I'd lost you!" he pulled Vince into a hug, the smaller man clutching at him and burying his head in the crook of Howard's neck.
"Please don't. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Oh, Vince – you didn't even do anything wrong. I can't imagine how frightened you must have been."
"I heard you crying and I couldn't tell you," Vince sobbed, running his hands over Howard's back and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "I felt you holding me and I never wanted you to let go." He moved his face from Howard's neck and went to capture his lips, but Howard pulled back, leaving Vince confused.
"I haven't, I mean, I've been..." he spied the water and picked it up, rinsing the liquid round his mouth and then draining the rest of the glass.
"Howard, I don't care that you were sick. Just kiss me - please. I need you."
Howard put a hand behind Vince's head and drew their mouths together, the urge to feel his lips beneath his desperately overwhelming him.
"I love you," Vince sobbed into Howard's mouth, kissing and trying to breathe through his tears at the same time. "I'm so sorry..."
"Shhh, it's okay," Howard said, running a hand over Vince's face and stroking his hair back, his lips moving over Vince's, drawing him in deeper and deeper, unable to get enough of him and fully expecting to suddenly wake up and find that it had all been a dream, that Vince really was dead and -
"Howard?"
Howard opened his eyes to find Vince staring up at him.
"You okay?"
Howard gave him a watery smile. "I am now, although never mind me - I'm more concerned for you."
Vince ran a hand through Howard's hair, resting it at the back of his neck. "I'll be fine," he sniffed, leaning in for another kiss, sucking at Howard's bottom lip and sliding his tongue into his mouth. Howard moaned against him, kissing him back hungrily before reluctantly pulling away a minute later, breathing heavily.
"You should be resting."
"What if I don't want to?"
"What if I want you too?"
Vince smiled in defeat. "Will you stay with me?"
"Of course I will."
Vince shuffled over and Howard lay down beside him, pulling him into his arms.
"Howard?"
"Hmm?"
"Naboo didn't mean too."
"I know."
Vince shivered and snuggled closer to Howard, pulling as much body heat from him as was possible. "I'm too scared to go to sleep," he admitted, as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
Howard pulled the duvet round them both and kissed Vince softly on the head. "Don't be – I'm right here, little man."
"Howard?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Howard welled up again. "Anytime."
xxxx
The windows stopped reflecting away the sun.
The cracks blew heat back into the rooms.
Everything that was safe and familiar flooded back into the flat, caressing away the grief and the darkness.
Naboo checked and doubled checked that all his bottles were labelled.
Bollo put the kettle on.
Howard and Vince held each other tight. And they never let go.