The power went off as Howard was sitting on the sofa enjoying a jazz record and doing the crossword. There was a 'ping' nose, and suddenly the music was gone, replaced by a silence that, in it's unexpectedness seemed incredibly loud. The sun had set hours ago, and as the light went out, darkness spilled eagerly into the room to take its place.

Howard sighed and got to his feet, made his way carefully to the window and peered out. The whole street was dark. That was good – if it was just their flat, Vince would have expected him to do something about it, and he had no idea what. That would have been embarrassing. Fuses, wires, was there something called a circuit breaker, or was that something from an episode of Star Trek? They might have touched on some of this stuff when he was at school, but he had far more important things on his mind back then. You couldn't write a poem about a fusebox, so what was the point?

His train of thought was broken by a blood-curling scream of horror that rang out through the flat, louder even than the silence. Howard felt his heart beat faster, so loud he could hear his own pulse pounding against his eardrums. The scream had come from the bedroom, where Vince – as far as he knew – was alone. Howard held his breath and tried to will his heart to slow down as he crept through the darkness towards the bedroom door. "Vince?" he whispered, hovering just outside, "Vince, are you okay in there?"

There was no reply, and Howard's mind immediately began running through a list of horrible things that might have happened. Could he have tripped in the dark and injured himself? Had someone broken in? Was there an intruder in the room right now lurking, waiting for Howard to enter so he could make him scream too?

"Vince?" he whispered slightly louder, grabbing the nearest potential weapon; an old umbrella laying on the floor that had lived in the flat longer than he had. He held it defensively in front of him, reached forward, turned the door handle, and slowly opened the door. In the darkened gloom, he could just about make out Vince's silk-robed silhouette sitting in front of the mirror, pressing the button on his hair dryer again and again.

In irritated relief, Howard placed the makeshift club on the floor and stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest, "Vince, what are you screaming about? I thought there was an intruder. I was going to come in and beat them up. You're lucky I noticed it was only you, or you might have got hurt."

Vince spun around to face him, "My hair dryer isn't working!"

"Yes, I know. The..."

"My straighteners too! Howard, what's going on?!"

Howard rolled his eyes in irritation, "As I was trying to say, the power's gone out, hasn't it? Don't panic, they'll all be working again as soon as it's back on."

Vince half-heartedly shoved the hair dryer to one side as though it had somehow caused the blackout, and placed his head in his hands. "This is a disaster! I'm supposed to meet Leroy in an hour, and my hair's a wreck! And how am I supposed to do my make up in the dark?"

Howard shook his head, "You'll just have to wait it out," he said, "it'll be back on soon."

Vince stood up and ran his fingers through his damp locks, "If I leave it too long, it'll frizz. I'll have to wash it again,"

Howard made his way across the room, picked up a towel that had been discarded on the bed and handed it to Vince, "Never mind, eh? Come on, let's light some candles and get a nice warm drink to calm you down,"

"How?" Vince wrapped the towel around his heard in a kind of turban and followed him out of the room, "The kettle's electric. And the microwave."

"Right!" Howard mentally kicked himself, "Of course they are! I know that! But the oven isn't, is it? We can heat some water on the gas rings. It'll be like camping."

Vince shook his head, then reached up to catch the towel before the motion knocked it loose, "I don't really like camping. Can't we have that wine out of the fridge instead?"

"That's Naboo's," Howard reminded him.

"So? He's not here, is he? We can get him some more tomorrow, he'll never know. He only bought it at Tesco, it's not like it's some kind of special Shaman wine, it was on three for two."

Howard nodded his agreement. It took ages to boil water on the stove. By the time he'd made a cup of tea, the power would be back on. Now he was sure Vince was okay, he found himself quite excited by this turn of events. Power cuts had always been something of an occasion when he was a kid. The whole family would sit around and talk, without the television on, no lights meant his dad couldn't retreat behind the newspaper, they all just sat there and talked like Howard imagined normal families might. It had been different, nice.

Howard reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. Vince watched as fumbled through them in the dark, until he found a small, thin keyring, "Ah ha!," he muttered triumphantly, and began fiddling around with it, an expression of irritation forming on his face.

"What's that?" Vince asked eventually.

"This, Vince, is a Maglite. One of the best torches on the market. Or it is when it's working." Defeated, he shoved the bundle of keys back in his pocket, reached up to the top shelf of the highest cupboard in the kitchen and started feeling around for candles.

"Oh, right," Vince turned away and focussed his attentions on uncorking Naboo's wine, "Howard, why do you have a torch on your keys?"

"For situations just like this, little man! You never know when you'll need a torch. Always be prepared; that's my motto."

"Isn't that the boyscouts motto?"

A loud crash, and half the contents of the cupboard spilled onto the floor. Howard leapt aside, avoiding the debris, then examined the mess. Not one candle. Gingerly, he reached back up and resumed groping in the dark "We need to keep these somewhere else," he told Vince, who was paying no attention as he squinted in the gloom trying not to spill the drink as he poured it. "And for your information, more than one person can have the same motto. It might do you some good to adopt it as well."

Vince grinned and shook his head, "Didn't help you much, did it? You didn't think to prepare your batteries." He successfully filled two glasses and left the bottle out of the fridge, there was no point, it wasn't going to stay cold in there. He turned around and watched Howard feeling around on the high shelf, "What are you doing, anyway?"

"I'm looking for candles. Like I said, we need to move them. It's pitch black and they're tucked away in the most inaccessible place in the flat!"

Vince nodded. That didn't make much sense, actually. "You want my lighter?" he asked, "Then you'll be able to see to find them."

Howard stopped what he was doing and spun around, "Your... What have you got a lighter for?"

"No reason. I just found it. Look, do you want it or not?"

Howard nodded. "Yes, fine. Thanks. But we're going to talk about this later, Vince."

Vince shrugged, fished in the pocket of his robe and handed over a fluorescent pink bic lighter, "Don't see what the problem is," he said, "I was only being prepared."

Howard snatched the lighter and held it towards the cupboard. Sure enough, there was a bag of candles and a box of matches in plain sight right at the front of the cupboard. He grabbed them down, lit a candle and carried the rest of the bag into the sitting room.

Vince followed, carrying the two glasses of wine in one hand and the bottle in the other. He slouched onto the sofa and watched as Howard busied himself lighting candles and arranging them on the table in front of them. "Hey, Howard," Vince said as he pushed one glass towards the other man and took a long sip of his own, "Is this what it was like when you were a kid? Before they had electricity?"

Howard shook his head and took great care not to smile, "Very funny," he put Vince's lighter in his own pocket and drank some of his drink. It wasn't that bad. He just hoped they would be be able to replace it before Naboo noticed it was missing.

Vince rearranged his turban, "This is boring," he announced, "What are you supposed to do in a power cut?"

"I don't know," Howard picked up an unlit candle and dipped the wick into the flame of another, "there's no rules about it, you just wait 'til it comes back on, then get on with whatever you were doing,"

"Well I can't do that, can I?" Vince pulled the towel off of his head and ran his fingers through the damp hair. He could already feel it beginning to frizz. "I'll have to start all over again. By then it'll be too late to go out anyway. I'll just have to write the whole night off." He slung the towel on the floor and put his feet up on the sofa, "I don't reckon it was going to be that good tonight anyway, luckily."

Howard nodded, "Maybe the power's off at the club you were going to,"

"Yeah, imagine that!" Vince grinned at the thought of Leroy and his cohorts having an even worse time than he was, having got all ready, paid to get in, and then found themselves in a dark room with no music. He drained his glass and refilled it, "At least I'm somewhere comfy," he said, "And with you."

"With me? What difference does that make?"

"Well," Vince said, "you were prepared. You're the only bloke I know who has a torch on his keys. Except this guy Mike I met once, but his just shone a smiley face onto the wall, I doubt it'd be much good in an emergency."

"Didn't do much good though, my torch, did it? As you pointed out,"

Vince nodded and topped up Howard's glass with the last of the bottle, "Yeah, but you've got candles too," he ran the fingers of one hand through one of the flames, "They're dead romantic, candles."

"Romantic? They're functional, Vince."

Vince ignored the comment grinned at Howard, "Do you want to play a game?"

"A game? What sort of game?" Howard was instantly wary.

"How about... I ask you questions and you have to tell me the truth."

Howard frowned, "That's not really a game, is it? More of an interrogation."

Vince laughed, "Come on, it'll be fun! You can ask me stuff too."

"But..." Howard stopped. He already knew more about Vince than he really needed to, possibly more than Vince even knew about himself, and he was sure that Vince was equally knowledgeable about him. But there was nothing else to do, "Fine," he said, "but I don't have to answer if I don't want to."

"Genius!" Vince got to his feet, went into the kitchen and came back with another bottle of wine.

"Hey, it's Naboo's wine, remember? It's one thing having one bottle and replacing it, but we shouldn't drink it all,"

Vince ignored him and topped up his almost full glass, "We can replace this one too," he said, "Ready for your first question?"

"Vince..." Howard began to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He had no secrets from Vince, true, but there were still things Vince didn't know, little things that he'd never mentioned. Not secrets per se, just... things he didn't want Vince to know. Okay, secrets. He'd been drinking, what if one of them spilled out and embarrassed him. Was he ready for Vince to know he had no idea how to change a fuse?

"What?" Vince asked.

"Wouldn't you rather play something else? Something that's a real game, with clearly defined rules, where there's a winner and a loser? I've got a deck of cards somewhere. That's what my family always used to do when there was a power cut,"

Vince rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well your family are well boring, aren't they?" He stuck a finger in his drink and sucked on it thoughtfully for a minute, "Okay, I've got a question. Ready?"

Howard nodded.

"Which do you prefer, strawberry bootlaces or jelly worms?"

Howard laughed, "That's your question? You could ask me anything, and that's what you choose,"

Vince nodded, "Yeah. So which is it?"

"I don't know, I'm not bothered about either of them."

Vince sighed loudly, "Well if you're not going to play properly..."

"Fine. The second thing, whatever it was. Jelly, something."

"Jelly worms? Strawberry bootlaces are way better! Okay, your question."

Howard thought, but had no idea what he could possibly ask Vince. Everything he needed to know, he already did, everything he didn't need to know, he wasn't interested in. "It doesn't have to be a complicated card game, why don't we play Snap or something?" he asked.

"Because it's too dark," Vince replied, "and I can't be bothered waiting here while you turn more cupboards upside down looking for the cards,"

"Then what about..."

Vince shook his head, "Ah ah, my turn. Do you like Marmite?"

Howard resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "You know I do. We had that argument about it last week."

"Oh yeah," Vince pulled a disgusted face and swigged a mouthful of wine to wash the imaginary taste from his mouth, "Okay, I get to ask another one,"

Howard shook his head, "I don't think so, it's my turn,"

Vince looked at him expectantly as Howard mulled it over. There was really only one question that he wanted to know the answer to, "Why are we doing this,Vince? Is there something you want to ask me? Other than my taste in snacks, I mean."

Vince didn't answer, instead he just brushed his rapidly drying hair with his fingers. Howard watched him. He didn't think it looked as bad as Vince imagined, even without his hair dryer and straighteners.

Realising he wasn't going to get a response to that one, Howard looked away, glancing out of the open curtains to the dark street below.

Vince twirled his glass around between his fingers, watching the red liquid swirl inside it. He sighed. "Do you miss me?" he asked, so quietly that Howard, sitting right next to him on the sofa barely caught the words.

Howard turned back to look at him, "What?"

"I miss you." He rubbed his nose nervously and took another sip of his drink. "It sounds mental, doesn't it? You're right there. We live in the same flat, work in the same shop. It doesn't make any sense. You know what, forget it. I'm drunk. It's a bit strong, this wine, isn't it?" He gulped down what was left of his glass, and filled it up again

Howard just watched him for a minute, not sue what to say. His hand twitched, itching to touch Vince, a hug, even a comforting shoulder squeeze would probably do wonders right now, but something held him back. He didn't like to touch. He wished he did, but he just couldn't. Instead he reached forward, picked up the empty wine bottle off of the table and began to peel off the label. "It does make sense," he said, "It's not me you miss, not really. It's us. We don't do this any more, just sitting around talking. You're always rushing off to some club, I'm busy with Stationery Village – and you may well snigger, but it's a lot of responsibility – there never seems to be time to just sit and smell the roses."

Vince's nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air, "There aren't any roses," he said. He re-adjusted his position on the sofa and edged a little closer to Howard, "Can we do this again?" he asked.

"Do what? Have a power cut? I suppose it could be arranged."

Vince smiled and shook his head, "No, I mean just hang out. Like we used to."

"Yeah, I knew what you meant, Vince," Howard nodded, "Of course we can. Whenever you want."

"And..." he hesitated, tapped his fingers on his glass and chewed on the nail of his thumb, "Can we maybe get some sleeping bags sleep on the floor? Like we used to, you know?" He smiled hopefully, "It'd be like camping..."

"I thought you didn't like camping,"

"I don't. But I like sleeping bags. Sleeping bags are amazing. Come on, you can bring your Maglite if you want."

Howard laughed, "Fine, why not."

Vince smiled so brightly that it almost lit the darkened room, and for a moment Howard felt like they were back in the zoo. Late at night when everyone else had gone home, with no one but himself and Vince anywhere around. A feeling of calm and happiness washed over him, and he saw the same look reflected back at him in Vince's eyes. He smiled back.

Then with another 'ping' sound, the lights came back on, drowning out the candlelight, and the moment was lost. But that was okay, they could have it back whenever they wanted.

Howard yawned, "Right, I'm going to bed. Early start tomorrow, we've got sleeping bags to buy."