This is my first fic to be posted, I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Of course.
It was approaching 6 o'clock and the fading sunlight was streaming through a gap in the curtain and bouncing off of an orange lamp in the corner of the shop, making the whole shop glow. Howard was finishing his last-minute adjustments to Stationary Village - a tour group on a day-trip to Staple Cafe had made a mess and it had taken a while to restore order. Vince was in his usual spot, sitting in the red, comfy chair in the window of the shop; claiming earlier that Naboo had told him to sit there to entice customers in. Howard found that he couldn't argue with this, despite the recent influx of new customers and had nodded before returning to rearranging his records. A flailing young man in a black vest top had come in earlier, complaining about standards slipping and had knocked on of them off the rack. Naboo was right about Vince's eyes drawing people in, because the minute Vince had perched himself in the chair and opened his magazine with a squeal of 'The Medieval Spiv look is back, genius', a group of girls had giggled their way into the shop, anxiously fluffing their hair in unison. One of them was wearing an 'I'd go pretty far for Vince Noir' t-shirt, and another, Howard noted, was clutching a locket that he would bet his bookmark had a photoshopped photo of her and Vince in it. Vince hadn't noticed them at first; he was busy drawing up a plan for a chainmail trilby, with his tongue sticking out of his mouth slightly as he concentrated on the brim. Howard had noticed, and went back into the store cupboard, feeling slightly awkward, tired but pleased.
This feeling soon wore off as he heard the now-familiar incredulous girlish shriek of, 'WHAT! no, no, you must be joking' followed by the sound of about 14...no 15, Howard strained to hear correctly, yes 15 girls texting in unison. You could hear one quietly sobbing and another quietly request a handkerchief from a friend. This was expected. As Howard moved to return to the shop front, the wind blew in from the ajar back door and he could hear a funeral march start up. The local radio station suddenly cut off from the Klaxons to make an emergency broadcast. Howard would have expected nothing less. Making his way, slowly and carefully to avoid the girl who was in the fetal position on the floor, to the till he sat on the stool and waited for it all to be over. It might take longer today. Vince was sweetly attending to a girl who was clutching at his drainpipes with a wild look in her eyes, murmuring words of comfort that Howard feared she was not able to hear.
Naboo wandered in with his last batch of potion for that day, rolling his eyes as a girl dressed in some kind of neon wedding dress flung herself in his path, wrapped a lock of golden hair round her finger and tried to casually inquire about a love potion, 'for a friend, you know'. Naboo blinked up at her, visibly held his tongue and shook his head, turning to Howard, passing him the creamy, white potion and uttering crossly that it was his fault, before shuffling back upstairs to watch Jeremy Kyle on the evening cable repeats. Howard carefully placed the potion onto the table, moving the toy cars out of the way and arranging the little cups, making a mental note to buy some more later. He had wanted to buy the sensible, 100-for-a-Euro white ones but Vince had insisted on the hotpink ones with stars, solemnly looking up at Howard and saying it would help in these hard times. Hoping that the potion would work, the girls would eventually grow calmer and would eventually be able to leave the shop, maybe to possibly future happiness, inspired Howard. He started to pass around the little cups, telling the girls it was 'to calm the shock you know' and awkwardly patting them on the shoulder as they glanced up with a mixture of gratitude and something else, something frightening.
After one of the girls announced bravely that she was 'over it' anyway and flounced out, Howard began to brighten and flicked on some light Jazz to get things moving. Vince scratched idly at his reddening skin but silently rejoiced at the result of the jazz on the girls, they rose to their feet, some shuffling, some still wailing but calmer than before; and they began to move towards the door with broken promises and cries of revenge. One however was gently caressing a purple velvet scarf and inquiring about its price in a low tone. Perhaps she didn't come in with the other girls, thought Howard. Maybe she's a customer. Then noticed her glazed expression and backed off - must be shock. The girl suddenly shook her head, went a bit pink and ran towards the door. Vince breathed a sigh of relief, flicked the sign on the door to closed and turned to Howard. Howard had returned to sitting patiently on his stool and was considering if the classic design of Highlighter Hotel was suited to its name and overall design ethos. Smiling slightly Vince meandered his way to Howard and pushed a curl of hair from his eyes, 'Thank god it's all over for another day' he breathed, leaning in slightly and looking at Howard with a happy grin 'I thought everyone knew by now that I'm off the market'.