Howard often watched Vince get ready to go out in the evenings. Vince didn't mind. It was just another one of their routines. He'd get ready, Howard would watch, he'd go out, get pissed. Stagger home to find Howard waiting up for him in their room snuggled up in his bed with a book and a cup of tea.

What Vince didn't know was that every night, as soon as he came home and was safely asleep, Howard would wearily turn off his lamp, carefully close and bookmark his book, roll over and go to sleep.

It was just what they did. Vince didn't know what Howard did those evenings he was at the clubs. And to be honest, the thought hadn't really even crossed his mind. He wasn't going out to worry about Howard. He was out to have fun.

But what DID Howard do, you may be wondering?

Most evenings, nothing much.

One evening in particular, however, Howard was feeling particularly sorry for himself. Vince had been talking about this girl he'd seen a few times at one club whose fashion was "well genius!" But he wasn't jealous. No sir, not him. Not Howard Moon, man of action. Man of non-action, he thought miserably to himself, looking in distaste at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

And no surprise there, either. Maybe Vince is right. Maybe my look could stand a little…updating. His glance fell on the straighteners Vince had left sitting on the counter. Maybe…

Howard acted quickly before his big brain could make him realize the stupidity of his actions. He knew how the straighteners worked, of course. He'd seen Vince use them enough to know that.

Vince had adjusted the mirrors in the bathroom to fit his height, not Howard's, because in his words, "I use them more than you do." As a result, Howard couldn't see the top of his head without crouching over. He picked up a straightener at random and walked back into their shared room. He plugged it in next to a mirror he could actually see out of and waited for it to heat up.

"Nothing wrong with your Northern physique." Howard told himself. "Of course, even the best-made shed sometimes needs a fresh coat of paint."

He picked up the straightener and experimentally ran it over a chunk of his hair. The chunk refused to lie flat, instead choosing to stick out from his head at a ninety degree angle. He didn't let this deter him, however, and repeated the movement with more chunks of hair.

He'd gotten so immersed in what he was doing that he didn't hear the distinctive clomps of Vince's boots coming up the stairs until it was almost too late.

Howard panicked. Not knowing what to do, he jerked the cord out of the wall and threw the straightener down on Vince's bed and hastily covered it up with his mirrorball quilt. Howard ran to his own bed and grabbed a book from his nightstand. He opened it at random and attempted to slow his breathing as the door swung open.

"Alright, Howard?" Vince said tiredly as he staggered into the room, already pulling off his shirt.

"Heey, Vince." Howard said in a desperate attempt to sound casual.

"Howard…"

"Yeah?

"Is your book upside down?"

Howard glanced down. "Yeah. Meant to be, of course. Book on anti-gravity. You know…books float up, go upside down…got to be able to read in space…exercise that ole noggin…"

Vince just stared at him. "Right." He said, his eyes already drifting shut. "Night Howard." He chucked his jeans on the floor and flopped into his bed, the quilt gently fluttering over him.

"Night, Vince." Howard whispered as he shut the book and turned out the lights.

Naboo, Bollo and Howard were all gathered around the table eating lunch when Vince finally staggered down the stairs. He scratched his head, ruffling his hair in the process and he gingerly sat himself down.

"Alright, Vince?" Naboo asked.

"No." Came the muffled response, as Vince draped himself on the table.

"Little Vince have one too many last night?" Bollo asked, knowingly.

"No. Burned myself."

Howard started, and glanced up from his newspaper, guiltily. "Um…On what?"

Vince languidly got up from the table. "My straightener. Dunno why it was in my bed. Must've tried doing my hair pissed."

"You don't remember?" Howard asked. Could he have gotten out of that tricky spot scott free? It seemed too unlikely a thing to happen to Howard Moon, unlucky bastard.

"Just something about floating books, but that's it. It's a nasty burn, too. Look at it." He pulled his tshirt up and his pants down, revealing a long, red burn on his hip. Howard's eyes grew to almost normal size. He could see a line of hair leading down to… If Vince had pulled his pants down any further, Howard would've gotten an eyeful. Although, being the man of non-action that he was, that small glimpse was enough to send Howard into an intense state of arousal.

"You alright, Howard?" Vince asked. "You look flushed."

"Burns make me ill." He fibbed. "Got to go." Howard fled the room, tearing his eyes away from Vince's happy trail.

"What's up with him?" Vince asked, sitting back down.

Bollo shrugged. "Bollo don't know."

Naboo smirked. "Maybe it got too hot for him to handle?" He deadpanned.