A/N: You know, I'm surprised I'm managing to write all these fanfics, do my course work and have a social life at the same time. Wonder how long I can keep that up for...
The little reflection about London at the end is based on my own thoughts. My parents moved us away from there to Sussex when I was almost 11, and I miss it desperately and have spent a lot of money on day-trips! Anyway, at uni in Cardiff now and living with my other half, so it's not as bad as it was in Sussex! And I've had what Vince has got – it's awful, and I was unlucky enough to have it for two weeks!
Disclaimer: NOT MINE!!
xxxx
Howard entered the flat, scatting quietly to himself as he climbed the stairs. He'd had a very pleasant afternoon, and was looking forward to sinking into the sofa with a nice cup of tea. Or the armchair, he thought, as he reached the top and saw Vince spread out on the sofa, fast asleep. Howard paused to look at him. He looked so peaceful, so... angelic. He smiled down at him before walking over to the kitchen table and dumping the bag he was holding on top of it, switching the kettle on and rummaging in the fridge for the milk. He placed the milk on the counter and grabbed a mug from the cupboard, throwing a tea bag into it, humming quietly as he waited for the water to boil.
Five minutes later he was settled comfortably in the big, leather armchair by the window, sipping his tea and watching the telly on a low volume so as not to wake his sleeping friend, although, for some reason, he couldn't help but steal a glance at him every now and then – after all, whether Howard would openly admit to it or not, he did look rather sweet. He wasn't as stretched out as he had been – he had now pulled his legs up so he was curled into a ball, one hand up near his face, the other resting gently on the side of his waist. His hair fell over the side of his face, and Howard had to fight the sudden, quite startling urge to go over and brush it back. He moved his concentration back to the nature programme that he'd been watching, trying to ignore the little sigh Vince gave as he shifted slightly in his sleep.
Nearly an hour later, Howard was distracted from his programme by Vince whimpering. He looked over and found him shifting uncomfortably, a look of distress playing over his delicate features. On closer inspection, Howard saw that his brow was damp, fringe clinging to his forehead, his skin paler than usual. When he whimpered again, Howard decided to wake him.
"Vince," he said, shaking him gently. When he didn't stir, Howard frowned and tried again. "Vince?"
"Mmmph," he mumbled, eyes slowly flickering open. "Howard?"
Howard smiled and sat on the edge of the sofa. "Hey, little man. You okay?"
Vince tried to move, but found that it made his head spin. "Dizzy."
"Come on," Howard said, taking charge of the situation. He put his arms round him and helped him sit up against the cushions, concerned at how floppy he was and how hot his skin felt. Vince leant forward in his arms, breathing heavily.
"Feel... I feel sick."
He sounded so weak and looked so small that Howard's protective instincts immediately kicked in. Vince never got sick, well apart from the odd cold and self induced hangover – but he'd never seen him like this before.
Vince now looked even paler, and he sprang to action. "Do you want to go to the bathroom?"
"Yeah," he breathed, and he let Howard pull him up off the sofa. Once he was standing, he swooned dangerously and Howard grabbed him as he doubled over.
"It's all right, I've got you," he said, and was about to try walking with him when Vince couldn't wait any longer and threw up, soaking the carpet. Howard held him as he retched again violently, and once he'd finished and recovered slightly, he look horrified and tried to pull away from Howard's arms.
"Hey, hey," Howard soothed. "It doesn't matter, come on now. I'll clean it up."
Vince found he was too weak to protest, and let Howard help him back down onto the sofa where he sank back, a small moan escaping his throat.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his mouth dry.
Howard gave him a soft smile. "It's not your fault you're ill."
Once the carpet was cleaned and Vince had been handed a glass of water, Howard rang the doctor and made an appointment for a house call. If Vince could barely move without being sick, it was probably for the best that he didn't venture outside.
"How long have you been feeling like this for?" he asked, sitting down next to Vince and pulling him into him so that his head was resting on his shoulder.
Vince closed his eyes as he thought. "Just today. Felt unwell... so thought I'd try... and sleep it off, and then... when I woke up -"
"Okay, it's all right," Howard said, worried at how breathless Vince sounded as he spoke. He couldn't even begin to guess what was wrong with him – he just hoped it wasn't serious. Just when he thought he'd got him settled, Vince lurched forward, grabbing the bucket Howard had put by the sofa and vomiting into it as he clutched at Howard's hand.
Howard's free hand went onto Vince's back, rubbing it soothingly. Vince coughed and spat, eventually putting the bucket down and sitting back. Perspiration was running down his face, and Howard pushed his fringe out of his eyes, wincing at how hot he felt. He placed his hand on his cheek, and Vince instantly put his on top of it, holding it there.
"You're hand's cold... it's nice."
"Tell you what – how about I get you a cold flannel?"
Vince nodded tiredly, and released his hand.
Half an hour later the doctor was sitting next to Vince, explaining what was wrong with him. He'd taken his temperature, checked his ears, throat and pulse, listened to his chest, gently felt his stomach, asked him a dozen questions, and come to the conclusion that Vince had gastroenteritis.
"I'm afraid there's not really anything I can give you for it," the doctor said, sympathetically. "Just sip plenty of water and eat dry foods, like toast and digestive biscuits. If you're lucky, it will only last a few days." He turned to Howard. "Gastroenteritis is infectious, so I suggest, to minimise the risk, that you keep everything disinfected. Also, go down to the chemist and pick up some Gaviscon - it'll help settle Vince's stomach. Make sure he stays hydrated, and if he doesn't feel better in a few days, or gets worse, call me straight away."
Howard nodded. "Thank you, doctor." He saw him out, and when he came back up, Vince had curled up on the sofa again, hands clutching at his stomach.
Howard rubbed a hand over his forehead and looked down at his friend in concern, before running over when he saw he was about to be sick again.
xxxx
Vince slept on the sofa that night, Howard on the floor next to him, obsessively checking on him to make sure he was okay, until he finally succumbed and nodded off. Vince slept feverishly and woke frequently, exhausted, the heat and the dizziness distressing him, which made him feel even more uncomfortable. After waking for the fifth time, he felt so pathetic that before he could put a stop to it, he burst into tears. He didn't want to wake Howard – didn't want him to see him acting like such a baby – so he pulled the blanket up to his face and buried his head in it, weeping as quietly as he could. He couldn't help it, he just felt absolutely wretched.
Howard stirred, opening his eyes as the sound of muffled sobs reached his ears.
"Vince?"
Vince jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, and quickly hushed up.
Howard knew what he was doing and gave him a kind, sleepy smile as he sat up next to him.
"Come here," he said, and Vince obediently snuggled into him, forgetting what'd he'd told himself about not letting Howard see him cry, and unleashing a torrent of tears onto his best friend.
"I'm sorry," he choked, mortified at his behaviour, his skin burning even more. "I'm just so miserable."
Howard placed a loving kiss on the top of his head and rocked him gently. "Don't be silly – it's a really horrible illness. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
But Vince wasn't really listening to him, having been stunned from when Howard had kissed him. He thought about it for a moment as his shoulders shook from his sobbing, and was secretly quite pleased and touched at Howard's kindness. This thought quickly got pushed aside though, as his stomach lurched again and he grabbed the bucket. He soon discovered that as if being sick wasn't bad enough, crying through it made it a lot worse.
When he'd finished, Howard handed him some tissue and his glass of water, stroking his hair as he lay against him. The glass shook in Vince's hand as he tried to drink from it, and in the end resigned to letting Howard help him, which set him off hiccuping back sobs again.
"Oh, Vince," Howard whispered, wrapping him in his arms.
They sat there for a while, the only sound being Vince's sniffing, before he finally announced rather awkwardly that he needed the bathroom. Howard had to practically carry him there, checking a hundred times over that Vince would be able to manage in there on his own, although he didn't mind him doing so as he knew he was only trying his best to look after him. As soon as he'd flushed the loo and washed his hands, Howard was by his side again. Vince tried walking, but was horrified when his knees suddenly buckled and he felt himself being hastily pulled back up before he hit the floor.
"Woah, there. Okay?" Howard asked, frowning at him in concern.
Vince nodded weakly.
"I opened the window in the bedroom earlier – it should be quite cool now if you want to go in there, now you're up and all."
"Yeah, okay."
Howard helped him into the room and onto his bed.
"All right?"
"Yeah, thanks." Vince took a few deep breaths as he lay on his side, eyes fluttering closed.
When he was sure he was asleep, Howard leant forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
xxxx
The next couple of days carried on pretty much the same way, but luckily, on the third day, Vince woke up feeling much better.
"Hey, little man," Howard greeted him as he padded into the kitchen. "How you feeling?"
"Quite good actually, considering," he said, with a smile, as he sat down and poured himself some tea.
"I'm not surprised – you do realise you've been asleep for twelve hours?"
Vince put his mug down. "Really?"
"Yeah – you should still take it easy though," Howard replied, getting up to put his breakfast things in the sink.
"I will, but I feel like the walls are starting to close in on me," Vince said, rubbing his bare arms.
"Tell you what – get dressed and we'll go for a walk along the canal, see if we can get some colour back into those cheeks."
xxxx
They walked along the Regent's Canal slowly, Vince relishing the fact that he was able to breath in fresh air (well, as fresh as you can get in London, anyway). He still felt a bit wobbly though, so they found a bench to sit on and watched as the boats went past, most of them painted brightly, sparkling proudly in the sun, which shone brightly in the blue sky. A couple of ducks swooped down, landing on the water and skimming along, their wings spread out like a fan.
Vince pushed his sunglasses up his nose and took a swig of water from the bottle that Howard handed him.
"Do you ever miss Leeds?"
Howard blinked at him. Where had that come from? He shrugged. "Not much – why's that?"
Vince smiled as he watched another boat go past – the man who was steering it gave a little wave, and they waved back.
"I don't think I could ever leave London. You know when we got stranded on our way to America? I was quite glad in the end. Annoyed that we'd missed the showcase, but at the end we got to come home and I realised that I didn't want to be anywhere else. I love this place. I love this," he said, indicating the canal, "I love the markets and the people, the performers at Covent Garden, Hampstead Heath in the summer - and those rare occasions it's covered in snow in the winter - walking along the Thames... do you remember that? Stumbling home drunk from that party we gatecrashed, and I had to try and stop you from climbing Tower Bridge? That was hilarious."
Howard went a little red. "I was not trying to climb the bridge!"
"What? Yes, you were, and when you couldn't you decided to walk out into road, insisting that you wanted to be standing there when the bridge went up to let the big boats through!" he laughed at the memory.
Howard let out a chuckle and nudged him with his shoulder. "What's the deep thinking for anyway? It's not like you."
"Oi! I can be a deep thinker when I want to be. I dunno, guess it's just sitting here, watching the world go by."
"Well, in that case, I guess I like London for the same reasons you do – I've never thought about returning to Leeds, not permanently anyway. It's nice that you still love the place you were born in - wish I could feel the same way about mine."
"Why don't you?"
"I'm not sure, but I guess it could be because my life didn't really start until I came here. Nothing much happened until then, and then I met this annoying little electro fairy called Vince Noir, and I haven't been able to get rid of him since." He smiled rather attractively then, and Vince couldn't help but stare, before catching himself and smiling back.
They sat there in companionable silence for a while, relaxing in the sunshine and listening to the sounds of the city. Howard went to nibble on one of his nails, but Vince grabbed his hand before it could reach his mouth.
"You'll ruin them," he warned, but his tone was light.
After a half hour or so, Howard suggested that they make their way home. Vince tried to protest, but he still felt quite weak so he knew there was no point in arguing. He stood unsteadily, his head swimming for a moment.
"Howard, do you mind if I..." he indicated rather awkwardly that he needed some support, and Howard instantly held his arm out to him. Vince took it gratefully, but as Howard went to move, he kept still and held him back.
"Vince? You okay?"
Vince looked up at him with genuine sincerity. "Thanks for looking after me, Howard."
Howard smiled at him. "No problem, little man."
The pair headed home, completely content.