A/N: This one gets a little bit sad and angsty, but hopefully it's not too bad, because they always have each other. This one is set sometime between series two and three. I hope you like it! 3
It had almost always been like this. Vince would go out partying on Christmas eve, get back in the early hours of Christmas. He'd go to sleep and not be up until lunchtime the next day, when he would crawl out of bed for a present and a hangover remedy. Then he'd go straight back to bed until about four pm. It annoyed Howard no end. Christmas was meant to be a time for family and friends, and Vince was a bit of both really; he was a friend close enough that they could be brothers. But he spent it in bed, and Howard would be left alone. But that year was different. Vince had sworn on Gary Numan's life that he wouldn't go out on Christmas eve, and he would spend his Christmas with Howard. He'd done okay so far. He hadn't gone out, and he'd gone to bed early. But even so, at ten o clock the next morning, Howard found himself still waiting for Vince to get up. He sighed and sat on the sofa, looking forlornly at the last two presents under the tree. Naboo and Bollo had opened theirs before they left for the shaman lodge Christmas party, and they hadn't got anything for Howard or Vince this year. Vince had told them not to bother, and Howard vehemently agreed. The stuff they bought was just too weird to keep acquiring more of it. Howard waited, staring into space, pondering on this Christmas and all the others, seeming to follow the same pattern. Vince being late. It killing him inside that his best friend didn't care enough to get up on Christmas day. He had done once. But not anymore. His thoughts followed this route until around eleven o clock, when Vince finally emerged from the warmth of his bed and into the cool flat. He shivered as he walked into the living room in a vest and some cotton trousers. His face was set in an expression of sorrow and regret as Howard turned on him, all ready to shout at him. But as soon as he saw Vince, he thought better of it. His hair was unusually messy, his ocean blue eyes still rimmed with last night's black eyeliner. He looked small and childlike in his penguin patterned pyjamas, goosebumps forming on his skinny arms.
"Mornin' Howard." he murmured.
"Morning little man. You sleep well?"
"Well, not so great, actually. That's why I got up so late. I had to catch up. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Vince. It's Christmas. All is forgiven."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Come and sit down." Vince neglected the sofa to sit on the floor in front of the tree, legs tucked up beneath him. He was still rubbing his arms, trying to warm them up.
"You cold?" Howard asked.
"Yeah. Is the heating even on?"
"Probably not. You know Naboo, he's a tightwad. He probably thought we didn't need it."
"Well I'm going to get something. Back in a minute." he disappeared from the room, but came back a moment later with the duvet from his bed. He told Howard to sit down on the floor next to him, and covered them both with it. It was still faintly warm from his body heat. Vince moved closer to Howard, cautiously and carefully, trying not to let him see. But Howard wasn't paying attention; he was reaching for the presents under the tree. The present with his name on was large and flat, square in shape. He thought it was probably a record of some sort. The one for Vince was about the same size, but thicker and harder. He passed Vince the present, and together they began to tear off the paper.
Howard's eyes grew wide when he saw the record in his hands. It was a jazz record, of course, but it was the artist name which caught his eye.
"Howlin' Jimmy Jefferson..." he breathed. "He's the one who became the spirit of Jazz!"
"I know. Cool right?" Vince grinned at Howard, knowing his present choice had been good. Then he finished unwrapping his present. He laughed when he saw the picture of him and Howard sitting in a tree together. It had been framed in a bigger frame than it need so that Howard could frame a note for him too:
'To Vince, my sunshine kid. It's been so many years since we met now, and the time seems to have passed so quickly. It's unbelievable to think you were only fifteen, I was sixteen. We've had some great times though, like foiling Bainbridge's mutant scheme, and sorting stuff out with the Hitcher. Yeah, we've had bad times, like everyone does, like when we nearly got killed by Black Frost, and getting stranded on a desert island with Milky Joe. And we've had some fashion disasters. You have. I don't care what you say, you have. The human coke can look wasn't the best, and neither was the kaftan at my party. But even though you're a total pain in the arse sometimes, you're still my best friend. You're the only person who ever really cared about me, and I think that without you, my life would have ended long ago. I couldn't live without you. Love from Howard.' Vince read the note over twice, grinning like a madman, and then looked up at Howard.
"Do you really mean all that?" he whispered.
"Yeah, course I do."
"Then thanks." he got up and put the picture in pride of place on the mantelpiece, before sitting next to Howard again. Suddenly, he hugged Howard tightly, laying his head on his shoulder.
"Thank you, Howard. You're my best mate as well, and I know I don't say it enough, and I love you to bits and I'm sorry about it, and, and..." he trailed off, turning away, but Howard saw the tears in his eyes. Although there was a small voice in his head telling him no, he plucked up the courage to hold Vince in his arms until he calmed down. Then he asked:
"What's wrong, Vince?" Vince took a shaky breath and said:
"I'm just sorry."
"What for?"
"For all the times I took the piss out of you, and for being nasty, for starting arguments and for generally being a prick. And because I definitely didn't put as much thought into your present as you did mine."
"It doesn't matter Vince. I still love it. And as for all the other stuff... It doesn't matter. At all. You're my best mate, and that's all that matters. Come on, little man. Everything's gonna be alright." Vince looked up at Howard with his child's eyes, smiling slightly.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Really." Vince nodded, but buried his head once more in the duvet at Howard's side. Not because he needed to. He just liked being near him. He meant the world to him, and everything Howard had said in the note mirrored how he felt. It was a delicate thing, a slightly fragile thing, sometimes stretched to its breaking point. But they always kept going, through all the pain and the trouble. That was the way they were. The way they had always been. And it would stay that way. Forever.
