Hi Boosh babies x Okay so, as you know, A Reminder was originally just going to be just a one-shot all on its lonesome, but I had so many other one-shot ideas bouncing about my brain, that I decided to have a one-shot bonanza. Aren't you lucky XD
Disclaimer: As I'm sure is the case for many of us here, if anything, they own me.
Dedication: Mrs Old Gregg, and kbchick. You reviewed! Thankyou x
Summery: Vince keep trying to tell Howard how he feels, and keeps failing. Will 67 be the lucky attempt?
Lucky 67
This would be attempt 67. The 67th time. And I was going to get it right, I was going to say it right, I was going to break free of this monotonous cycle of declaration and panicked back-tracking.
But that's what I said before the 66th time.
And the 65th.
The first time, I was terrified. Which was weird 'cus I don't normally get scared. Howard says that's because I'm too stupid to understand the seriousness of the situations that we invariably get ourselves into, on a regular basis. I don't think that's strictly true. I realise there's a reasonable chance that I might not make it out of *insert unlikely situation here* but, nothing bad ever happens to me, so I always struggle with the concept of things starting to go wrong. I know that sounds stupid, but... if you had led a life as charmed as mine, you would know what I mean.
That first attempt, when I had wandered into the kitchen, at the crack of noon, and Howard had looked up from his Global Explorer all soft and brown and warm (Howard, not the magazine – Global Explorer is a sepia nightmare), I had just melted like the biggest ponce in the history of the world, not that that really bothered me, as portrayed quite accurately by the Lycra creation I was sporting, wasn't disastrous but it wasn't exactly successful.
"Alright, Vince?" he had said, and all I could think was yes, yes, of course I'm alright, I've got you, but managed to exert enough self control not to just come right out and say it (haha, come right out, how appropriate) because I didn't think Howard would appreciate a sentiment quite so sickly sweet and vague. I had to say something though, something that conveyed everything I wanted to say in a Howard-friendly way, and there was only one of putting it that I could see, unless I tried crafting some fashion related metaphor, but no, that was an awful idea, under no circumstances should he say anything except those three simple words...
"Howard, I... if I'm a tunic made of owl feathers, you're my sparkly silver platforms. I mean, you know? If I'm an electro inspired jump suit, the you're my revolving, luminous, disco-ball neck-lace. Yeah?"
According to Howard's expression, no.
"Erm, alright then. I've got to go open up shop... The kettle's just boiled" Howard had finished lamely, before swiftly exiting the room.
I had then collapsed into a chair and whacked my head down onto the table. It didn't help. Honestly, if I had said that to any of the Camden Elite, they would have got it instantly. Leroy for example, would have known what I meant like that. Then I had quickly shut that train of thought off, because the thought of professing love to Leroy was making me feel a bit ill.
My attempts could only improve from then on, right? Apparently, no. All I had done during attempt one, was thoroughly confuse Howard. Attempt two, was even more of a balls up.
I had decided to go for The Annoying Approach. Thinking back, the fact that I had named it 'The Annoying Approach' (with capital letters and everything) in my own mind, should have been enough to put me off. But that sort of connection would involve common sense, and that wasn't ever going to happen was it?
Attempt two had gone like this:
"Howard? Howard? Howard. Howaaaaard. Howard, Howard, Howard, How-"
"What! What is it Vince? What is so important?" Howard had snapped, looking at Vince angrily.
"I love you."
There was a heartbeat of silence in which Howard looked at me confused, and I'm sure with a hundred other emotions too, but the trouble is a heartbeat may seem like an eternity when you've just told someone you love them, but it's really a very short time, too short to properly read the expression on someones face but plenty oftime to get into a complete panic.
So before Howard could answer me, or draw and conclusion at all, I waded in with what felt like saving myself at the time, but, with the benefit of hind legs, was more a case of just twatting it up.
"...but you look ridiculous today."
There. I love you but you look ridiculous today. An insult to ruin the sentiment, brilliant plan right? Of course it wasn't. If I can't come up with a adequate plan in several hours, there's no chance of me doing something brilliant with a split-second to think about it.
So then there had been a big fight about what a bitch I was being (true) and how Howard was just boring and old and jealous (so not true) which had resulted in me going out and getting completely pissed with Leroy, and stumbling in at 4am and no doubt saying a load more offensive things to Howard, who had waited up for me, even though I in know way deserved him to. The thought made my stomach go all funny from a mixture of guilt and happiness.
My third attempt was only a few hours later. I was hung over like you wouldn't believe and was considering amputating my own head, when Howard walked into my room, carefully making as little noise as possible, and handed me a cup of tea without a word.
"Howard, I love you." I said sincerely, but in what I supposed must have been in a thanks-for-the-tea way, and not a will-you-be-my-boyfriend way. I sat up so I could take the tea. I groaned as the room shifted and told my self fiercely to under no circumstances throw up. That was something you certainly don't want the guy you're in love with to see.
Howard just gave me a slight smile before leaving me alone with the pounding in my head.
And that was how it had gone, over and over, for the last few months. A cycle of useless metaphors, declarations followed by insults, drunken mumblings and hung over gratefulness. It wasn't getting me anywhere, except maybe there was a small pile of resentment building up somewhere in the back of my mind against Howard, for being so blind as not to see how head over heels I was. It was that more than anything that had spurred me on to finally do it right, I couldn't end up resenting Howard, that would be too awful.
We were in the shop, and it was closing time. This was it. This was absolutely it, the final attempt. I found my self idly wishing that I had a better number to succeed on, 67 was a bit of an awkward number, better 50 or a hundred. Taking my conviction that I was going to get it right this time as a positive thing I took a deep breath and followed Howard across the shop silently, to where he turned the sign to closed. I stood directly behind him, uncomfortably (or extremely comfortably, depending on how you look at it) close.
Howard turned around to find me standing so close to him that I could feel his breath on my face, and the warmth emanating from his body. He didn't start. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything. I was caught up in how close I was to him, how easy it would be to close the gap and kiss him. Then I told myself to stop bring such a twat and actually do it because kissing him wasn't something that could sidetrack me, it was the main plan. I had proved 66 times that I was useless with words, and this seemed my only option. Not that I was complaining, I thought it was pretty romantic and fitting.
Then all of my thoughts turned off, because Howard was kissing me. Howard was kissing me. How the hell did that happen? The tit was ruining my defining moment, my brave and meaningful declaration. How dare he? I was going to have to have strong words with him. I thought about it, and decided to 'have strong words with him' tomorrow morning, I was a little busy right now. Oh, and if you were concerned that I had just been standing like a lemon while Howard did all the work, kissing-wise, then I can assure you I was being more than responsive and am capable of thinking and snogging at the same time.
Shutting off my thoughts (which according to Howard is quite an unusual skill, and people normally can't just make their thoughts go blank like flicking a switch, but I find it really easy to not think and just feel. It sounds pretty deep when I say it like that, but really it's just a case of me not really having many proper, important thoughts... except about Howard, I could sit and think about him for years,) I focused entirely on giving Howard by very best kissing moves, moves which have resulted in half the female population of Camden (and about a third of the blokes) being brought back to the flat. His appreciative moan told me I must be doing something right and sent waves of pleasure through me, like a hair dryer having a power surge... or something along those lines.
We broke apart, gasping for air with our foreheads touching and our eyes locked.
"You jack of clubs, I've been trying to successfully come on to you for ages, and just as I was about to get it right you had to wade on in and beat me to it!" I said as venomously as I could manage when all I could think was Oooh I love you... Which as it turned out wasn't very venomously at all.
"Well exactly. What's this, the 67th time? I got tired of waiting around for you to make a move, when all I could think about doing was pouncing on you." grinned Howard, still trying to get his breath back.
"You tit!" I exploded. "You knew all along that I was trying to tell you how I felt and you just let me fail and make an arse out of myself 66- Hang on a minute, pounce on me?" I said with a laugh. Howard dragged his eyes away from mine, to look at the floor embarrassedly (I had been wondering when some embarrassment was going to come in on Howards part, he was being far to calm and smooth about this whole thing.) I laughed and put my arms around his neck. He looked back up at me and slid his hands around my waist smiling a little self consciously.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
I grinned my biggest brightest mega-watt grin and kissed him again gently. Then I grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs yelling "Come on then Howard, pounce on me!" over my shoulder.
I awoke this morning, feeling more content then I knew was possible, and that's saying something for a Sunshine Kid (I'm really getting in to this capitalisation lark, it makes things sound much more official. The correct use of capital letters is very important, for instance it's the difference between helping your Uncle Jack of a horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse...Hey, Vince Noir, I'm here all week.) While trying not to laugh at my own internal joke, two questions and two facts had wandered lazily into my brain as I lay half asleep.
How much real strawberry went into a strawberry bootlace? And how did Howard get to be so mind blowing in bed with *ahem* so little experience? I tried to answer my own questions and came up with: loads, because how else would they get them so red, and he must just have natural talent. I decided that these were probably both right and therefore I had four facts which was much more enjoyable. That was four things Vince Noir kjnew for certain. Actually that would make quite a powerful ending...
As I lay in the half light of the morning, I realised there were four things I knew for certain. One, strawberry bootlaces must contain lots of real strawberries because of how red they are. Two, Howard was naturally gifted at sex. Three I wanted to wake up with Howard's arms draped lazily over me every morning, and four, that 67, well 67 was my new lucky number.
A quick review wouldn't hurt :D The next will be about...erm... you'll have to wait and see (I have as little idea as you do :P) GwinGwin x
