A/N: This is pure fluff. You will need to visit the dentist after reading this. You've been warned. XD

Howard has deemed only three things a worthy interruption of his sleep: jazz, mortal peril, and the most recent inductee, Vince. So when he feels something poking his shoulder repeatedly and hears a voice saying "Howard! Howard…" he knows who it must be and he rolls over towards Vince.

As it turns out, Vince's face is very, very close to his—the moonlight shining through the window illuminates every feature of his face, making it look even closer than it is—and for a moment they both stop breathing before Howard shifts backwards.

Vince seems to recover himself—Howard is pleased that his accidental personal-space intrusion produced a visible effect—and says, "I've got to tell you something."

"What is it?"

"It's about Techno Mouse. You know how he's been depressed since before I got here? Well, it turns out that he was feeling really lonely! Yeah, he wanted to find a girl, see. He told me. So I felt bad for him, yeah, and I let him out just one night so he could find a girl. But he begged for me to keep letting him out nights because he wanted to court this lady mouse he had talked to that first night. So I agreed, and a few days ago he came back really happy!"

Howard interrupts Vince's story and says, "So you intentionally let an animal escape?" Sleeping on the floor of the room with Vince is nothing new (due to an ordering error, Fossil had forgotten a vital piece of furniture: beds), but nevertheless Howard's stomach is somersaulting from the proximity.

"He lets himself back in every morning before work starts! Anyway, the brilliant thing is, they're gettin' married tomorrow!"

"Wow," Howard says. He wasn't aware that mice had weddings. "So have you met his fiancée?"

"No, but he talks about her all the time," Vince says excitedly. "Thing is, you wouldn't think their relationship would work, coz they're very different."

"Oh?" Howard asks. "How so?" He's not focusing so much on the story as the light in Vince's eyes, and how it gives the illusion of them being bottomless.

Being unaware of this, Vince rambles on. "Well, she comes from a very poor family, and Techno Mouse is quite rich. His family actually owns a small but successful cheese factory, d'you know that? Fascinating. Also, she's well into jazz, and he'd taken a strict vow in the Anti-Jazz Club for Mice never to listen to it. He's gonna break the vow, though, and lose his membership, just coz he loves her so much. She wants a jazzy something played at their wedding, and he agreed. The power of love, yeah?"

Now Howard is definitely paying attention to the story. There must be a deeper reason Vince is telling him this story than what's apparent on the surface—he talks to the animals and likes to blabber on—it's supposed to convey a further meaning, a parallel to their lives, perhaps? Although, they're not mice, and also not (mutually) madly in love. But could it be possible?

While Howard's mind has been racing, Vince has been staring at him curiously. He's smiling just a little when he says, "What're you thinking about?"

"Huh?" Howard says. The question catches him off-guard, and he stumbles about for an answer: "Just…the mice," he says. "I'm glad Techno Mouse isn't depressed anymore."

"Yeah," Vince says. He's still smiling, but he looks a bit…discouraged. Why?

"Vince," Howard says, before he can stop himself, "is something wrong?"

"Yeah, you've got hair in your eyes," Vince says, not missing a beat, and before Howard can register that he hasn't felt anything irritating his eyes, Vince's hand is touching his cheek, his fingertips brushing back Howard's hair. Vince smiles at him, but it looks a bit forced, and he begins to withdraw his hand.

In a split second, Howard considers the things Vince has said and done—some annoying, some helpful, some just plain endearing—and makes a quick decision: he puts his own hand out to clasp Vince's.

They look at each other and say nothing. It's awkward having their hands in the air, so they tacitly agree to bring them down and rest on the piece of blanket between them.

Now Vince is genuinely smiling, and Howard knows that he is, too. His heart feels like it may explode in a burst of confetti while doing the Macarena, but for once it's perfectly pleasant.

Howard wants to ask, "Was there a hidden meaning? Why did you tell me that story? Is there anyone in the world more spectacular than you?" (Actually, he can answer the third question. It's a resounding 'absolutely not.')

But before he can open his mouth, Vince squeezes his hand and says, "Goodnight, Howard."

I suppose the questions can wait. What is it they say, enjoy the moment? "Goodnight, Vince," Howard says, and Vince closes his eyes. Lying there next to him, Howard watches Vince drift to sleep, the smile still on his face. He gently tugs their hands to press against his chest, and Vince unconsciously moves closer, responding to the cue to move even in his sleep.

Yes, Howard thinks, I am indeed a man of action, despite the fact that his heart is beating so loudly he's sure it'll wake Vince up.

It doesn't, though, and Howard watches Vince's eyelids flutter as he dreams, probably about jungles and candy and fantastic adventures that Howard hopes involve him. Vince's smile slowly fades away, but their hands still hold each other's.

Howard doesn't sleep again that night.