Howard gaped at him, completely thrown. "What?!" he demanded. Ok, so the little ponce was always a bit spiteful, but this was an extreme Howard hadn't been expecting.

"You heard."

"I heard, but…where the fuck has all this 'control' crap come from?"

"I'm just warning you. You think you have all the power because I'm more popular than you, but you don't. I'm still in control here."

Howard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed angrily. "Look, just forget it, ok? Because I am this close to hitting you and I don't particularly want to give myself a black eye to recover from when I'm back to normal, alright?"

Vince shrugged, smirking infuriatingly in a way which suggested he thought he'd won. "Fine. Whatever."

Looking sideways at the angry expression Howard now wore, Vince felt an unexpected twinge of guilt. He angrily shoved it aside and focused on getting them home without being seen together. After all, he had nothing to feel guilty about, did he? If it was the other way round Vince had no doubt whatsoever that Howard would be jumping into bed with that girl. In fact, the only reason he hadn't already done something was probably because he was too damn stupid to realise he had the advantage of being gorgeous now. Once Howard realised that, as 'Vince Noir', all he had to do was smile and people would throw themselves at him, all this bullshit about respecting his body would go out the window.


The next morning when Vince woke up, he kept his eyes closed. He lay there, praying that he was back to normal, then opened his eyes and looked down at himself.

He groaned softly. Still in Howard's body.

He got out of bed gingerly, sure that at any moment his head was going to explode in pain. After all, given the amount he'd drunk last night and how much of a lightweight Howard was, he expected to have a huge hangover.

But nothing happened. He felt fine.

Shrugging to himself, he stumbled out into the kitchen to get himself some juice and froze in horror.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he squeaked, noting as he did so that Howard's voice really wasn't meant for squeaking. He sounded like a deranged mouse.

"Eating breakfast." came the sullen reply from Howard. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Vince stared wide eyed at the bacon and egg sandwich Howard was eating. "Do you have any idea how much fat you're eating?! You're going to make me gain weight!"

"Oh yeah, because you're such a fat pig already." Howard rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food. "What're you doing up so early anyway?"

Vince shrugged, getting a juice carton out of the fridge. "I was awake, might as well get up. Besides, I feel great! No hangover or anything."

"Oh, yeah. I don't get them." Howard commented, taking a drink from a mug of black coffee.

Vince stared at him. "What?"

Howard shrugged. "Never have."

Vince blinked rapidly. Howard didn't get hangovers? How was that fair? A brilliant gift like that and it had to go to the least sociable, least fun loving person in the history of the world; when he brought joy and excitement to hundreds of people and woke up most mornings with an absolute blinder. This was definitely someone's idea of a joke.

"What's the plan for today then?" he asked, taking a gulp of juice.

"I'm going to stay here, you're going to jazzercise."

Vince almost spat the juice out again in shock. "Jazzercise?! No fucking way!"

"I did your gig for you, you do this for me. It's only fair."

Vince shuddered. An hour bopping around to jazz with a bunch of sad old men? He'd rather die. "Not a hope in hell, Howard."

"But I promised Horace I'd go."

Promised? Why on earth would he promise to go to jazzercise? "I don't care. Your problem not mine."

Howard's eyes flashed angrily, and then he smiled. "Well I suppose I could always go myself."

Vince growled. Howard blinked in surprise. He'd actually growled, like an animal or something. "Fine." he turned and stomped off, then paused and came back grinning smugly. "Wait, I can't go."

"Why not?"

"I have allergies."

Howard smiled back at him. "Allergies are a physical thing Vince, not a mental one, and I'm not allergic to jazz. Unless you're admitting that it's all in your head?"

"No!" Vince said hurriedly. Howard smirked.

"Right then. Off you go, get ready."

Vince glared and walked back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.


"Hey Howard." a woman in her mid forties greeted, holding the door open.

"Hi." Vince said, slightly confused.

"You feeling ok?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just genius." Vince muttered sarcastically. To his surprise, she laughed.

"He been playing up again?"

"What?"

"Vince. I assume from that sarcastic comment he's no better?"

Vince blinked. "Oh, he's…the same as ever. Um…how're you?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know. The twins are acting up again. Bobby actually wants a motorbike now can you believe!"

"Wow, I…that's bad, is it?"

"My Bobby with a motorbike? Of course it's bad; you know what he's like!"

Vince nodded and smiled, although he had no idea what this woman's son was like. He was already kicking himself for not asking Howard the names of these people.

"Howard!" he heard a man shout and turned to see a bloke in his 60s shuffling over.

"Alright?"

"How're you then, son?"

"I'm…fine."

"Listen, I've got some good news for you!"

"Oh?"

"Sheila died!"

Vince blinked, stunned. "And that's…erm…good?"

"Well, it means I've got a spare room now, so if you're still looking for somewhere it's yours."

Howard had been asking around for somewhere new to live? Vince waited for the satisfied feeling that he'd finally get rid of him, but it didn't come. He felt curiously…empty.

"Erm…great news, yeah." come on, say yes! Accept the offer you little prick, you can finally get rid of him! "Well, I…" what is wrong with you? "I think I should probably…" say yes. SAY YES! "…talk to Naboo first. You know, I think I have to give him notice or something." give him notice? What the fuck? Why hadn't he said yes? This was the main thing he'd wanted for months, Howard finally out of his hair. So why the hell hadn't he accepted the offer of a room?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jazzercise passed in a bit of a blur after that. As he'd suspected, Vince hated almost every second of it (but not every single second, although he'd never admit that to anyone). What had surprised him most was everyone's reactions to him. Well, their reactions to Howard anyway. These people liked him. And not in an ironic way, they actually genuinely seemed to like his company. No accounting for taste, Vince supposed.

Why did Howard never hang out with any of these people? Ok, so they were all older than him, but still. Howard looked old enough to be his dad and that hadn't put him off when he was younger. And it wouldn't put him off now; the reason he and Howard didn't get on anymore didn't have anything to do with how he looked, it was because…

…because…

…um…

"See you, Howard!"

"Bye!" Vince called back, hurrying out of the hall. He saw Howard leaning casually against the wall and hurried over. "Never put me through that ever again!"

Howard smirked. "Have a good time, did you?"

"Fuck you Howard."

"I think we should try and stay in the flat from now on, don't you?"

Vince gaped at him as something slid into place in his mind. "Oh my God…you didn't promise to go at all, did you?! That was just you getting back at me for the gig last night!"

"Not at all." Howard said, still smirking. "Why would I do that?"

Vince clenched his fists and squashed down his anger, not wanting to hit him and risk ruining his own face. Then, without warning, he felt a sudden urge to laugh.

He squashed that down too.


Reviews are loved!

If anyone cares, Howard not getting hangovers is based on me and the fact that I am a constant source of irritation to my friends when we all go out drinking and I'm the only one in the morning not nursing a sore head!