Howard woke up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. His first thought was that the strange man he'd absconded with had been a dream. His second thought was that Vince had left after he had gone to sleep. Neither of these were correct. He heard some noise coming from the kitchen and padded down the hall barefoot.
Vince was standing by his sink, sudsy up to the elbows, next to a neat stack of newly washed dishes. He had gotten through most of the backlog that Howard had built up over the past few months and was currently scrubbing a large casserole dish that he'd forgotten he'd owned. Vince looked over his shoulder and smiled sleepily.
"Couldn't get to sleep," he said, pushing his fringe out of his face, "I hope you don't mind... I just wanted to do something for you." He indicated the dishes with a vague gesture.
"You did't have to," Howard brushed a small clump of bubbles off his hair.
"But I wanted to," Vince said shyly.
"Mother always did say I needed a nice little domestic type to look after me," Howard grinned wryly and kissed Vince lightly on the lips.
"Do you want to watch the telly or something?" he said, reaching for the tea towel to dry Vince's wet hands.
"That'd be nice," Vince said quietly and took Howard's hand.
They walked down to the front room and Howard tucked Vince up on the couch with a moth eaten blanket and switched on the television.
"-disappearance of Vince Noir, voted sexiest male supermodel of 2008-"
Howard switched channels hastily.
"-rumours that the pressure is too much for the London born model, Noir vanished earlier-"
He turned off the TV and turned to look at Vince.
"Maybe a dvd would be better," he said and wrapped an arm around the skinny man on his sofa.
"That's not me," Vince said hurriedly, "they think it's me, but it's not!"
His cheeks were flushed and he was biting his lower lip. Howard hugged him tightly.
"I know, honey, I know," he said.
"Please don't listen to them. I don't want you to think that I'm like they say I am," Vince said against his chest.
"You're a wonderful, beautiful person. You're sweet and kind and clever and I love you to distraction," Howard said, barely even noticing the word dropping off his lips.
The word that more than one person had left him because he couldn't say it to them. But he could say it to Vince, and mean it, after an acquaintance of less than twenty four hours.
Vince started to giggle nervously.
"Hey are you laughing at me," Howard poked him in the stomach and tickled his ribs, "I'm telling you I love you and you're laughing at me. How dare you sir!"
Vince squirmed delightedly under his hands.
"You just caught me by surprise," he laughed and rolled around.
"You've wounded me, Vince," Howard said with a dramatic sniff.
Vince kissed the end of his nose.
"I love you, you spanner," he said and cuddled up to the taller man.
Howard stroked his hair and kissed the top of his head.
"Is it weird that we've just met and we're saying all this?" he asked.
Vince turned and looked at him.
"It doesn't feel like I've just met you," he said, "I've never loved anyone before, but I know that I love you. Weird eh?"
"But good weird," Howard said.
"Good weird," Vince agreed.
They kissed slowly and lay back on the sofa. Their chests were pressed close and Howard's leg was resting between Vince's thighs. He cupped Vince's face gently and looked down at him.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he said.
"Don't think," Vince whispered and pulled him back down and mashed their lips together.
Howard held him as tight as he could and never wanted to let go.
*
Sleep wouldn't find his as he lay in Howard's bed. Maybe he should have left the Sandman a forwarding address before running off....
Howard's arm was heavy around his waist, he lifted it carefully and slipped out of the bed. Howard mumbled something and he froze at the side of the bed, but the other man made no other sound. Vince quietly crept out of the room, picking up the discarded white shirt he'd been wearing earlier and shrugging it on.
The apartment really wasn't what he was used to at all. He hadn't stayed in anything less that a five star hotel room, if he had to leave his house at all, for year. Not that that was important to him or anything, it was all agents and manager types that looked after that sort of thing. He rarely paid any attention to where he was staying, except to decorate it with felt tip markers when he was bored.
This place was small and drafty and the wallpaper had seen better days. Not much better though. Vince shivered and pulled the shirt closer around his tiny frame. He wandered around aimlessly, picking things up and putting them down in random places, when he found himself in the kitchen.
There was a small Everest of dishes in the sink, with several centuries worth of muck encrusted on them. Without thinking, Vince walked over and turned the hot tap. After a few shuddering groans, greyish water started flowing into the sink. He let it heat up before filling the sink and going to scout for washing up liquid. He settled into a rhythm of working and zoned out for a while.
He felt a tingle at the back of his neck and knew that Howard was standing behind him. He looked over his shoulder and smiled when he saw that he'd been right. He could look at that man for the rest of his life. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky, what the papers had called his "sexy rough voice." A mixture of exhaustion and hoarseness (all that moaning and screaming earlier on...)
"You didn't have to," said Howard, leaning in close and brushing some fluffy suds out of his hair.
"But I wanted to," Vince insisted quietly.
He'd never wanted to do anything for anyone that wasn't himself in so long. The toadying yes men around him made his skin crawl and the screaming member of the public that hurled them selves at him, frankly scared him.
Howard called him a 'domestic type'. He'd been called many things by many people, some of them more deserved than others, but no one had ever called him anything like domestic. He liked it. He was very anal about things being tidy, unusual for someone with such a strong sense of chaos in almost all other aspects of his life.
But, what he liked more than that, was someone actually forming opinions on him based on things that he did, rather than thinking they knew him. And Howard already did know him better than anyone else did at this stage. He hadn't been himself for such an extended period of time since before he was famous. When he was some gawky kid with a face that had too many angles and big hair.
Howard dried his hands gently and asked him if he wanted to watch the TV. The way said it sounded like he was proposing marriage.
"That'd be nice."