Title: Empty Chairs

Author: Concupid

Pairing: Howard/Vince

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: callous disregard for the feelings of salmon?

Disclaimer: I don't own the Boosh and if I wanted to make money, I wouldn't work in community mental health.

Author's note: It's a shortish chapter but I'm already deep into the next one! My goal of writing 10,000 words in 10 days is going strong.

Vince still needed a belt to keep Howard's corduroys from sliding off his hips, but he didn't have to pull it very tight.

"Wot kind of diet you on, Howard? Are you in the Zone? South Beach? You ain't gonna do a Weight Watchers ad are you?" Vince teased. It wasn't until Howard glared at him that Vince remembered Howard did that stupid commercial for trapped wind. He wasn't even trying to hurt Howard's feelings, it was like he couldn't help himself. No wonder Howard didn't want him around.

"I don't like the food in America, it doesn't taste right," Howard explained defensively, as he wrapped his arm around Vince's waist, "I'm not trying to be one of them."

"Who are them?" Vince leaned on Howard just a little more than was strictly necessary.

"Those vapid airheads that only ever think about how they look," Vince was taken aback by Howard's vehemence, "Skinny idiots in skinny jeans with skinny brains."

"People like me?" Vince asked, needing but not wanting an answer.

"Hardly," Howard chuckled, "I've longed for the creativity of a Charlie story while listening to fools with blinding white teeth yammer on about whatever Madonna told them to care about this week."

Vince was counting it as a compliment.

"So, is brown the new black in Camden?" Howard asked, gesturing towards Vince's head. Vince ducked and toyed with his hair, feeling embarrassed. Howard had never seen Vince's real hair color before. Vince desperately longed for a mirror. He hoped the river would be good and reflective like in all the pictures of Alaska.

"Um, yeah? It's well out to dye your hair. It's all about the natural look..." Vince's lie sounded weak to his own ears.

"Is this your real color?" Howard asked, suddenly intrigued. Vince wobbled on his good leg as Howard examined his head, "I've always wondered what it looked like under all that garbage."

Vince wanted to point out he still had some 'garbage' in his hair, but it seemed pedantic. A little hastily applied Root Boost didn't really count. Howard was seeing Vince in his nearly natural state, and he didn't seem horrified.

He gave Howard a quick kiss on the cheek.

Howard jerked back, holding his cheek like he'd been slapped and looking more paranoid than usual.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"A kiss," Vince explained.

"I know it was... why did you kiss me?" Howard looked angry and distrustful, like Vince was trying to pull something. Like he was a stranger.

"I missed you," Vince said, hoping honesty would make up for his lack of eloquence, "There's no one quite like you, Howard."

"Well, Howard Moon is one of a kind," Howard agreed, but his voice lacked conviction, "And I suppose there's no one quite like you, either, Little Man."

"Lucky that, right, Howard?"

It was supposed to be a joke, but Vince's voice broke and his eyes filled with tears. He fussed with his hair, trying to hide his face but he could only hide so much while clinging to Howard's shoulder. The idea of letting go of Howard when he'd been granted permission to hang on was simply ridiculous.

Howard stopped moving and Vince could hear Howard run his tongue over his teeth, a sure sign he was nervous. There probably wasn't another person alive who could have identified the sound, but it was as familiar and comforting to Vince as a lullaby. Whatever was making Howard so angry, he wasn't indifferent to Vince's feelings. He still cared. Vince was trying to work out how to explain feelings he barely understood to Howard when his companion's body language changed from nervous to panic-stricken. Howard's arm tightened around Vince's waist and his breathing was suddenly shallow and uneven. He was so focused on listening to Howard, Vince had barely registered the sounds of an approaching bear. Animals don't smell fear and become aggressive because they sense weakness, they become aggressive because they know a fearful person is unpredictable and dangerous. Vince's constant optimism was more than a philosophical outlook, it was a survival tactic.

"Hey, we're just heading to the stream to clean up," Vince called out, "That stream is chock full of delicious salmon! You should come with us and tuck into a tasty fish buffet."

They listened to the bear retreat. When Howard seemed satisfied they were no longer in danger, he resumed dragging Vince towards the stream - but not before giving him a little squeeze around the waist. It wasn't quite a hug, but for Howard, it was pretty close.