Right! Update update update!!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Boosh, or Noel and Julian. They own all that. Michael Fielding owns himself. I do own the chavs but I'm not sure if I want to...

Notes: Follows on from the end of Chapter 7. More Naboo magic, as I like writing that. And some of what is to come with Noel and Vince in the club. I hope no-one's offended by this. It's all purely my imagination. If anyone wants me to up the rating because of it, I will.

I also hope no-one is offended by the slight sacrilege I've committed on Howard here!! hehe.


Chapter Nine

"They're in danger, I know it"

"What?" Bollo asked again.

"The book!" Naboo clutched his head. "I left the book behind!"

"Ugh," groaned Bollo. "Naboo idiot."

"Shut up, you ball bag."

"Bollo right. Naboo idiot. Can't get home without book."

"I know that – lemme think!"

"What Naboo got to think about? Need to go back to house and get the book."

Naboo glared. He was used to solving problems cleverly, with magic.

Bollo never usually pointed out that there was a simpler solution.

But Bollo's solution proved not to be that simple. As the shaman and the gorilla went back up the road towards the house they had come from, they saw someone walking down the front path.

Naboo motioned to the ground and they both dropped, hiding behind a garden wall. Slowly, Naboo peeked his turban, and then his eyes, over the wall. Bollo's eyes followed a moment later. They could see the path of the house they had come from quite clearly.

The person walking down the path was the man Naboo had blown powder in the face of. He was walking very slowly. Under one arm, he carried something. A large something. He kept turning round and looking at the house, shaking his head and putting his free hand to his mouth, and clutching his hair between his fingers. He was, they now saw, very short. He had black hair and a pale face.

In fact, he reminded Bollo of someone…

He glanced at Naboo, who was cupping a hand to his ear.

"Naboo…"

"Shh. I'm listenin'."

"Too far. Naboo not hear."

"Nah. Shh." Naboo cupped his ear again and leaned towards the man. It was like using a periscope. He often listened like this. The sounds sucked towards him – but wait. Something was wrong… it was going too fast… the sucking was too much… everything pulled away from him, stretching like a tunnel of fractured glass…

He was in the man.

He was in his head.

Panic – not something Naboo was used to – shot through him. He couldn't move. He couldn't break the concentration. He needed to break it to stop hearing, maybe that would get him out… but he couldn't. In the darkness, somewhere inside the man's mind, he struggled, frantically, but he couldn't make the man's body do what he wanted. He couldn't turn his head to see if Bollo had noticed anything wrong. He was like a backseat passenger knowing the car was going to crash. He had no idea what was happening. He'd never heard of anything like this before.

He could feel everything. He could hear everything, from the slap of the man's shoes – his shoes – on the stones of the path, to the racing of his heart in his chest. His shocked breaths rattling almost painfully in his throat.

He staggered on down the path. He reached a car parked outside the house and dumped the something on the roof.

Naboo could see, somewhat blurrily, from the man's eyes, that it was his own spell book. He tried to blink to clear his vision but he couldn't, and it stayed clouded. He tried to grasp the book, to grip it, but still, the hands didn't do as he wanted. The man had no idea he was in here.

He was fumbling in his pocket, struggling a bit with something inside. After a few moments, he got out a small case and pulled from it a pair of dark-rimmed glasses, which he put on his eyes with shaking hands. Instantly the world sharpened into focus. The man peered at the book. Naboo could feel his hand trembling on the cover, on the pages as he turned them. He saw the familiar words.

The man was shaking his head again. Naboo felt his own neck being turned from side to side, against his will. Then the man reached for his pocket. This time he produced a phone. He dialled a number: Naboo heard the beeps in his ear. And then a voice. A voice Naboo knew.

"Hi, this is Noel, I'm not 'ere right now, but leave me a message and I'll call ya back!"

That was Vince's voice.

But Vince talking differently. Slightly deeper. And calling himself Noel.

But if that was a shock, it was nothing compared to the current of ice that seemed to explode through Naboo – or at least, through his mind – as he heard the voice of the man he was still inside, leaving a message: "Noel, it's Mike. You –"

It was his own.

His own voice.

"Look, I went to your house – just lookin' for you, cos you're not answering your phone – and I went in – and – Noel, I'm not crazy – I saw Naboo."

The shock of this was so much that suddenly the concentration broke – split like an elastic band suddenly breaking and snapping back on your finger, with just that amount of pain – and Naboo instantly found himself falling, and the next second he was sprawled on his back, looking up at the sky. He felt his own lungs heaving. He reached for his face and his hand moved. He felt his hair, his turban – he was back.

Bollo's face appeared in his line of vision. "Naboo? What happened?"

Naboo couldn't speak.

"Naboo go all rigid. Bollo think have fit. Then fall over. What happened?"

"Bollo –" Naboo said, in a very small voice. He reached for his familiar's arm, to try and centre himself.

"Bollo worried," said the gorilla, as he attempted – as gently as he could – to help Naboo back up. "Naboo ill?"

"No – well, maybe – wait! Where's that man?"

"Oh." Bollo turned to look. "Driving off."

"What?" Naboo tried to struggle to the garden wall, Bollo supporting him. He was just in time to see the car disappear round the corner.

He slumped back against Bollo's furry body.

"What happened?" Bollo asked again.

"I went into him," Naboo said.

"What?"

"I was tryin' to listen – and it went wrong – and I was inside 'im."

"Naboo gone mad," said Bollo – but even he sounded shaken.

"No. No, I didn't. I was in 'im – I dunno what it was; I've never 'eard of it before – and he made a call – and the person on the end, 'e sounded just like Vince –"

"South London types," Bollo said.

"But Bollo – then 'e spoke – and it was my voice, Bollo; he had my voice. And he said, I've seen Naboo. I've seen Naboo."

Bollo looked down at the shaman. Suddenly his size was very obvious. Suddenly he didn't seem like an ancient magic-man. Suddenly he seemed like a small child that had just had a nightmare.

Bollo had never been good with children. They pulled his fur and made faces and scratched under their arms, pretending to be monkeys. At the zoo Bollo had once been in trouble because a child put its hand too close and Bollo had thought it might look good on his wall – or in his stomach.

But fortunately, Naboo seemed to snap out of it, at least a bit.

"We've got to find Howard and Vince," he said.

"What about the book?"

"Them first." Naboo stood up, still swaying a bit, but looking determined. "It's dangerous here. They're in danger, I know it. Something's going on. We have to find them."

"Okay." Bollo paused. "Where?"

"Where d'you think? We'll check the bars – that where Vince would go, and Howard's always with him –"

"How we get round all the bars?"

"On me carpet."

"We didn't bring the carpet."

"Ah." Naboo reached under his robes and pulled out a small box. "Folding magic carpet. For the shaman who likes to travel light. I just flick this switch and –" He pressed a small catch on the box, and it clicked, whirred and sprang to life. Naboo and Bollo drew back as a carpet unfolded before their eyes.

"Right," said Naboo, settling himself on it. "Let's ride."

-----

That afternoon.

In a hotel room somewhere secluded, somewhere people wouldn't think to look, there was a problem.

"I'm bored!" Vince wailed.

"I know," Howard said. "You've told me about fifty times already."

"But I'm bored!"

"What do you want me to do, Vince? Dress in a sequined outfit and give you your own personal cabaret show?"

Vince's face lit up. "That would be hilarious!"

"Well, I'm sorry! But it's not going to happen! I'm Howard Moon! I'm deep! I'm meaningful! I don't give cabaret shows to just anybody!"

"I'm not just anybody; it's me!"

"No cabaret shows!"

"But I'm bored!"

Noel and Julian exchanged a look.

This had been going on for at least an hour.

It was starting to get on their nerves.

They hated it.

They hated it because it was exactly like their little bits of banter on the TV show. When they still did the TV show.

"Well, tough!" Howard said. "You'll just have to stay being bored. There's nothing I can do. Watch the television."

Noel and Julian both went to leap up, just in case.

But fortunately, Vince shook his head. "Don't like this television. I don't know the programmes."

"Then stop complaining! There's nothing else to do!"

"We could go out," Vince said.

"Go out?" Howard yelped. "We can't go out!"

"Why not?"

"You know why, Vince."

"I forgot."

"Well, the reason is, we can't let – I mean, we can't have –"

"The reason," said Noel, cutting in helpfully, "Is we can't have people seein' us and seein' you, certainly not together."

Vince seemed to calm down a bit at that. He breathed out slowly, reaching up to touch his hair – but then his eyes snapped again. "We could go in disguise!"

"What?" Howard asked.

"Oh, please! We could go in disguise! It could be genius!"

"What, and what's this disguise gonna be, then, Vince? Where's it gonna come from? Are you gonna wear my clothes and I wear yours?"

"No, that's weird!"

Noel and Julian looked at each other again.

"Julian…"

Julian didn't want to talk to Noel. He'd got back to the hotel about lunch time, but he still felt lost. Like he was trapped in his own mind. Nothing felt particularly real, not even brilliant, colourful Noel right in front of him. "Don't even think about it," he said.

"But if they could dress up –"

"Like he said," Julian said, indicating Howard. "In what?"

"But –"

"You really are pathetic," Julian said. "You just can't bear being out of the limelight."

Noel gave him a look. A very, very cold look with those icy blue eyes.

"Hey, Vince!" he said, standing up.

Oh great, Julian thought. Now you've done it…

"Why don't we go out?"

"What?" Howard gasped.

"Yes!" Vince squealed, thrilled. Then he paused. "Where?"

"We'll go out tonight, if –" Noel held up a finger. "If you two can make yourselves look different from us." He indicated himself and Julian.

"I'm not coming," Julian muttered.

Noel just gave him a look.

"Genius!" Vince said, ecstatic. They were going out. Going out tonight. And he was going to be out with Noel…

"I gotta go shopping!"

"No, Vince!" Howard yelled, but Vince had already seized his jacket. "Back later! I'll get our stuff! You won't recognise us, I swear!"

And he was gone.

The other three both had the distinct impression that a glittery tornado had just swept out of the room.

-----

"Right," said Vince.

"What?" Howard asked.

They were in the bedroom. It was evening. Vince had returned with several large shopping bags. He'd produced clothes for Howard. The kind of clothes Howard wouldn't be seen dead in. This appalling, silky-looking shirt. And these close-fitting black trousers. Not jeans. Smarter than that. But still too close-fitting for Howard's liking.

"I still want to know how you know my sizes," he told Vince.

"I know a lot of things, Howard," Vince said – conjuring up some disturbing images which Howard attempted to push aside. "Look, Vince," he said, "These clothes, ridiculous as they are, are one thing – but nothing else."

"There has to be something else," Vince said.

"What?"

"I'm gonna do your hair."

"No!" Howard leapt backwards. "No! I'm not letting you near my hair!"

"But I'm your midnight barber, remember? I've been near it loads of times."

Howard hesitated. He didn't like this at all. But, then again, just letting Vince comb his hair a bit… that surely couldn't hurt too much, could it?

"All right," he said, sitting down very slowly on the bed, as though it was boiling hot. "But I warn you, if you do anything weird to me…"

Vince smiled – slightly wickedly. "I know just what I'm doin'. Got it all planned. Just relax now…"

Half an hour later, Vince announced, "Finished!"

Howard had been sitting, eyes closed, feeling Vince doing up his hair – and touching his face. "Just givin' your moustache a tidy-up," Vince had said. Howard had complained at first – his moustache didn't get touched by just anybody – but once again, Vince had reminded him that he wasn't just anybody, and Howard had given up. Vince was too persistent. He was like a puppy desperate to be played with.

"Ta-dah!" Vince said, holding up his hand mirror.

Howard saw a face.

A face surrounded by rumpled, tousled hair, sexily hanging forward slightly towards one eye. A mature, strong, handsome face. A smooth face…

Wait.

What?

"What have you done to me?" Howard screamed, clutching the space under his nose and above his mouth. A space where there shouldn't have been a space.

"Gave you a little shave," Vince grinned.

"A little shave? A little shave? Vince, look at me! Look at me!" Howard gestured at his face. A face that was now devoid of its usual moustache.

"Okay, fine, it was more than a little – but Howard, that moustache is so not cool. And I thought maybe, if you could see yourself without it –"

"I look like a freak!" Howard cried, seizing the mirror again.

"No, you look normal." Vince paused. "Actually, you look kinda better than normal. You look all right, Howard, once you've scrubbed up a bit – not so generic anymore!"

For a moment, Howard started to feel flattered – and then he remembered that Vince had just stripped him of his defining feature without his consent.

"But I always have a moustache!" he bellowed. "Me without a moustache is like Jesus without a beard!"

"You're comparin' yourself to Jesus? That's well vain, Howard."

"You know what I mean! Just look at it! I look so – so –"

"You look younger, Howard," Vince said, coming up behind him. "Younger. And this hair – what was with it all being pushed back off your forehead? Now it comes forward it looks way better, dontcha think?"

"No! It –" But, now Vince mentioned it, perhaps he did look… he wasn't sure. Younger. Maybe that was the word. Not young like Vince, who was fresh and youthful-looking. Mature, still – but mature in an attractive way. Strong? Manly?

Howard wasn't used to thinking these things about himself.

Actually, it wasn't so much that he looked bad. It was just that he didn't look like himself.

Vince was still standing behind him. He was watching Howard's face in the mirror. His eyes were twinkling. "See?" he said.

Howard glared and tried to think of something to say, but couldn't.

"Well," he said eventually, "I hope you know this is very much a one-off thing!"

Vince rolled his eyes. "We'll see. Now, get out. I need to change."

"Oh yeah? What are you wearing?" Howard asked, as he was pushed out of the door.

"It's a surprise," Vince said, winking. And he closed the door.

Howard was left in the room, looking around very nervously. He felt the collar of the shirt against his neck. He put his hand to his newly-rumpled hair. He wasn't at all used to this. The area above his mouth felt cold.

And he wasn't used to going out, either. Not going out like Vince liked to go out. Sure, Howard had a social life – he had the jazz club – but not the kind of social life Vince had. And going out with Vince and Noel would be like going out with two Vinces. And Julian, the only other vaguely sane-seeming person here (although even he liked Gary Numan) had said he wasn't coming.

Howard wandered over to the window, wondering what Vince was doing, what he was wearing – and how long it would take his moustache to grow back. He kept touching his face. It felt wrong.

Maybe wrong wasn't bad. Necessarily.

The door opened, and Noel, in very tight black trousers that left almost nothing to the imagination, a long coat and a black, broad-brimmed hat, entered.

"Vince? Vince –" He broke off when he saw Howard.

His eyes widened.

Howard tried to stare back defiantly, but he felt his face burning.

Julian came in behind Noel, wearing quite similar stuff to what he'd been in the night Howard and Vince first met him. "I hope you know, Noel," he was saying, "That I think this is a really bad idea, and I'm only coming to make sure you don't do something ridiculous –" He too broke off when he saw Howard.

Oh God.

But Howard wasn't the centre of attention for long.

Because suddenly, the bedroom door handle turned.

Vince had heard Noel's voice. Noel's voice calling for him.

And he'd decided it was time to make his appearance.

The door of bedroom swung back.

And three mouths dropped open.

Vince stood there, smiling rather coyly.

He was wearing a dress.

A short, black, sparkly dress, nipped in at the waist with a belt. And tights, black, but quite sleek. And heels. Black high heels. He'd brushed his hair back wildly and made himself up even more than usual. He blinked dark, smoky-looking eyes from under a curtain of dark, mascara-d lashes and pouted lips lightly frosted with pale pink lipstick.

"How do I look?" he asked.

There was silence.

Nobody else could speak.

Howard had to remind himself very, very firmly that this was Vince, his best friend, not a woman.

Julian had to remind himself that this was basically Noel.

Noel was too busy gaping to have any real thoughts at all, except vague phrases that kept surfacing like, "Did I put on enough aftershave?" and "Would it be too soon to ask for his number?"

Vince giggled a bit and tossed his hair back off his face. "Are we going, then?" he asked.

"Yes! Definitely!" said Noel, coming back to himself with a slight jerk. He hurried over to Vince and offered him his arm, as though they were suddenly in the 1920s. Vince giggled again, smiled flirtatiously, and took Noel's arm. With a rather regal beckon to Julian and Howard, Noel led Vince out of the room.

Howard and Julian shared a rather despairing look. But there was nothing they could do. They had to go after them.

-----

On the street, the neon lights suddenly seemed dull.

Noel and Vince out-shone them. They blazed like beacons. As they walked past people, crowds would visibly turn to get a second look at them.

In the car, Howard managed to hiss to Vince, "What are you doing? Since when are you a transvestite?"

"I'm not," Vince had whispered back. "But we were meant to be in disguise, and everyone always thinks I'm a woman even in me normal stuff, so I thought, why not? Does it look okay?" He was looking at Noel as he said this.

Howard had sighed. "Yeah," he'd said. "Yeah, I think you look fine."

Now, Noel and Vince strutted and preened like a pair of glittery Goth love birds.

Behind them, Howard felt like a fat, boring, scabby pigeon that people kicked away.

He also wished he hadn't considered the "love birds" image. Love birds. Love birds.

The city lights were so bright here. So bright and in focus, and yet decadent at the same time. They loomed out of the darkness at them as they walked down the road.

Howard was still feeling distinctly uncomfortable without his moustache.

-----

They stalked the streets. They went into a club. There were flashing red and yellow and green and blue lights everywhere, soaking into their skin. Howard kept away from the lights in the corner, because he somehow didn't feel he deserved to be touched by them. He watched Noel and Vince dancing together, slender bodies bending to the music. He watched Noel taking Vince's hand and knew he shouldn't look. He knew this was getting dangerously close to voyeurism and deep invasion of privacy. Perhaps even doing what Vince had accused him of that morning: perving on people. But he was worried about Vince. Vince, who looked so stunning as a woman. Not that Howard thought of him like that. But if he hadn't known Vince was a woman, he would have been wowing him with his pencil case story. Noel wouldn't have had a chance…

Noel had his hands on Vince's hips, his head over Vince's shoulder, face against Vince's hair. Vince leant back against Noel, their dark hair getting tangled together, and neither seemed to mind. Howard could see the pleasure on Vince's face even from where he was standing.

Perhaps that grinding bodies-together type dancing was better than the pencil case story.

Julian brought drinks. He wasn't looking at anybody. Maybe he was worried about being recognised. Maybe he just hated catching people's eyes. He thrust one glass rather gruffly at Howard and then looked firmly at his feet.

The silence was noticeable, even with the thundering beats behind them, the beats that seemed to shake off the walls. Howard took a sip of his drink and grimaced. What was this? It was so strong… it burnt.

Out on the dance floor, Vince had his leg wrapped around Noel's back, the tip of his heel sticking out quite dangerously behind them. If anyone danced too near they would be gutted by a rogue stiletto…

Howard drank some more, not because he liked it, but because it was something to do.

The silence between him and Julian seemed to burn as much as whatever was in his glass did.

Perhaps he should say something…

"You know," he said, and was surprised that his voice wobbled a bit as he spoke, "Once, when I was at school, I had this pencil case –"

Julian blinked.

"Never mind," Howard said, suddenly uncomfortable. He drank some more.

Noel was pushing Vince backwards, so Vince's flat stomach was up towards the ceiling. Noel's hands ran over Vince's chest, and Vince, leg still hooking him to Noel, was stretching his arms out, as though he couldn't control what he was doing with them…

Howard glanced at Julian, who, for some reason, seemed to be trying not to laugh.

Perhaps he thought Vince and Noel looked ridiculous.

Howard didn't actually think so. Not ridiculous, no. What was going on out there looked incredibly dangerous, yes. The more involved Vince got with this, the more and more likely it became he would be unwilling to leave.

Howard hadn't actually let himself properly consider this possibility before. What if Vince actually wanted to stay? What if he didn't want to come home? Suppose he chose to stay in this parallel world with Noel?

Howard imagined himself going home alone. He imagined being in the flat with deadpan Naboo and Bollo, who didn't even like him and would talk constantly about how Howard had lost "precious Vince". He imagined working in the shop on his own, at first watching all Vince's Camden friends coming in to find him, and gradually seeing them all stop turning up… until the shop became empty. And the smell of Vince's hairspray would fade. And suddenly the flat would seem totally colourless, without Vince around.

Howard didn't even want to think about it. He swigged some more of his drink, quite fast. Some of it missed his mouth.

"Are you all right?" asked a voice.

It was Julian.

"Yeah, yeah…" Again, his voice wavered, more this time.

Noel and Vince were tangled together on the dance floor. They looked like silhouettes all of a sudden. Howard could feel the beat of the music going up his legs.

"Are you sure?" His own face swam in and out of focus in front of him. No, wait, not his own face… or maybe it was his own face…

"Yeah…" Suddenly the floor swung closer. Suddenly Howard realised he was on his back, looking up at the light fittings, which were very black. And there were people dancing, on the walls, on the ceiling. And feet shook the floor, making an earthquake. And more voices. "Julian, is he okay?" "I think he drank too much…" "Why did you give him that stuff, you prick?" "Howard? Howard? Howard Howard Howard Howard Howard…"

-----

They staggered down the street back to Julian's car.

Vince and Julian were supporting Howard. Noel hovered awkwardly.

Howard was practically unconscious.

"How much did he drink?" Vince asked, voice strained from the effort of holding the bigger man upright.

"He had a bit of vodka…" Julian said.

"Howard doesn't even know what vodka is," Vince said worriedly. He peered round at Howard. "Howard? Howard? Can you hear me?"

"I had a pencil case…" Howard burbled.

"Okay, just, like, go back to being unconscious," Vince said.

"How much further to the car?" Noel asked.

"I said, about another ten minutes," Julian replied, trying not to start an argument when they had Howard like this. "But that's walking normally. We've got him." He jerked his head at Howard, who seemed to have taken Vince at his word and had slumped again.

Cars sailed past on the street, almost seeming not to touch the ground.

They hauled Howard past crowds of clubbers, none of whom, fortunately, seemed to be into British comedy. No-one recognised Julian or Noel. Actually, Julian thought, perhaps I'm not surprised they don't look at me. But it's the fact they're not looking at Noel that tells us they're not into that kind of thing…

People were, however, looking at Vince.

"Hey, love!" leered a guy in baggy sweatpants and a too tight t-shirt straining ominously over his stomach. His friends, all clutching cans of lager and drunk as well, cackled trollishly behind him.

Normally Vince would have walked past people like this, but because he and Julian were supporting Howard, there wasn't enough room on the pavement for them all to push past.

"Excuse me," said Julian, trying to edge them round, but the guys were still grinning at Vince and had no intention of letting them go.

"Hey, love," said the first guy who'd spoken, "Why don't you leave these blokes and come out with us?"

Vince shook his head.

"Aw, c'mon, love. We'll show you a real good time, won't we, guys?" All his friends grinned and laughed and nodded.

"No," Vince said. He wasn't used to guys like these. He'd had his share of dodgy men in the past, but these men seemed almost violent. They were much more dangerous. They reeked of beer and sweat and illness. And he didn't even have any beauty products handy to fight them off with…

"Look, leave him alone!"

Noel suddenly barged in between Vince and the guys.

"What?" laughed the first guy, who seemed to be the leader of the little gang. "Who the hell are you? What's with all your make-up and shit? Do you take it up the arse?" All his friends laughed again. The first guy grabbed Vince's arm. He didn't seem to have noticed that Noel had called Vince "him". "Why don't you come off with us, then?" he asked, leaning horribly close. Vince choked slightly at the guy's breath, which smelled of very cheap kebabs. Howard wobbled as Vince got pulled away from him, and Julian had to seize him round the middle to stop him falling over.

"I said, leave him alone!" Noel yelled.

"And I said, fuck off, you queer," said the guy. He tried to put his arm round Vince's waist. Vince edged away, but the guy was still holding his arm.

"He's with me!" Noel shouted.

"Noel…" Julian muttered, terrified they might get into a fight. These guys could easily have knives or, worse, guns.

"With you?" All the guys cracked up with horrible, sneering laughter. "What the hell are you doing with this queer, love?" the first guy asked Vince, fondling Vince's face.

"I am with him," Vince said, sounding scared.

The guys all laughed again.

"You just need a real man," said the first guy. He glanced at Noel, and then at Julian, who was still supporting Howard. "This queer and Grandpa over there need to get your mate home, he's out of it. But you can come out with us…" His hand reached down dangerously…

"Let go of him!" Noel shouted, shoving the guy away from Vince.

The guy suddenly stopped laughing. He looked angry. "What are you gonna do about it?" he asked, pushing Vince aside roughly and advancing on Noel.

Noel backed away, but the guy was faster than him and seized his t-shirt. "I said, what are you gonna do about it?"

Vince rushed at the guy and leapt on his back. "You get off him, you freak!" He tried to haul the guy away from Noel but one of the larger members of the gang got hold of him and pulled him off. The first guy chuckled nastily and turned back to Noel, glaringly threateningly. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Noel said nothing.

The guy suddenly pushed Noel hard, almost sending him straight out into the road. Noel staggered, nearly falling, clutching at a parked car to steady himself. The guy's friends all stepped nearer, the one who had been holding Vince forgetting about the mod and going to join in the fight.

"Don't hurt him!" Vince tried to grab one of the guys but they brushed him off easily.

One of the guys reached Noel and pinned him against the side of the car.

"Noel!" Vince screamed.

"Vince, hold Howard!" Vince barely had time to take in what was happening before the drunken jazz maverick was forced against him. Vince, wobbling dangerously on his heels as he tried to support Howard, managed to look up in time to see Julian dash to the car, force his way between Noel and the guy pinning him to the car, raise his hand, and punch the guy fiercely across the face.

The guy staggered, gasping, clutching the side of his jaw. When he took his hand away Vince could see blood on his fingers.

"Jesus Christ!" the guy yelled. "He punched me!"

The main guy, the one who'd grabbed Vince, scowled, and advanced on Julian. But Julian put up his hand again and shoved him backwards violently. "You keep away, or –"

The main guy tottered backwards and fell, crashing to the ground.

For a few seconds, there was silence.

Then: "C'mon," muttered the main guy, struggling up, and they all hurried away.

There were another few seconds of silence.

Then Howard mumbled, "And I took home the pencil case of the boy who sat next to me…"

And that broke the tension.

"Wow!" said Vince, looking at Julian, extremely impressed.

Noel, who had been cowering against the car, managed to stand up. "God, Julian," he said. "I've known you how many years? And I have never seen you like that before!"

Julian looked at him, rather embarrassed. "It's not something I like to make a habit of, Noel – beating up chavs."

Vince was grinning. "It should be!" he laughed. "They were gettin' really nasty and you just – bam!" He mimed punching someone, almost dropping Howard in his excitement.

"Yeah, well, Noel was about to get snapped in half," Julian said, feeling awkward.

Noel looked at him.

"And you, you got right between me and that guy!" Vince said, turning his attention to Noel.

Noel blinked and came back to himself. "Well, you know. He was gonna hurt you. I didn't want you getting hurt, did I?"

Vince's smile at that was rather shy, but extremely beautiful.

"Come on," said Julian, attempting to interrupt, but Noel and Vince were looking at each other and it took them a couple of seconds even to notice that Julian had spoken.

They managed to drag Howard, who didn't even seem to realise something had happened, back to the car. "Get him in," Julian said to Vince.

"Okay," Vince said. Now he didn't seem traumatised by what had happened at all. "By the way," he said smiling at Julian, "Thanks, for getting rid of those guys."

"Oh. That's all right." Julian shifted uncomfortably.

Vince grinned again and began to get Howard into the back of the car.

Julian turned to go round to the driver's door – and found Noel standing behind him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." Noel sounded awkward.

"Okay, well, I've gotta get in to drive." Julian tried to get past.

"Hey."

Julian turned.

"Thanks."

Noel wasn't looking at him. He was looking at his feet. He attempted to raise his eyes, but then seemed to think better of it and went back to studying his boots.

"Well, they could have killed you. Only what anyone else would have done."

Noel shrugged.

They didn't say anything else to each other as they drove back to the hotel, managed to get Howard inside, and helped Vince get him into the bedroom.

"Will you manage?" Noel asked.

"Oh, sure," Vince said. "I can always handle him."

"Okay. Well, goodnight… Vince."

"Goodnight… Noel."

And after a few seconds, Vince slowly pushed the door shut. But his big blue eyes were fixed on Noel all the time.

Noel and Julian went in silence back to their room.

Neither of them spoke, until they were in bed, and Julian thought Noel had gone to sleep, until he heard Noel's voice: "Night, Ju."

Oh fuck, Noel thought. I didn't mean to – I didn't mean to call him that. Did he hear? Please, don't let him have heard…

Julian didn't reply.

He must already be asleep, Noel thought.

Julian was too taken aback by the use of the old nickname to speak.


Should be updated quite soon, as I've already written some of the next chapter. It will contain slight weirdness...

Thanks for reading.

violence x