Author's Ramblings: Well, it's not quite the super-speedy update I was hoping for, but it's definitely an improvement. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all the lovely people who keep on reviewing this story. I know I don't reply very often (okay - hardly ever), but that doesn't mean it isn't appreciated. Because it is. Believe me.
The three songs that play on the radio in this chapter are (in order): 'A Design For Life' by Manic Street Preachers, 'I Know It's Over' by The Smiths, and 'Don't Speak' by No Doubt. I don't own any of them.
Oh, and Julia, you will be very glad to know that I'm not going to say anything negative about this, because I'm actually pretty happy with it.
Anyway. This is one of my favourite eps, so enjoy.
'The Fountain of Youth' episode recap: The episode starts several hundred years ago on the Planet Xooberon, where a meeting is taking place between Naboo and the King of Xooberon. The King tells Naboo that he has an important job for him, one which will take him the rest of his life. He gives Naboo an amulet and tells him to guard it at all costs. Naboo presses a button on the amulet and disappears. It is only after he has gone that we learn the King has gotten him mixed up with a trained soldier named Banoo.
Back in present day Dalston, Howard is having an age crisis after being mistaken for Vince's dad at their latest gig. Bollo accidentally lets it slip that Naboo has access to the legendary Fountain of Youth, and Howard and Vince are soon desperately searching through his belongings looking for it. Vince finds a map, which Howard takes from him, along with the amulet from the start. Howard reads from the map that they need to find the 'Desert of Nightmares', while Vince presses the button on the amulet at the same time. As he does so, he disappears from the flat and materialises again in a strange, desert-like environment. Realizing that this must be the Desert of Nightmares, he returns to the flat in order to fetch Howard.
The pair walk in circles for hours before they are confronted by a rather short blue man with a huge forehead. When Vince accidentally reveals that they are looking for the Fountain of Youth, the dwarf summons his army to attack them. Content in the knowledge that they can use the amulet to return home, Howard verbally attacks the nomad leader about his height. Unfortunately, by the time he is done the amulet has run out of batteries, and the nomad leader summons a huge, behemoth-like dude to execute them. The giant hits Howard with his club when the nomad leader spots the amulet in Vince's hands and pronounces him 'The Chosen One'. The nomads worship Vince and treat him like a king while Howard is forced to be his slave. Howard attempts to reason with Vince, but the power has gone completely to his head, so much so that he actually believes he is the Chosen One, and he has Howard taken away.
Meanwhile, the Hitcher is watching from afar, with plans of his own to steal the amulet and gain access to the Fountain of Youth.
Later that night, the nomads' camp is viciously attacked by a sandstorm. The leader tells Vince that it is a test of his worth as the Chosen One to defeat it. Howard abandons him, still hurt from earlier, and Vince is left alone to confront the Sandstorm, who actually turns out to be a man made of sandpaper. Sandstorm is frustrated because he cannot touch himself or anything else without wearing them down, and Vince, taking pity on the creature, gives him his gloves. Sandstorm gives Vince a horn to express his gratitude, and tells him to blow it should he run into any trouble.
As the nomads celebrate Vince's 'defeat' of their enemy and shower him with gifts, a mysterious woman approaches Howard, who is excluded from the festivities. She uses his jealousy of Vince to turn him against the younger man, and tells him that if he steals the amulet, he will take his place as Chosen One. Howard does so, but when he goes to speak with the woman again, she transforms into the Hitcher, who takes the amulet from him.
Upon finding the amulet missing, the nomads bury Vince and Howard up to their necks in sand so that they burn to death in the desert sun. Both appear to have forgotten about their previous power struggle and have reverted back to their usual selves, using the time to reminisce about the past. After several hours, Naboo and Bollo turn up to rescue them, though by this stage Howard has already burnt to a crisp.
The foursome trek through the forest in order to find the Fountain of Youth, but are beaten to it by the Hitcher, who sends Evil Tree to delay them. Vince blows the horn to summon Sandstorm, who sands the tree down. By the time they reach the Fountain (which looks just like a bathroom that's been built in a forest clearing), the Hitcher is already showering under its spray. Naboo has one last trick up his sleeve, however, and flushes the toilet, causing their enemy too melt into a puddle of green goo.
Howard manages to obtain some water from the Fountain and he and Vince share it out between them. Unfortunately, it emerges that they weren't supposed to drink it, and the pair of them regress back to infants.
Power Play
Vince couldn't help that little sideways glance in the mirror as he ruffled his hair absently, just to reassure himself that he actually had been restored to his proper age after that embarrassing 'Youth Juice' debacle. It was almost enough to put him off all anti-ageing products for the foreseeable future.
Almost. He still couldn't help wishing that Naboo had shaved a couple of extra years off when he worked his magic. Well, he certainly wasn't getting any younger on his own, was he? He was still gorgeous now, but one day…one day he would be old and wrinkled and uninterested in everything except his arthritis and finding the perfect rocking chair. If he didn't die on one of their madcap escapades before then, of course.
He would most likely look like the Hitcher when he was old, he realized with a sense of dread. Okay, so he wouldn't be green, but he would probably end up with the same pointy, skeletal face. His nose - which, let's face it, was quite big enough already - would probably balloon into the same kind of huge, crooked monstrosity. He'd read somewhere once that noses never stopped growing. Was that true? Was there some kind of surgery that prevented it? He studied his reflection in the mirror and tried to imagine what he'd look like with a straight nose.
Howard had once said that his misshapen snout was a part of his charm, when he'd last been considering cosmetic surgery. Howard talked the biggest load of bullshit sometimes. Vince had told him exactly that, and Howard had responded by telling him in gruesome detail exactly what rhinoplasty entailed. He hadn't been quite so keen on the idea after that.
Vince suddenly grimaced as an unwelcome and entirely unpleasant feeling washed through his body. He should have expected this; thinking about the Hitcher made him think about their latest adventure, which in turn made him think about Howard… which in turn sent crippling waves of guilt radiating through his system.
The way he had treated Howard back on Xooberon had been appalling, inexcusable. He knew that. It made him feel sick and utterly ashamed of himself to look back on it now. He had been completely drunk on power - for a few brief, glorious hours, he hadn't just been Vince Noir, wannabe rock 'n' roll star and small-town loser. No, he'd been the Chosen One. Those weird blue guys had treated him like a god - creepy though they might have been, they'd worshipped him. And like an idiot, he'd swallowed all their crap and played along with them, because he'd wanted so badly to believe that it was true.
There was still no excuse for his behaviour towards Howard, though. He'd forced his best friend into slavery, pretty much just because he could. And okay, so he'd been acting out a role to prevent them from getting killed, but a lot of it was selfish indulgence on his part. He could have told the nomads to leave off the other man a bit, they would have done whatever he said. But the thought honestly hadn't crossed his mind. He was too busy enjoying being showered him with gifts.
And there was something else, too. Something that sent him into a state of utter confusion every time he thought on it too long. When Howard had first appeared in that tent, clad in only a loincloth and chains… well, Vince had experienced some pretty intense urges, urges that surprised the hell out of him. He'd never in a million year expected to feel anything like that for Howard.
God, but he'd looked sexy, though, standing there half-naked and practically a slave to Vince's every wish and command. Maybe it was just the fact that Howard was completely at his mercy, but even as he was lying there amongst those luxurious pillows, he'd had visions of grabbing those chains, yanking Howard to his level, and doing things to him that should have only had a place in third-rate porn movies.
He'd responded, too, without even realizing it. In fact, looking back at it now, the way he had acted in that tent… had he subconsciously been trying to seduce Howard? The thought was ludicrous, yet he had to admit that it held at least a small grain of credibility. He'd been using all his best flirtatious techniques, too. Anyone else would have been on him like a flash - that blue midget guy certainly had - but Howard remained oblivious as ever.
Vince suddenly shook his head to get himself away from that train of thought. He was heading into dangerous territory. He shifted uncomfortably and sat down on the bed, all too aware of the warm flush spreading across his cheeks. In an attempt to distract himself, he reached over and flipped the radio on, a song he vaguely recognized crescendo-ing as it reached its chorus.
We don't talk about love
We only want to get drunk…
For the second time in about ten minutes, Vince caught himself wincing. Those lyrics hit just a little too close to home, given recent circumstances. Rolling his eyes, he scanned to the next station. Almost immediately, the crooning tones of Morrissey began to drift from the ancient set.
If you're so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you're so very good-looking
Then why are you on your own tonight?
Apparently the radio controllers of the world were conspiring together tonight to tap into Vince Noir's head and draw every last emotion out of him until he was bleeding and hollow. With another sigh, he hit the scan button again, nodding his satisfaction as the opening notes to a No Doubt song filled the air. This was more like it. Fluffy pop with meaningless lyrics.
You and me
We used to be together
Every day together
Always
Wait a minute…
I really feel
That I'm losing my best friend
I can't believe
This could be the end
Unable to take anymore, Vince ripped the plug from its socket with a growl of frustration, cutting Gwen off mid-word. Apparently there would be no radio for him tonight, then.
Fuck it. This was getting ridiculous. He was going to talk to Howard, even if it killed him.
Even if Howard killed him.
- - - - - X - - - - -
Howard looked up as Vince entered the sitting room and hovered by the sofa, appearing more nervous than Howard had ever seen him. Good. Let him squirm.
"Hey. Um. All right?"
Howard merely grunted in response, watching as the younger man perched gingerly on the edge of his seat, wringing his hands together and fiddling with his hair. He was uncharacteristically jittery, and Howard wished he would just suck it up and spit out whatever it was he had to say.
Then again, maybe not. While his own stoic silence was partly because of his desire to see Vince suffer, he had to admit that at least some of it was also down to the sheer level of awkwardness that now seemed to hang in the air between them. He'd had... feelings whilst standing in that tent thousands of light-years away, feelings he definitely wasn't supposed to have for a jumped-up little electro ponce who also happened to be his roommate and best friend. Though the latter half of that statement was debatable these days.
In his mind's eye, Howard was suddenly taken back, watching Vince stretched out among those cushions, trailing that damned peacock feather all over his face and neck and chest. That, coupled with the cold disregard he had shown towards Howard and the bored, lazy tone of voice with which he had spoken, had truly driven the older man over the edge. Whether Vince had been doing it intentionally or not, it had been infuriating as hell…and a massive turn-on.
"I'm sorry." Vince suddenly blurted out, making Howard start slightly as he came crashing back to the present. "I'm sorry I made you be my slave and wouldn't let you have any clothes and made fun of you and let them beat you up and used up all the sun cream so you shrivelled like a crisp."
His confession spewed forth in one long, unpunctuated explosion of verbal diarrhoea, half the words getting lost as they tangled together. And there was still more;
"I'm sorry for the way I've been ever since we left the zoo; I've been a complete bitch to you and I don't know why you haven't left me yet Howard, I really don't, because I'm a horrible person and I -"
Vince clammed up suddenly, as if to stop hismelf from blurting something out, and looked down at his boots, crimson-faced. Howard just blinked at him in shock. That was probably the biggest dose of honesty he'd seen since they arrived in this godforsaken place, and he honestly had no idea how to respond to it. Misinterpreting his silence, Vince stood up from the sofa and went to leave the room when Howard stopped him.
"Hey, Vince?"
"Yeah?"
"C'mere."
It seemed that was all the prompting Vince needed as he collapsed back down next to Howard, who drew him in without even thinking about it, wrapping his arms around the small body. God, it was a long time since they'd last been like this. Too long. How had they let themselves get into this state, when every word they had to say to one another was another lie or insult, when they each knew next to nothing about the other and couldn't even trust each other anymore? Strangers. That's what they were - strangers who desperately needed to get to know one another again.
"I'll never leave you, Vince." Howard whispered. His hand unconsciously found its way into a mane of raven hair and he hesitated slightly, half expecting to get slapped for touching a masterpiece. When he didn't, he allowed himself to linger there for a few more seconds to wonder at how soft it was before continuing his little speech;
"You can be… difficult at times, to say the least, but I'd never give up on you, because I know the real you is nothing like this person you pretend to be."
Vince snuffled but said nothing, pushing his face further into Howard's neck. He appeared to be trying to bury himself there. Funnily enough, Howard found that he didn't mind.
"I guess I owe you an apology as well. For stealing the amulet."
Vince pulled back slightly to look up at Howard, quirking an eyebrow. "That was you?"
Shit. "Um… yeah. Sorry."
Vince sighed. "Doesn't matter. If I hadn't been acting like such a twat, you wouldn't have done it."
Howard found that he couldn't disagree, unfortunately. "Yeah, well… I wanted to apologize anyway. And not just for that. I've been too harsh on you lately."
The smaller man shook his head with a watery smile. "Don't. Someone needs to be harsh on me, or I'll never learn."
Howard was quietly surprised by this mature sentiment, and suddenly found himself wishing that they could stay in this moment forever. Because he was sure that, when it was over, the fragile truce between them would break again, and they'd be back to acting like complete strangers. To an outside observer, their 'normal' behaviour as of late would probably give the impression of two people who couldn't stand each other. So why was it that right now, in this rare tender moment, what Howard felt for Vince was the exact opposite of hate?
The he remembered what some wise person had once said about hate not being too different from something else, and suddenly felt very foolish.
A/N: Ah... I figured this fic could use a small dose of fluff, as it's been sorely lacking in it lately... especially since season three isn't too far away now.
And yes, I do have a bit of a weird obsession with Noel's nose... I am talking to my therapist about this. (And seriously, kids, if you do happen to be considering rhinoplasty - don't. I had a friend who was thinking about it at one stage, so I helpfully looked up some stuff on the 'net to show her. I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so sick in all my life.)
And now I really must get some sleep, since it's rapidly approaching 3am. If you feel like dropping me a review, please don't hesitate.
