Title: Empty Chairs

Author: Concupid

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: references to sex, sappiness

Summary: Vince has a talk with Jurgen.

Author's note: I won't bother with the excuses, but if you are still reading, I am sorry this has been such a slow process. Thanks to everyone who has been so supportive and thanks to Bluey for her patience and friendship. Next time I write a story for you, I'll finish it in less than a year... Maybe ten months!

Vince woke with a start. He panicked for a moment, thinking he was trapped under a fallen tree, but immediately cheered up when he realized it was just Howard's arm across his chest. They were fully dressed, but the tent smelled of sex, and Vince had a few aches and pains to prove he hadn't been dreaming.

Genius.

He couldn't see a thing, but he knew the sound of Howard sleeping. Always prone to insomnia, Vince had spent many a sleepless night listening to Howard's steady breathing. He wondered how he'd ever gotten a wink of sleep when Howard had been away. Vince was about to sneak a little cuddle when he noticed a noise outside the tent. After carefully crawling out from under Howard's sleep heavy arm, Vince stepped out of the tent to investigate. If he and Howard were going to get munched down by bears, Vince was glad they'd at least made love one time.

But he really hoped it was just the first time of many. He was ready to wrestle a few bears to ensure himself a little more Northern loving.

Vince peered out through one of the tents flaps and spied long blond hair in the moonlight.

"Jurgen, you dick!" he growled before battling his way out of the tent. He barely registered the sound of Howard grumbling behind him as he stormed/limped towards the director.

"Whadja think you're doing, you berk?" he yelled, causing Jurgen to give a satisfying jump.

"Oh, this?" Jurgen said with poorly feigned innocence, "I was just tweaking the set design..."

"This is supposed to be a documentary. You ain't supposed to be designing the set."

Jurgen shook his, "You clearly know no-sing about film. Reality always needs a bit of... flair."

The moon was bright, and Vince could clearly see what Jurgen had been up to in terms of 'set design'. There was a half-drawn, glow-in-the-dark image of a fish on Howard's tent.

"Why are you so set on getting Howard eaten by a bear?" Vince cried. "He's a successful actor. Why can't you put him in a movie where he does normal stuff? Like not dying horribly? Or just pretending to die horribly?"

Jurgen heaved a sigh and sat on a conveniently placed log.

"It's so hard!" Jurgen wailed. "Everyone ees a director theess days. People make movies on ze mobile phones, and share them on ze blogs. How can a director reach a market so oversaturated?"

Vince felt a moment of sympathy for Jurgen. As a rock star, Vince knew how hard it was to stand out from the crowd. There was always someone younger, with a better phone. Some of them even knew how to sing.

"Not by feeding my best mate to a bear!" Vince squawked, once he remembered where he was and why. "There's other ways to sell a film. What about sex? Or fake violence?"

"Fake violence ees everywhere," Jurgen said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And I'm not likely to get a steamy sex scene from Howard, a man who managed to remain a virgin in Hollywood of all places..."

"Howard ain't a virgin!" Vince snapped, responding to an instinct born in the schoolyard before pausing to wonder how Jurgen would know something so personal about Howard.

Jurgen's face went through a series of emotions before landing on joy.

"He's not... Ze two of you haff... I must check the footage! Thees ess brilliant! I haff my film. I haff my film!"

Vince watched the crazed director run back into the woods, and wondered if he might have committed a faux pas.

"What's going on out here?" Howard growled in his middle-of-the-night grumpy voice as he crawled out of the tent. "Is that berk skulking about again?"

"I didn't say anything about having sex," might not have been the best response, but it was what came out of Vince's mouth. Vince felt his entire body go red as Howard unfurled himself to his full height. He hadn't felt so acutely aware of their bodies since he began working at the Zooniverse, back when he was made of nothing but hormones, exaggerated emotions and hair.

Vince squeezed his eyes shut and waited for Howard to start and then stop yelling. After a few moments of silence, he cracked one eye open. Howard was staring at his boots. They were nice, Timberlands, but it was odd for Howard to get lost in his footwear.

"Howard?"

Vince felt like they were moving in slow motion. He could see the movement of Howard's curls as he slowly lifted his head, his face a question mark. Vince's legs went a bit wobbly as he remembered running his fingers through those curls while Howard was inside of him. Vince tried to think of something clever or funny or romantic or sexy to say and came up empty. In order to fill the silence, he said what he was thinking.

"I can't believe we actually did it."

It was a particularly bright and dopey looking moon, but it still wasn't bright enough for Vince to see if Howard was blushing, but he was definitely laughing and that seemed like a good sign. It was an even better sign when Howard returned Vince's impulsive hug. In fact, Howard hung on so tightly, Vince couldn't pull away.

"Was it all right?" Howard asked in a strained voice. "It wasn't... You didn't mind?"

"Mind? Are you actually mental?" Vince could feel how the teasing relaxed Howard and wondered what was going on the Northerner's head. He would never understand how Howard could be so familiar and mysterious at the same time. He was Vince's best and closest friend and a distant idol all in one. Vince wondered if he'd ever really understand Howard's view of the world.

"It's just a lot to keep track of," Howard explained with a forced chuckle. "Everything was different in my head."

Vince closed his eyes and inhaled Howard's scent, trying to imagine Howard's idea of how things should have gone. Vince's fantasies had always fallen into two basic categories. There were the sappy, lovey, Rolling Stones tunes being played on violins in the background while Howard and Vince made love on a bed of rose petals type that weren't so much about sex as the indulgence of being able to touch Howard and just give in to being a great big girl's blouse. Then there were the uncomfortable fantasies, the ones that had always felt much more realistic: the fantasies where Howard was drunk or under a spell, or he thought Vince was a girl... There were a million scenarios that lead to a quick and guilty shag; scenarios that always got Vince off but left him feeling queasy and ashamed.

"It was better than I imagined it," Vince confessed. "You always hear stories about first times being rubbish, but it was genius. You were genius."

"I didn't know it would be your first time, too, that is..." Howard trailed off for a moment until Vince squeezed him tight. That seemed to bring Howard back to the present. "I did a lot of research on what to do, but I didn't... "

"It was perfect, Howard. If it were any better, it would have been rubbish." Vince didn't care that it didn't make sense, it was true. If things had gone any smoother, it would have felt like a movie. It wouldn't have felt like them.

"Next time will be even better," Howard promised. "Given enough time and practice, there's nothing Howard Moon can't conquer."

"You wanna practice some more? See if we've improved?" Vince teased, pressing his erection against Howard's thigh.

"The cameras..."

"Jurgen already knows we had sex."

Howard scooped Vince off of his feet and carried him back to the tent. Vince was laughing when Howard dropped him on to the air mattress. Other than the minor details of the bears surrounding their tent, and the madman recording their every move, Vince felt like they were moving in the right direction.