Vince and Helena stood side by side as cool and beautiful as the snow covered mountains behind them. They moved their heads slightly, changing their expressions as the photographer yelled his directions.

"Move closer together. Both look to the left. Quit giggling."

The last direction was aimed at Vince. Helena never lost her fierce expression.

"Sorry, but I think I'm actually freezing my tits off out here!"

"This is modeling," Helena snapped, "Now get some intensity in those eyes."

Vince did as he was told and Howard felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. It had been eight months since Vince had gone down on him in a supply closet and he was still surprised by his partner's ability to turn him into a randy adolescent at the most inopportune times.

The Noirs were doing a campaign for a line of ski wear from Jean Claude Jaqueitte. It made sense that they were doing the shoot on a mountain in Aspen, Colorado. It made sense they were wearing skis and ski suits. What seemed odd to Howard was the fact they had their jackets unzipped to show Vince's bare chest and Helena's red lace bra.

When they were done, Vince stumbled towards Howard, still wearing his skis.

"Oh, I need a big Northern hug before my nipples fall off!"

Howard held Vince tightly and did his best to warm the smaller man up as Helena jumped up and down cursing. Jean Claude, himself, stood feet away from her, his face impassive.

"Come over here, Helena, get some Moon lovin'! Oh, he's like a big furnace."

Helena looked dubious but allowed herself to be pulled into a three way hug.

"Oi, you're like a mustachioed heated blanket," Helena mumbled into Howard's parka.

XXX

"That was genius! Vince Noir, super-model star!" Vince was nearly bouncing with excitement as they walked to their suite.

"I thought Helena and Jean Claude were an item, why were they..."

"Shush, Howard!" Vince slapped his hand over Howard's mouth before continuing, "Jean Claude Jaquiette is the hottest designer in the world. It's gonna be a big deal for him to come out as a heterosexual. Plus Helena is worried about everyone thinking she's just his girlfriend when she's just startin' to get famous on her own.

Howard knew all about Helena's concerns. She had sought Howard's advice before embarking on a relationship with Jean Claude. She explained that, on one hand, she thought he was a wonderful man and appreciated that he had never made a move on her while she was under his employ. Instead, he patiently waited for her to branch out on her own before admitting his feelings. On the other hand, she couldn't quite shake her deep-seated belief that everyone in the world was out to fuck her over. As they spoke, it became clear to Howard why Helena chose to speak to him rather than Vince. Helena's well-founded trust issues made Howard's workaday paranoia seem healthy but he could understand her worries better than Vince. Everyone loved Vince.

Howard was glad Helena was taking a chance on Jean Claude. Of course, if Jaquettie ever hurt her, he'd find himself on the wrong end of a gorilla driving a van. Vince hadn't actually offed the lead singer of the Black Tubes - the singer showed up weeks later with no memory of what had happened but no worse for wear - but Bollo and Naboo were convinced they'd make savvy assassins if the need arose.

Helena's "Moon" collection, a line of menswear, had really taken off and she had become internationally known in the past couple of months. All the hottest stars in Hollywood were wearing tailored Hawaiian print shirts under fitted cordorouy jackets with gaudy elbow patches. The line was a mixture of muted colors and audaciously loud prints. It had been a strange day indeed when Vince and Howard had gone to a shop and stepped out of the dressing room wearing the same suit. They'd agreed to never speak of the event again.

The "Moon" line had gained a lot of attention through a series of bizarre ads created by none other than Leroy. The commercials consisted of Vince, his face covered in shaving cream, playing the moon. He would babble some nonsense in a non-specific Eastern European accent about astronauts jumping on his tummy or how his chalky white face made his teeth look yellow. The ads made no sense and had nothing to do with clothes but even Howard had to admit they were almost hypnotic.

Vince opened the door to their suite.

"Are you sure you've got the right room?" Howard asked, despite seeing their luggage sitting by the door. The suite could be pictured in the dictionary under "opulent". They'd gone straight from the airport to the photo-shoot and this was their first time seeing their temporary quarters. They were supposed to arrive days earlier but there had been an incident with an inter-dimensional time portal that had opened in Naboo's shop. Vince had been saving Howard from a race of anthropomorphic ot when they were supposed to be boarding their plane.

"Look at that furry rug in front of the fire place!" Vince exclaimed, "We are definitely having it off on that tonight."

"None of that, we need to get ready for the party," Howard said with authority, his mind filling with erotic images of Vince by firelight. He'd yet to find a type of light that didn't flatter his lover.

Vince wrapped his arms around Howard's neck, "Do you think I did all right, today? Did I look all right next to Helena?"

Howard gave Vince a peck on the lips, "You looked like a star, as always."

Vince smiled and leaned his head on Howard's chest, "Thanks, Howard."

It was a sweet moment, the normally confident Vince turning to Howard for reassurance. Howard's erection felt completely inappropriate.

"Look at that bed, it's as big as my room," Vince whispered into Howard's ear, "and there's a hot tub."

"You only have an hour to get ready," Howard warned.

"I can be quick when I have to."

They were an hour late to the party and Vince had to finish his hair and make-up in the limo.

XXX

Howard's vision had gone blurry but there was always someone pressing a new glass of champagne into his hand. Helena and Vince were in the center of the room, surrounded by adoring lackeys. There should have been a spotlight on them, they were the epitome of fashionable androgyny. His irritation at every person who touched Vince's arm or stroked his chest (pretending to admire the fabric) wasn't enough to make Howard move into their spotlight. He was more comfortable in his quiet corner. As much as Howard had always longed to be seen and to move out of Vince's shadow, he wanted to be the center of attention for actually doing something (other than Vince).

Howard jumped when he felt a hand on his chest.

"What a beautiful jacket," murmured the woman attached to the hand, "I just adore the fabric. What a pensive shade of brown."

Although she was a bit fuzzy around the edges, she seemed to be an attractive woman in her early thirties.

"Helena gave it to me," Howard explained, pointing towards the Noir twins. Helena frequently sent him clothes, saying it was his reward for acting as her muse. She also sent clothes to Vince, saying he needed to dress less like Joan Jett.

The woman's eyes widened, "You know Helena Handbag? I adore her!"

The woman rambled on about Helena and other things she adored, her face too close to Howard's for comfort, as she continued to examine the "Moon" line suit. She was admiring his leather belt when Vince came over.

"Oi! Hands off!" Vince hollered, sounding disturbingly like Helena, "Find your own jazzy freak! This one is well taken."

xxx

Back in their suite, Vince shoved Howard against the door and griped at him for letting himself get felt up by strange women. Howard could have argued that Vince had been fondled by half the party but he was distracted by Vince's hand stroking his cock. Before he came, he promised to tell the next woman who flirted with him to "piss off".

xxx

Howard lay on the soft fa-fur rug and alternated between staring at the fire and Vince. Thoughts flitted through his champagne infused brain like butterflies. One thought kept returning, a question that plagued him for months but he'd been afraid to ask.

"How many people have you slept with?"

"Counting blow-jobs?"

"Yes."

"Hand-jobs?"

"Yes."

"Six."

"Well that's totally... what? What did you say?"

"Six."

"Are you being serious?"

"What are you on about?"

"Sixteen people tried to have it off with you tonight at the party!"

"Yeah, and what happened? I came home with you like I always do. Hard to pull when you keep talkin' 'bout your mate like he's your boyfriend."

Howard pulled Vince close, nuzzling his hair. How had he been so blind for so long?

"Was one of those people Mrs. Gideon?" Howard asked, keeping Vince tight to his chest, not ready to look at his face, "I won't be mad. I just need to know."

Vince was quiet for a while and Howard's mind filled with images of Gideon worshiping Vince's beautiful body.

"Remember that party we had when Mrs. Gideon first arrived? We were all so excited to actually have a woman around! Well, you were showing off for her and when I came over and tried to put my arm around you, you yelled, 'Never touch me, you pointy faced tart!' I guess she was curious so she asked me all about me and you and I had a lot to drink that night..."

"It's fine, Vince. You didn't know I was going to fall for her," Howard stroked Vince's hair, wondering if Gideon had ever been allowed the privilege.

"We didn't sleep together, Howard! We just talked and I told her about how you brought me to the zoo when I was fifteen and we'd been together ever since... she may have misunderstood a few things I told her."

"What did she 'misunderstand', Little Man?"

"People always think you're older than you are... She kinda got the impression I was your under-aged lover that you got bored with when I grew up. That's why she was always on about my hair and trying to be so nice to me. She used to tell me you were lucky to have me and that you were a bastard not to appreciate me."

So it wasn't that Gideon found Howard utterly forgettable, she just thought he was an abusive dick/borderline pedophile. For some reason, it made him feel better.

"And I suppose it never occurred to you to set her straight?" Howard asked in what he hoped was a stern voice. Vince kept his face hidden in Howard's chest as he spoke.

"I didn't want you getting off with her, did I? And it was nice to be able to talk to her about you, about my feelings... I'm sorry, Howard. I was a prat."

Howard showed his forgiveness by rolling Vince onto his back and kissing him senseless. Vince had taken care of Howard (during his lecture on letting women fondle his big Northern physique) against the wall but insisted he wanted to "save it for the fire place" for his own release.

"What do you want, Little Man?" Howard whispered as he stripped Vince of his Handbag one-off paisley jumpsuit (only Vince could look sexy in a paisley jumpsuit).

"You know me, I'm easy," Vince replied as he carefully removed Howard's clothing. Vince always took care when handling Howard's clothes designed by Helena. When Howard wore his old clothes, Vince was not above cutting him out of a rollneck and blaming it on a fit of passion.

Vince had introduced Howard to a variety of sexual positions over the past eight months, some he'd read about, some he was certain Vince had actually invented. There was really only one thing they hadn't tried yet and Howard wasn't entirely sure why.

Lying in front of the fire, drunk on wine and snuggling an actual model - Howard felt like anything was possible.

"Maybe we should try something new," he murmured into Vince's ear.

This time it was Vince who was stern, "We ain't havin' a three-way with that bird from the party!"

"That's not what I was going to suggest..."

"Well, good, cause it ain't happenin'," Vince reaffirmed, holding Howard protectively like a big Northern teddy bear.