Author's note: Thank you to my lovely reviewers! I think this is my favourite chapter so far.

Disclaimer: I love them but I don't own them. I've been sat in a tree outside their house, watching and waiting. No, not really. I just love them.

It took until the moment he started following Vince from the bedroom to the kitchen for Howard to realise what had been bothering him about Vince's appearance.

He'd lost weight again.

He began to wonder whether there would be any food in the kitchen, or whether the whole space would just be wall to wall malt loaf in a desperate attempt by Vince to satisfy his sweet tooth while keeping to a low calorie diet. It must have been very low calorie for Vince to have dropped that much weight in a year. During their, if he was honest, rubbish attempt at serious theatre, Vince had looked a little more filled out than he'd used to. He hadn't looked overweight, far from it, but he'd looked like he was eating three times a day and that had made Howard happy. Now he looked like he was eating three meals a week.

As they neared the kitchen Howard watched Vince's swaying hips and how even the extremely skinny drainpipes he was wearing didn't look that tight. They still looked good. Vince's bum always looked good, but...

Howard gave himself a mental shake. Vince was his friend and he was pretty sure that friends did not check out friends' backsides on the sly. He was at least fifty per cent sure anyway. He didn't have that many friends. But Vince was definitely too skinny, nice bum or not and he made a mental note to ask Vince about his eating habits. A mental note that he temporarily forgot when he entered Vince's kitchen.

It was the sort of space that enthusiastic home chefs drooled over, and Howard caught himself checking his chin just in case he was in fact drooling. Gleaming work surfaces with a fruit bowl centre piece overflowing with apples and bananas, a state of the art cooktop, separate burner specifically for the wok. His eyes were especially drawn to the chrome fronted, double door fridge, that was until Vince sashayed past it and sat himself up on the countertop.

"So, Howard, what d'you want for tea?"

Howard looked at Vince suspiciously.

"Do you ever use this kitchen?" he asked.

"What? Why?"

"Because it's too clean," replied Howard, pointing out the obvious. "The last time you tried to make pancakes back at the flat I had to scrape batter out of the light fittings."

Vince gave a short laugh at the memory and Howard's lips twitched upwards despite himself.

"In fact, this whole place is too tidy," he carried on, really starting to enjoy himself and knowing from the sparkle in Vince's eyes that he was too.

"What's your game sonny Jim, me lad? Is this place even yours? Or is it just some random apartment you've stolen the keys to? Well?"

Vince was starting to giggle now and Howard couldn't stop himself. He loved being silly with Vince. Talking like this was like verbal tickling and neither of them had indulged in it for a very long time.

"I don't pick pockets, thank you," retorted Vince, ramping up his cockney accent. "I'm like Fagan. The Fagan of Paris they call me. I've got an army of grubby street urchins to do my pick pocketing for me."

"Is that so?" Howard was starting to giggle now too.

"It certainly is, my boy. And I'll train Blanche up to be my successor. Heiress to a pick pocketing empire, she'll be. The envy of every girl in Paris."

"With her stolen jewels and horse drawn carriage nicked from the impound yard."

"And her rat valets, always ready to hand her a handkerchief."

"There were always so many handkerchiefs weren't there, in those Oliver movies? Why did the kids steal so many handkerchiefs?"

"They were sewing themselves ball gowns for the annual thieves ball."

"What, even the boys?"

"Especially the boys. You're not allowed entry unless you're in a full ball gown."

"Is that so?"

"Yep. You'd have no chance, Howard. It's impossible to get you into a decent frock. God knows I've tried. The closest you ever got was that Nanna dress you wore to bingo night."

"Hey, I looked good in that dress, it showed off my northern pins."

"Maybe, but you couldn't wear it to a ball, could you? You'd look well underdressed next to all them urchins in their homemade hanky gowns."

The lighthearted banter continued for some minutes before Howard's growling stomach interrupted them and sent them into a fresh fit of giggles. When they finally got their breath back Howard started to worry that it would get awkward again but Vince fluffed his hair and licked the corner of his lip in a way that let Howard know that he was comfortable and enjoying himself so he decided to be a man of action and strode purposely toward the fridge.

He'd been prepared for empty shelves graced only by a few jars of condiments, maybe a small block of cheese, and a few moldy carrots. It was a shock to be confronted with copious amounts of lettuce and green vegetables. There were also jars of olives and tins of stuffed vine leaves, a few gourmet dips, and bottles of sparkling mineral water. He searched in vain for meat, eggs, cheese, anything he could use to make a proper meal, but at least had to concede that what was in the fridge was healthy.

He looked up at Vince who was now looking very pointedly in the other direction.

"Vince?"

"Hmm?"

There was definitely something wrong, Howard could tell. Vince was avoiding his eye but he couldn't quite see what was so embarrassing about having a fridge full of healthy, fresh produce. He decided to try the only sure fire way to shake Vince out of a bad mood.

"Do you have a pet rabbit?"

Vince turned to look at him, his face the very picture of puzzlement until he caught Howard's eye. He grinned and Howard returned wasn't great at talking about the things that mattered, Howard was even worse at it if truth be told, but he knew that the best way to relieve them both of the pain of proper conversation was with a good bout of silliness.

"No," said Vince slowly, shaking his head so his silky hair whipped around his face. "I keep that stuff around for when that giant rabbit drops by. He's got one hell of an appetite, you know."

Howard chuckled and watched as Vince jumped down from the counter and strode over to stand next to him at the open fridge. They were so close, almost touching, and Howard felt the urge to pull Vince into a hug. The 'don't touch me' rule had never really worked with Vince anyway and over the last two years Howard had found himself rethinking the whole no touching rule system. He still didn't like being touched by other people but he had started to think that maybe there should be a Vince clause, which stated that people named Vince Noir were allowed to ignore the 'don't touch me' rule if they asked for a hug the proper manly way. He didn't actually know what the proper manly way to ask for a hug was and Vince never did anything in the proper manly way as far as his memory could tell, but he was sure they could come to some sort of arrangement.

Vince actually looked like he might need a hug. He looked like he'd blow away in a strong wind, Howard thought, but he just didn't know how to start a hug. How did one go about initiating physical contact with another human being? Did it require eye contact? Did you make an appointment? He didn't know the rules. He suspected that Vince knew the rules but didn't care and flouted them in defiance of human niceties but Howard didn't really like breaking rules. Not really. Unless it was jazz.

"Um..."

Vince was standing so close that Howard could hear the um as a vibration through their bodies.

"I'd usually just have a salad," VInce confessed and the urge to put his arm around his friend doubled until Howard's fingers began to itch. "But I can make you a stir fry if you like? I'm genius at those! Would you like stir fry, Howard?"

Vince was suddenly excited and lunged in to grab his ingredients without waiting for Howard to reply. He set up his ingredients and, as Howard watched, proceeded to slice and grate the vegetables, create a sauce and heat the wok. The whole thing took less than ten minutes to make and when he presented Howard with a delicate bowl of stir fried veg and rice noodles Howard was genuinely impressed. He took his bowl and looked around for somewhere to sit.

"Shall we go to the dinning room, or...?"

"Nah, it's way too posh for this. Let's just sit on the sofa, yeah?"

"Lead on, little man," Howard gestured grandly and Vince just about skipped back to the lounge room and plonked himself in the corner of one of his large sofas.

They ate dinner in companionable near silence and when they were done Vince even took their bowls out to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs of hot tea which he placed on to the low coffee table. Howard was impressed at this mastery of domesticity but a little frightened too.

"What's happened to you, Vince?" Vince looked up in something akin to alarm.

"What d'you mean?"

"You cooked a delicious meal. You tidied up after yourself. You made tea. Are you really Vince? Or has an obsessive-compulsive monkey stolen your face?"

Vince relaxed and shook his head.

"Nah, nothing like that. I've got a cleaner who comes in three times a week. She gets well stroppy if there's dirty dishes around the place or clothes on the floor."

"I used to nag you constantly to put your clothes in the hamper," Howard sighed. "You never did it for me."

He caught a slight grimace cross Vince's face but it was quickly replaced by a sly grin.

"You never threatened me with a feather duster, though, did you?"

"Was that my mistake?"

"Yep. You nagged. She went at me with some sort of microfibre monster. I was scared she was going cover my outfit in dust. I have to do as she says."

"And if she told you to eat more?"

Howard hadn't meant to come out with it like that and he regretted it immediately as Vince's face clouded over and was replaced by a cold, expressionless mask.

It took Howard's breath away. It was the face of Jaquettie's ad campaign, cold and beautiful. It was breathtaking in a poster or in a tv commercial but in real life it was beyond description. He looked stunning and yet, at the same time, that beauty was frightening. It wasn't his Vince.

It also worried him how easily that mask seemed to fall into place. How often did Vince hide behind that icy beauty these days? And why had the mention of his eating habits brought about the dramatic change?

"I eat enough, Howard."

The voice was icy to match his face and it made Howard shiver.

"I just meant-"

"You saw me eat. I made you dinner for Christ's sake."

"I know, I-"

"Are you and my cleaner seriously in cahoots with each other? Going to gang up on me, threaten me with cleaning products until I agree to get fat again?"

"You've never been fat, Vince."

"Shut up, Howard."

"Has your cleaner seriously had a go at you for not eating enough?"

Vince scowled again and nodded. Howard hated him looking so put out but he was also relieved to see the icy facade crumble to reveal something more recognisably Vince. It also told him that he wasn't alone in his concerns. Other people had noticed the weight loss too. But if the obviously terrifying cleaning lady couldn't bully Vince into eating then he must be under a lot of pressure to stay thin. Howard had a sudden desire to have a strong word with Jean Claude Jaquettie but doubted Vince would ever let him near his fashionable friends and colleagues. Still, he could always try.

Glancing over at Vince, he saw the younger man's eyes begin to droop. It wasn't that late at night but seeing how tired Vince seemed to be reminded Howard of his own desire for sleep. Perhaps they could continue this discussion tomorrow. They hadn't really talked about Blanche at all. It seemed that Vince wanted to get to know her before he started making real plans and Howard supposed that was alright. There were a few pressing issues though.

"Ah, Vince?" he asked tremulously. "What are you up to tomorrow?"

"Um," Vince bit his lip and looked nervous. "I thought that I might take the day off. Everything's about sorted for Friday and I don't really want to go in after- I don't really want to go in tomorrow. I thought I could spend the day with you and Blanche?"

It was phrased as a question and Vince looked up at Howard through his fringe as if worried that Howard might actually deny him the chance to spend the day with his friend and his daughter.

"Of course, Vince," he reassured him. "That sounds good actually because, well, I didn't pack much and Blanche has no other clothes. And she'll need a bath too. I thought we could maybe, that is if you're happy to, and only if you want to, maybe we could, go shopping?"

Vince's eyes widened to the size of tea cups.

"You're asking to go shopping with me?!"

"Um, yes?"

There was a sudden flurry of movement and then, for the second time that evening Howard felt Vince crash into him in a fierce hug.

"I never thought I'd hear you ask to go shopping with me. To actually want to go shopping with me! And not just for hammocks or corks or food or stuff like that. Oh, thanks Howard!"

Howard didn't know what to say. He'd always assumed that Vince would rather be seen on a bad hair day than out shopping with him. Obviously he'd been wrong. He wrapped his arms around Vince's skinny frame. The hug felt good, even if he was a little worried that a proper, tight hug might break Vince into a hundred pieces.

"It's my pleasure, little man. I'll even let you pick an outfit for me if you like."

From somewhere in the vicinity of his chest he heard a squeal and the hug got even tighter. Obviously that had been the right thing to say and, even if he was a little worried that he'd end up in some sort of sequined catsuit, he thought it might just be a fair price to pay for some more cuddles and smiles from Vince. He really had missed him an awful lot. Possibly more than he'd realised.

Vince finally pulled out of the hug. Not completely, just enough for Howard to hear what he was saying and his head was still comfortably nestled against Howard's shoulder when he began to speak, or think out loud, at least.

"Blanche'll probably need something clean to actually go out shopping in, I reckon. I'll text Ami, get her to send something round in the morning. And I doubt she'll want to go anywhere too busy or noisy so we'll stick to the little boutiques. They're better anyway. More exclusive. More expensive too but how often do you get to pick out a whole wardrobe for your daughter, yeah? It'll be genius. She'll probably need a little sleepy after that, too. She seems to need a lot of it. Kids do, huh? She's slept for hours already. Hope it doesn't mean she'll be up at four a.m., bouncing on my head. I'll have to get in some food that kids like too. Obviously. Kids aren't really into salad, are they? But she can't live off sweets neither. You taught me that, Howard. You was always on at me about not living off raspberry bootlaces and flying saucers. And what about nappies, or diapers or whatever? Is she toilet trained, Howard? Howard?"

Howard was trying desperately to keep up with Vince's thoughts and was genuinely impressed at how mature he sounded. Vince was thinking about his daughter's needs in a calm and clear way. He'd always known that Vince was the one who was good with kids but hadn't expected him to think about nap times and toileting and such.

"Howard? Howard? Howard? Have you gone into a jazz trance or something? Did you hear any of what I said?"

"I heard you, Vince. Don't get your pants in a knot. Yes, she's toilet trained. She asked to go when we were on the Eurostar in fact."

"Good. That makes life a bit easier then. She'll need to go again when she wakes up though. And she'll be hungry. We should get something ready for her so that she doesn't have to wait. Being hungry's horrible when you're a kid."

"I thought you said you didn't have any kid friendly food here?" Howard asked.

"I don't really," Vince shrugged. "But I've got some crackers and fruit and that. Will that do for tonight, do you think?"

"Yeah, that'll do just fine," Howard reassured and was rewarded by Vince relaxing back against him. Vince felt a bit pointy, all bones and joints, but still warm, still nice. He smelt nice too.

He'd quite happily stay like this for the rest of the night.

"Um, Vince?" he asked quietly. He was rewarded with a contented hum. Vince was definitely tired too.

"Vince, what're we going to do about sleeping arrangements?"

"Oh."

The silence stretched between them and eventually Vince sat himself up and moved back to his corner of the sofa.

"Vince?"

"Well, I thought, that Blanche could stay where she is, at least for tonight. So she isn't disturbed. And I kinda want to be there if she wakes up in the night and I want to be there when she wakes up in the morning cos morning faces are well cute and I want to see hers. But..."

"But?"

"But she doesn't know me, does she? She only knows you. So if she wakes up in the night and is scared she's going to want you, isn't she? Not me. So..."

Howard thought that he knew where Vince might be headed with all of this but he decided not to push and let Vince come out with it himself.

"So?"

"So, I thought that maybe you could sleep in my room too?" Vince's voice was so quiet Howard had to strain to actually hear him and the look that Vince gave him seemed to be prepared for rejection. But before he could respond Vince started talking again, gradually getting faster and faster but not much louder.

"It's a huge bed, we'd be no where near each other. And we'd sleep on either side of Blanche, obviously, so that she wouldn't fall out if she had a nightmare or anything. And we could fetch all the blankets and pillows from the spare bedroom so we wouldn't have to worry about sharing or anything. It could even be fun, like back at the zoo."

Howard let the words sink in before carefully making eye contact with Vince. He hated making eye contact most of the time but knew enough about Vince to know that it was a sure way to help him calm down and to reassure him that he was alright, that they were alright. He was a lot like his daughter, really.

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Vince. Shall we go and get the blankets now? It's been a long day after all. We could both use a good night's sleep."

Vince let out a breath that he'd been holding and got to his feet, stretching out his thin arms above his head. They padded down the hall together to collect the blankets and pillows and then into Vince's bedroom where Blanche was still sleeping soundly. They grinned at the sight of the little girl with her head of thick, messy blonde hair and then, as Vince began to strip off his clothes in preparation for sleep, Howard retreated to the bathroom to change into his pajamas.

When the usual evening rituals of teeth brushing and, in VInce's case, make-up removal, were complete and a midnight snack had been fetched for whenever Blanche decided to wake up, they snuggled down into the big bed and Howard heard Vince give a contented sigh.

"G'night, Howard. I'm so glad you're here."

"Good night,Vince. Sleep well."

Vince made the happy humming noise again and within minutes Howard heard him start to make the adorable not-snoring noises he had gotten so used to when they'd shared the keepers hut at the zoo. It wasn't long before he felt himself drifting off to sleep and, as he did, he realised that he agreed with Vince. He was glad to be there too.