Author's Note: I think I've been putting off this scene for about two chapters. I don't like confrontation in real life and apparently that carries over to writing too. Hope this works out ok. And thanks to all the lovely reviewers.

Oh, and I don't own the Boosh. Just playing.

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"Tell me where he is or you are out of this show and I swear to you, you will never get a job in this industry again!"

Vince watched as his former mentor threatened one of the younger models. She was probably only fifteen or sixteen and looked frightened out of her beautiful face.

He turned to Jaquettie and scowled at the almost empty champagne bottle in his hand. The man was drunk. This would make things difficult.

Jaquettie wasn't a generous drunk, or a happy drunk, or even a remotely pleasant drunk. He was an incoherent bully when alcohol entered the equation and Vince had learned to avoid him at parties and to always stay sober when he had to interact with him socially.

He hadn't really questioned it until now. How had he been so blind? So full of praise for this man whom he knew could be so cruel and selfish? He'd been struck down by hero worship again, was the problem but luckily he now had a physical reminder that there was only one man he needed, and that man was Howard Moon.

"Leave the girl alone, Jean Claude, I'm right here."

Vince tried to make it sound calm and in control but it was hard. He could have slipped back into the cold mask he had worn constantly in Jaquettie's presence over the last couple of years but he didn't want to. Yes, it was harder to be genuine and put his emotions on the line, so to speak, but he needed to prove to both Jaquettie and himself, that he wasn't afraid to be seen as himself.

The squeeze of Howard's hand around his own gave him another shot of bravery and he stepped forward, bringing his best mate with him. Now it was Jaquettie's turn to scowl.

"Is this the creature who has turned your head, Noir? Really? I thought that when you eventually picked someone to fuck they would at least be attractive. Or is this some sort of kink? Do you have a penchant for bin men, Noir? Because that's what he looks like. Do you like to feel dirty, Noir?"

"He's more beautiful than you could ever be, Jean Claude," Vince replied, keeping his voice soft and steady. "You can't hurt me anymore, not now. This is it for us. After today I'm not working for you anymore. I'm sorry."
"You're right, you're sorry. You're not walking out on me, Noir."

"What?"

"I'm firing you, Noir. Let's see what the tabloids have to say about that, yes?"

"Fine. However you want to phrase it, I'm gone. I won't be working for you and that suits me."

"Suits you. Suits you to try and ruin me! Was that your plan all along, Noir? To try and ruin me? To end my career?"

"No."

"Of course it was! You are nothing but a vapid, crawling-"

"No! I didn't set out to ruin your career," Vince actually smiled. "I thought I was setting out to end my own."

"I should have known you weren't intelligent enough to plan my downfall, you little bitch. But who do you think will want you when they hear I've cast you aside? No one."

"I don't care. Howard'll want me. My little girl will want me. That'll be enough."

Vince waiting. He knew that Jaquettie was trying to think of some way to get at him, to frighten him. He'd done it before, insulting him into submission but it wouldn't work this time. For one thing, it was obvious to everyone that Vince wasn't going to crawl back and that even if he did, Jaquettie wouldn't want him. It was hard to scare someone into submission when you had no ownership, no power, over them.

He also knew that the claim that no one would want to work with him was very close to an outright lie. A few days ago he'd been panicking that no fashion house would want to touch him. Now Ami was fielding half a dozen phone calls a day from people interested in him as both a model and a designer. There was very little Jaquettie could throw at him now that would really stick.

He risked a quick glance at Howard who was gazing at him with a look of real pride, as if he understood any of what was being said. Perhaps he did in a way. It was how their crimping worked, how they knew when the other needed rescuing. Howard's pride made him feel invincible, like he'd just slipped into the most genius boots in the world and knew he couldn't stumble.

"You," Jaquettie spat, stumbling a bit himself, as he stalked closer to Vince. "You're nothing but a gutter snipe I picked up and the gutter's where you'll end up again, you'll see. I hear your daughter was found in a gutter too. Probably by your bin man lover. You'll all end up back there, Noir, living on the filthy streets of London where you belong!"

Jaquettie was close now and Vince could smell the expensive champagne on his breath. It didn't smell good. It smelt like bile and bitterness and made Vince feel a little ill.

"What's the matter, Noir? Eaten too much again? Planning on becoming a plus size model now that I won't have you? You're just a hawk faced, fat-"

He never got to finish that sentence because his cheek collided with one of Howard's fists.

Vince watched as the alcohol-soaked designer fell to the ground with a resounding crash. He wasn't unconscious, not quite, but he was in no state to fight back.

Vince looked up at Howard in awe. He knew his mouth was hanging wide open and he probably looked like a right tit but he couldn't help it. Howard had defended his honour after all. Howard had stopped the bully when once he would have run away, declaring that they had to leave town. Howard had punched Jaquettie, for him.

He hardly noticed that there were two security guards escorting Jaquettie out of the dressing room. They'd been alerted to the situation and had arrived in time to see Jaquettie screaming at Vince, waving his arms around and looking like he was about to hit Vince with a champagne bottle. The security here tended to be down-to-earth, decent guys, not overly fond of fashion divas and had been secretly impressed by Howard. They each gave him a pat on the back before bundling Jaquettie out to his car and telling his driver to take him home and not let him out for the rest of the evening.

Vince didn't think Jaquettie would have shown his face again that day even without the security guards' instructions. Howard had one hell of a right hook it seemed, and Jaquettie was going to have an impressive bruise.

"Vince? Vince? Vince? Are you alright? Have you gone into some sort of fashion trance or something? Vince?"

"Howard?" Vince blinked, looking at Howard's anxious face.

"Yeah. You alright, little man?"

"Yeah, sorry, Howard. Drifted off a bit there. Was replaying that punch over in my head. You were dead impressive, Howard."

He grinned up at the taller man and loved that Howard grinned back, his moustache twitching as his lips did.

"You were the impressive one, Vince. I didn't need subtitles to understand that you were holding your own there."

"Subtitles are well boring anyway," Vince giggled, feeling a bit light headed. There were a lot of people in the room now, all talking, or more correctly, gossiping about what had just happened. Vince could hear someone exclaiming that Vince Noir had given Jaquettie the dressing down of his life and that his partner had taken Jaquettie down when he tried to attack. Vince didn't think he'd been that impressive. He hadn't said much at all. Everyone thought he talked so much but he never seemed to have any lines really. He didn't think Jaquettie had meant to attack him either but if it meant that Howard didn't get in trouble for the punch, then he was happy to go with that story.

"Shall we... find somewhere a little quieter, maybe?" Howard asked, still looking concerned. Vince supposed that giggling was an odd reaction to what had just happened so he nodded and let Howard put an arm around his shoulder and steer him out of the main dressing area and into a smaller storage room. Shutting the door seemed to shut out both the chatter and the whole of the outside world. Suddenly it was quiet and all Vince could hear was the sound of his and Howard's breathing.

"Thanks for, you know, defending me, Howard."

Howard beamed. "It was my pleasure, Vince. Even if it did hurt." He held up his knuckles for inspection and Vince delicately and lovingly kissed his way along them.

"Poor Papa Howard," he whispered and was a bit miffed when Howard laughed. He'd been going for sexy, not funny.

"It sounds wrong when it's you saying it, Vince," he whispered back.

"What would you prefer me to call you then you muppet?" Vince shot back, giving him a flirtatious smile so Howard knew he wasn't really angry.

"That's up to you," Howard hit back. "Man of action, sir, maverick, saviour. Lover?"

Vince shivered and Howard pulled him into his arms. Being in Howard's arms felt good.

"I thought we agreed on no punching though. What made you do it, lover?"

It was Howard's turn to shiver now and he pulled them tight against each other until Vince thought he might actually melt into the big, strong arms around him.

"I didn't like what he was saying about you."

"But," Vince pulled back a bit so he could look up into Howard's face. "You don't speak French, Howard."

"Gros."

Vince felt his body recoil from the word but Howard held him firm. Gros. Fat. He hated that word.

"It's alright, Vince," Howard soothed. "I've been studying my French dictionary these last few days. I'm still rubbish at it but I remembered that one. I was waiting for it actually. I knew that titbox would try to use it against you. When he did, well, I hit him. He had no right to say that to you, to do that to you. You're beautiful. A little on the thin side, but still beautiful."

"Naw, Howard." Vince felt himself melting again. "That's romantic, that is."

"I know you find this whole weight thing hard," Howard continued, bringing his face down until his forehead rested against Vince's. "But we're a team, yeah? The ultimate double act. We're Howard-and-Vince, Moon-and-Noir, the ultimate combination. Whatever happens, we'll do it together, alright?"

Vince nodded, feeling his eyes starting to get a little wet.

"Together forever?"

"You better believe it."

Their lips locked and Vince did believe it. He had Howard, he had his daughter. He'd bested his bully and had what looked to be a bright future ahead of him.

"Genius," he whispered against Howard's lips and they stayed like that, locked in their own little world until they were interrupted by someone who had come looking for Vince to give him a two hour call for the pre-show party.

Vince pulled away from Howard reluctantly, sucking air into his lungs as he tried to speak.

"Two hours? Oh, Jagger! I better get started on my hair!"