BLURSUPONBLURS: Here we are with ch 13! I'm actually quite excited for this second half, even though the third half is giving me pains and writer's block right now X_X. I also got a question about what timeline this is supposed to be taking place in. Well, let me just remind everyone that this story doesn't take place in 'our reality'. It's not the magical realm of The Mighty Boosh, but it's also not our world. That said, for this fic I like to imagine that Vince was born in 1972, and Howard in 1962. You can do the math ;)

Chapter 13

Howard had forgotten to draw the curtains over the windows, and was regretting that slip immensely as bright sunlight poured in to blind him as he attempted to open his eyes and see past the splitting headache. Thank god it was Sunday. For a few delirious seconds he looked about himself in confusion.

'What the sodding hell am I doing on the floor? Oh. Oh. Oh, right.'

Squinting up to his right, Howard saw the sleeping face of Vince. The boy had followed him all the way back to the zoo gates, giving puppy eyes and claims that he had nowhere else to go for the night. Howard had given in, of course, and had allowed the little bugger to come with him past Graham and his suspicious glances. He brought out a sleeping bag and pillow, motioning to the kid that he could sleep there for the night. The boy just stood there watching Howard as he lay down on the couch and pulled the thick duvet over himself. He felt awful, and was in no mood to stay up entertaining teenagers.

A while later Howard was pulled from sleep and nearly leapt out of his very skin when he felt the boy squish in beside him on the couch, between the back of the sofa and Howard, resting a cold hand on the man's stomach. Howard took a moment to marvel at the fact that both of them were able to actually fit, without either falling to the floor, before leaping up and off the musty furniture, gawking blearily down at the kid. Vince stared up at him, sleep in his eyes as well, and looking more than a tad put off by Howard's flight attempt.

'The kid's mental. Remember that, Moon. You let a mental person into your house.'

Drawing in a shaky breath, Howard made some obtuse motion at the kid that even he didn't understand, and relinquished the sofa to the boy. With stiff movements, Howard lay down on the sleeping bag and jerked the cover over himself. As sleep took him once more he knew that if the kid tried to join him down there he'd be sleeping from the ceiling tonight.

As the memory flooded over Howard, he felt the back of his neck grow hot. Standing up, Howard was gratified to see that the kid had kept to himself on the damn couch. What the hell possessed the child to crawl all over him like a crab in the night was beyond his reckoning. Stark raving bonkers, that boy was. Howard had almost forgotten. And now he was in his home; he knew where he lived, where he worked.

'Ah hell, Howard. What have you gone and done to yourself!?'

Raking a hand through his hair, the disheveled man stumbled into the small kitchen, fighting off his headache long enough to make something to eat. He needed to have it cut, Howard thought idly about his hair, it was growing down his neck. Soon he'd look as much like a girl as the kid! Heaving a short laugh at that mental image, Howard set to work putting the tea on and cooking up some waffles. He just barely remembered to cook more than the usual so as to have enough for the kid.

Howard, plate in hand, stood before the couch, where he usually ate breakfast. Seeing as it was commandeered, Howard had to make due once more with the floor. He had just set his cup down when he heard the duvet being pushed aside and the couch cushions groan as Vince pushed himself up, roused by the scent of food.

Sensing that Vince was looking down at him, Howard picked up his fork and stated in an even tone, "Your plate's in the kitchen."

He felt Vince's eyes tunnel holes into the back of his head for a full minute before the kid rose and went around the corner, leaving Howard to breath and finally be able to actually eat. Now that he thought about it...Howard quickly picked up his tea mug and set it on the small end table beside the couch, planting himself firmly on one side, plate on his lap, and ate his waffles with a battle-like determination.

He was two bites in when Vince plopped down next to him on the other end of the sofa, thankfully not as near as Howard had feared. One thing certainly hadn't changed; the child ate like a starving animal! His food and milk was gone before Howard was halfway through his own plate. Getting up once more, Howard listened as Vince put his dishes into the sink, for Howard to have to wash later.

Setting down once more, Vince kept his distance from Howard, regarding him as one might look upon a spooked animal. Howard felt quite like a caged animal at this point. He had to get out of there; out of the Lodge. Hell, he'd buy a one-way ticket to outer space if it were offered to him.

Finishing his breakfast, Howard choked down his tea and mutely went into the kitchen. Practically throwing the crockery into the sink, Howard proceeded to struggle into his shoes and march out the door into the bright Sunday morning. Bright. Too bright. Howard really didn't think his escape through. His attempt to flee brought to a screeching halt as the ache behind his eyes sharpened into daggers at the glare of the sun.

Putting a hand over his tired eyes, Howard just wanted his couch back. Standing under the shelter of the overhang, he huffed in frustration. Turning on his heel, he stomped noisily back into the hut, closing the door behind him and, eyes still shut, using sheer memory to guide him back to his spot on the couch.

"...Why aren't you in school? Or back in Mitcham?"

"It's summer hols."

Oh. Right. "So what are you doing out here?"

"Well, The Cure had a performance at the Wimbledon theatre. Leroy and I've been savin' up for tickets. He drove us here, and we were stayin' at a little hotel just down the road."

"So why didn't you go back to your hotel room last night?"

"Cause I wanted to go home with you."

Opening his eyes, Howard stared at the black screen of the television.

"You never told me why you didn't contact me at all. If you weren't mad at me, why didn't you write, or call."

"...I kinda lost your address."

"What."

There was that flashing word again. Howard couldn't believe it. He really couldn't believe it. All this time. All these years. And he never heard from the kid again because...because he lost the address he'd left him in the letter!? The kid seemed to have gotten more dense as he aged, if that were even possible. Howard felt laughter building up inside him, but fought it down. Instead, he turned to the kid and stated in as an authorative tone as he could muster, "I think you should go back to your friend now."

"Wot! Why!?"

"Because I have a blazing headache and you're making it worse. And I need to sleep."

"Then go to sleep, no one's stoppin' you."

"Vince. Go."

The kid stared at him incredulously, and Howard thought for a moment that he'd refuse. But with a dramatic sigh, as if he were doing this only to humor Howard, Vince got up from the sofa and made his way brusquely out the door, closing it softly behind him.

And that was it. The boy was gone; finally gone. Howard's eyes closed once more as he lay down on the couch, almost instantly out.

Thank god it was Sunday.

Wednesday night found Howard carting groceries in one hand and fishing for his pass with the other as he made his way to the Zooniverse gates. Graham stood there for over two minutes looking from Howard's pass up to his face, then at the pass, then back up at Howard again. Finally he seemed to grudgingly accept Howard's identity as an employee of the zoo, and opened the gate for him.

Stepping into the hut, Howard set down his bags, putting away the milk and other food items. The soft melody of strumming guitar strings soothed Howard's overworked mind, and he leaned onto the countertop, closing his eyes and feeling relaxed.

Hold up. Guitar strings?

Standing rigid, Howard walked two steps, coming around the corner and out of the kitchen. How had he missed him?

Sitting on the couch was none other than Vince Noir, child from hell, playing out small tunes on a very beautiful acoustic guitar. Yanking his eyes from the instrument, Howard placed his hands on his hips, moving over to stand in front of Vince, who halted his fingers across the strings and looked up with a smirk playing about his face.

"What are you doing in here? The zoo's closed. How'd you even get past the gate?"

"Oh. That security bloke, he remembered me. Let me right in."

"Right."

Howard made a mental note to jab Graham with his electrical baton the next time he saw him.

Dropping his arms and admitting defeat, Howard slouched down onto the sofa beside Vince, who seemed content enough to just watch him.

Yes; there was definitely something different about Vince. He had sensed it outside the pub that night, and felt it sharply now. Some way in which the boy held himself. Some alien aura radiating off of him, coming out in the way he kept looking at Howard. It was different, and Howard didn't like it. Didn't like it at all. He gestured at the new guitar.

"What's that then? Taking up lessons?"

"No. It's for you, actually. Surprise."

"Uh, no, Vince. Th...this is too much. It's not even my birthday. It's too expensive-"

"Really, I bought it just for you! Yesterday. I finally found one I thought you'd like. Spent all the rest of my money and then some!"

Vince had bought him a new guitar? Had searched until he found one he knew Howard would like? Had spent all his money on it? And then some? Why was the room tilting?

"Howard?"

"Um. Thanks. Thank you...very much, Vince. This really means a lot."

Vince smiled at that and placed the guitar on Howard's lap. Howard took up the instrument and admired it, running his hands over the wood finish. Fingers finding their place on the strings by ingrained instinct, Howard played out a short melody, to test the strings. They all seemed to be tuned perfectly. Vince lightly clapped his hands once, folding his legs underneath him and giving Howard an expectant look.

"Well? Sing us a song!"

"Uh, I'm not really good at singing. Why don't I just pl-"

"No no no! C'mon, lemme hear you sing! Here, how 'bout I start, yeah, and we just make it up as we go along."

Before Howard could protest, Vince sucked in a shallow breath and opened his mouth. Howard braced himself for the high screechy notes once belted out over coloring pages and hospital sheets. What came out of the child was a deep, almost solemn sound, and Howard was taken by how lovely the boy could sound when he wanted to.

"Are we to be married on the morrow, my child, or will I always be alone?"

Howard began playing a simple tune to match Vince, but he offered no additional vocals. Vince sat in silence, eyes closed and head tilted slightly back, as if waiting for Howard to join in with his voice as well as the acoustic. When he got nothing, he breathed a short sigh through his nose and continued on himself.

"Are we to be together, forever and a day, or will life always be this way?"

The word's came unbidden to Howard's mind as the notes became more elaborate. Silence stretched once more, and when it looked as if Vince wouldn't continue this time without Howard's contribution, Howard opened his mouth and just let the words flow from his mind and onto his lips.

"Because I dreamed of a hedge where you laid your head; the grass was red. The seagull screamed-"

"What can it mean?"

"-Was it just a dream?"

"Am I too obscene for your eyes? Are we to be married on the morrow, my child, or will life always be this way..."

Nothing more was sang, and Howard's fingers slowed to a stop over the strings. Vince seemed to have much more to sing, repeatedly filling his lungs deeply only to let the air back out again in slow breaths. His eyes buzzed with words Howard could only guess at as he looked over at the man, a not-quite-smile on his face.

Howard felt genuinely happy for the first time in far too long. He had a new, gorgeous acoustic, and he had sang for the first time in over ten years, and hadn't died from embarrassment!

The ease and relaxation was blasted away when Vince scooted closer, practically up against him. His eyes moved up and down Howard's face, settling finally on his eyes. No trace of a smile was on his face this time. Instead, he looked quite serious for once.

"You have a really pretty voice. You should've sang for me sooner."

He spoke in a tone just above a whisper, sending gooseflesh along Howard's arms. Vince swallowed suddenly, and leaned forward, his face moving closer to Howard's; alarmingly close. Red lights flashed, and Howard fumbled with the guitar, leaning quickly away. Vince just laughed lightly and drew away smoothly, leaving Howard leant sideways over the arm of the sofa, guitar clutched in his arms like a shield.

The differences in this kid were scaring him. Howard wasn't dense; he knew what was going on here. Sensed it coming off the kid in waves. Vince was flirting with him.

Howard's mind redacted that statement.

There was no way his brain would accept that bit of information. Even with Vince grinning like a cheshire cat and sending him sideways glances.

'Fuck.'

He had to put some distance between himself and this boy who was no longer the boy he knew and was no longer even a boy! He was an undiscovered species of undetermined gender. The pink-coated child of Howard's dreams was gone. This was his shell he'd left behind, and it was hitting on him.

Standing up, Howard walked to the far end of the room, to the dresser that held his few clothes, record player resting atop, and gently leaned the guitar against its side. He really was grateful for the gift. He was touched that Vince had not only recalled breaking his old one, but had gone out an bought him a brand new guitar to surprise him with. He supposed he owed the kid something.

Walking over to Vince, who was now standing as well, Howard hesitated for a fraction of a second before loosely wrapping his arms around the child's shoulders. It was an awkward embrace, and Howard was just glad Vince made no motion. Just stood silently and let Howard have his two-second-hug and then take a few steps away.

The kid left soon after, but not before writing Leroy's phone number onto a stray piece of paper Howard had lying around. At Howard's questioning look, he had explained that he didn't want Howard phoning his own house, which really just opened more questions. He also had Howard write the number to the little phone he had set up on a table in the Lodge. Pocketing the folded paper, Vince left with a cheeky grin and a promise to ring him.

A full hour later and Howard still felt winded. Sitting on the couch, staring unseeing at the daytime show playing out on the little television.

(If you're thinking this is going to be a romance fic, I'd like to direct you back to the author's section of the first chapter. And if you're incredibly confused, don't worry, so's Howard.

Reviews are read with much grinning and squealing, thanks!)