And a special prize to the person who picks the random Doctor Who reference. Enjoy.
The kiss was the gentlest Vince had ever experienced, probably because Howard was completely out of it, but it just felt so right, like his lips were made for kissing Howard's. So perfect, so right... until Howard ruined it by waking up and lurching forward so that their foreheads cracked together painfully.
"Ow! Howard!"
"Hey! Woah now. What were you doing? You can't do that to man when he's unconscious."
"But, Howard I -"
"I thought we talked about this, decided it wasn't the right time."
Vince felt a sudden rush of rage sweep through him. How dare Howard come back from the dead and remind him of the most humiliating moment of his life. He'd had to put up with Shoreditch trendies gossiping about him getting ditched by a Jazz Freak for a whole month after that incident. Not to mention the devastation of the dumping itself. This was... this was an outrage.
"No, Howard," he yelled stumbling back and falling back onto the grass a few feet away.
"You talked about it! I didn't get a choice. And anyway, that was then. The timing's different now, surely?"
"You don't mean this, Vince. It's just the adrenaline talking."
"Adrenaline can't talk, Howard, it's a chemical reaction."
"Vince, please?"
Vince sighed and looked at his boots. Chucked by Howard again. At least this time there was no one around to witness his shame.
"I only did it 'cos that's what people do in movies to bring back other people who look like they're dead."
Even though it came out as a mumble Vince was sure that Howard heard him.
The silence stretched out between them until Vince thought it might snap and lash them both in the face.
"You thought I was dead?"
It wasn't what Vince was expecting and he answered without thinking.
"Yeah, again. It was horrible."
"Oh, Vince... Thank you for saving me then."
"You're welcome. Thanks for saving me in Armageddon and all."
"Don't mention it little man."
Vince nodded. Things had just gone beyond awkward and into... stupid brain incapable of thinking of synonyms!
Vince lay back in the wet grass with a huff just as it started to rain again. Brilliant, he thought. Just brilliant. Valentines Day couldn't get any worse.
"So... back in Plunkett and Macleane I see."
"Mm-hmm."
Howard shuffled over.
"Still raining."
"Mm-hmm."
"I suppose all the movie action's happening elsewhere right now, eh? Else this'd be one boring film, eh?"
"You chose it. What d'you expect?"
"Ouch."
"Sorry."
Vince rolled onto his side so Howard wouldn't see his face. He hated getting depressed in front of Howard, it messed with their dynamic. And he didn't want Howard to see that he was still upset at being turned down. Again. He just wanted to go home and curl up on the sofa with a blanket, a mug of hot chocolate a good cartoon.
"Yep, pretty quiet round-"
Howard stood up suddenly and began to walk away, calling over his shoulder before Vince could even register the change in pace.
"Vince! Vince, come on, hurry!"
Vince got up swiftly and immediately heard the tell tale crunch of wheels, jangle of harness and clumping of hooves in mud that signaled the approach a movie coach. A second later it rounded a bend in the road and Howard was already there, blocking its path and waving his arms. The coach came to a stop mere inches from him, the driver swearing loudly while the horses reared and rolled their eyes. Vince didn't blame them. Howard's chest was heaving from his run across the field and his clothes were drenched and covered in mud. He looked more than a little crazy. He was also talking loudly and as he moved around to the window of the coach Vince saw him pull the remote from his pocket and waggle it about.
Oh dear, he thought.
Within the carriage a woman screamed and someone began to yell.
"A highwayman! Help!"
"Shoot the brute, quick!"
Vince began to run.
"Oh, Howard," he muttered as he felt his chest burn at the exertion. "Why couldn't you just stick with me? Now we're going to get killed again."
He skidded to a stop beside Howard just in time to hear another woman scream:
"Eek! There's two of them! Highwaymen trying to ravish us! Get the pistols."
"Bollocks!" was all he managed to say before a pistol was shoved before his nose and the film cut to another commercial.
...
"Bollocks indeed," muttered Naboo, surrounded by a mess of wires, spell books and open tool boxes.
"Bollo! Where's that laser spanner we nicked off Emily Pankhurst?"
"I'm looking for it! I'm going as fast as I can!"
"Well look faster! Those two idiots are about to get themselves strung up by the roadside if we don't get this thing working!"