Enigma Variations, 16: The Fragile Substance Of My Soul
Title: Enigma Variations, 16/?:
Summary: Naboo comes to the rescue, but he doesn’t find it easy
Rating: R for language, drugs, a spot of blood
Warnings: tiny bit of self-harm if you squint
Spoilers: Somebody has to rethink some basic principles
Length: about 2300 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I just borrow them to play with now and again (and again and again and again). For twisted love, not for profit
Notes: Huge thanks to everybody who’s still reading! We are sort-of winding up the second part of this epic although I plan to indulge myself in at least one chapter of morning-after-ness before Bollo gets home…
Enigma Variations
16 The Fragile Substance Of My Soul
“Don’t kill us,” Howard whimpers.
Saboo flourishes the sword with evident relish. “Give me one good reason why not.”
“We’ve got so much to give…”
“I said a good reason, you pillock. You’ve got nothing.”
This looks bad. Again. Vince prepares to throw himself on top of Howard, to protect him.
“I’ll give you a good reason,” a hoarse voice lisps.
Saboo doesn’t even bother to turn his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I think you do, actually.”
Saboo taps his foot impatiently. “Well?”
“These people’re important to me.”
“Not good enough.”
“Lemme finish.” Naboo comes shakily forward, putting himself between Saboo and the bed. “They saved my life, and if you hurt them -”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Saboo sneers, towering over him. The blade glistens. Howard squeaks again, and Vince would, too, only his voice isn’t working any more. He hangs on tight to Howard’s hand, and waits to hear whether what Naboo’s about to say will make any difference…
The tiny shaman is holding himself very straight, his slender, naked body looking pale and fragile in the too-bright electric light. His voice is barely louder than the drone of the fan heater, but there’s no doubt he means every word.
“What I’ll do is, I’ll turn my back on you once and for all.”
“Huh. You’d never be able to.”
“Would too.”
“Oh, no. You wouldn’t last a decade without me. Crunch or no crunch, you’d come crawling back, begging for it…”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Naboo sounds so tired, so hopeless; it tears at Vince’s heart. “I’d turn my back on everything. On life. Just shut down, an’ go into the void.”
“You’ve gone wrong.” Saboo’s lip curls. “These - these humans matter that much to you?”
“No. Well, yeah, but that’s not why I’d do it.”
“I’m sorry, you have totally lost me there. Explain yourself.”
“It’s very simple. If you harm Vince’n’Howard, I’ll never be able to forgive you, an’ then I know you an’ I will never get back together, an’…” Naboo turns his head away. “I won’t want to carry on, knowing that.”
Saboo seems suddenly at a loss. He lowers the blade, and the look on his face is almost puzzled. Almost hopeful. Almost as though he’s feeling something that isn’t scornful or angry or mean. And when he speaks, his voice is softer and less certain than Vince has ever heard it.
“Little one… You mean you…”
“Actually give a toss? Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Saboo looks shattered. “When…?”
“Don’t you know?”
There is a short silence. Vince holds his breath, waiting to see whether Saboo will pass the test he’s just been set.
“The wire,” Saboo says.
It makes no sense, but it seems to have been the right answer; Naboo is nodding, although he’s still not looking at his adversary. “The wire.” He fingers the thin scars around his wrist. “S’pose I should’ve told you. I didn’t wanna rock the boat an’ make you piss off for good.”
“But I… I thought you said you didn’t need me.”
“I did say that, yeah. An’ it’s true. But it don’t mean that I don’t want you. Three hundred years I’ve put up with bein’ pushed around by you, an’ you’ve never even liked me. At the beginnin’ I didn’t know any better, maybe… but I’m still here, aren’t I? Still puttin’ up with it. Still hopin’ that one day you might start to feel a bit the same way.” He heaves an exhausted sigh. “But you don’t.”
“But I do.” Saboo’s voice is a broken whisper. The sword falls from his hand, thudding onto the carpet and somehow magically missing Naboo’s bare toes. “Little one, I do…”
Naboo turns his head, very slowly, to look Saboo in the face. “Fuck me, you do, don’t you?”
Saboo nods, unable to speak.
Naboo’s tense shoulders relax. “Well, at least now we’ve got somethin’ to go on. Somewhere to start again.” Saboo reaches out to him, but he backs away. “No, not here, an’ not now. I’ve been through the crunch, an’ we’ve got an audience, an’… you’ll have to give me some time, yeah?”
Shaking from head to foot, Saboo turns away. “OK. I… need to go and rethink some basic principles.”
“Yeah, you do. See you ’round,” Naboo says, casually.
Saboo opens his mouth as if to say something, but then thinks better of it. There is a sharp ‘crack’ and he dematerialises, leaving behind a few stray feathers and a faint smell of mothballs.
“Bloody hell,” Howard whispers.
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that either.” Vince’s legs have gone all wobbly with relief.
Naboo makes a small, broken sound and crumples to his knees, staring at the sword that’s still lying on the floor. Vince gets out of bed as fast as he can for the wobbliness; crouches beside him. “Naboo? It’s OK, it’s gonna be OK now.”
A small voice says: “Shit, I wish Bollo was here.”
“You’ll have to make do with us.”
“Sorry, I din’t mean -”
Vince puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know. Bollo knows how to take care of you, and we’re just guessin’.”
“You’ve been brilliant,” Naboo says absently, running a finger up the sword-hilt.
“Leave that - it can’t hurt you now. Come back to bed. Come an’ have a sleepy, an’ we’ll sort it all in the morning.” Vince gets to his feet, and reaches down to help Naboo up, too.
But Naboo isn’t listening.
“I never even let him touch me,” he whispers, and before Vince can stop him, he has closed his hand around the blade; blood seeps between his knuckles and drips onto the carpet.
Vince feels faint and sick.
“No.” Howard is there, his big hands very gentle as they prise Naboo’s fingers open. “Don’t do this, Naboo, it won’t help, believe me. That’s it, just let it go. Let it go… Vince, can you…?”
Shuddering a little, Vince takes the sword by the handle and puts it out of Naboo’s sight, on the table.
“That’s better.” Howard holds Naboo’s wrists firmly; the little alien struggles and then gives in, sobbing. “It’s all right,” Howard murmurs, holding him. “It’s only a scratch. Let’s just put this round it, till it stops. See? Easily fixed.”
Vince is close to tears himself as he sits down again beside the two of them. The damage to Naboo’s heart is going to take a lot more fixing.
“I shouldn’t have sent him away,” Naboo chokes. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if he decides…”
“Why would he?” Howard strokes slow, soothing circles across Naboo’s shaking shoulders. “You both know where you stand now, you’ve done the hardest part, and you didn’t have any magic to help you.”
“Three - hundred - years. And he never - said anything…” Naboo buries his face in Vince’s neck.
Vince holds him close. Poor little sod, he’s had the mother of all bad days and then life-saving, earth-shattering sex and now this… and he’s all sweaty, the room’s way too hot now.
“Howard, can you reach the plug? I don’t think we need the heater any more.”
Howard flips the switch, and the background hum stops abruptly.
Naboo lies on the floor with his head on Vince’s knees and cries and cries until he’s limp and soggy and completely knackered.
Vince passes him tissues and strokes his hair; Howard sits beside him with a hand on his shoulder.
Eventually the sobs die away and there is just a deep shuddering sigh every now and then, or a little moan of total miserableness.
Vince wipes away the last of the tears and chucks the wet hankie in the vague direction of the bin. He strokes Naboo’s cheek with a fingertip. “Is that it?”
Naboo sniffs. “S’pose so. For now anyway.”
“How can we help?” Howard asks. “Is there, you know, anything that would make you feel better?”
The shaman’s dark eyes flicker open. “Don’t laugh, but you know what? I could really do with a nice cup of tea.”
Between them they wrap him in Vince’s dressing gown, help him through to the lounge and put him down on the sofa. Howard starts bustling about in the kitchen, making tea and toast; Vince sits with Naboo, holding his hand.
“You wanna talk?” he asks tentatively, after a while.
“No.” Naboo turns on him savagely. “Don’t fucking wanna talk about it. Don’t wanna feel it - any of it. I can’t…”
Vince remembers what he said earlier. About being third-gender being like having no skin. “I know what you need.”
“You know nothing. Just shut up an’ leave me alone, can’t bear it, talking’s not gonna help, makes it worse, ’s all going round in my head, I don’t know how to…” Naboo buries his face in his hands and groans.
“Tea’s on its way,” Howard says, sounding worried.
“I think we’re gonna need somethin’ a bit stronger, actually.” Vince pats Naboo on the shoulder, and goes to rummage in the cupboard over the sink. “Here we go… Now let’s just get some water in there, an’ we’re ready to rumble.”
He puts the lit hookah carefully down on the coffee table; takes a drag to get it going. “Blimey, I need this, even if you don’t, but actually I think you do…”
Naboo glares at him, but takes the mouthpiece and breathes in deep, the bubbles gurgling inside the vessel. He holds his breath a long moment, then blows the smoke at the ceiling and looks at Vince, a bit shamefaced. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry I had a go at you.”
“Don’t matter, you were hurtin’ an’ I was bein’ an annoyin’ prat. I’m good at that.”
“Among other things…” Naboo takes another deep lungful, and relaxes against the cushions.
Vince looks over his shoulder as he takes the pipe back from Naboo. “Howard, you joinin’ us?”
“I don’t usually…” Howard looks dubious. Illicit substances aren’t really his cup of tea. A cup of tea is more Howard’s cup of tea…
Vince giggles, already light-headed. “Tonight ain’t usual.”
“You’re right there, little man.” Howard puts down a tray laden with three steaming mugs of tea, a teetering pile of toast, a jar of Nutella and one of Naboo’s bottles of magical tonic.
“Howard, you’re a genius, an’ I love you.” Vince blows him a kiss.
“Doesn’t take much, does it?” Howard grins. “If only I’d realised, I’d have started making you toast at four in the morning years ago…”
He sits down on Naboo’s other side, wincing a little.
“Cheers,” Naboo says quietly, passing Howard the mouthpiece and reaching for the bottle so that he can reinforce his tea with a generous dollop of evil-looking purple goop.
Howard coughs a bit at the first taste of the dope; Naboo’s preferred blend is a powerful one. But he wipes his eyes and tries again, and seems to quite like it. At any rate, he goes all relaxed and mellow, the pupils of his eyes blown wide. He sips his tea and stares at the black and white sofa pattern for a while, then reaches around behind Naboo and starts playing with Vince’s hair and singing softly to himself. “Ba-ba-dee boo-boop, skiddly diddley boo-wop - Ow!”
“Oi,” Vince says, kicking him in the ankle a second time just to make sure the message has got through. “You know the house rules. No scatting at breakfast time.”
“Ooo, is it breakfast time? I’m ravenous.” To Vince’s relief, by the time the jazz maverick’s finished his fourth slice of Nutella-slathered toast he’s forgotten all about the music and is entranced by the wallpaper instead.
Actually that wallpaper’s pretty genius. Look at it, all black and white and swimming around. Never really seen it properly before. Ought to do a painting of that sometime.
And there’s the moon through the window, and some stars, all shiny, and Naboo’s hair is all shiny too and so soft, the softest thing Vince has ever felt, and now Howard is stroking it too and the little shaman’s rolling his eyes and probably thinking they’re a couple of ballbags but he looks so comfy all curled up between them and he’s smiling too, they’re all smiling, this is even better than that time with the yetis…
“I love you, little man,” Howard mumbles.
“Sssh. Naboo’s asleep.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I am,” Howard says, and about three seconds later it’s true.
“Knew one of us was.” Vince shuts his eyes too, or rather stops trying to keep them open.
“Vince?” Naboo murmurs, nuzzling into Vince’s neck.
“Mmm?”
“You can both take the rest of the day off. Tell the big man when he wakes up again.”
“Are you high?”
Naboo laughs softly. “Yeah. Still givin’ you the day off though. You’ve earned it.”
“Thanks, boss. Hey, I’m glad we were there when it came to the crunch.”
“Me too.” Naboo tilts his face up to Vince’s and kisses him, tasting of chocolate.
His smoke-scented hair is soft against Vince’s cheek as Vince follows him into dreamless sleep.
The Moon looks through the window at the three of them, all snuggled up in a tangled heap, and starts to sing.
“There were three in a bed, and the little one said, fuck off, big man with sword, there ain’t room for four…
“There were three on the floor, and the middle one said, let’s sit on the sofa and light up a smoker…
“There were three on the sofa, and the big one said, have a cuppa tea an’, er, some toast for me… and they all rolled over and fell asleep…”
He grins benignly. “Not a fuckin’ clue what’s going on there. I’m the Moon.”
Summary: Naboo comes to the rescue, but he doesn’t find it easy
Rating: R for language, drugs, a spot of blood
Warnings: tiny bit of self-harm if you squint
Spoilers: Somebody has to rethink some basic principles
Length: about 2300 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I just borrow them to play with now and again (and again and again and again). For twisted love, not for profit
Notes: Huge thanks to everybody who’s still reading! We are sort-of winding up the second part of this epic although I plan to indulge myself in at least one chapter of morning-after-ness before Bollo gets home…
Enigma Variations
16 The Fragile Substance Of My Soul
“Don’t kill us,” Howard whimpers.
Saboo flourishes the sword with evident relish. “Give me one good reason why not.”
“We’ve got so much to give…”
“I said a good reason, you pillock. You’ve got nothing.”
This looks bad. Again. Vince prepares to throw himself on top of Howard, to protect him.
“I’ll give you a good reason,” a hoarse voice lisps.
Saboo doesn’t even bother to turn his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I think you do, actually.”
Saboo taps his foot impatiently. “Well?”
“These people’re important to me.”
“Not good enough.”
“Lemme finish.” Naboo comes shakily forward, putting himself between Saboo and the bed. “They saved my life, and if you hurt them -”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Saboo sneers, towering over him. The blade glistens. Howard squeaks again, and Vince would, too, only his voice isn’t working any more. He hangs on tight to Howard’s hand, and waits to hear whether what Naboo’s about to say will make any difference…
The tiny shaman is holding himself very straight, his slender, naked body looking pale and fragile in the too-bright electric light. His voice is barely louder than the drone of the fan heater, but there’s no doubt he means every word.
“What I’ll do is, I’ll turn my back on you once and for all.”
“Huh. You’d never be able to.”
“Would too.”
“Oh, no. You wouldn’t last a decade without me. Crunch or no crunch, you’d come crawling back, begging for it…”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Naboo sounds so tired, so hopeless; it tears at Vince’s heart. “I’d turn my back on everything. On life. Just shut down, an’ go into the void.”
“You’ve gone wrong.” Saboo’s lip curls. “These - these humans matter that much to you?”
“No. Well, yeah, but that’s not why I’d do it.”
“I’m sorry, you have totally lost me there. Explain yourself.”
“It’s very simple. If you harm Vince’n’Howard, I’ll never be able to forgive you, an’ then I know you an’ I will never get back together, an’…” Naboo turns his head away. “I won’t want to carry on, knowing that.”
Saboo seems suddenly at a loss. He lowers the blade, and the look on his face is almost puzzled. Almost hopeful. Almost as though he’s feeling something that isn’t scornful or angry or mean. And when he speaks, his voice is softer and less certain than Vince has ever heard it.
“Little one… You mean you…”
“Actually give a toss? Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Saboo looks shattered. “When…?”
“Don’t you know?”
There is a short silence. Vince holds his breath, waiting to see whether Saboo will pass the test he’s just been set.
“The wire,” Saboo says.
It makes no sense, but it seems to have been the right answer; Naboo is nodding, although he’s still not looking at his adversary. “The wire.” He fingers the thin scars around his wrist. “S’pose I should’ve told you. I didn’t wanna rock the boat an’ make you piss off for good.”
“But I… I thought you said you didn’t need me.”
“I did say that, yeah. An’ it’s true. But it don’t mean that I don’t want you. Three hundred years I’ve put up with bein’ pushed around by you, an’ you’ve never even liked me. At the beginnin’ I didn’t know any better, maybe… but I’m still here, aren’t I? Still puttin’ up with it. Still hopin’ that one day you might start to feel a bit the same way.” He heaves an exhausted sigh. “But you don’t.”
“But I do.” Saboo’s voice is a broken whisper. The sword falls from his hand, thudding onto the carpet and somehow magically missing Naboo’s bare toes. “Little one, I do…”
Naboo turns his head, very slowly, to look Saboo in the face. “Fuck me, you do, don’t you?”
Saboo nods, unable to speak.
Naboo’s tense shoulders relax. “Well, at least now we’ve got somethin’ to go on. Somewhere to start again.” Saboo reaches out to him, but he backs away. “No, not here, an’ not now. I’ve been through the crunch, an’ we’ve got an audience, an’… you’ll have to give me some time, yeah?”
Shaking from head to foot, Saboo turns away. “OK. I… need to go and rethink some basic principles.”
“Yeah, you do. See you ’round,” Naboo says, casually.
Saboo opens his mouth as if to say something, but then thinks better of it. There is a sharp ‘crack’ and he dematerialises, leaving behind a few stray feathers and a faint smell of mothballs.
“Bloody hell,” Howard whispers.
“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that either.” Vince’s legs have gone all wobbly with relief.
Naboo makes a small, broken sound and crumples to his knees, staring at the sword that’s still lying on the floor. Vince gets out of bed as fast as he can for the wobbliness; crouches beside him. “Naboo? It’s OK, it’s gonna be OK now.”
A small voice says: “Shit, I wish Bollo was here.”
“You’ll have to make do with us.”
“Sorry, I din’t mean -”
Vince puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know. Bollo knows how to take care of you, and we’re just guessin’.”
“You’ve been brilliant,” Naboo says absently, running a finger up the sword-hilt.
“Leave that - it can’t hurt you now. Come back to bed. Come an’ have a sleepy, an’ we’ll sort it all in the morning.” Vince gets to his feet, and reaches down to help Naboo up, too.
But Naboo isn’t listening.
“I never even let him touch me,” he whispers, and before Vince can stop him, he has closed his hand around the blade; blood seeps between his knuckles and drips onto the carpet.
Vince feels faint and sick.
“No.” Howard is there, his big hands very gentle as they prise Naboo’s fingers open. “Don’t do this, Naboo, it won’t help, believe me. That’s it, just let it go. Let it go… Vince, can you…?”
Shuddering a little, Vince takes the sword by the handle and puts it out of Naboo’s sight, on the table.
“That’s better.” Howard holds Naboo’s wrists firmly; the little alien struggles and then gives in, sobbing. “It’s all right,” Howard murmurs, holding him. “It’s only a scratch. Let’s just put this round it, till it stops. See? Easily fixed.”
Vince is close to tears himself as he sits down again beside the two of them. The damage to Naboo’s heart is going to take a lot more fixing.
“I shouldn’t have sent him away,” Naboo chokes. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if he decides…”
“Why would he?” Howard strokes slow, soothing circles across Naboo’s shaking shoulders. “You both know where you stand now, you’ve done the hardest part, and you didn’t have any magic to help you.”
“Three - hundred - years. And he never - said anything…” Naboo buries his face in Vince’s neck.
Vince holds him close. Poor little sod, he’s had the mother of all bad days and then life-saving, earth-shattering sex and now this… and he’s all sweaty, the room’s way too hot now.
“Howard, can you reach the plug? I don’t think we need the heater any more.”
Howard flips the switch, and the background hum stops abruptly.
Naboo lies on the floor with his head on Vince’s knees and cries and cries until he’s limp and soggy and completely knackered.
Vince passes him tissues and strokes his hair; Howard sits beside him with a hand on his shoulder.
Eventually the sobs die away and there is just a deep shuddering sigh every now and then, or a little moan of total miserableness.
Vince wipes away the last of the tears and chucks the wet hankie in the vague direction of the bin. He strokes Naboo’s cheek with a fingertip. “Is that it?”
Naboo sniffs. “S’pose so. For now anyway.”
“How can we help?” Howard asks. “Is there, you know, anything that would make you feel better?”
The shaman’s dark eyes flicker open. “Don’t laugh, but you know what? I could really do with a nice cup of tea.”
Between them they wrap him in Vince’s dressing gown, help him through to the lounge and put him down on the sofa. Howard starts bustling about in the kitchen, making tea and toast; Vince sits with Naboo, holding his hand.
“You wanna talk?” he asks tentatively, after a while.
“No.” Naboo turns on him savagely. “Don’t fucking wanna talk about it. Don’t wanna feel it - any of it. I can’t…”
Vince remembers what he said earlier. About being third-gender being like having no skin. “I know what you need.”
“You know nothing. Just shut up an’ leave me alone, can’t bear it, talking’s not gonna help, makes it worse, ’s all going round in my head, I don’t know how to…” Naboo buries his face in his hands and groans.
“Tea’s on its way,” Howard says, sounding worried.
“I think we’re gonna need somethin’ a bit stronger, actually.” Vince pats Naboo on the shoulder, and goes to rummage in the cupboard over the sink. “Here we go… Now let’s just get some water in there, an’ we’re ready to rumble.”
He puts the lit hookah carefully down on the coffee table; takes a drag to get it going. “Blimey, I need this, even if you don’t, but actually I think you do…”
Naboo glares at him, but takes the mouthpiece and breathes in deep, the bubbles gurgling inside the vessel. He holds his breath a long moment, then blows the smoke at the ceiling and looks at Vince, a bit shamefaced. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry I had a go at you.”
“Don’t matter, you were hurtin’ an’ I was bein’ an annoyin’ prat. I’m good at that.”
“Among other things…” Naboo takes another deep lungful, and relaxes against the cushions.
Vince looks over his shoulder as he takes the pipe back from Naboo. “Howard, you joinin’ us?”
“I don’t usually…” Howard looks dubious. Illicit substances aren’t really his cup of tea. A cup of tea is more Howard’s cup of tea…
Vince giggles, already light-headed. “Tonight ain’t usual.”
“You’re right there, little man.” Howard puts down a tray laden with three steaming mugs of tea, a teetering pile of toast, a jar of Nutella and one of Naboo’s bottles of magical tonic.
“Howard, you’re a genius, an’ I love you.” Vince blows him a kiss.
“Doesn’t take much, does it?” Howard grins. “If only I’d realised, I’d have started making you toast at four in the morning years ago…”
He sits down on Naboo’s other side, wincing a little.
“Cheers,” Naboo says quietly, passing Howard the mouthpiece and reaching for the bottle so that he can reinforce his tea with a generous dollop of evil-looking purple goop.
Howard coughs a bit at the first taste of the dope; Naboo’s preferred blend is a powerful one. But he wipes his eyes and tries again, and seems to quite like it. At any rate, he goes all relaxed and mellow, the pupils of his eyes blown wide. He sips his tea and stares at the black and white sofa pattern for a while, then reaches around behind Naboo and starts playing with Vince’s hair and singing softly to himself. “Ba-ba-dee boo-boop, skiddly diddley boo-wop - Ow!”
“Oi,” Vince says, kicking him in the ankle a second time just to make sure the message has got through. “You know the house rules. No scatting at breakfast time.”
“Ooo, is it breakfast time? I’m ravenous.” To Vince’s relief, by the time the jazz maverick’s finished his fourth slice of Nutella-slathered toast he’s forgotten all about the music and is entranced by the wallpaper instead.
Actually that wallpaper’s pretty genius. Look at it, all black and white and swimming around. Never really seen it properly before. Ought to do a painting of that sometime.
And there’s the moon through the window, and some stars, all shiny, and Naboo’s hair is all shiny too and so soft, the softest thing Vince has ever felt, and now Howard is stroking it too and the little shaman’s rolling his eyes and probably thinking they’re a couple of ballbags but he looks so comfy all curled up between them and he’s smiling too, they’re all smiling, this is even better than that time with the yetis…
“I love you, little man,” Howard mumbles.
“Sssh. Naboo’s asleep.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I am,” Howard says, and about three seconds later it’s true.
“Knew one of us was.” Vince shuts his eyes too, or rather stops trying to keep them open.
“Vince?” Naboo murmurs, nuzzling into Vince’s neck.
“Mmm?”
“You can both take the rest of the day off. Tell the big man when he wakes up again.”
“Are you high?”
Naboo laughs softly. “Yeah. Still givin’ you the day off though. You’ve earned it.”
“Thanks, boss. Hey, I’m glad we were there when it came to the crunch.”
“Me too.” Naboo tilts his face up to Vince’s and kisses him, tasting of chocolate.
His smoke-scented hair is soft against Vince’s cheek as Vince follows him into dreamless sleep.
The Moon looks through the window at the three of them, all snuggled up in a tangled heap, and starts to sing.
“There were three in a bed, and the little one said, fuck off, big man with sword, there ain’t room for four…
“There were three on the floor, and the middle one said, let’s sit on the sofa and light up a smoker…
“There were three on the sofa, and the big one said, have a cuppa tea an’, er, some toast for me… and they all rolled over and fell asleep…”
He grins benignly. “Not a fuckin’ clue what’s going on there. I’m the Moon.”