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It’s a deliciously warm spring morning, birds twittering gleefully outside of the window, and for once Vince is actually awake to see it. Howard has left him spread amongst their sheets; splayed like a marionette with his strings cut. His skin is touched softly by the light of the sun peeking through their bedroom curtains, seeping into his bones and heating him from the inside out.
He could get up. Could even make himself useful while his partner is gone, off to the shop down the road to get his morning paper and some fresh milk for their tea. Were Vince a different kind of person he may just have dragged himself from his nest and laid out their mugs ready for his return.
Thankfully for him and his penchant for a lie-in, Vince is in fact just Vince. Who chooses to use this time sunning himself like a cat in the small patch of direct sunlight he could find. It’s not like Howard would even mind, he certainly won’t expect Vince to do anything but lay prone until well afternoon.
The sound of their door swinging open downstairs breaks him from his light doze; Vince has never been good at telling time but he’s almost certain that Howard could not have made it all the way to the shop and back already.
That much is confirmed when the man himself pushes into their bedroom, face flushed with exertion and hurriedly slams the door shut behind him.
For a frantic moment, Vince fears something terrible has happened, it wouldn’t be the first time an incredibly innocent task turned misadventure on them. He starts gathering the sheet about himself, scrambling for his abandoned clothes. He freezes with his pyjama bottoms halfway up his legs, though, Howard having turned on him with his face painted crimson and an accusing finger outstretched.
“You!” He snaps. “You little tart.”
Vince is about to object, about to demand who exactly Howard thinks he is. That is until he catches on to the problem a lot faster than some would give him credit for.
“Oh my god.” He breathes around a giggle. One hand slapping to his mouth to stop the snickering lest it annoy his partner further.
Too late for that though. “Laugh it up now, giggly stevens.” He rumbles. “It won’t be so funny in a minute.”
“I highly doubt that,” Vince says, muffled by his own palm. Howard crosses to the full-length mirror mounted on the door to their wardrobe. Tilts his head to examine the damage. Vince can’t believe it. “The one day you don’t wear a rollneck, Howard.”
He can’t stop it any longer, he bursts into full-blown cackles as Howard pokes hesitantly at the darkened lovebite on his throat like it might just bite him back.
“Look at this, Vince!” The prodding of the offending mark continues. “What are you fifteen?”
“C’mon,” Vince goads when he can finally pull enough air into his lungs to reply. “You’re asking for it with all them clothes that come up to your chin. Perfect coverup that is.”
Howard spins on his heel to face him. “Evidently not!” He starts, voice raised in aggravation, but as he goes on he seems to lose momentum. Lands somewhere closer to embarrassment. “Got halfway to the shop before I even noticed. People were staring, you know, looking at me like I was some sort of northern pervert. Women covering their kid’s eyes and one bloke- One bloke must have thought it was an invitation cause he winked at me, Vince. Winked at me in a way nobody should ever wink at a stranger.“
Fighting it only goes so far; another bout of laughter tears from Vince’s throat.
“You better stop that giggling, little man, or I’ll come at you.”
This has the opposite of the desired effect. “It’s not that bad, Howard.”
“Not that bad?” Howard frowns. “I’m a respectable and distinguished man, Vince, I don’t get hickeys.”
“You’re really making a big deal out of nothing.” He insists.
“Easy for you to say.”
Affronted, Vince crosses his arms over his chest. “What does that mean!”
“Well look at you,” Howard waves a hand in his direction, barely managing to conceal his own smirk. Vince decides this is probably a good point to finish pulling his pyjamas on. “No one would bat an eye if you were the dishevelled one.”
Vince scoffs, high pitched with disbelief. “Well, that’s rude.”
“Not as rude as walking around with the evidence of our-…” Adorably, Howard cuts himself off. He looks around the room as if expecting someone other than the two of them to be there to hear all about his indiscretions. “Our lovemaking on my neck.”
Honestly, Vince wholly believes he could combust from how much he loves this man sometimes, his awkward tendencies and all. “You can call it sex, Howard.”
“I’m going to start calling it banned in a minute.”
"Enough of the sass!” He declares, amazed at his own ability to mix up a cocktail of mild irritation and heavy entertainment in his tone. “I’m tryin’ to help you out here.”
“Funny way of helping,” Howard grumbles. “Standing there looking pretty while I suffer the consequences of your mouth.”
And with that, any trace of Vince’s annoyance is wiped away. He’s a sucker for a compliment even if it is arguably a backhanded one. “Well I have to suffer the consequences of yours anytime you start talking so it seems only fair."
He doesn’t give him time to argue back. Grabbing gently for his elbow and leading him to sit on the bed. He knows how easily they can get lost in this; the back and forth of their banter. Howard once likened it to verbal sparring. Said it kept his mind fresh and active, like chatting with Vince was some kind of mental exercise.
Right now, though, he needs to fix Howard’s neck. Partly for his sake and mostly so he can alleviate some of his own guilt for putting the other man in an awkward position. If there’s anything Howard hates more than being thrust into the centre of attention unexpectedly, it’s when that attention is inherently negative. Even if he hadn’t meant it - that’s exactly where Vince had put him.
"I can cover it no problem.” He promises, digging around in his vanity table for his makeup bag.
It’s the work of five minutes really, what with the kind of professional standard makeup Vince keeps lying around for his everyday use. A spot of concealer and some blending and it’s good as new.
Stepping back to admire his work, he directs Howard to the mirror. “See, nothing a little makeup can’t fix.”
“Thank god for Vince Noir and his makeup collection.” Howard deadpans.
“Do you mind?” Vince huffs playfully. “I just fixed your problem for you.”
“A problem you created.” Howard reminds him, but the edges of his annoyance seem to be softening.
Vince grins at him in the reflection.
“Don’t think I’m going to let you get away with doing that all the time just because you know how to cover it up,” Howard warns. “I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
“What, the untouched virgin?”
Howard narrows his eyes. “Now who’s being sassy.”
Vince catches his tongue between his canines. Smirks a little sinful at him. “You gonna come at me now?”
Howard’s lupine smile seems to say it all. He steps closer, tender finger reaching out to brush strands of uncombed hair away from his forehead. Vince holds his breath, tilts his head back to stare up at Howard expectantly. The other man starts to dip his head, Vince lets his lids droop half-closed - and then there’s a gust of air as Howard takes one large step back with his lanky giraffe legs.
He snorts inelegantly and heads straight for the bedroom door. “I’ve got to go and get the milk.”
Then he’s gone.