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booshslashhavenTitle: Enigma Variations, 24/?: The Chronicle of Wasted Time
Summary: Howard makes yet more tea
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: a little bit of first aid, the odd mention of a certain pink alien…
Spoilers: It begins and ends in tears
Length: about 1200 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: Don’t blame me, it’s all![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pussywhang’s fault, she put a certain idea into my head in a comment so I had to engineer this whole scenario just so that a certain pair could… well, we’ll see…
24 The Chronicle of Wasted Time
Howard picks up the mug of tea and takes it over to the slumped shaman on the sofa.
“What was that all about?”
Still tearful, Saboo takes the cup, and looks at him over the rim. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t want – ”
“Vince was right. This is Naboo we’re talking about. We… we owe him a lot. We’d do anything. I wish Vince had realised I wouldn’t have tried to stop him.”
“You know what he’s going to try to do, don’t you?”
Howard sighs, and sits down. “Yes.”
“It’s Harrison’s one big weakness. Pretty humans.”
“So you came back here to persuade Vince to…” Howard can’t say it.
Saboo looks away, shamefaced. “We came back together. Tony said it was the only thing that might make him want to get involved. And I was clutching at straws… but when I got up here, I wouldn’t have said anything, if Vince hadn’t worked it out.”
“He won’t… hurt him?” Howard swallows hard.
“No. Not like you’re thinking. Oh, he’s a kinky bastard and completely disgusting, but not… cruel. He won’t torment him and humiliate him, won’t try to break him just because he’s stubborn and helpless and beautiful…”
Saboo rubs frantically at the scars on his jaw; they are bleeding again.
Howard shudders. “Let me get you something for that.”
He half-thinks about looking in Naboo’s cupboard, but he can hear a lisping voice in his head saying ‘Don’t touch my stuff’… and anyway he has no idea what he’d be looking for, and the last thing he needs right now is a magical remedy gone wrong.
Stick to what you know, as his mother used to say.
So he goes to the cabinet in the bathroom and finds cottonwool and the burn salve he got from the all-night chemist, the night Vince fell asleep on his hair straighteners; fills a basin with warm water. Trying not to think about anything except the task in hand. Not to think about Vince and where he’s gone…
The marks go right down Saboo’s neck and onto his chest, a lash from a huge suckered tentacle. Howard has to take the shaman’s jacket and shirt off, peeling the fabric away from the raw skin as carefully as he can.
Saboo winces in pain as Howard applies the lotion.
“Try not to move.” Howard dabs carefully at a particularly angry-looking weal. “I don’t want to make this any worse than it already is.”
“You ought to hate me.”
Howard shakes his head. “I don’t.” And he doesn’t. Imagine if it were Vince’s pale slender body squirming in that tank. And a chance to save him, by asking a friend a favour. Then he thinks of Vince’s pale slender body squirming in the grip of wiry pink tentacles, and before he knows it, he’s dropped the cottonwool and is sobbing helplessly.
A cold hand touches his cheek.
“Don’t,” Saboo whispers. “Don’t. I’m so sorry. Please don’t.”
He slides off the sofa onto the floor beside Howard and pulls him into a hug, holding him through the worst of it. Then he hands him the tissues, with a rueful smile. “Look at us, eh…”
Howard looks at him, the arrogance and pride stripped away, leaving the loneliness plain to see in the shaman’s dark eyes.
He looks a little too long.
“I – I should be going.” Saboo’s voice is hoarse.
“No need. Stay.” Howard blows his nose. “You’ll want to be here when they bring Naboo back. And… you won’t want to be alone if they don’t.”
“They will. I have to believe that – that he’ll come back.”
“We both have to believe they’ll both come back.”
“I hate having to rely on the H-man.” Saboo draws a shaky breath. “I don’t trust that pink tit as far as I could kick him.”
“I thought that was quite a long way, actually.”
They both laugh, a bit tearily; Saboo scrambles back onto the sofa and slumps against the cushions.
Howard picks up the shaman’s clothes from the floor, noticing now that they are still wet from the rain outside.
“These are soaking… You’d better take the rest off, too, I’ll find you something of mine.”
By the time Howard comes back with a spare pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown, Saboo is stripped to his underpants. They are very small, very black, very well filled…
Saboo looks up, and sees Howard standing in the doorway.
Howard turns away, his face flaming.
“It’s all right.” Saboo crosses the floor in a couple of swift strides, and puts a hand on Howard’s shoulder. “It’s a natural reaction, it doesn’t mean anything…”
Wordlessly, Howard hands over the clothing and goes to hide in the kitchen, making the process of brewing tea last as long as possible.
When at last he emerges, Saboo is decently clad and standing with his face buried in the bunch of roses.
“Erm… tea?” Howard says hesitantly.
“Thank you.” Saboo turns round.
“Beautiful,” Howard stammers, “um, the roses, I mean…”
“They’re enchanted,” Saboo says gravely. “They’ll last as long as Naboo and I do… at least while they’re like this, I know he’s still alive.” He takes the mug of tea from Howard, and heaves a huge sigh. “I promised him I’d never hurt him again, you know. Swore him a solemn shamanic oath, that night I took him out to dinner. Broke my sword and threw it in the river.”
“I wondered why you weren’t wearing it any more.”
“Can’t afford to take the risk. Old habits die hard. And they were very old habits.”
“You’d been together a long time.” Howard sits down on the sofa, cradling his tea in both hands.
“Yes. And I wasted most of it.” Saboo’s voice is bitter. “Fuck, I was such an arrogant prick. Then I get a second chance I totally didn’t deserve, and this has to happen...”
“Don’t beat yourself up, that won’t help anybody. And your tea’s getting cold.”
“You’re right, blast you.” Saboo sprawls at the other end of the sofa. “Let’s be frightfully British about this, shall we? Drink the tea, maintain a stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on.” He raises his mug in an ironic toast.
“You want some brandy in that?” Howard asks.
“Yeah, why not, Howard, why don’t we just sit here and get pissed while your boyfriend’s on his knees being shagged by an alien ball-sack and mine’s on another planet being executed? Go on, break out the booze, I’m sure it’ll solve everything.”
“I only asked.” Howard gets up and fetches the bottle anyway. He pours a generous measure into his own tea. “It’ll help you sleep, if nothing else.”
Saboo stares at him, as if wondering why Howard isn’t angry. Howard is wondering much the same thing himself. Maybe he’s just too tired.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day,” Saboo says quietly, and reaches for the bottle.
Sometime in the small hours, having learned more about Naboo’s past history (and about Tony Harrison’s sexual proclivities) than he ever wanted to know, Howard helps Saboo along the corridor to Naboo’s room and staggers wearily to bed himself, crawling in under Vince’s duvet.
But even with his head buried under Vince’s pillow, Howard can still hear the tinkly music of the crystal ball cellphone app, and Saboo crying quietly on the other side of the wall.
Summary: Howard makes yet more tea
Rating: PG-13 for language
Warnings: a little bit of first aid, the odd mention of a certain pink alien…
Spoilers: It begins and ends in tears
Length: about 1200 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: Don’t blame me, it’s all
pussywhang’s fault, she put a certain idea into my head in a comment so I had to engineer this whole scenario just so that a certain pair could… well, we’ll see…24 The Chronicle of Wasted Time
Howard picks up the mug of tea and takes it over to the slumped shaman on the sofa.
“What was that all about?”
Still tearful, Saboo takes the cup, and looks at him over the rim. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t want – ”
“Vince was right. This is Naboo we’re talking about. We… we owe him a lot. We’d do anything. I wish Vince had realised I wouldn’t have tried to stop him.”
“You know what he’s going to try to do, don’t you?”
Howard sighs, and sits down. “Yes.”
“It’s Harrison’s one big weakness. Pretty humans.”
“So you came back here to persuade Vince to…” Howard can’t say it.
Saboo looks away, shamefaced. “We came back together. Tony said it was the only thing that might make him want to get involved. And I was clutching at straws… but when I got up here, I wouldn’t have said anything, if Vince hadn’t worked it out.”
“He won’t… hurt him?” Howard swallows hard.
“No. Not like you’re thinking. Oh, he’s a kinky bastard and completely disgusting, but not… cruel. He won’t torment him and humiliate him, won’t try to break him just because he’s stubborn and helpless and beautiful…”
Saboo rubs frantically at the scars on his jaw; they are bleeding again.
Howard shudders. “Let me get you something for that.”
He half-thinks about looking in Naboo’s cupboard, but he can hear a lisping voice in his head saying ‘Don’t touch my stuff’… and anyway he has no idea what he’d be looking for, and the last thing he needs right now is a magical remedy gone wrong.
Stick to what you know, as his mother used to say.
So he goes to the cabinet in the bathroom and finds cottonwool and the burn salve he got from the all-night chemist, the night Vince fell asleep on his hair straighteners; fills a basin with warm water. Trying not to think about anything except the task in hand. Not to think about Vince and where he’s gone…
The marks go right down Saboo’s neck and onto his chest, a lash from a huge suckered tentacle. Howard has to take the shaman’s jacket and shirt off, peeling the fabric away from the raw skin as carefully as he can.
Saboo winces in pain as Howard applies the lotion.
“Try not to move.” Howard dabs carefully at a particularly angry-looking weal. “I don’t want to make this any worse than it already is.”
“You ought to hate me.”
Howard shakes his head. “I don’t.” And he doesn’t. Imagine if it were Vince’s pale slender body squirming in that tank. And a chance to save him, by asking a friend a favour. Then he thinks of Vince’s pale slender body squirming in the grip of wiry pink tentacles, and before he knows it, he’s dropped the cottonwool and is sobbing helplessly.
A cold hand touches his cheek.
“Don’t,” Saboo whispers. “Don’t. I’m so sorry. Please don’t.”
He slides off the sofa onto the floor beside Howard and pulls him into a hug, holding him through the worst of it. Then he hands him the tissues, with a rueful smile. “Look at us, eh…”
Howard looks at him, the arrogance and pride stripped away, leaving the loneliness plain to see in the shaman’s dark eyes.
He looks a little too long.
“I – I should be going.” Saboo’s voice is hoarse.
“No need. Stay.” Howard blows his nose. “You’ll want to be here when they bring Naboo back. And… you won’t want to be alone if they don’t.”
“They will. I have to believe that – that he’ll come back.”
“We both have to believe they’ll both come back.”
“I hate having to rely on the H-man.” Saboo draws a shaky breath. “I don’t trust that pink tit as far as I could kick him.”
“I thought that was quite a long way, actually.”
They both laugh, a bit tearily; Saboo scrambles back onto the sofa and slumps against the cushions.
Howard picks up the shaman’s clothes from the floor, noticing now that they are still wet from the rain outside.
“These are soaking… You’d better take the rest off, too, I’ll find you something of mine.”
By the time Howard comes back with a spare pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown, Saboo is stripped to his underpants. They are very small, very black, very well filled…
Saboo looks up, and sees Howard standing in the doorway.
Howard turns away, his face flaming.
“It’s all right.” Saboo crosses the floor in a couple of swift strides, and puts a hand on Howard’s shoulder. “It’s a natural reaction, it doesn’t mean anything…”
Wordlessly, Howard hands over the clothing and goes to hide in the kitchen, making the process of brewing tea last as long as possible.
When at last he emerges, Saboo is decently clad and standing with his face buried in the bunch of roses.
“Erm… tea?” Howard says hesitantly.
“Thank you.” Saboo turns round.
“Beautiful,” Howard stammers, “um, the roses, I mean…”
“They’re enchanted,” Saboo says gravely. “They’ll last as long as Naboo and I do… at least while they’re like this, I know he’s still alive.” He takes the mug of tea from Howard, and heaves a huge sigh. “I promised him I’d never hurt him again, you know. Swore him a solemn shamanic oath, that night I took him out to dinner. Broke my sword and threw it in the river.”
“I wondered why you weren’t wearing it any more.”
“Can’t afford to take the risk. Old habits die hard. And they were very old habits.”
“You’d been together a long time.” Howard sits down on the sofa, cradling his tea in both hands.
“Yes. And I wasted most of it.” Saboo’s voice is bitter. “Fuck, I was such an arrogant prick. Then I get a second chance I totally didn’t deserve, and this has to happen...”
“Don’t beat yourself up, that won’t help anybody. And your tea’s getting cold.”
“You’re right, blast you.” Saboo sprawls at the other end of the sofa. “Let’s be frightfully British about this, shall we? Drink the tea, maintain a stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on.” He raises his mug in an ironic toast.
“You want some brandy in that?” Howard asks.
“Yeah, why not, Howard, why don’t we just sit here and get pissed while your boyfriend’s on his knees being shagged by an alien ball-sack and mine’s on another planet being executed? Go on, break out the booze, I’m sure it’ll solve everything.”
“I only asked.” Howard gets up and fetches the bottle anyway. He pours a generous measure into his own tea. “It’ll help you sleep, if nothing else.”
Saboo stares at him, as if wondering why Howard isn’t angry. Howard is wondering much the same thing himself. Maybe he’s just too tired.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day,” Saboo says quietly, and reaches for the bottle.
Sometime in the small hours, having learned more about Naboo’s past history (and about Tony Harrison’s sexual proclivities) than he ever wanted to know, Howard helps Saboo along the corridor to Naboo’s room and staggers wearily to bed himself, crawling in under Vince’s duvet.
But even with his head buried under Vince’s pillow, Howard can still hear the tinkly music of the crystal ball cellphone app, and Saboo crying quietly on the other side of the wall.
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no subject
Date: 2012-07-22 10:08 pm (UTC)But my emotions are dead and buried so it's a hefty price to pay - totally worth it, though!
no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-22 11:50 pm (UTC)And - - one unrelated question. You mentioned the burn salve that Howard used to treat Vince's wounds when he fell asleep on his straighteners. A while back, before I became acquainted with you, I read a sweet little fic about this. Was that your story?
You are doing a marvelous job of torturing us. Please continue!
no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 12:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 10:07 pm (UTC)And I'm glad the love is still visible. Poor old Howard and Saboo ended up rather broken and brittle and uncertain in this chapter, but they are still trying to do the right thing by each other even if they don't really know how!
no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 05:29 pm (UTC)Just as a side note, I hope you're happy that my emotions are currently lying in shattered pieces around me.
no subject
Date: 2012-07-23 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-24 01:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-24 03:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-24 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-07-24 03:06 pm (UTC)