booshslashhaven | Don't Let Go

Title: Don't Let Go. (2/?)
Pairing: Vince/Howard (AU)
Summary: A young Vince falls on hard times
Wordcount: 1029/?
Warnings: drug ref, prostitution, mental illness (so far....)
Rating: 17 , maybe higher later.
Disclaimer: I don't own them and im broke. Please don't sue?
A/N: This was on the archive, now im dragging it back and rearranging it. :) It's dark. Very dark.

The day began much like any other; he had half read the headline on someone else’s newspaper when he had been out to score that morning. And upon returning to his flat he had lain on the bed, thinking over the story, something about a jewellery store robbery. Grinning inanely to himself he shot at phantasms with a lolly until he grew bored. Finishing his lolly he splayed out his arms and legs giggling manically to himself before growing suddenly tired and curling up into a ball. He thought idly about Billy, a kid that had gone missing weeks before and then turned up a few nights ago bleeding horribly. In the end it had been Vince who had helped drag him to a hospital, being the oldest and most female looking he could convincingly be the older sister. Of course they had to leave him there, but better abandoned in a hospital than on a street corner surely? It was with these less than cheerful thoughts that he fell asleep.

About five o’clock that day Vince did his best to shake off the worst of the haze and headed into the shower, standing for too long under the hot jets which eased the worst of the kinks and the bruises from his tired body. The toll of working nights was starting to show. Towelling himself dry Vince dressed in the silky black kimono type affair that served as his dressing gown and headed back up the hall to his room. A shared bathroom was not one of the perks of living in a bedsit. Letting himself back in Vince moved to his wardrobe, abandoning the robe he began his usual process, dressing from nudity upwards. First was a pair of black and rather lacy women’s underwear, it wasn’t a particular necessity to custom; he just liked the way it felt. Then he selected a pair of fishnet stockings, clichéd but then people were paying for the cliché, he attached them carefully to the suspender belt, fishnets ripped so easily. He stopped to consider his next step, cold it was, but that didn’t matter, what would get him the most money? That was the question. He eventually settled on a red blouse, open most of the way down his chest, and a black leather mini, topping it off with a pair of spike heel’s he had the cliché down to a fine art.

The next hour was taken up with doing his hair and makeup, covering the worst of the bruises and more importantly the dark circle’s that had formed under his eyes. Carefully straightening the hair until it would have shamed a ruler. Painting on glitter, eye shadow, lipstick. It was more like war paint than makeup. Scaring away enemies whilst letting his own know he was safe. Or at least that was how he saw it; most people just thought he was a bit mad. It was nearly 7 o’clock when Vince was finally satisfied with his appearance and headed out, at this time of year it went dark early and so he could afford to head out early in the hopes of being able to get back and maybe catch some sleep before 4 am. But what he didn’t know was that tonight was: The Night Where Everything Changed.

Flaunting himself as usual the cold had not bothered him, and as usual a car had pulled up, a big, expensive looking car. Vince mentally altered his prices; big cars meant idiots who paid well, he had learnt that early on. A back door opened and a man in a well cut suit stepped out; looking Vince up and down and taking in the wrongness of his proportions that marked him out as male rather than female. He spoke in a slightly nasal whine which suggested he might be American, for all it mattered. “My ahh, associate,” he began, and Vince’s interest peaked instantly, “Is prepared to offer you the sum of one thousand of your English pounds in return for your services.” Vince thought his jaw might have hit the pavement, but there had to be a catch, there was always a catch. “What’s...” He began, but the funny voiced man was there before him; “Role-play. Interested?” Vince thought it over quickly, how bad could it be? Then he shrugged and nodded. The man stepped aside showing Vince into the car, and he quickly slipped inside, aware of the warmth when his goose bumps went, but more grateful to take the weight off his feet. It was dark inside the car, and almost cosy in a strange way. Like being in a hideaway place Vince thought. But the moment the door was closed the car shot off, and Vince found himself sandwiched between two suits, starting to wonder what he had let himself in for. One of the suits laid a hand on his knee, but Vince tried not to respond. He was being paid for this, and paid well at that.

They hadn’t driven for very long before the left hand suit produced a packet of cigarettes; he offered one to Vince who accepted through force of habit. He wasn’t usually a smoker, but he’d have anything that was free. One of the back windows was cracked ever so slightly open, allowing the combined smoke to drift out, clearing the air, literally if not metaphorically. The drive continued so Vince tried to take in his surroundings, the man to his right was smallish with a slightly flyaway sweep of brown hair. The man to the left of him looked to be slightly tanned but with straightened black hair. Vince noted idly that it was probably naturally very curly, not that it mattered. None of it really mattered. Almost like an afterthought a hand belonging to one of the hidden people in the through reached back, it was clutching a handful of ten and twenty pound notes. Vince accepted them; pulling off one of his stilettos he unscrewed the heel, tucked it in and then screwed it back on. It was a modification one of the “girls” had made for him, and had come in handy numerous times. Carefully Vince levered the shoe back on, feeling himself starting to shake. He really needed another hit before he did anything. But it looked like he was going to have to go without. The car turned sharply into a side street and stopped, Vince suddenly forgot his shakes.