The first explicitly slashy story of the collection. Yay. And more internal Howard POV. This is actually probably a lot closer to canon than I tend to write him. What can I say, it's honestly far more Boosh love story than Emily's Barratt Fantasies.

I've actually had most of this done for a fair while, it just took a metaphorical kick to get me to finish the last bit.

The next one of these will definitely be a request for 'Truly, Madly, Deeply' which someone, I think it was Steph, gave me an age ago.

I still haven't got my act together with the reviews. If I'm honest, I've been reluctant to even look at how much I still have unread. I'm thinking, perhaps I should give up on my desire to read everything, because it's just gonna stress me out trying, if I'm honest, and just start again, as it were, and start with what appeals to me.

I will seriously try and get my act together somehow tho.

In the meantime, please enjoy the songfic.

Song is owned by the Editors.

Warning: some strong language.

Camera

Keep close to me now,
I'll be your guide.

All I can hear in the dim almost-darkness is my own heartbeat. It's resonating against each wall, echoing through the closed-in space, always present, one with the gloom.

But these walls are so thin…

"Shh," you say, and your voice brings me back to now, to here, and the echo is now just a dim drum in the back of my mind. Your hand is on my cheek and you're looking up to me with your face all concern. That dim light behind me is glinting on your eyes. I like being able to see your eyes. They're comforting.

I realise I'm shaking, quivering like a frightened child in your arms, and it doesn't seem right that you should be the smaller one. I'm scared, the dynamic is all wrong. I should be smaller; I need you to protect me.

You rub a hand down my side, all soft and slow, and I'm still.

Your eyes lock on mine again, and my breath hitches in my throat. You wait, and I calm, and that gives you consent. You move up, slow, in case I want to stop, and you meet me. Your lips are soft, they're like velvet; they're almost not there. And they move so gently, they're almost pulsating.

And I realise I should be moving. Doing something. I open my mouth a little, and my heart does a little leap when my lips mesh perfectly with yours. This is it! This is the moment!

You move, and I do my best to follow. I think I'm doing alright. I'm following you, we're meshing. It feels right.

And then a tiny, ticking presence- your tongue, peeking out to nudge my lip. I know what it wants. I know all too well what it wants. And I want what it wants, I really do, I just…

I just…

I open. Your tongue slips inside. It's moving, wriggling, just slowly. It stops, and I realise I've gone tense. All too aware of that drumming getting louder, I move my tongue against yours, and you loosen and move again with me. Around, above, around, underneath, to the side. Same place at once- was I meant to do that? You don't seem to have noticed. I'll ignore it.

I suddenly notice that I can feel everything, like pins and needles. I'm tingling where your hands are on me. And your hands are on me. I can feel them tingling. One on my cheek, one on my side. They're holding, rubbing and stroking, and what are mine doing? They're not doing anything. They're just there, both on your back, one just under your shoulders, the other lower. I squeeze a little, and the way you press into me sends shockwaves through me that almost make me scream.

And you've pulled away now. Your hands are still where they were, still caressing, and it still tingles but not so much. Nowhere near as much.

"You alright?" you whisper, your thumb tracing my cheek like a ghost of itself, those glowing eyes full of comfort again.

I'm trying to speak but I can't, until eventually I manage to choke 'yes'.

You wait a moment as I show you no resistance, and then you lean up again. Your hand moves from my side to the small of my back, and I can't help but shudder. You don't stop. The fingers of your other hand are playing with my hair.

My fingers twitch a little. I'll be brave. I move my right hand down. You make that noise. It's quiet and fast, a little moan. Is that good?

Your behind, it's… it's taboo. It's forbidden. It's new, unchartered territory. It feels wrong to have my hand there like that. Like it's… not allowed. It's bad.

"Mmm… Mm, that's good…"

Or it isn't.

If I didn't have your hands steadying me, I'd be shaking as I rub it. My hand is moving so slowly. I'm trying to make it move faster, but it won't.

You're pushing back, away from me. Why? What am I doing wrong?

Or… are you pushing into me? Into my hand? Is that what you're doing? Yes, that's what you're doing. You want more.

I squeeze a little tighter, pressing the tips my fingers in. You're making that sound again. It must be a good thing. Your other hand is tightening on my back, squeezing me and pulling me in. You're pulling me in towards you. Into you.

I stumble. I fall forward and as I catch you I realise both my hands are clutching at your backside. My head is pulled forward to another one of those moans, and you're scratching and clawing and pulling me down, and my hands are tightening, both of them, pressing at your round bum, and god, oh god, it's so firm and plump and… beautiful! My head is forced forward; I'm almost looking straight down. You're pulling me down, holding me down, pushing up into me, your lips tight on mine, your tongue forcing supremacy, and mine giving all it can in return…

Once we have black hearts,
Then love dies.

"Vince! Howard!"

You pull away all too suddenly and leave me in such a vacuum that I almost fall.

"Shit," you mutter, eyes on the door. You turn to me, and all of that something in your eyes that was just for me has gone from them now. "I'll go out first. You wait five minutes and come when it feels right."

With that you're gone. The bright light of day invades the room and makes me blink. There's water in my eyes.

"Thank God you're back!" you cry, your voice all loud and cocky and assured again. "You wouldn't believe what he was having me do. He was trying to make me help him stocktake."

Naboo's voice is quiet and strained as it comes through the closed door. "Howard! Don't trust Vince with the stocktaking; you know he makes it up when he gets bored."

"Oh do you?" I call back, stern and annoyed. Aggravated because you had to go. "I'll have to have words with you about that, little man."

Words in the stockroom when no one's listening. Words given to open mouths. Silent words.

Made up numbers. The numbers we both made up to disguise what really happened.

A shrill ring pierces the air in the shop as I emerge from the stock room, and I see Naboo picking up one of the phones behind the counter.

"Hello, Nabootique," he says. He listens for a while, then gives you the smallest of death-stares. Covering the receiver with his hand, his whispers to you; "Vince, did you give someone the business number?"

Your cheeks give the impression that they're flushing, but they don't, and your mouth flickers into that awkward smile that isn't really awkward. "Might have done," you answer, slowly enough to show your shameless guilt, one foot turning inwards just slightly.

Naboo sighs. "It's for you."

He retreats upstairs, and I go back into the stock room to check numbers and amounts, and resist the urge just to make it all up, like we have done before. I can hear you talking. I can't quite make out your words, but you're using that light, bouncy tone, and I can hear you laughing. I carry on.

If we run, they'll look in the back room,
Where we hide all of our feelings.

I've managed a few more items, and you've been quiet for a while now, and I can't shut myself in here any longer. I come out, and you're leaning against the counter, just staring, idly playing with a paperclip that must have escaped from Stationary Village.

You look up at me and smile. "I've got a date tonight," you tell me, a little swagger just noticeable in the way your hips shift as you straighten up.

I don't smile. I just try to look inconvenienced. "Who with?"

"You know Hannah, who works in the petrol station at Tesco's? The one with the purple highlights?"

I think… Yes, I have seen her, around town. She's served me a few times when I was filling up the van.

"She wants to take me out to that new Chinese place, then we're probably just gonna hit the town." You let out a little sigh. "Should be fun."

In one hot moment, I'm right close to you. My hand is grasping your waist and yours has flown up to hold it.

"Do you think?" I ask, as my head flicks suddenly to the door.

Your head strains to turn as you move your gaze to the stairs. "No," you answer. "Not now. Not while he's here."

I'll keep your eyes wide open tonight.

My eyes open much wider than usual anyway as the words slip like liquid butter down my ear. My breath hitches in my throat, and in a moment you're out the door and gone.

You turn out of sight. My heart pumps, and my brain tells me, yells at me, to run to the window and watch you go.

But I can't. I hold back.

What did you mean?

My heart is pounding again. The drums are back, banging and banging through the room. So loud. And this is a public room. Anyone could just walk in.

What can you have meant?

You couldn't. You can't. It's just… it isn't… you can't.

You always stay. It's what's done. What's expected. You always stay.

She's a beautiful girl with purple highlights and nice clothes and a fun-loving personality and a carefree lifestyle, and she fancies you like I don't know what. Why wouldn't you stay?

No, no, you couldn't have meant it. You have to stay.

What would people think if you didn't stay?

Keep the car on the road now.
Feel love bite.

12:37am. I can't sleep. So I haven't been trying.

The TV is rubbish. BBC4 documentaries. Films I've never heard of. American dramas. Live coverage of Big Brother. Interactive quizzes that no one's won yet. Rubbish.

Hot milk. Beer. Useless.

I tried to read. Couldn't concentrate.

Put on some soft jazz. Just kept me more awake.

Seventeen strides from one side of the room to the other. It's depressing that I know this, but I can't even sit still.

The TV remote makes my fingers sore. It's not even pointed at the TV, but my fingers itch if they don't press the buttons.

Footsteps.

And you're here. Home. Alone.

Look at us through the lens of a camera.
Does it remove all of our pain?

"Heya. What you doing still up?"

You sound so much quieter than usual. Like you're a little tired, perhaps.

"Couldn't sleep. What are you doing back?"

You shrug. Then you walk forward and lean on me, sagging against my side. You turn your head so that your temple and cheekbone are pressed against my shoulder, and look up at me.

You aren't smiling. I curl my arm around your waist, and take your shoulder with my other hand.

You look up, I look down.

And our lips touch for the briefest of moments, just quick and soft, and when I pull back you're smiling a little.

There's a light pressure from your hand on the small of my back, and you walk forward, guiding me to follow.

To your bedroom.

I freeze. My heart stops.

You stop, and you turn and press yourself to me, your arms around my waist, your face buried in my chest. And you look up again.

"We don't have to." You're almost whispering. "If you don't want to."

I don't even move, but you feel it. You press your head into my chest again.

"Just… please stay with me. Please. We can just…"

There's no need to finish. My arms are around you, and yours tighten around me. We're still connected as I follow you to the bedroom.

I let go and you close the door, and as you look at me, you press your lips together in a half-smile, like a nervous, shy schoolgirl.

You sit down. Take off your boots. Your socks. Your shirt. Stand up. Undo your belt. Lower your jeans. That round, black-clad derriere peeks out, tempting, and you turn your head and you're smiling, fully now, still a little bashful, but now wide and cheeky.

You take your jeans the rest of the way down, pull back the covers and lie, sprawled out and giggling softly, on your front in the wide bed. You're watching me, and I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I sit down, still fully clothed, and you giggle a little louder.

Your eyes push me back up, and I strip to my pants as quickly as I can. I lie in with you, and you pull the covers back over us both, and snuggle in a little closer. Your bare skin against my skin is warm, and the heat and the softness of your hands as they run over me lulls me. I envelop you in my arms, and you settle and still. You're smiling again. It isn't shy or nervous any more. It's wide and contented. In fact, it's downright mischievous. You bump my nose with your forehead, and look up at me. Our lips meet again, and pull away, and in a moment you're asleep.

It still seems strange, how much smaller you really are than me. Only now that I've got you here, asleep in my arms, I think I might like it.

If we run, they'll look in the back room,
Where we hide all of our secrets.

Another day standing behind the counter in an empty shop, with nothing to do. No one comes in, nothing gets sold. The sun creeps across the sky, but you can't see it because of the overcast weather. The cockroaches run into their holes under the skirting board.

It's hard to pretend today. You're only a foot away from me, but you're too far away. You're bored and nonchalant, but I can feel you straining. The strain is pulling at me, too, like an iron core drawn towards you, so strong that I almost fall over sideways, but I catch myself on the counter.

Your smile almost betrays you, until the phone rings again. You glance back, then fix your eyes hard on the counter, a still, unfaltering glare.

It rings.

And it rings.

And it rings.

Then it stops. You breathe again.

I bring my hand out towards you. Then stop. I look over and realise you saw me. Your smile does betray you, this time.

The door to the stock room catches in my eye, and I know you noticed. You shake your head.

I stare back at the empty doorway. It's hard to pretend today.

The phone rings again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can just see you shudder.

Naboo walks through from the flat. "You gonna get that?"

I can see you stiffen. I almost wonder if you've gone a little paler. "No…"

"Why not?"

"It might be… a stalker."

"You being stalked?"

"A little bit. Sort of."

Naboo is coming closer, coming back behind the counter. "I'll deal with it."

I don't think I've ever seen anything move so fast as you trying to dive in front of that phone. "It's alright. It probably isn't very important anyway."

"Vince, let me get to the phone."

His voice is still quiet, but it's hard and insistent. I'm trembling ever so slightly, I notice, at the thought that he might lose his temper.

"It won't-"

"Vince."

The shop quiets. Relief drops through me like hot tea down my gullet.

"Doesn't matter now," you say. "They hung up."

Naboo glares and turns back to the stairs. I can't help but stretch my face into a smile.

He hasn't gone up two steps when the phone rings again. He doesn't even seem to have moved before he's back down here again, shoving you aside and pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Nabootique… Yeah, who is this? ... Who are you? ... He is working, you know… He did what? … So why don't you call his phone? … It's never usually switched off… Alright, I'll put him on."

The look on his face is pure fury as he passes the phone to you. "Someone called Hannah," he says. "Wants to know where you disappeared off to last night, and won't take no for an answer."

The phone is shaking in your hand as you lift it to your ear. Your voice wavers in a way I have never heard before, and I hope I never will again.

"Hi Hannah."

From the receiver, I can hear a faint buzz, angry and incessant like a fly against a window. It's fast and it's furious and it won't let up.

"I know, I- I'm… look, I'm sorry, alright! Hannah, I- Hannah… I'm… will you let me speak?"

For a split second, the room is silent. The buzz speaks more softly.

"I… I'm sorry, I felt ill." Buzz. "I couldn't find you. I'd have told you if I could find you." Buzz. "Well it came on really suddenly, while I was in the toilet." Buzz. "I don't know what it was, it just came." Buzz. Silence.

Buzz.

Buzz.

The buzz is shouting again. Shouting something that distinctly sounds like 'Vince'.

"No…"

Your voice is so high and choked that I can hold myself back any more. My arms are around your waist and my face is nuzzled in your hair. I can just see the glint of a tear running down your cheek.

"Yes," you say. "Yes. There is someone else."

The buzz. It's faint.

"Yes. It's him."

There's a silence again. Just still, stale silence. Then the buzz begins again.

"I'm sorry," you repeat, almost a whisper now. "I'm sorry."

You break away and the phone is down.

You fall from grace, you fall with such grace.

I stand still and hold you, and you lean back on me as Naboo berates us and tells us that if anyone comes into his shop and starts causing any trouble, we're responsible. You're standing stock still, upright and straight like you're made of stone, and just leaning back, ever so slightly, your soft flesh yielding gently to my touch. You feel so tense. I rub just a little with my fingers, and I can feel your breathing even out.

He leaves, shutting the door to the flat much more heavily than usual. A long breath escapes you, and you turn to me. You look up at me for a second and you smile, then you laugh, just weakly, but you mean it, and that laugh is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

And we wait.

She comes, eventually. Not Hannah, but her friend, who is short and petite with dark blonde curls and pretty brown eyes, but who has a face like thunder and can shout to rival Brian Blessed.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, shit-for-brains? How can you fucking do that to her? She loves you- you know that, you twat? You know how long it took her to work up the fucking courage to ask you out? Well it took her weeks! And when you said yes, she was over the fucking moon! She was so excited, she called me up and she fucking screamed! She had me round for hours picking out her outfit, and she was bouncing off the walls, she was so fucking excited! You know what you've done to her now? She's fucking crying now! You hear me? She's crying! You made her cry! You evil bastard, she's too good for you! How could you even think of doing that to her? She's madly in love with you, and you go and leave her for… for that!"

You've just been standing there, all this time, stock still, your eyes almost closed, taking it.

She stops shouting, her arm still raised, finger pointing straight at me. You drop your head, mouth tightly shut, not a sound. Nothing moves. Quiet. Hot. Frozen.

And then you turn, just a little, your knuckles just touching my waist, and turn your head up. Your blue eyes are so pale with fear, and they meet mine for just a second before they close.

I just close my eyes as you walk out.

Our lips touch for just that one moment, lingering like a film on pause, then I hear the door close and you're gone.