D/C: NO, i don't own this. Well ... i guess i own bits and pieces of it but anything Genius belongs to Mr Barratt & Mrs Fielding (who i swear is becoming more of a woman everytime i see him!! - I still love him!! lol.)

A/N: Okay, so i've updated and posted all over the place today. It's not my fault, it's because time to kill makes me write fanfic!! I've been hinting at the nightmare Noir's for a while so I thought i'd see what they were like.

This fic is dedicated to all those who are still reading the WTPCIASW sequels!! I love you all! (Especially, you!) xx

"Your parents rang."

"Don't even joke."

"It's not a joke. They rang, they asked where you were."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them you were out."

"Good."

"Buuuut…"

"Oh no, don't say but."

"I said you'd ring them back."

"Howard!"

"What?"

"Why did you tell them that?"

"Because you haven't spoke to them for years."

"And that's the way I like it to be."

"Vince," Howard said warningly.

"Can we talk about this later? I'm telling the boys a story."

"Fine," Howard agreed, going to the kitchen area of the living room to start washing up the mountain of dishes, "but don't think I'm going to forget."

"Alright," groaned Vince, lifting Richmond up from the floor and settling the boy on his lap. "Right, which story do we want?"

"The time you and Jahooli went to the water hole and had to fight off the evil snake Caniloo.

"Jones!" groaned Vinward, "We hear-d that one yesterday."

"But it's sa best one," grumbled Jones, rubbing nose with his palm, his bottom lip wobbling a little.

"Jones, don't cause a fuss," warned Vince, stroking his hair with his hand. "We heard that one yesterday, I think we should let Vin or Richie choose one today."

"Richmond," the boy corrected him, "and I don't really mind which story we listen to."

"What about the one where Daddy Howard got kidnapped by the underwater merman-thingy and you had to rescue him?" Jones suggested.

"No," sighed Vinward, "I wanna hear one where Daddy Howard had to rescue you daddy."

"One where Daddy Howard had to rescue me," Vince said thoughtfully. He racked his brain for a moment or two but he couldn't think of one example where Howard had rescued him. "I can't think of a time," he said eventually.

"Excuse you sir," Howard called from the kitchen, "I saved your life."

"Did you?"

"Yes, you'd be dead if it wasn't for me. I got right inside you and saved your life."

"Yeah, that's a great story every night Howard but it's not really for kids."

Howard frowned for a second trying to figure out what the hell Vince was on about. As it slowly dawned on him his brow furrowed more. Of course Vince would drag any conversation to the gutter if he could.

"Not that!" He snapped. "Spirit of jazz. You and your bully, punk friends strolled in here and messed with stationary village, then you ate my precious jazz record. D'you remember that? It was the only thing I'd cared about for years and you broke it."

"Alright, alright." Vince squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa. "I said I was sorry, didn't I?"

"And I've forgiven you," Howard said in a way that suggested he really hadn't.

"So you keep saying," huffed the younger man. "Fine, I'll tell the story of how Daddy saved my life."

--

Of course Howard had to keep leaping into the story, twisting the facts to make him sound even more heroic.

"Howard, stop it," Vince moaned, after Howard had told the boys he hadn't hesitated to rescue Vince.

"They shrunk me down like a fierce, warrior borrower, sir."

"Really Howard?" scorned Vince, "because Naboo seemed to be under the impression you'd been happy to let me die until that old gimmer Lester told you, you were old. Then it was all Howard Moon is not old. He has forty years of powerful sexual dynamism sir," Vince said in his best Howard impression.

"And was I wrong?" Howard asked daringly.

Vince just blushed, coughed a little and said, "that's not the point. Get away from my story. You're like tipex, constantly trying to correct things. But everyone knows tipex just makes writing look ugly."

"What do you know of writing, sir?"

"Enough. Now shut up. I'm telling a story."

It took Vince twice as long to tell this story as usual. However much Vince told him, Howard could not leave it alone. He kept popping up saying things like, "have you told them the bit where I bravely entered your blood stream with nothing but a sandwich?"

"Yes," Vince sighed.

"That was your fault daddy," Jones piped up, "you should have checked the harp-ooooon," he said carefully, "was in the lunchbox before you left."

"It wasn't a lunchbox Jonesy," Howard tried to explain, "it was a …" he paused because he wasn't actually sure what it was. He settled for a "harpoon case."

"Well, you always make us check our lunchboxes before we go to school," Richmond agreed.

"Well that's because sometimes an electro-buffoon packs your boxes and we never know what he might put in there."

"What's an electro-buffoon?" Vinward questioned.

"I think it's supposed to be me," Vince said, glaring at Howard.

"Oh, I love it, when daddy Vince packs our lunchboxes," beamed Jones. "We always get a toy in it."

"That's because he just buys happy meals from McDonalds," Howard sighed, drying the final dish and coming to sit on the sofa.

"Yeah, well I didn't realise that people actually packed their children lunch for school," Vince said bitterly, glaring a little at Howard. "I didn't have a very good childhood."

There was a silence for a second and the two men stared at each other. Finally, Howard broke. He always broke first.

"Finish the story," he sighed, "we'll discuss your parent afterwards."

--

Vince ran his hands through his hair, leaving it sticking out at all angles like some kind of eighties pop-rocker. He was sat on the sofa staring at the telephone as though it might jump up at any second and get him. The boys were in bed. They weren't sleeping. That much was obvious from the banging and crashing coming from their room. There'd been a time when Howard or Vince would storm into the bedroom to tell them to be quiet. But whenever they walked in, the three boys would be curled up in their beds suckling on their thumbs. Of course as soon as the door closed, the noise would start again so now they just left them to it.

"Make the call," Howard sighed, sitting next to Vince and squeezing his knee encouragingly.

"I don't want to talk to them," Vince said, squirming agitatedly on the spot.

"Look, I know they're not your favourite people but…"

"They left me to die in a forest," scowled Vince."I know but…"

"Stop saying but," Vince snapped, pushing the phone forcefully away from him. "You shouldn't have told them I'd ring them back."

"They probably just want to see their grandchildren."

"What? So they can leave them in a forest too?"

Howard sighed and wrapped his arm around Vince's shoulders. He never knew what to do for the best when it came to Vince's parents. Part of him wanted to keep Vince well away from them but another part felt he should at least try to help build bridges. His memories of the Noirs are always quite foggy. It's was usually a brief encounter and Vince hardly let any conversation happen. It's just a quick hello in the street, in the way you might with someone you met once in a café.

"Why don't you just phone them and hear what they have to say?"

--

Vince did phone them and even as Howard watched the conversation unfold he could see Vince getting angrier and angrier. He wasn't saying much, just listening to what his parents were telling him. Howard just twiddled with the button on his cardigan.

"What d'you mean by that?" Vince demanded to the phone. Howard jumped a little at the sudden outburst and looked up at his partner, who was now on his feet. "You can't do that!" he yelled.

"Vince, shhhh," Howard hushed, "the boys are asleep."

Vince just flapped his hand at Howard as though he were some kind of irritating fly and continued to shout.

"You CAN'T do that!" he bellowed.

"Daaaaaaaddyyyyyyyyyy!" came the inevitable shout from down the hall. Howard sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

By the time Howard got back to the living room, Vince was looking like a crazy man. He was perched on the sofa, elbows on his knees and head in hands. The phone was the other side of the room, lying broken on the floor. Howard just stared at it for a moment and then looked at Vince.

"Sorry," the younger man said nothing because there was really nothing to say. He just sat next to Vince and put his arm around his shoulder. Vince's head found it's way to Howard's chest and he buried himself into the angry muffin roll neck. They just sat there for a second in silence.

"They're coming," Vince mumbled after a while.

"Huh?"

"My parents," Vince explained, pushing himself away from Howard a bit so he could look at him properly. "They're coming to stay."

"What? When?"

"Tomorrow."

"What?" Howard repeated. He was completely dumbstruck, he felt almost as though Vince was speaking a foreign language. It was like he could hear words but he couldn't make out what was being said.

"I told them not to," Vince said. He sounded strange, as though he was trying desperately not to cry.

"Oh, I'm sure they're not that bad, Vince."

"But they're so…" Vince trailed off. He couldn't find a word to sum up all of the things his parents were. "You'll see," he said eventually.

Howard suggested they have a Colobus The Crab marathon that evening, to try and cheer Vince up. But not even Colobus could raise a smile on the electro-poof's face.

--

"Don't leave me alone!" Vince hissed in Howard's ear as he bundled to boys out of the front door.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Howard chuckled, "Jones, where's your scarf?"

"Erm…." The little boy looked all around him and then accusingly at Vinward, who held up his hands in surrender.

"I think it's on the chair Jonesy," Vince said, "run up and get it." And in Howard's ear, he added, "I'm not being melodramatic."

"No of course you're not," Howard smiled, kissing Vince on the cheek as Jones came running back down the stairs, his podgy legs carrying him much quicker than anyone would ever expect. He didn't even stop at the door. In fact, he didn't stop until he was bouncing in his car seat, calling everyone to hurry up.

"You're in a rush," Howard commented.

"It's coz he wants to see Daaaa-aaaan," sang Vinward.

"No!" Jones shouted a little too loudly, "I just want to be in school on time."

Every member of the family looked at the boy in disbelief. Never before had Jones shown any interest in school or work but now he looked like nothing made him happier.

"You wouldn't want to be on time if you didn't see Dan, though. I swear you love him," chuckled Vinward. "You just follow him everywhere."

"I do not," protested Jones. "I just…." But Vince never heard what Jones just because Howard shut the car door on the conversation.

"Come here," he said, pulling Vince close so he could kiss him on the cheek. "Good luck. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"If you're sure it'll be fine, why are you wishing me luck?"

"It just seemed like the right thing to do."

"I doubt they'll be here until you get back anyway," Vince said, "they're never on time."

"Sounds like someone I know."

"Yeah, but they always come up with crap reasons."

"What, like, a frog stole my shoes?" Howard asked pointedly.

"But that actually happened!" whined Vince.

"Oh yeah," Howard nodded, "I know it did. You also had your hair tangled up by woodlouses and spent all morning inventing the frying pan before you realised it already existed, right?"

"It's all true," Vince insisted, though he did at least have the decency to look just a little sheepish. "You better go anyway, there's a fight breaking out."

Howard turned around to see Vinward tugging furiously on Jones' hair whilst Jones punched his brother wildly in response. Richmond just rolled his eyes, like an exasperated parent.