The bed creaked as Vince dragged himself from the cosy warmth and out into the cool air of the bedroom. He'd tried to be quiet but even as he pulled his pants on, he could hear Howard groaning into the morning.

"Morning." Vince smiled as he watched the older man blink and rub his eyes, trying to get accustomed to the light that shone through the slats of the blind.

"Morning," Howard grumbled. "What's the time?"

"Erm." Vince strained his neck to look at the alarm clock. "7.23."

"In that case, I have two more minutes of sleep to enjoy."

"Ge'up you lazy fuck," laughed Vince, grabbing a corner of duvet and pulling it off the other man abruptly.

Cold air attacked Howard from every angle and he let out a high-pitched squeak, scrabbling around for the duvet. Vince grinned triumphantly as he folded the duvet up in his arms and threw it to the floor.

"Up," he said, punctuating it with a sharp slap to Howard's left butt cheek. "Work," he grinned.

Howard let out one final groan and heaved himself up too. He walked over to the door and grabbed his dressing gown.

"Breakfast?" he asked as he tied the brown cord around his middle.

"Mm. Please," Vince said as he admired himself in the mirror. His eyes flicked up and he met Howard's gaze in the glass. "I remember when that dressing gown was so tight, it made you look like a string of sausages."

"That'll be the diet I went on," Howard said with an air of smug pride.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that fucking diet. All you did was moan the whole cocking time. And it was fucking expensive. Would have been cheaper if we'd just paid to get the fat sucked out of you. " Vince grinned wickedly, turning round to eye his partner, noting the pink hue that had risen in Howard's cheeks.

"Cheeky git. Don't tell me you haven't enjoyed the changes."

"Hmmm," Vince agreed. He had indeed enjoyed stealthier, more streamlined Howard. "I've liked havin' our own place, back again." He smiled, walking over and wrapping his arms around Howard's waist, burying his head in the older man's chest.

Howard grinned down at the top of his messy head. It was funny how things had changed between them over the years. There had been a time, well, not necessarily a time; it had been about ten years, when they couldn't keep their hands off each other but slowly that had ebbed away. It wasn't that they needed each other any less, everything was just more relaxed now, less desperate.

"I was thinking bout some of the shit holes we've lived in."

Howard could tell Vince was nervous because Vince was reminiscing and he only ever did that when he was nervous.

"Do you remember that first place Moon? The one next to that Kebab shop? Remember how big them rats were? They were the size of small fucking dogs. I reckon that's why you started to pile on the flab, you know. All them takeaways you use to inhale."

Howard let Vince go. He rolled his small eyes.

"Yes well, I couldn't really cook then, could I? And you never bothered. You still never bother."

Vince shrugged. So what if he didn't know how to do dishes, could barely make a sandwich without needing adult supervision, and had never washed a single item of his own clothing? He's never needed to. He'd gone straight from having his Mum do it all for him, to Howard. Still, he always had liked vacuuming. There'd been many times over the years Howard had returned home to find Vince frantically vacuuming away.

"Still ..." Vince muttered, as he returned to his original train of thought. "It's been nice; just me an' you again, like old times. But tomorrow it'll be back into hidin' with fuckin' Jimmy. Same old fucking crap." Vince clenched his fist and beat it against the wall. There was something about Jimmy that always made him see red.

"Ahh, he's alright." Howard tried to sooth.

"He's like a fucking third wheel. And he's thick as shit."

"He's the best driver we know." Howard winced as the sentence left his mouth. The words hung between them like a bad smell that no one wants to mention.

"'Part from me," Vince almost growled, glaring through his black fringe.

"Goes without saying," Howard agreed quickly. "But he's better than Handbrake. Remember him?"

"Handbrake." Vince hissed angrily, taking a step backwards. "That fucking knob! The only thin' he could do was a handbrake turn, and didn't we fucking know 'bout it? Got rid of him easy enough though, didn't we?" He smirked, as the memory of handing Handbrake over to the police came back to him. "Good times."

"Crazy days," Howard agreed, chuckling a little. He pressed a kiss to Vince's cheek, before jogging down the stairs.

It wasn't long before Vince was breathing in the smell of a glorious, home-cooked English breakfast and he continued to get dressed.

It had become tradition, cooked breakfasts before a big job. It had been that way ever since the first real job they did. Of course, back then they'd both been too sick with nerves to eat. They had just stared at the eggy, orangey mess they'd both made as they pushed their beans and fried egg around a plate. Vince remembered the way Howard had looked at him on that morning; so scared, yet so trusting. It had been small scale then, just a pair of tights and a pair of replica sawn of shotguns.

Howard had changed a lot since then. He'd worked his way up, becoming a technical wiz kid. There weren't many people in the business that were as good as Howard with a computer. He was almost more valuable than Vince now.

People needed Howard. However much Vince tried to act the big I am, he knew, deep down, that they'd only been given this job because of Howard's ability to manipulate numbers on a screen.

Jimmy was always tagging along with Howard now. Howard seemed to enjoy having someone to teach his craft to. Vince had never been interested in the technical side. It was all too much effort. He'd called Howard a coward a number of times for dodging the front line and sitting safe behind a machine but he hated that Howard was willing to teach Jimmy and not him. Never him. Vince clenched his fists tight at the thought.

Vince knew he was a jealous bastard. Howard knew it too. Hell. Everyone knew. Vince had suggested, on more than one occasion, they let Jimmy go the same way as Handbrake. But Howard would never let him, he'd always had some excuse and that got Vince riled even more. One day he'd just take out his gun and kill the prick dead, before Howard could even begin to think about stopping him.

Vince felt something sharp digging into his palm. He looked down to see his Flying V necklace. It had drawn blood he'd been squeezing it so hard. He sighed and flipped the necklace over. There was an inscription on the back;VinceIt's only ever been you.I Love xxxSoft git. Vince smiled as he put it around his neck. Howard had given him the necklace for their tenth anniversary. That was almost nine years ago. They'd been so young, so carefree, so in love. And, even if they weren't quite as young or as carefree, they were still in love, and that was what mattered. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror.

"Breakfast's ready," Howard's voice had risen up from the kitchen. Vince obediently made his way downstairs.

"What are you grinning about?" Howard quizzed him the moment he'd stepped over the threshold of their kitchen. The individually handcrafted stone floor tiles were cold under his bare feet.

"It's just …" Vince sighed. "Y'know I love you, right?"

"Of course." Apparently satisfied, Howard went back to reading the newspaper that was spread out over the kitchen table. He took another bite of French toast.

"I dunno what I'd do without you. I'd probably just fucking die or somethin'," Vince mused with a half-hearted chuckle. He made his way over to the cooker to plate up his own breakfast. That stupid cooker had cost about the same as two vintage jags. Howard treated it like it was his pride and joy. Whenever they had friends or family over, he'd always have to show them the cooker, even though they'd all been forced to see it about a million times before. And how the fuck did a cooker have different settings? What were they crispy and extra burnt? That's all it seemed to do when Vince had ever used it.

Howard smiled a little. "Don't be so melodramatic."

"Melodramatic?" Vince sat down next to Howard.

"Over the top. You're exaggerating. You wouldn't die. You're so strong." Howard poured them both a cup of coffee from the cafetiere. It was all so middle class.

"Not without you. You're all that fucking matters. All that's ever mattered."

"What's brought all this on, eh?" Howard glanced up from his paper and rested his hand over Vince's.

"Nothing. Just say it back, yeah?"

"Vince," Howard said determinedly, as he caught Vince's face in his strong hands, holding him so he was forced to look straight into Howard's deep brown eyes. "I love you. You. And I'm never gonna leave you. I'm always gonna be right here, just like I've always been. Just like everyday since we met back at school."

Vince nodded. "Ever since I threw the sharpener at your fat head, coz you wouldn't pay any attention to me?"

"Ever since then."

"Ever since I smashed your glasses when we were fifteen, 'coz you said without them you could only see one person, and that was only if they stood close? I liked the idea that you could only see me and everything else was a horrible blur. I had to protect you then, Moon. You had to trust me."

"Hmm. Wait. I didn't know you smashed my glasses."

Vince's face blanched a little. "Didn't you?"

"No. I knew you took them off me. You said you'd put them on the wall and that lard-arse Larry had sat on them."

"Did I?"

"Yes!"

"Fuck. Well, yeah … that's what happened."

"You dick!" Howard shoved him in the shoulder. "Well… I fucking loved you," Vince protested, "and I liked it when you were all dependent on me. Still like that. Take your glasses off yeah, four eyes? Wanna see you properly."

"But then I can't see you properly."

Vince shrugged and reached up to pull the glasses from Howard's face, putting them gently on the kitchen table. He never let anyone else touch his glasses… ever. He'd even freaked out when his six-month-old niece had made a playful grab for them.

"Beautiful." Vince smirked.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Howard groaned.

Just as their lips met, the phone rang. They jumped apart and stared at it. The time had come. The game was on.