After a while though, Scott moved away a little. "Thanks, Vincent. You have no idea how much I really needed somebody right now."

"It's fine," Vincent said. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Scott said. "I don't think I'll ever eat again. Euch, I'm covered in blood. So disgusting."

"Me too," Vincent said. "D'you have any clothes I can borrow?"

"Um... Not really. A lot of my stuff would be too small for you. I might have some tracksuit pants or something, I guess. Anyway, isn't it kind of weird to share clothes?" Scott sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and walking over to his cupboard. He pulled out a casual grey shirt and non-descript black pants. "Do you mind...? I'll just be a second."

"Aw, come on~," Vincent said. "We're all guys here. Surely you can strip down in front of your best friend? You ain't got nothin' I ain't seen before."

Scott stared blankly at Vincent, entirely unimpressed.

Vincent shrugged, "Hey, it was worth a shot. You have anything good to eat? I'm going to go fix myself up something."

"Wait a minute," Scott protested, "Since when did I give you permission to eat my food?" He had to shout that last bit, because Vincent had already walked off towards his kitchen, apparently deaf.

Huffing, he quickly stripped himself down, throwing the bloody clothes straight into the bin. He didn't need them. Slipping the new clothes on, he went through his closet. It took him a while, but he pulled out a pair of pants that looked like they might have fitted Vincent. They were his favourite winter-chilling-at-home track pants, but he guessed he could let Vincent wear them for now.

He made a mental note to wash them as soon as he could afterwards, though.

Scott walked out to the kitchen and found Vincent eating his ramen. He took a large mouthful, took his time in swallowing, then said, "You gotta tell me where you get these from. It is not possible for ramen to taste this good."

Scott glared slightly, "Well, actually, I get them from the Korean supermarket, that packet was the last one in stock, and they don't get another shipment for another month. So thanks."

Vincent blinked and looked down at the bowl, "Dang. You want some?" He held out the bowl to Scott, who just stared at him incredulously for a little bit, and shook his head. Vincent and Scott obviously had very different ideas as to what was acceptable in another person's home...

"Suit yourself," Vincent shrugged. "Hey, are those pants for me?"

For a second, Scott wasn't sure what he was talking about, but then he remembered the pants he was holding, "Oh. Oh, right. Yeah, here, get ready to catch." He threw the pants and Vincent caught them with the hand that was holding Scott's best metal chopsticks.

"I don't suppose you have a shirt that would fit me, hey?" Vincent asked, setting down the bowl.

Scott shook his head, "No, sorry. Um, you can use the bathroom, if you like."

"No matter," And then suddenly Vincent was undoing his pants, right in Scott's kitchen.

Scott suddenly became very interested in a stain on the kitchen bench. He examined it carefully, noting the interesting shape, the varying pigment, the...

"You can look now."

Scott turned back to Vincent, his eyes widening slightly as he did so.

Vincent had changed his pants, but taken his shirt off altogether, so that he was bare-chested. The pants hung low on his hips and he hooked his thumbs in them.

Scott felt a dry lump form in his throat, he swallowed past it. "Um..." He addressed Vincent's chest more than his face, "I-I, those pants are a bit small on you, huh? T-That's really hot- I mean!" Scott's eyes widened, "I'm-I'm hot! Uh, I mean, feeling hot! I'm feeling hot. I could do with a drink of water. You want one?" He grinned sheepishly, attempting to hide the fact that he was internally kicking himself.

Vincent chuckled, his voice became deeper, purring, "Scott, your nose is bleeding~"

Scott clasped his hands to his nose for a second, eyes widening impossibly more, but when Vincent started laughing and Scott realised his nose was, in fact, dry, he pulled his hands away again, groaning. "Oh, screw you."

Vincent was laughing too hard to speak, so Scott went to the fridge and pulled out a cold water-bottle, opening it. "Whatever. So, are you going to go home now, or what? I mean, I appreciate what you did for me, but..."

Vincent had stopped laughing now, he leaned against the kitchen bench, a small, mocking smile on his face.

It dawned on Scott that Vincent had no intention whatsoever of leaving.

Scott sighed, "Fine then, stay. What do you want to do, then?"

Vincent shrugged, "I don't know. Wanna just chill on the couch? Hey, Scott?"

"Yeah?" Scott asked.

"What was it you were going to say to me in the Office? And again, in the backstage?"

Scott froze, feeling his face heat up under Vincent's gaze, "I-It... It doesn't matter."

Vincent blinked at him, "Now you've just made me curious! Come on! Pleaase?"

Scott shook his head quickly and snapped, "It's nothing!"

Vincent reeled back a bit, "Okay... Okay, alright... Geez."

"Let's just chill out for a bit, huh?" Scott suggested, trying to change the subject. It was so awkward, and nothing more than a fantasy, the strange whim to ask Vincent to go out with him properly one time. The desire to just be with him. A strange fantasy, that was all.

That was all.

"Yeah, alright," Vincent said, tipping the rest of his noodles down the sink (Scott internally screamed) and turning to Scott, "Lead the way!"

Scott huffed, turning around and walking out of the kitchen, pointing, as they walked, at a place that Vincent could throw his clothes to take home later. He walked into the living room, Vincent hot on his heels, and flopped on the couch, lying down. "You can sit anywhere you like," he said, seeing as there were some other couches and seats spread around.

Vincent sat down opposite him, a little coffee table separating them from each other. Something irrational in Scott wanted Vincent to be on the same couch as him, longed for him to comfort him once more like he'd done on the bed.

Everything was silent for a while, there was some distant ticking of a wall clock in the hallway.

Vincent broke the silence, "Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever looked at someone and just really wanted to kiss them?"

The question caught Scott off-guard. He blinked, raising his eyebrows, "I'm sorry?"

"I mean," Vincent sighed, "Have you ever seen someone and just... just really wanted to have their lips on yours? Just wanted to kiss them as hard as you could...have their hair running through your fingers..."

For the second time in ten minutes, Scott's throat went dry. He swallowed and nodded ever so slightly, "Y-Yeah, I think so... I know what you're talking about..."

Vincent nodded to himself like it was part of some research he was doing. For what, Scott didn't know. It was silent for a while, a strange, tense silence, and then Vincent spoke again. "Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe... it'd be much easier if you just kissed them? To get the tension out of the air? Just to get the thought out of your head?"

Scott gulped, "Maybe."

Vincent raised an eyebrow, "Maybe?"

"Maybe," Scott affirmed, and then, "Yes. A lot."

Vincent nodded again, "I thought you might have."

Scott looked at Vincent for a moment, wondering whom he had felt that feeling towards. Did Vincent have a crush on somebody? But before he could ask, Vincent spoke again.

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you? Please?"