good sir/madam- may we please have an older tyo? (pretending summer holiday didn’t happen) post graduation, just catching up and actually somehow enjoying each other’s company ~~and maybe a hint of a ship?~~
Hmmmmmm… Well I had been saving something for when I finished my tyo fic “Me tienes que decir” because that’s where that fic is heading, BUT, you asked so nicely, so here’s a little something… Based on a certain Advert that Ade and Nigel did…But set in 2019. So they’d all be in their 60s…or in Mike’s case…who knows~
…I was in a village pub yesterday.
—-
Vyvyan was certain that Neil was staring.
The former hippy was doing a bloody awful job of hiding how his eyes would dart nervously from Vyvyan to literally anywhere else in the pub, his mournful drone commenting on literally anything BUT what was clearly fascinating him so much.
Oblivious as always, Rick was sat next to him, chattering on inanely about whatever dull little cause he was championing these days. Well that wasn’t entirely fair. His politics had mellowed somewhat and the Anarchist was actually doing decent work. The internet and social media was doing wonders for the programs he’d set up to help…well literally anyone who needed it.
He just bemoaned that he was now too grey around the temples and soft around the middle to be the pretty young face of Social Justice. But the kids lapped up his books…The People’s Poet finally had his audience in the autumn years of life.
Vyvyan still thought he ought to shut up and actually DO something rather than just yapping on about it, but he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy for him. Made living with him a hell of a lot easier when there was a captive audience to talk to instead of chewing his ear off about the less fortunate.
Not that it stopped him, the prat.
Mike seemed to be getting smaller and smaller these days, and it pulled at something lodged in Vyvyan’s throat, a curious sense of loss despite nothing having happened yet. He felt the same thing whenever he had to diagonse some snot nosed brat at the hosptial well before their time. He refused to give it any sort of importance, Mike was still Mike. Still effortlessly cool and wearing sunglasses indoors, even if they weren’t in the Kebab and Calculator, but some twee little thatch roof pub with butterflies in the flower beds outside and cermaic birds on the floral papered walls.
Vyvyan’s eye began to twitch as he caught Neils again. He had better pack it in. Vyvyan wanted to stand up and smash the other man’s face into the reclaimed wooden table but he felt Rick’s had on the small of his back, as if he was anticipating such a reaction. A silent reminder that he couldn’t exert himself if he didn’t want to end up laid up in bed for a month with another hernia.
“Take a picture it’ll last longer, Neil!” Rick sneered, the hand still resting on Vyvyan’s lower back. Protective. Vyv had come to appericate such gestures. The urge to turn and smack Rick in the face never really stopped however.
“What?” Neil blinked moonishly, the creases and lines worn into his face thankfully not hidden behind that curtain of greasy hair as it had been when they were young, and now neatly clipped into a respectable style.
“You keep blimin’ well staring at Vyvyan, so I said to take a picture! What are you deaf now as well as stupid?!” Rick snapped.
“Isn’t it a selfie? That’s what my grandkids are calling them.”
“Nah, Neil, a selfie is a picture you take of yourself.” Mike piped up from beside him. He’d been swiping furiously though the news sites as soon as they’d sat at the table. Vyvyan had watched enviously at the feed as it flashed in the reflection of his glasses.
“Gross, like a…selfie nasty?”
“That’s called a dick pic, Neil. Very popular down my way, and I’m not talking about my-”
“Yes, Yes, We’ve known you long enough to know what you mean, thank you, Mike.” Rick snapped. “I’d just like to know why you’re suddenly so taken with Vyvyan, Neil! It’s very wude to stare you know.”
“Yeah!” Vyvyan promptly crossed his arms and frowned along with Rick. “You gettin’ all pervy in your old age, Neil?”
“I was just wondering, ACTUALLY, if you lost your hair to the dye or did you pull it out after years of having to put up with Rick.”
