a QAF Fic-ette
fandom: post QAF#1 fluffyverse
by: me
dramatis personae: Vince(age 45) Alfred (15 something)
rating: PG - no sex
title: Just Like The Ones We Used To... Love
archive: no
feedback: if you want to ^_^
no spoilers
disclaimer: twats herein belong to Russell T. Davies
warning: major character dead years before
Just Like The Ones We Used To... Love
Artificial Christmas trees...awww. Not those realistic
80s things or the turn of the century organic-messy
ones. More of a 70s revival. Still... Vince would be
spending Christmas with Hazel and this year's
selection of her interminable procession of
ever-hunkier lodgers. Vince's mind sometimes drifted
to the question of "do they all pay the rent in cash?"
and then he had to go and beat his head against the
nearest hard surface for thinking that of such a
respectable 60 y.o. lady. For no one who knew her
could have any doubts about it. Hazel *was* a Lady.
It was the 23rd. Who could it be at this time?
"Alfie? Do you know what time it is?"
"I've asked you not to call me Alfie. Makes me feel
like a brat."
"Yeah, so what Alfred?"
The boy rushed past Vince into the toilet. He came out
looking even paler than he had on the doorstep.
"What's the matter? Are you on something?"
"Something? I'm on everything man. And it still won't
go away..."
Vince came nearer, softened his expression and hugged
his nephew. He was is nephew. That's how Life is, so
take it...
"What? What is it that won't go away?"
"Dad."
Silence between them, not like a broken link, but like
a suddenly strengthened bond.
Vince said nothing for a while.
"I know how it must feel... I just don't know the
right words to make it hurt less... I should,
shouldn't I?"
"I didn't come looking for words. That was dad's field
of expertise." a sad smile "I just wanted to be with
the only person who understood him... because I
figured that person might understand me, too."
"I think I do."
"Is it okay if I stay here? I'll sleep here on the
couch. Not that I'll be sleeping much, though."
"Sure. But warn your mum. Better yet, ask her."
"It'll be fine. I'll just *not sleep* here instead of
there."
"How long have you ben having trouble sleep?"
"I don't. I mean, not long. It's around Christmas. I
just... I just wish I'd had the time to know him
better. He were always havin' a go at me, but when it
was just the two of us he was so gentle and loving.
I... My mum's great, and Lisa and everyone... but I'd
like to stay all the same."
"Stay. We can talk if you want. Or I'll just shut up
and leave you, whatever you feel most comfortable
with..."
"Stay." sudden smile, hint of hope "Don't suppose you
have pictures, you know, snapshots, photographs,
polaroids. Or tapes, or those Discs. Or..."
" 'course I do. Tons. I just don't look at them very
often, I mean - would you, if you were in my place and
still alone after all this time?"
"No. But we can look at them together. If it gets too
bad you bite my hand. I'm a bit thick, but that should
stop me..."
"Okay, come help me fetch all that stuff Alf."
"Thanks Vince."
And deep, deep inside another playful "Thanks"
---
"Christmas, It would be fuckin' depressing for these
two, wouldn't it? Now excuse me while I go illuminate
some stills. They'll be dazzled... Bedazzled..."
O Fim (is it just Ende? or Die Ende? das, der? help!)
