Work Text:
When Vince and Stuart show up at Hazel's front door, it's more a relief than a surprise.
"I wanted to go straight to a hotel," Stuart says, barging inside. "Because we've just got off the fucking redeye from fucking LA - which is a total shithole, by the way - and I smell like a chemical toilet."
"Hi, Mum," Vince says, and kisses her on the cheek in passing.
"But your precious little Vincent wanted to see his mummy, so here we are. Have you got any coffee?" He's looking in the cupboard as he speaks and helps himself to the Asda own-brand. "This is shit. You're drinking shit."
"Yeah, well," Hazel says, "I can't afford the good stuff without Vince's staff discount."
"There is no good stuff," Stuart says, as he makes coffee for himself and, without asking, Vince. Just the right amount of milk and three spoons of sugar and he hands the mug to Vince without even looking at him. "There is no good coffee in Britain. America has good coffee. Especially Portland. Portland has too many hippies but it does have good coffee."
"So what are you doing back?" Hazel asks. "I mean, if America's so much better for coffee."
Stuart glares at his mug and it's Vince who answers.
"We got deported."
Somehow, she isn't surprised. "So what clever little stunt did Stuart pull, then?"
"Nothing like that," Vince says, and he looks like a little boy who's forgotten his PE kit. "We just kind of forgot to get visas."
"Stupid fucking immigration," Stuart mutters, and then Vince starts handing over the duty-free and Hazel's just glad to have them back.