This fic is dedicated to MrYaksup, a great friend of mine whose birthday was two weeks ago :D I know it's quite belated (forgive me!) but I hope you like it ^-^

Out of all the things I have written recently, I really liked how this one turned out the most because I feel like my writing is a bit different, so that makes it even more special~ It's a short, aimlessly fluffy fic in which Oz and Gil are already in a relationship. Just a small warning though, there is a tiny bit of angst at the beginning (because I just can't seem to be nice and let the characters live perfectly happy lives *facepalm*).

Anyways, enough from me. On with the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pandora Hearts.


"He's a surprisingly heavy sleeper," realised Oz, as he aimlessly traced random patterns on the skin of Gilbert's exposed back. The sun was well up in the sky, flooding the bedroom with soft, warm sunlight. The sweet sound of birds chirping in the distance could faintly be heard, but apart from that the entire mansion was silent. After all, everyone deserved to sleep in on a Sunday morning, didn't they?

Oz was mildly surprised that he managed to wake up reasonably early, considering the fact that he and Gilbert had been up quite late last night engaged in... certain activities. And they just might've been up until dawn had not Gilbert insisted they get some rest.

He felt the corner of his lips tug up in an amused smile when he recalled Gilbert who would always, with a rosy blush, both praise and complain about the fact that Oz was a boy with great stamina.

But then the smile left as quickly as it came when Oz's finger began lightly tracing the particularly long scar running down diagonally across Gilbert's back.

This scar bothered Oz every time he saw it, almost more so than the one on Gilbert's chest. It was much more faded than the one inflicted by Oz all those years ago, to the point that it was nearly non-existent. Therefore it must've meant that it was a scar from before that time, and he shuddered involuntarily when it dawned to him that the scar was a vestige of Gilbert's past life; before Oz came into the picture.

So someone had the nerve to attack Gilbert when he was so young...?

Oz quickly steered his thoughts in another direction, because the last thing he wanted was a pressure headache on such a lovely morning. Instead, he stopped tracing patterns and gently placed his palm flat against the smooth skin over Gilbert's spine.

"...Was his back always this broad...?"

The hand on his servant's back slowly closed into a fist.

This was the back that protected Oz even when they were children, though at that time he didn't fully realise it. Had it not been for this back, Oz would have received a direct blow from his father's poisonous words that day. He would have had a clear view of the kind of expression a father would wear when saying such words to a son and he might've been the one to get hit by his only parent.

And now? Now, that back was still there for Oz to take refuge behind. After all those years, it grew to compensate for the extra threats present in today's world just for Oz's sake. It shielded him from the judgemental eyes of society, the expectant eyes of his followers and the glares of abhorrence from his enemies.

...To think that it was the same back of that timid little boy that once stood quivering behind his Uncle, bandaged and afraid out of his mind well over a decade ago...

Oz curled up against Gilbert's back, exhausted from his own little mental monologue. He nuzzled the space in between the older man's shoulder blades lightly with his nose before pressing a soft kiss there, and then rested his head against it.

"...How?" he whispered, though it was so soft that he didn't even realise he had said it aloud at all.

"How can he be so strong?"

Oz's eyelids were starting to feel heavy again. Perhaps he'd sleep a bit more as well...

"My back stands firm against all odds because you have always been there, supporting me from behind."

With a start, Oz's eyes flew wide open and he stared ahead, unseeing.

Gilbert shifted a bit before turning over to face Oz. He had that expression on, the one where Oz felt as though he were melting on the inside from the way those lips curled upwards slightly to form a warm, adoring smile, as well as that half-lidded gaze filled with pure, concentrated love and affection which was meant only and only for him.

Gilbert's hand found its way to Oz's clenched one, and with great expertise he gently managed to pry it open. He then laced their fingers together and rested his forehead against Oz's, making sure to stare deep into the other's shimmering emerald eyes.

"My strength is you, Oz," continued Gilbert, speaking in almost a whisper. "Whether it's simply the thought of you or your very presence... It was always you, and it always will be."

Oz had to shut his eyes then. Gilbert would surely see the tears that were starting to form if he didn't.

"How did he know what I was...?"

"You should know by now that we don't need words to understand each other..." Gilbert brought up his other hand to softly cup Oz's cheek before slowly, soothingly, stroking the boy's porcelain-like skin with his thumb as though wiping away unshed tears. "Your expressions, your gestures, your touches... They speak a thousand words to me."

And just like that, all of Oz's previous worries were washed away within the skip of a heartbeat.

Then Gilbert leaned forward, and they shared a sweet, deep kiss for what seemed like forever – what they wished could be forever – until they reluctantly had to break apart for air. But only the connection between their lips had ended; their fingers were still laced while Gilbert's other hand still held Oz's cheek, and by now they had intertwined their legs together beneath the covers to meld with one another even further.

"Gil..." Oz thought fondly as he smiled up at his lover, oblivious to his reddened cheeks.

The one who was always by his side...

Gilbert admired the endearing sight before him for as long as he could, until eventually his stiff muscles begged him to get up and stretch which was when he realised that Oz probably felt the same. As he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, Gilbert looked over his shoulder and beamed at his beloved master who was also getting up.

"Good morning, Oz!"

The one who continues to protect him...

Oz shook his head fondly. Typical Gil; only he would postpone his morning greetings for later in favour for saying such sentimental things first.

But Oz didn't mind even the slightest bit.

The one who always will love him...

"Good morning, Gil~!"

Forever.