Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters that appear in this work. I only own the plot.
Tis that merry time of year again, and I now have an abundance of free time on my hands with which to write random, festive Alice/Hatter interactions. Oh, happy days! Seriously, be prepared for a flood of random oneshots in the near future. This one is pretty self-explanatory, I think, and I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
As always, read, enjoy, and review!
Alice knew that Reginald was the reason mistletoe kept dogging her footsteps. He was crafty—Alice would give him that. He never gave the slightest indication that he was up to anything, but she knew. Somehow, some way, that mistletoe was his fault.
Whenever she went into a store, a small green sprig was guaranteed to appear above her head. It didn't matter if it were a clothing store, the market, the bookstore—the mistletoe was always there. Sometimes it sat impossibly high, looming over her from a shelf or swinging from a light. Other times, it lurked just above her head, craftily suspended from various merchandise.
Teatime, of course, was quite as bad as shopping, as Alice had only to look up to find a bit of green hovering above her in one of the trees. No matter how many accusatory looks she shot towards the Hatter, they were always to no avail: his hands remained innocently curled around his teacup, a small grin tugging at his lips.
The mistletoe even found its way into her house. Somehow, even though she meticulously went through every room in search of wayward sprigs, the seemingly innocuous little plant managed to appear above her bed throughout the course of the night. It dangled above her head, simplistically tacked to the ceiling, its bright coloring a stark contrast to the pale cream of its backdrop.
Try though she might, she could not escape its ominous presence.
The Hatter was very sneaky with his craft. Alice never caught him in the act, but wherever mistletoe appeared, Wonderland's resident haberdasher was certain to follow. At the store, he stood in the next aisle over, leaning casually against a shelf and peering across the tops of foodstuffs and clothing. Their eyes met, and he smiled winningly as he pointed to the mistletoe. At tea, he took great gulps of the refreshing liquid, all the while shooting pointed looks at the little green plant hovering above her head. His hands always remained in plain sight, tightly clutching his tea cup as if to absolve him of all blame.
Alice, of course, refused to take the bait. Time and time again, she ducked around the mistletoe, ignoring its presence and all associated connotations—much to Reginald's very obvious chagrin. His face would collapse into an emotionless mask, his eyes sad and pitiful and pleading. Still, each successive denial only served to further encourage him, and he bounced back from Alice's rejections with progressively complex schemes.
Despite the unusual situation, Alice remained thoroughly entertained, for nothing amused her more than to observe the daily transition of Reginald's emotions. Each time he drew her attention to the mistletoe, he would eye her hopefully, glancing from the plant to her face and back. And, each time, Alice would shake her head firmly in refusal, laughing as the smile slid off his face and he fell into his "kicked puppy" routine.
Thankfully, Alice's house remained generally fortified against the Hatter's presence, and she had yet to awaken to Reginald perched by her bedside. However, Alice knew it was only a matter of time until he decided that remaining to witness the results of his nightly invasion would yield highly effective results. She dreaded the day, but for the time being did nothing other than to regularly remove her morning addition.
For the next few weeks, Alice successfully dodged every attempt of Reginald's to corner her under the mistletoe. It wasn't that she despised him, or any such drastic emotion; on the contrary, they were excellent friends, and Alice (though it was like pulling teeth to make her admit it) thoroughly enjoyed his company. She had been skirting his advances for so long, though, that she knew no other way, and so the game continued.
Christmas Eve rolled around soon enough, and Alice inevitably found herself attending Reginald's annual Christmas Eve party. It was a small, casual affair by his standards, which logically resulted in much fanfare and extravagance. Alice, upon arriving, was forced to shield her eyes; the exterior of the house was cocooned in countless lights, each twinkling and gleaming with iridescent brilliance. They covered every possible surface, from the trees lining the walk to the shutters and roof. Some lights were on a timer, shining red, then green, while others simply glowed bright and white.
Alice shook her head. The whole setup was just so Reginald.
Inside was not much better. He had taken interior decorating to a new level, and had festooned the walls and ceiling with holly and red and green streamers. Tinsel lined the floor, strewn here and there in a slapdash manner. People crowded every room, talking loudly and excitedly, eagerly anticipating the arrival of morning. Slipping out of her coat, Alice resigned herself to a night of revelry and conversation.
A few hours into the festivities saw her lurking tiredly next to the fireplace, her eyes heavy and her head resting against the garish chartreuse wallpaper. Parties had a nasty habit of leaving one drained of all energy, and Alice had been going at this one with much enthusiasm. Perhaps that chaser of champagne had not been the best idea.
"Are you not enjoying yourself?" Reginald appeared from nowhere beside her left shoulder, hat askew and the end of a cracker poking out from one emerald sleeve. He had dressed himself in accordance with the holiday, and sported a snowy white shirt beneath an emerald waistcoat. Pulling a cup of tea from one pocket of his gold trousers, he took a sip and eyed Alice critically, looking quite put-out at her seeming indolence.
Startled by his sudden arrival, Alice jerked upright. "Of course I'm enjoying myself!" she protested. "It's just late, and I'm—"(she paused to punctuate her statement with a yawn) "tired." Exhausted, she allowed herself to relax once more, ignoring the alarm bells that the very small lucid part of her consciousness set off. She knew she really shouldn't be allowing herself to be this comfortable in his company, especially with mistletoe lurking in the wings of the house, but she was just so tired…
"Of course you're tired." The Hatter nodded sagely. "It is, after all, nearly midnight."
Blue eyes snapped open. "It's that late already?" Mention of the late hour served as well as a bucket of frigid water in bringing Alice back to a heightened state of alertness. She straightened, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles from her dress and glancing wildly about the room for a clock.
"But of course, my dear!" Reginald exclaimed, swinging his arms out wide. "The party is set to end in the wee hours of the morning. I would be much remiss in my hostly duties if I allowed it to draw to an early close!"
Alice shook her head, too fatigued to properly chastise Reginald for his seemingly boundless energy. "Today was a long day, and I need some rest for tomorrow," she explained apologetically. "I really must go." Grabbing her coat from where it lay across the back of the sofa, she turned to seek out the door, peering between swarms of partygoers. "I had not meant to stay out this long."
In her search for the exit, she missed the crafty look that swept across Reginald's face.
"Very well, my dear," he sighed, sliding smoothly into place at her elbow. "Leave if you must, but first—" He trailed off and raised his eyebrows as high as they could go, ever so subtly lifting his eyes to the ceiling.
His hints did not go unnoticed, and Alice swore quietly to herself. Slowly, dreading what she would find, she turned her gaze upward.
And, there it sat, innocently dangling from the ceiling. Its normally bright green was camouflaged against the backdrop of holiday decorations strewn about the house, and Alice convinced herself that this was why she had initially missed it. It couldn't be that she had seen it and simply had not cared, and she certainly couldn't have purposely overlooked it, couldn't subconsciously want him to kiss her.
Of course not.
Alice swallowed and looked away from the mistletoe.
Reginald seemed to sense her edginess and lightly grasped her shoulder, looking intently into her eyes. "One kiss," he pleaded softly. "That's all I want, cricket."
For her part, Alice was not surprised; after all, the man had been surreptitiously stalking her with mistletoe throughout the month. Her eyes lit up as her tired mind yielded a brilliant scheme. It was a delightful idea, in her opinion—wonderfully devious and conniving. She rather thought her companion would approve. Turning to Reginald, she surreptitiously slipped a hand inside her coat pocket. "One kiss?"
His face lit up with hope. "One kiss," he repeated solemnly. "That's all."
Alice stepped closer, a small, mischievous smile on her lips. "One kiss, and you don't bother me about anything else for the rest of the holiday season?" She knew it was asking too much of him to leave her in peace for longer than a week or two.
Reginald nodded emphatically. They were close enough to touch now, separated only by the thinnest curtain of air. Alice's veins thrummed with anticipation, and she slowly lifted her left hand to his shoulder. "One kiss," she said softly. Her hand traced a pattern on his waistcoat.
Alice leaned in close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. Lips slightly parted, she tilted her head slightly, sliding her other hand up to his shoulder. Reginald's eyelids fluttered, black lashes flitting down to meet his freckled cheeks. White-gloved hands met behind her back, cradling her in his arms.
They were technically touching now, her lips mere millimeters away from his.
Alice closed her eyes and their lips brushed for the briefest of instants, heat flaring between them even with that briefest of contacts, and then—
Quicker than lightning, Alice popped the chocolate into his mouth and drew away, smiling wickedly. "One kiss," she said triumphantly, dangling the aluminum foil before the Hatter's stunned faced. He chewed and swallowed automatically, his hands flopping limply to his sides.
Tapping him on the nose, Alice smiled brightly. "Merry Christmas!" She capitalized on his distraction and turned towards the door, slowly maneuvering through the thick crowd. Once out in the darkened lane before his yard, Alice turned to regard the house. Good—he wasn't following her.
She turned briskly on her heel and set off down the road, trying to organize the tumultuous thoughts flashing through her mind. The exhaustion, she could deal with; it had, after all, been an extraordinarily long day. But…was that regret she was feeling? It couldn't be.
Before she had time to completely compose herself, Reginald had caught up to her. "That was entirely too deceitful, Alice." His voice floated liltingly through the frosty air and Alice froze, startled. She should have known he would follow her. She peered into the darkness in an attempt to locate him. "I am ashamed of you," he sighed, appearing beside her with a mighty frown upon his face.
Alice sighed. "And why are you ashamed of me?" she asked, turning back along the road.
He refused to answer, merely quirking an eyebrow in reply. Falling into step beside her, he allowed the silence to continue for a brief moment, targeting the dry, brown remnants of autumn beneath his feet. They crunched satisfyingly, flattening out against the road or opting to simply shatter into countless cracked pieces.
Despite herself, Alice smiled.
"Aha, there it is!" He stopped short, peering into Alice's face and grabbing her arm so that she was forced to halt as well.
Confused, she met his eyes. "There what is?" she asked.
His hand reached up, lightly tapped her chin. "Your smile," he said simply, allowing his hand to drop.
Alice did not know what to say. She opted, instead, to continue along the road to her house. "You don't have to escort me, you know," she said. "I am perfectly capable of walking home by myself."
He waved her off. "Nonsense! You could be abducted by rogue elves, or eaten by a rabid reindeer, or…" Still babbling, he caught up to her with great, loping strides. "What plans have you for tomorrow?" he asked, casually executing a conversational one-eighty.
"Nothing much," Alice replied. "Get up, open what presents are at my house, luncheon with you."
Reginald smiled, teeth flashing even in the dark. "And I cannot wait, crumpet," he said. "Christmas isn't Christmas without the company of friends and loved ones." He placed extra emphasis on the latter, and Alice blushed, stammering something unintelligible.
He was just so unavoidably sweet. The firm wall of her resolve cracked and she stumbled, her distraction causing her to trip over the uneven ground of the road.
Instantly, he caught her, arms on her waist as he held her steady. "Careful," he murmured into her ear. His breath was warm, and Alice shivered. It was cold, and he was so warm. She wasn't sure how it happened, but her head found its way to his chest. She pressed her face against the warm velvet of his coat, listening to the soft thrum of his heartbeat.
His hands remained around her waist, cradling her to him. "You're cold." It wasn't a question. His voice was soft, but Alice could feel the rumble of his words in his chest and against her face.
"Not anymore." She said it so quietly that he almost missed it.
Reginald brought his chin down to rest on the top of her head, feeling the silky texture of her hair on his skin. Alice was there, and she was in his arms. He slid one hand up her back, bringing it to rest on the chilled skin of her neck. Alice sighed, wrapping her arms around him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his head from hers, tilting her chin up so that she was gazing into his face.
"I want to do this right, Alice." He was more serious than she had ever seen him, his eyes dark and intense. "No games, no mistletoe—just one kiss." His voice was soft, husky, and his hand shook slightly as he brought it up to cradle her chin.
Alice's lips parted in surprise. He was actually nervous. Then again, so was she. A haze suffused her mind, blocking out any thoughts other than the warmth coursing through her veins, the feel of his touch, the light dusting of freckles across his nose, the deep blue of his eyes, his soft pink lips.
The Hatter's fingers brushed gently across her lips and he dipped his head down to hers. "Merry Christmas, Alice," he breathed.
Sappy and sweet—I just can't help myself. On a relatively unrelated topic, I watched SyFy's Alice the other day and absolutely loved it. Good storyline, good acting, creative interpretation, and Andrew Lee Potts=very attractive Hatter.
Reviews, as always, are amazing. I love me some feedback!