Author's Notes: Hi! If you haven't read Literally, I highly recommend you do before you read this, but if for some reason you don't want to I'm sure it's possible to enjoy this without that.

First off, I want to make a plea to all writers reading this: please, please, write more Susan/Teatime stories! I've read every last fiction on this site that had to do with them and you could count them on your fingers. That's really why I'm writing this—there just isn't enough.

Also, I've started chapter two already, so it should come quickly. I hope you enjoy this—the premise just popped into my head and I since I got such great reviews on my other story I thought I might as well write it.

Teatime gets bored, Lobsang sneezes, and Susan gets confused—enjoy!

Chapter One

Boredom, THE VOICE, and Tea

It was a funny combination. In some ways, he'd never been happier. In others, this was the most boring, dull, and dismal part of his existence. Ever.

Susan was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She never failed to make him smile, and she was a never ending mystery that occupied his thoughts whenever she was present. It was so hard to tell what she would think or do. He was getting better, though, and he knew now just how to make her smile (he loved doing that). But when Susan wasn't there, Jonathon Teatime faced a terrible dilemma. He was bored. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

It's not like he could go to the Assassin's Guild and get an interesting contract. No, not only would Susan be infuriated should she find out (which he thought he could probably avoid, but he knew better than to underestimate the poker-handy-schoolteacher), but that might also count against him in reaching 'the good place' ('the good place'. Really, he would have thought Marly would be more creative than that. Perhaps his dear sister had been dead for too long). The problem was Teatime lived for interesting contracts. He found nothing more pleasurable than exercising his brilliantly broken mind, taking every detail in and exploring each and every possible outcome. Well, almost nothing. Kissing Susan was, but just barely.

He'd tried merely hypothetical homicides, and though it most definitely soothed him and occupied his mind, it did nothing for his physical urges; his need to clamber and climb, to intimidate and invade. And then there was his knife. His sharp little dagger that Teatime had possessed before he was even nine years old. It had lain idle, useless. Was it really time to put it down?

You see, the Assassin (he still considered himself one, even if he hadn't inhumed anyone in a while) had lived by a certain philosophy since his sister twin sister had been beaten to death and he'd murdered his father in a (failed) attempt to save her life. Since then, he realized that people were like things, and insects—they had their uses, but could be turned against you. Like his knife, for example. It was the very same blade that his father had (be it not quite on purpose) gouged out Teatime's eye with. It was also the blade the young boy had wrenched from his bleeding socket and stabbed the man who had done a terrible job at raising him with. That same knife he had used to take countless lives.

From this story you should take note that the knife took his eye, and then saved him from his father—therefore betraying its former master. The knife could betray him as well. But if it was still in his grasp, if he still held it, it simply could not hurt him. When he needed it no longer, he would put the knife down to pick something else up. Then he would destroy the formerly handy blade so it could not turn against him.

It was that logical principle that he had lived by since that terrible day sixteen years ago. Only he hadn't just applied it to objects—he had applied it to people as well, and, quite honestly, he couldn't see the difference in doing so. He had been going about his life as such, when Susan had come along and killed him.

Dear, sweet,Susan.

Then he'd seen there was more to her. Susan wasn't just a thing—she was as vibrant and wonderful as his Marly. How he adored his Susan.

But how bored he was.

That summer they'd spent together, traveling all across the Disc, had been more fun than he could put to words. But then it had ended, and Susan had gone back to work. And while she was gone, he was bored.

Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

So it was that one Friday evening he sat in the living room in Susan's apartment, lounging on the couch lazily, counting the seconds until she got back (literally, actually). This really was a problem he would have to solve. He loved Susan so much, and he couldn't imagine living without her, but he couldn't bare this constant boredom. There had to be some way he could use his talents without murdering people.

But murdering people was the fun part.

Boring, bored, boring, bored, boring.

And he wouldn't even get Susan to himself today. Lobsang was coming over for tea. What she liked so much about the Lord of Time he'd never know.

What kind of a name is Lobsang?

He'd thought this thought quite often. The problem, of course, being that he was named Teatime.

Bored, boring, bored, boring, bored,boring, bored.

Teatime really looked forwards to next summer. They could go to so many fun places and do so many fun things and he'd actually have fun and wouldn't have to deal with this boredom. Still, at least they had their game.

Footsteps.

Susan.

NO MORE WAITING!!!

Quickly, he slid behind the front door as it swung open.

The game could most definitely be fun.

Susan glanced around suspiciously as she stepped into the entry.

"Where are you hiding, Teatime...?" she wondered quietly as she closed the door behind her, not bothering to turn around. Her eyes carefully scanned the room, checking each and every individual hiding place. Slowly, she walked forwards, glancing carefully around her as she edged towards the fireplace (for anyone who didn't imagine a fireplace here, do you really think Susan would live anywhere that didn't have a poker in an easily accessible location?). She didn't notice Teatime pressed against the wall behind her. He found this terribly amusing.

Slowly, Susan started to slide the poker out of its stand, when she felt a hand on her wrist, stilling her arm with an unbreakable (but gentle) grip, and heard a soft, high voice in her ear.

"Oh, do put that down, Susan. You aren't planning anything... dreadful, are you now...?"

The schoolteacher pursed her lips in agitation.

Damn, she thought grumpily.

"Alright, you got me. You can let go now, you know."

"I'd really rather not."

She rolled her eyes as Teatime rested his chin on her shoulder and examined her face curiously, sliding his hand from her wrist to her fingers and lacing his into hers. He grinned.

"I'm so happy your back, Susan."

She raised her brows and stepped away, crossing her arms.

"I trust you didn't kill anyone while I was away?"

He cocked his head thoughtfully.

"No one of consequence."

"Teatime," she growled.

"No, no I haven't," he sighed, sitting down on the couch slowly.

Susan would have gone to the backroom and made some tea for when Lobsang came, but they still had ten minutes and she was beginning to get good at reading the Assassin. He wasn't his normal chipper self at the moment, and though she was half tempted to go anyway, she sat beside him (sighing in exasperation).

"What is it, Jonathon?" she asked.

"You're getting better," he answered.

Susan blinked. He said random things like that often. It really was very confusing.

"What do you mean?"

"Not this time, but some of the others... you've even actually caught me once or twice."

"You're sidetracking. Teatime, I know you're upset and you're not going to find me willing to talk about it for the rest of your life, so spit it out now if you ever want to."

He raised a brow slowly, but spoke after a few seconds.

"It's terribly... dull when you aren't around, Susan. My mind is like any part of the body, any skill—you leave it idle, it will weaken. It has been idle for some time."

"Oh, no!" Susan called loudly, standing to her feet. "You don't want another adventure, do you?!" the schoolteacher shook her head darkly. NOT HAPPENING! she said in her Voice.

Teatime was standing before she had time to blink—grinning.

"Oh, the Voice," he said happily, barely six inches from her.

Susan glared.

"I don't necessarily need an adventure," the Assassin explained to her frightening gaze. It would have sent chills down any sane man's spine... but then again, Jonathon Teatime really wasn't quite sane. "I just need something to keep me... occupied. I've tried just breaking and entering houses, carving little 'T's on the walls, but it's so easy. Do you know people hardly even lock their doors?"

Susan's eyes widened.

YOU'VE BEEN BREAKING AND ENTERING!?!?!?! she shrieked.

Jonathon blinked.

"I didn't hurt anyone."

He was hopeless, Susan decided. Hopeless. Breaking and entering?!

"It's the principle of the thing!" she called, failing to understand how he could fail to understand. "The principle!"

He blinked again in confusion, but inside he was smiling. Here was one of those Susan-mysteries/games. Could he make her even more... emotional?

"They didn't even notice that the cat was gone," he said innocently.

"The cat!" she screeched, her eye widening in horror. "What did you do to the poor thing?! You said you didn't hurt—" about then she noticed to huge, crooked grin sliding across his face. That meant he was teasing her (about the cat, at least). Anger swelled up in her chest, and she pulled back her arm to hit him. He caught it, but didn't expect the high-heel of her boot to come clashing down on his foot. The Assassin's eyes widened before his face broke out in a grin as held his foot, hopping slightly on the other.

"Oh, just lovely, Susan," he said, balancing perfectly on one leg now that he had gotten over the shock. Susan was learning. He felt so proud.

The schoolteacher flung her arms in the air.

"I'm making tea!"

And with that, she retreated to the kitchen.

Teatime grinned. Yes, he'd most certainly have to find a way to deal with his boredom. But for now... for now, Susan was more than worth it.

*

Lobsang sneezed again, watching the birds in the sky freeze in time as he did so. He sighed and snapped his fingers, bringing them back to the present. His powers had been very erratic since the whole 'disappearing' incident. Then again, that was the least of his worries.

Let's make a list, shall we?

1. Susan has a psychokiller for a boyfriend.

2. There was a new anthropomorphic personification—a personification of the Rules, no less!

3. Susan has a psychokiller for a boyfriend.

4. Death had color in his domain. COLOR.

5. Susan had a psychokiller for a boyfriend!

6. A journalist knew who he was. And she wouldn't quit trying to get an interview with him.

7. SUSAN HAD A PSYCHOKILLER FOR A BOYFRIEND, AND HE'S SUPPOSED TO HAVE TEA WITH HIM TODAY!!!

As you can see, poor Lobsang was really having a tough time. He sneezed again, then brought the poor girl he'd sent into the last second back to the present.

I really need to get things back under control, he thought in agitation. And he wasn't just talking about his powers.

*

There was an up-side to having a psychokiller for a... er, boyfriend. There really was. Like that night someone had attempted to rob her house... Susan most definitely could have handled him on her own, but she hadn't even gotten out of bed when she heard the sounds of shuffling in the hall stop. Just what Teatime had done to the poor (yes, he may have been a criminal intending who knows what, but she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for anyone who ended up with Teatime's wrath) man, she didn't know (and she didn't think she wanted to). But at least she hadn't had to get out of bed. It was all taken care of quickly and cleanly, and there hadn't even been a blood stain (on her carpet, at least. Teatime had washed his hands directly after, so she wasn't quite sure if there had been blood or not there. Susan tried not to think about that).

Then there was the down side. Not only did she have to keep reexplaining morals, and why you didn't kill your boss when he lowered your pay unjustly (she had the sinking suspicion that it went right over his head), but he was bloody well miserable, and she knew it. Bored, and out of practice and useless was exactly how he felt, and it hurt her to know that. She understood his emotional state somewhat (as she herself had felt very useless when she had been a duchess doing nothing), but the fact that he was feeling so melancholy because he couldn't kill people couldn't be described as anything but disturbing.

Well, maybe that wasn't quite it. Yes, she had no doubt that he enjoyed 'inhuming' people, but he enjoyed it as one would enjoy a particular board game—it was wonderful, but there were other types that could be just as enjoyable. Or at least she hoped that's how he felt about it.

She was another board game he enjoyed. He'd told her he found her fascinating, that she was a puzzle he could never quite solve. But she was gone six hours a day, and that wasn't including lesson planning, which took many hours in itself. So she couldn't be the game to replace his homicidal habits... Susan shook her head. She just had to find something else that could occupy his mind and give him a challenge—how he loved challenges.

About then Susan realized she had just put the tea on without even thinking. How many times had she put tea on before...?

It was in this thoughtful state that she felt someone slip behind her, rest his chin on her shoulder and slide his arms around her waist.

"Hi," Teatime whispered happily in her ear before he kissed her neck affectionately. Susan's hair reached out towards him like it would a static-ee balloon, but she didn't reprimand it. She'd given up on that long ago. "What are you thinking about?"

Susan sighed and leaned backwards into him, letting Teatime take her full weight—she knew he could handle it. He might be slight compared to most men (barely as tall as she), but he was near as strong as Banjo was.

"You," she said through her sigh.

"That's nice," he whispered in her ear.

"Not like that, Jonathon. This really is a problem."
"Problem? I don't recall any problems."

"When I'm gone you spend six hours moping. That's a problem," she considered not continuing, but relented, "...I don't like you unhappy."

Teatime's already broad, boyish grin widened. He pressed his forehead to the side of hers.

"How... sweet," he teased.

Susan rolled her eyes, wishing she could take the words back.

"No, it's not like I want you to be happy," she countered, stepping away from and turning to him. "You being so mopy just drives me nuts, and since I can't seem to get you out of my house I have to deal with it as long as you're like this."

Teatime and Susan weren't exactly living together. He just visited for about eighteen hours a day—every day. Where he slept, Susan really didn't know, but he wasn't here always. A couple hours now and then he would go for a walk and wonder Ankh-Morpork doing who-knows what.

Technically, he was supposed to leave at night, but he often ended up staying until after midnight just talking with her. Teatime had some of the most interesting things to say, and Susan thought that if sleep hadn't been a problem, they could talk until dawn and still have plenty of conversation left in them.

And Susan loved him. She didn't know when she had stopped denying it, but she had at some point at last admitted that really did love him. He was childish, and brilliant, and (could be) sweet, and made her feel special. No one else could make her proud to be Death, Human, Duchess, Teacher, Ex-Governess, and Susan Sto-Helit. Being that made her wonderful in his eyes, and he made that very clear. Susan had always tried to be normal, but with Jonathon she almost felt that being different was okay.

"Don't pretend you don't like that you can't get me out your house no matter how hard you try."

Susan rolled her eyes.

The doorbell rang, and Teatime went from chipper to grumpy like that (just imagine that a hand popped out of your computer screen and snapped as you read 'that')

"That must be Lobsang!" Susan said happily, making her way to the door.

Teatime crossed his arms in agitation.

What kind of a name is Lobsang, anyway?

Jonathon really needed to find a better insult. If that even counts as one.

*

"Hachoo!" Lobsang sneezed as the door swung open.

"Bless you," Susan said dryly, raising a brow.

"I've been sneezing all day..." he said apologetically, stepping into the apartment. He was rather surprised when he walked into a black-clad figure, somehow popping up directly in front of him, arms crossed. Surprised, since Jonathon Teatime had most certainly not been there before.

Now Lobsang was a tall individual. The man before him was not, and the Lord of Time towered over the Assassin easily. But somehow the icy, dark glare with those horrible, mismatched eyes combined with his elegant, tall posture made Teatime seem like he was over six feet to whoever he happened to be glaring at (and anyone else who had the misfortune of seeing said glare). And really, how tall someone feels is all that matters.

Lobsang, however, wasn't easily intimidated, and merely glowered back at the Assassin before him. He'd never liked Assassins. Maybe it had something to do with his background in Thievery. For whatever reason, they both simply glared at one another, when Susan coughed politely. And even then they didn't stop.

Susan started to chew her lip. Perhaps tea together hadn't been such a good idea.

Maybe she should ask Teatime to go on one of his walks...? No, he'd mope and feel 'dejected', and she'd never hear the end of it. Not to mention, one Lord of Time's body might pop up somewhere on the streets shortly after she'd finished her tea. Teatime had once insinuated that he might kill for the jealousy of her... Susan shook her head. She shouldn't be having these thoughts about the man who was technically her boyfriend.

If you didn't want to be thinking such things, said a little voice in her head, you probably should have picked a DIFFERENT BLOODY BOYFRIEND.

No going back now, she supposed.

Susan grabbed Teatime's arm.

"Would you please help me steep the tea," she said as she dragged him into the kitchen.

It really wasn't a question.

"I really am sure you could handle it yourself, Susan," he said thoughtfully once they reached the kitchen.

"Yes, but when I came back I'd find two dead bodies," she grumbled.

"What did you say?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing. Get the cups please."

Teatime stepped, popped up at the other side of the kitchen, grabbed a few teacups, then appeared beside her with the stoneware. Susan was finally getting used to his 'shifting', as he called it, and didn't jump once. It was still unnerving, though.

While he was popping up all over the place like one of those toys with those animals that you had to hammer down randomly, she pulled out the teabags. By the time she was done he was back, and Susan ordered him to finish up while she brought the sugar and milk out to the small 'dining room' section of the living area.

Stepping outside the arch, she gave Lobsang a small smile as she set the tea necessities on the round table. He was sitting in one of the padded wooden chairs, glowering.

"How have things been for you, Lobsang?" she asked curiously, sitting across from him.

"Honestly, Susan, an Assassin?"

"Yes, Teatime was an Assassin since he was..." she counted on her fingers, "about nine years old, and though he insists he still is, he really hasn't been for a good four months now. The problem being...?"

"He's actually killed people!"

"And you've stolen from poor grannies," she pointed out.

If it had been Teatime, he would have called out 'have not!' if it had been something that agitated him, or simply agreed matter-of-factly if it hadn't. Lobsang was not Teatime.

"I don't steal from grannies. Anymore."

"Gotcha. He doesn't kill anymore..." she paused, "I hope not, at least," the schoolteacher added as an afterthought.

Teatime started to come in through the arch in the kitchen, the teacups on a tray. He was staring at them intently, moving gracefully and uncharacteristically slowly as he attempted to keep them from sloshing. He was actually doing pretty darn well.

"You shouldn't have to hope. You should know with someone who is supposed to be such a major part of your—"

"What are we discussing?" Teatime asked coolly, sitting down slowly. Lobsang closed his mouth quickly, took a cup, and started furiously shoveling sugar into it.

"Assassins and Thieves," Susan explained.

No, I'm not a thief madam. But if I were, I'd be the kind to steal fire from the gods.

Susan almost laughed as he remembered that conversation, over three years ago when they had been adversaries. In a way they still were, but on a much different battlefield (ah, love!).

We've already got fire.

There must be an upgrade by now.

Teatime raised a brow.

"Such a... distasteful...topic."

"Assassins?" Lobsang asked.

"Actually, I was rather thinking Thieves."

Susan sighed in exasperation. This was going to be a long evening.

"Hachoo!" Lobsang called, and Susan started to feel dizzy.

It was like her life was playing backwards, but so fast she couldn't quite comprehend it. The world was spinning (or was it her head...?), and she was feeling queasy. The world started to turn whiter, and whiter, and whiter... and then she hit the floor with a thud, feeling terribly nauseous.

Slowly, the schoolteacher lifted her head. Where was she?

Oh no. Not the Toothfairy's Castle!

Yes, most definitely, here she was in the Castle once more. How she'd gotten here, she wasn't quite sure, but at least she knew the way back. Susan glanced around quickly, saw no one, stood, and was surprised to see a very intimidating Assassin standing before her. He'd come out of nowhere.

"Teatime," she said, catching her breath. "You surprised me."

"You got it right," he said in awe. Susan blinked.

"I've been getting it right for a while now, at your insistence," she said, a little confused. Now he blinked.

Suddenly, Susan felt a cold blade at her throat. She hadn't even seen a blur.

"Teatime," she growled incorrectly, "you're breaking the rules."

Oh yes, together they had established three rules each:

SUSAN'S RULES:

A. No holding her at knife point. EVER.

B. No killing without her express permission.

C. She wouldn't tell Death where he was right off the bat, but it was up to him to hide (expired; Death didn't want to bring Teatime's soul back to the Land of the Dead anymore. Or perhaps he wanted to, but he wouldn't for Susan's sake).

TEATIME'S RULES:

A. No calling him 'teatime' under any circumstances.

B. He reserves the right to threaten and intimidate.

C. He's proven he'll watch her back—she has to watch his.

GOLDEN RULE:

A. If either of them breaks any of the rules, the other gets to break one of their choice.

It had been a very big ordeal, one that both of them had put a good deal of thought in. So when Teatime blinked once more, and said—

"What rules?"

—Susan was thoroughly shocked.

"The rules. I don't call you 'teatime', you don't hold me at knife-point..."

"You are talking as if we have met," he said.

"Of course we've met!" Susan called in shock. "I'm your bloody girlfriend, for goodness sake!"

"Girlfriend...?" he said thoughtfully, trying the word on his tongue. "I've no memory of making your acquaintance. Are you sure you haven't confused me with someone else?"

"Jonathon, this had gone on for long enough. Stop it."

He blinked.

"How do you know my name?"

"You TOLD ME!"

"What else did I... tell you?"

"Teatime..." she growled dangerously.

"You really are very interesting..." he sighed, "...but I'm afraid I have work to do and you will be a terrible distraction."

She knew the look in his eyes, saw the change in the muscles of his knife-arm. He was about to kill her. And he wasn't kidding.

"Marly!" she called quickly, her voice full of worry and shock and confusion, but she knew saying that name would buy her time.

She was right. Teatime froze, and besides the fact he wasn't moving (at all) if you didn't know him like Susan did you wouldn't tell the difference in his posture... but she could, and she saw that her attempt had hit home.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" it wasn't angry, or dark, just quiet, and surprised, each word almost a separate sentence.

"Marly," she repeated. "Your sister."

"Who told you that?" he asked coldly, pressing his knife deeper into her neck, stepping forwards and forcing her back as he almost broke her skin. "I most certainly didn't."

"Work..." Susan said, remembering what he had said earlier, "you have work? But you haven't..."

Then she remembered what Lobsang had said.

...My powers have been very erratic...

"What day is today?" Susan asked slowly.

Teatime blinked.

"It's the night before Hogswatch," he said in surprise. Didn't everyone know that?

"And you wouldn't be trying to... to kill the Hogfather, would you?" she managed through her shock, but only barely.

Teatime looked even more surprised, if that was possible. He didn't even have to respond for her to know the answer—his face said it all."

"Oh bollocks," she huffed.

A/N: Review! Review! Review!