Disclaimer: I own nothing but the silly plot (or lack thereof). Any characters/references are the property of their respective owners, not me.
I knew it was only a matter of time until I caved in and posted something for this fandom... From the way I see it, people much more well-versed than I in drama and actual storylines have the "continuation-of-the-series" plotlines covered quite well. Therefore, I've determinthat my contribution to all of the delightful Alice/Hatter goodness will be in the form of entertaining-but-pointless oneshots!
Enjoy, and please review!
"What's this?" Hatter peered interestedly at the television, watching as players in various colored jerseys darted across the screen. "Is this some sort of sport?" He sounded excited; sports were a big deal in Wonderland, or at least they had been before the Queen had deemed them unnecessary (and punishable by death).
Alice perched herself on the edge of the sofa, stretching her arms behind her head and sending a quizzical glance towards the TV. "Oh. Yeah, that's football," she commented offhandedly.
A wide grin spread slowly across Hatter's face. "You have football here?" He scooted closer to the television, enthusiastically tuning in to the action. "Any good teams?"
For her part, Alice was surprised; Wonderland had not struck her as the football-playing sort of world. "Um, yeah," she said, shaking her head. Sometimes you just never knew. "We have a few."
As Hatter watched, one player tackled another and seized the ball, darting headlong down the field. The longer Hatter stared at the television screen and the little figures moving across it, the higher his eyebrows rose. "This," he said finally, turning an accusing eye on Alice, "is not football." His mouth was pursed, his face drawn and serious. "You lied to me, love."
It hadn't occurred to Alice that her football and his could be different. "Well, it's football here," she said. "What is football in Wonderland?"
A broad grin took over Hatter's face, and his eyes lit up with excitement. "Only the best sport ever!" he enthused. "You have eleven players on each team and a goal on each end of the field, and the team who scores the most goals wins! They can only touch the ball with their feet—hence the football—and it's a lot of running, but it's the most amazing game ever!" He jumped up animatedly, pointing this way and that as if she could actually interpret his meaning through his wild gesticulations.
This was starting to sound familiar to Alice. "And how," she asked slowly, carefully hiding a grin lest he suspect her comprehension, "do you play football?"
Hatter shot her a cheeky smile. "With your feet."
Alice lifted one eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Well, you have what we call strikers, or forwards, who try to score the goals, and then you have midfielders backing up the strikers and the defense, and there are defenders, who…defend. In the back you have the keeper, who protects the goal from the other team."
That decided it. "Oh," she declared, leaning back against the couch, "you're talking about soccer!"
"Soccer?" He whipped his head around to stare at her. "You mean you do have it here?"
Alice nodded. "We do. We just call it soccer."
Hatter thought on this for a moment, biting his lower lip and pacing back and forth before the television. "But why," he finally said, "would you call this" (he waved a dismissive hand toward the TV) "football, and call football soccer? It just doesn't make sense!"
Sighing, Alice shrugged. "I have no idea, Hatter," she said. "All I know is that this is called football, and your football is called soccer. If it makes you feel any better, though," she added, shooting him an amused look, "they do call it football everywhere else in this world."
That really confused him. "Why would your country be the only one not to follow logic?" he asked, bemused. "You'd think if everybody else were doing it America would follow suit."
"You would think that," Alice replied, "but that's generally not how it goes."
Frustrated, Hatter glared intently at the television. "That doesn't help me," he muttered, "if I'm living here. You would have to be from the most ornery, unusual country in your world…" Grumbling, he picked up the remote and fumbled with it, flicking through channel after channel. "Is there any real football on?" he asked.
"Hatter, I have no idea," Alice replied. "And I'm warning you now, even if it is called football everywhere else, most Americans will not assume that you are referring to soccer if you call it that."
"And I'm telling you," Hatter exclaimed, setting the remote aside and jabbing a finger in Alice's general direction, "that is not football. Football is played with the feet." He hiked one leg up and pointed to his foot. "Like so."
Alice sighed, exasperated, and extended one leg to kick his foot back to the ground. "I've told you, Hatter—that's called soccer here."
Shaking his head, Hatter flipped off his hat and ran a hand through his already-messy hair. "It just doesn't make sense!" he lamented loudly to the empty air of the room. "What kind of place is this that football isn't football?"
"The one you've chosen to live in," Alice told him pertly, smiling sweetly at him.
Pushing a dark lock out of his face, Hatter adopted a wry expression and a quirky grin. "And you thought Wonderland was mad, did you?" He shook his head. "It's got nothing on New York."
A mischievous light appeared in Alice's eyes, and she jumped up from the couch. "Yes, well, it must be twice as mad now that you're here," she teased, leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder. "Football, of all things," she muttered, her hair tickling his chin as she shook her head.
"Football," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her to draw her closer, "happens to be a noble and extremely exciting sport—when it is played with the feet." His fingers danced lightly across her side, flitting up until they curled around her shoulder.
"Mmhmm." Alice made a noncommittal sound of agreement, nestling closer to him. "Whatever you say."
Chocolate eyes glinted. "You know what I say, Alice?" His mouth quirked into a devious grin. "I say we forget all about football—or whatever you mad Americans call it—for a while and tackle a new play."
She drew back from his embrace just enough to meet his eyes. "And what…goal…do you have in mind?" she asked, running a finger along the brim of his hat.
"Oh," he said, capturing her hand in his and bringing it to his lips, "I'm certain that we can come up with something." His mouth twitched as he lowered his lips to hers. "…no feet required."
Eh, what can I say? I blame Wonderland's British influences and my own love of soccer (and confusion over its name). For some reason I can really see Hatter as a soccer fan =D This was much shorter originally, but the small romantic interlude at the end forced itself in (and gave me the title).
Reviews are love.
