I don't own Alice in Wonderland or any of its characters. Based on the 2010 Tim Burton film.

Written for the "Alice and Tarrant Christmas Gift Exchange" at Live Journal.

Even the innocent process of candle-making doesn't help to keep Tarrant from having Naughty Thoughts about his Alice!

Making Candles

For Alice, it was already the makings of a wonderful Christmas. It was Christmas Eve and she and her mother, Margaret, and Lowell had all welcomed Tarrant easily enough into the household. Tarrant had obliged Alice by wearing a suit of brown and a brown top hat. Together they had combed his hair until it was shining and smooth and tied neatly behind his neck.

However, Alice was disappointed that Tarrant's features had changed. He was still pale, and his lips were more red than the average person's, and yes, his eyes were gorgeous and green, but they did not change and were not nearly as large as they should be. Even the gap between his teeth was noticeably smaller.

Tarrant had embraced her before entering the Kingsleigh house and assured her that he was actually pleased, as this would make the story of him being her beau more believable if he appeared as "normal" as possible. Yes, their story was that she head met him on her travels and that was a successful milliner.

And he was her beau, but they had not come to a point in their relationship where they had declared love for each other, but Tarrant was hopeful that such a day would come soon. After all, Alice had, with shy smiles and many blushes, agreed to allow him to Court her, so surely she found the idea agreeable!

Her family was understandably surprised that Alice had found a man she was sincerely interested in. Helen was, at first, disappointed that her choice was a milliner, but she was soon pleased when she saw Tarrant's obvious regard, respect, and affection for her youngest daughter. She then became positively delighted to see that Alice reciprocated his feelings. If her daughter would not marry into London Society, at least she would marry a successful man who had earned her respect and had her best interests at heart. Also, it did not hurt matters any that the clothes and hats he made were positively exquisite. Helen found herself on the verge of asking Tarrant to make her a new day gown.

Margaret and Lowell found him charming and amiable and soon the entire family was comfortable with him and he with them. After they all had a pleasant afternoon tea Mrs. Kingsleigh suggested that they all indulge in one of the activities they had all enjoyed since childhood - candle-making.

Alice and Margaret clapped their hands in delight.

"Oh, I always loved making candles!" Margaret cried.

"So did I!" Alice added, "and Mother and Father would always take our lumpy odd candles and roll them smooth!"

"Interesting!" Tarrant said, leaning forward eagerly. "What method is your favourite?"

"Oh, we always used the simplest," Mrs. Kingsleigh said. "I melt the beeswax in the kettle and then pour some into tin cans for Alice and Margaret, and also give them each a can of water. They lower the wick into the wax, and then into the water, and repeat until a candle is formed."

"We did something quite similar," Lowell interjected, swiftly getting into the spirit of the project. "But we used to help Mother gently pour the wax over the wicks that were hung over the kettle. Then, when they were still warm we would roll them smooth."

"Well, everyone, help me get this started!" Mrs. Kingsleigh said with a smile. "Margaret, find the old tins, Alice, fetch the wicks, Tarrant, please set the old table-cloth, and Lowell, fetch some water. I'll prepare the wax!"

Soon the entire party was happily slowly lowering wicks into their tins of hot wax and then cooling them with the water, before repeating the process. Helen, Margaret, and Alice were very careful and lady-like even in making their candles. They were slow and careful and their candles were noticeably much less misshapen than those of Tarrant and Lowell, who had not their patience and raised and lowered their wicks quickly from the wax to the water and back to the wax again.

Alice was the first to laugh. "Tarrant, your candles and Lowell's are positively...awful!"

"I take offense!" Tarrant said with a wide grin. "I say that our candles have...character!"

Margaret snickered. "Lowell, your sheet of candles are..." She broke into helpless laughter.

Lowell gave her a mock glare. "I dare say that my candles are simply...plump!"

Mrs. Kingsleigh couldn't help but join in the teasing. "You men; always so impatient! Just slow down and lower your wicks more carefully and you'll have candles as lovely as ours! Why, ours will barely have to be smoothed at all!"

Tarrant looked up from his several lumpy and oddly shaped candles and saw Alice's hair, down loose, the way he so adored, catch the light. Smooth...yes. It was smooth. He had the extreme privilege, sometimes, of running his fingers over and sometimes through her hair.

He swallowed as he saw her toss her head and reveal her pale and flawless neck. Oh, he would like to press a gentle kiss, just once, to that neck! Or perhaps two. Or three. Well, maybe he could steal up to four. If he was lucky she wouldn't keep count!

"Tarrant?" he heard Alice ask him. "Are you all right?"

"Oh...oh, yes! Just fine! I was just admiring you...I mean your...your candles." His stammer and embarrassed grin gave him away.

Lowell smirked and the ladies smiled indulgently. They all could see that he was plainly admiring Alice herself.

Alice blushed and picked up a new wick. "I think we should resume?"

"Oh, of course! Let's just get on with dipping in and out!" Tarrant hastily agreed, then blushed himself as he realised what he had just said. But apparently he was fortunate; no-one else seemed to have noticed any other possible meanings of his words.

But now it was too late for Tarrant; for he could not rid himself of rather naughty thoughts. Well, not all of them were naughty, just perhaps not appropriate for a stay with Alice's family. But his lovely Alice was entirely too lovely! Her beautiful azure eyes, her cascading golden tresses, her perfect little rosebud mouth, and that was just the beginning.

His Alice had the loveliest pale skin, soft and flawless, with just the right blush of pink in her cheeks. Her figure was small, but lush with the curves of the woman she had blossomed into over the nearly two years she was away pursuing her father's dreams. She had only become more lovely during her time away, and her confidence and grace had blossomed most becomingly.

She may have eschewed corsets and stockings, but she obviously had worn gloves and hats to keep her complexion. Tarrant was pleased to know that she had worn the several wide-brimmed hats he had made her before she had left to protect her from the harsh sun of this Above world.

But now his gaze was transfixed on her delicate hands raising and lowering her wick into the hot wax. Occasionally she would stroke her candle to smooth a small bump. It was obvious that she wanted her candles to be as perfect as possible in order to require a minimal amount of smoothing later. As her fingers stroked her newest candle Tarrant felt his trousers become uncomfortably tight.

Bother! Why was it that lately everything she did brought out his basest desires? Why couldn't he just enjoy himself around her without thinking of her using her hands or her lips in a more...pleasurable manner?

Up and down in the wax; in and out, stroking and smoothing... His lips grew dry and he licked them and cleared his throat.

"Tarrant, would you like some punch?" Mrs. Kingsleigh asked him. "You seem thirsty."

"Aye," he burred, then cleared his throat once more. "I mean, yes, thank you, Mrs. Kingsleigh."

Tarrant desperately returned to his own dipping, knowing that he was dipping too quickly, but he had to get his mind off of Alice and her hands and her smooth and pretty little fingers that smoothed and caressed and...

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and felt a wave a heat wash over him.

"Are you all right, old man?" Lowell asked him. "You look a bit off."

"I'm fine," Tarrant said huskily. "I just need something to drink."

"Well, here it is, Tarrant," Mrs. Kingsleigh said, handing him a glass of punch. "Drink up! You look a bit warm. Why don't you and Lowell remove your coats? After all, this is not a formal activity! Work in your shirts and relax. This is supposed to be fun!"

"I'm enjoying myself immensely, Mother!" Alice said, raising her latest candle. "This one is nearly perfect!"

"So is mine!" Margaret challenged good-naturedly. "It looks as if the Kingsleigh women have it over the men at the fine art of candle-making!"

Lowell chuckled. "Perhaps you do, at that, dear!" He looked at his own specimens and then at Tarrant's. "I must say, mine and Hightopp's, here, look rather large and bulbous."

Large and bulbous, indeed! Tarrant thought to himself, willing his Little Hatter to settle down. He dipped and dipped and suddenly realised that he no longer had enough wax.

"I...my wax..." he began lamely, uncertain of what to say. The discomfort in his trousers was making him quite unable to think properly and he did not want to embarrass himself or Alice, especially in the presence of her family.

"Oh, I see," Alice said, peering into his almost empty can. "Tarrant, please, move closer to me! Come, dip your wick into my wax." *

All activity ceased and Tarrant cut off a nervous giggle before it could escape his lips. Lowell looked as if he was about to burst into laughter. Helen and Margaret looked positively scandalized, and Alice innocently kept on with her candle-making. After a few moments of silence she suddenly realised that something was amiss.

Tarrant hoped she would not realise what she had just said! His Little Hatter was no better off, and his mind was now filled with all sorts of Naughty Images. He placed a hand resolutely over his mouth to make certain that he would not giggle or say a single word.

Lowell let loose a single guffaw before a stern look from his mother-in-law stopped him cold.

"What is it?" Alice asked. "What's wrong with you all?"

"Nothing...nothing at all, dear!" her mother said hastily.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," Lowell said. "Although, you could ask Hightopp later under the mistletoe!"

Margaret punched him in the arm. "Lowell!" she hissed, blushing furiously.

He snickered and Alice blushed now, knowing that she had done or said something that everyone else found amusing and embarrassing.

"Please, somebody tell me!" she cried out, frustrated. "Did I do or say something wrong?"

"Darling, it's nothing, I assure you," her mother said, but a small smile twitched at the corner of her usually prim mouth. "Please stop asking."

Alice crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. "I certainly will not! I demand to know what is so amusing!"

Nobody responded. They all resumed their candle-making and Tarrant sat perfectly still.

"Tarrant?" she asked him, demandingly.

"What?" he squeaked, then cleared his throat once more.

"What did I say?"

"Hmmm? I dare say I cannot recall," he Lied. "The moment has passed, Alice."

"Very well, then," she huffed, "dip your wick into my wax and let's continue this!"

Lowell could contain himself no longer. He began to laugh and could not stop. Margaret and Helen tried to subdue his fit of uncontrollable mirth, but it was no use.

Finally, he had to say something. "Hightopp," he gasped, " if my wife would only say that to me more often I'd be the happiest man in London!"

Margaret stood up and swatted her husband's arm, but then doubled over in helpless laughter herself. After a few moments even Helen let loose with a few chuckles.

Tarrant sat with a frozen grin on his face that he was unable to erase, try as he might.

Alice was furious, and then comprehension slowly dawned on her.

"Oh, my!" she whispered, blushing so hotly that she began to fan herself with her own hand. "I...I am so sorry, everyone! I spoke without thinking! I...I don't know what to say!"

Alice stood and fled the room in mortification and that was enough to restore Tarrant to life.

"I'll go after her," he said. "Don't worry, I'll calm her." He rushed after Alice and found her in the foyer, blushing and looking so mortified that when he approached her she looked away from him and lowered her head.

"Alice," he said gently, "don't worry! It's all right."

"No, it is not!" she said, sounding close to tears. "I...I can't believe what I said! It was...oh, Tarrant! No wonder everyone is laughing at me!"

He embraced her carefully. "No-one is laughing at you, love. It was simply a slip of the tongue and we all understand that. Haven't we all said something at one time or another that was completely unintentional and embarrassing?"

"Well," she said, sniffing and valiantly holding back threatening tears, "I suppose so."

"So, if you were your family, wouldn't you laugh, too? But not at the person, but simply at what was said?"

"I suppose so," she admitted.

"Well then, I fail to see why you should be so upset! Besides, I am in a worse predicament than you could ever be."

"And what, sir, would that alleged predicament be?" she asked, her boldness and sauciness returning as she finally turned her face up and gazed into his sparkling eyes.

"Th' verra thought o' dippin' mah wick inteh yer wax is...doin' thins' teh meh. Embarrassin' thins'. Well, one embarrassin' thin' in particulah."

His soft burr against her forehead made her shiver, but she found that the implication of what he had just admitted to was not displeasing to her. On the contrary, she was quite pleased. And she found that she knew something else.

She burrowed her face into his chest and mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"Ah beg yer pardon?" he asked, wondering at her suddenly bashful behaviour with him.

"I love you," she said, her face still pressed into his chest.

"Ah luv yeh, too, Alice!" he said, and kissed her forehead. Then her words truly struck him. She loved him? Truly?

He pushed her back, gripping her arms and staring into her face with incredulous joy. "Yeh luv meh?"

Alice giggled at his expression, but couldn't help but feel the need to reassure him.

"Of course I love you, Tarrant! I would never had agreed to allow you to court me if I did not!"

Tarrant coughed and attempted to reign in his emotions, which were threatening to run wild. "Are yeh...I mean, are you sure, Alice?" He forced his brogue away and continued to stare at her.

Alice pursed her lips, stood on tip-toe, and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Yes," she whispered against them, "I'm sure. I love you, Tarrant Hightopp!"

For a moment Tarrant couldn't move, and then suddenly his joy bubbled over. He whooped in delight and picked up his Alice and swung her in circles. "She loves me!" he cried out softly, hoping to not be overheard, and spinning her until they were both quite dizzy. "She loves me!"

Alice laughed and said, "Merry Christmas, Tarrant!"

He slowed his spinning and gently set her down again. "Merry Christmas, Alice! Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she said, still laughing. "Yes, I'll marry you!"

"Oh, but I don't have the ring! I left it in Underland!"

Alice pressed a finger to his lips. "It's all right, Tarrant! We'll work out the details later. But for now, let's get back to candle-making!"

"And I'll dip my wick into your wax most gladly, my love!"

Alice swatted his arm. "Tarrant Hightopp, you are incorrigible!"

"Being incorrible is my pleasure, love!" he said, and then cocked a brow at her and gave her a mock leer. "And as soon as possible it will be yours, as well!"

Alice grinned at him mischievously. "Well, keep that in mind as we make candles and that predicament of yours will remain, Mr. Hightopp!"

"Ah, I fear you are right, my lovely Miss Kingsleigh. But my suffering will not be totally in vain, for I shall now take the liberty of allowing my thoughts to stray to our future. A future of love, family, and plenty of wick-dipping!"

*"To dip one's wick" was common Victorian slang for having sexual intercourse.

I hope you enjoyed this story for Christmas. I went for a bit of fun with a touch of romance. :) Happy Holidays!