The Cheshire Cat loom on the edge of the garden, prowling along the bushes without a sound, and without a trace, his body invisible to prying eyes. He watches from golden orbs as the Hatter drinks his tea, white fangs bared in a grin. He enjoys watching the alabaster man before him, despite the repetitiveness of his life and routine, and how he rarely seems to do anything besides sit in the red high-backed armchair and drink his tea leisurely. One would think that he has all the time in the world.
"Are you going to walk along the hedges all day?" the Hatter asks quietly.
The Cat's grin fades and he growls, jumping down from the bushes and changing into a man with a faint pop. "How did you know?" he asks irritably.
"You're not as invisible as you might think," the Hatter says, not bothering to look at the other man.
The Cat's eyes narrow and he prowls up to the Hatter, claws out and fangs bared. "Is that so?" he says. "And who told you how to find me, my dear Hatter? You've never been able to see me before."
The Hatter sips his tea easily. "Alice," he answers. "She thought that after your last visit I ought to be given some warning before you come again."
"Really." Before he can blink the Hatter feels a clawed hand grip his shoulder and he is thrown unceremoniously from the chair and onto the table, and the Cat straddles his hips in a swift movement. "And you really think that being able to tell when I'm hear is going to save you from punishment?" he whispers, his hot breath ghosting over the other man's ear, hands sliding over his chest.
The Hatter grins faintly. "No," he says, placing his hands on the Cat's hips. "But it seemed rude to refuse her help."
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