Disclaimer: Well, I own absolutely nothing in this story, and I do mean nothing. Even the title is not mine (it was shamelessly borrowed from Jason Mraz).

So, I have been wanting to write something WCMI-based ever since I fell in love with it a few months ago, and I finally got around to it (French class does wonders for my inspiration). This is based on Bri-chan's and Rain's version of Alice and the Mad Hatter, because WCMI and Reginald are just awesome like that. I also must give mad props to Valadilenne and her amazing story Sunny Disposish, because her Hatter has established himself quite firmly in my head and contributes quite heavily to my own interpretation. I mean it, though; if you haven't seen any of Brianna's artwork or read SD then you have been depriving yourself of some seriously amazing work.

Anyway, this is just a little something that I felt compelled to write and post. I believe this may be the beginning of a new and wonderful relationship between me and the Alice fandom…I see a number of stories being posted in the future. I know this doesn't do my sources of inspiration justice, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. Reviews are love!

Reginald lay sprawled out on the soft grass, shaded form the worst of the sun by the large, leafy tree that sat just to his left. His hat and coat sat off to the side, rather hurriedly discarded in favor of an afternoon nap. A picture of restful bliss, the sleeping Hatter lay with his arms resting behind his head and his legs splayed out on the ground before him. His face was relaxed and smooth, his breathing measured.

Beside him, Alice leaned against the tree, engrossed in the large novel that sat propped in her lap. For a while, the only sounds to be heard were Reginald's steady inhalations and the sound of paper on paper as she turned a page. As she listened to the soft sound of his breathing, Alice smiled, her attention drawn from the worn volume before her to the slumbering man to her right.

His face was slack, tranquil and smooth in sleep. Unable to resist, she reached forward and ran a gentle finger along his cheek, tracing an imaginary line from his eyebrow to his chin. He mumbled something, lost in a dream, and turned his face into her hand, burying his nose in her palm. Alice giggled. She set her book aside and scooted to sit next to his shoulders, folding her legs comfortably beneath her.

A mischievous light appeared in her eyes and she cautiously leaned in close to his face, fully prepared to retreat if he showed the slightest inclination of waking up. His eyelids fluttered but did not open, and Alice relaxed, exhaling. She took a moment to admire his peaceful expression, for it was so rare that he sat still long enough to be observed. He had very delicate eyelashes, she noticed, long and darkly contrasting to the light skin of his face. His mouth was slightly open and slack, the anomaly of its lack of movement and sound providing Alice with sufficient entertainment.

She trailed her finger down along his jaw, tracing his lips. As Reginald began to move, she quickly retracted her hand; he shifted onto his side, sliding one hand beneath his cheek and swinging the other around to rest on his hip. Alice sat back, startled, but she realized that he was still asleep as his even breathing continued. She shook her head. So jumpy… Returning her attention to the slumbering Hatter, she trailed her fingers through his hair, gently brushing out bits of grass that had collected there.

Reginald's mouth twitched slightly as Alice continued to comb bits of green out the white strands of his hair, but she was too wrapped up in her task to notice. Pushing an annoying hank of hair out of her eyes and behind her ear, Alice leaned over her prey once more. She examined the freckles that dusted his nose, playing connect-the-dots across his face with her index finger. So entertained was she by her actions that she failed to notice that his breathing had become less regular, and that the eyes around which her fingers were dancing had opened slightly, slivers of blue staring amusedly at her from between cracked lids.

"He certainly has a lot of freckles," she remarked to the air. Leaning in closer, she followed a line of them down his neck to where they disappeared beneath his shirt. "I wonder if he has them everywhere," she mused, giggling.

"An interesting thought, cricket." Reginald's eyes were open now and he grinned, amusement evident in his voice. "I wonder if you would care to find out?"

Startled, Alice yelped, jerking away from him.

"Ah, too late for that, I think," Reginald teased, propping himself on one elbow. "You were caught in the act. I know I'm too beautiful to resist" (he struck a pose, fluttering his eyelashes flirtatiously) "but that was quite a compromising situation, wouldn't you say?"

Alice barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "No, Reginald, only you would say that."

He managed a half shrug and smirked. "Fair enough. Still, would you care to move closer?" He patted the ground next to him with his free arm, peering up at her beseechingly. "I'm lonely. I pine for your company. Without you, I am at a loss as to what to do with myself; truly, cricket," (and here he raised his arm, reaching out to her) "I am nothing without you by my side."

Heaving a great sigh to disguise her amusement, Alice situated herself so that she was facing him but still keeping a respectable distance between them. She folded her hands in her lap and looked over at him, chin tilted as if to say "so there".

Reginald pouted. "Is that all, cricket?" He affected a maligned air, casting his eyes down to the ground. "We had hoped you would grace us completely with your lovely presence, yes we did, and we wonder if you would reconsider your position on the matter."

Shaking her head at his antics, Alice picked up her book, flipping through the pages to find where she had left off. "It would be highly improper, Mr. Theophilus," she chastised, eyes twinkling. Ignoring his muttered, "the third," she continued, "Somebody has to be responsible in this relationship."

Blue eyes lit up in delight. "So you admit that there is in fact a relationship?" he inquired, leaning in quite close to eye her speculatively. Alice slid her eyes from her book to the inquisitive face in front of her and, very deliberately, quirked a delicate eyebrow. Reginald correctly interpreted that as her response and smirked, teeth flashing. Placing a hand over his heart, he fell back dramatically to the grass, landing with a slight thump. "I never thought the day would come!"

Alice snorted. "Reginald, there has been a 'relationship' for the past three months, as you know quite well."

"Oh, I know, Alice." His grin was devious as he gazed up at her from the ground. "I just like to hear you say it."

Setting her book aside as a lost cause, Alice reached down to smooth loose strands of hair out of his face. "I know, you silly man. You announce it to everyone we meet whether they already know or not." She poked his nose accusingly. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"I did, crumpet. I dreamt of my two favorite things: tea, and you. In fact," he tilted his head to gaze up at her, "I believe I may return to the peaceful realm of sleep." He flung an arm across his eyes, heaving a histrionic sigh. "You do not neglect me in my dreams, and there I have tea when there is none here. Farewell, Alice," he soliloquized. "May we meet again when you are better suited to my needs of companionship." Peeking out from under his arm to gauge her reaction, Reginald saw he had lost his audience; Alice, long used to his flair for the dramatic, had once again returned her attention to her book.

He turned away from her, fully intending to make good on his promise—and yelped, quickly rolling back towards his blonde companion.

Alice's head shot up, her blue eyes wide. "What's the matter?" she exclaimed, alarmed. Reginald scowled, rubbing his back. "There was a rock."

Any remaining sense of maturity in Alice disappeared then, and she burst out laughing. "It was a really pointy rock," Reginald said, defending himself. Alice only laughed harder, tears leaking from her eyes. Reginald worked his way into a sitting position, crossing his arms and looking over at her like a petulant child. "It hurt…" he muttered rebelliously.

His attempts at obtaining sympathy went unnoticed, and Alice remained trapped in the throes of mirth. "Oh, Reg," Alice wheezed, slowly regaining control of herself, "what would I do without you?" She smiled at him then, teeth brilliant in the glorious afternoon sun, silently asking for understanding.

"Be hopelessly bored and lonely, no doubt," he promptly replied, by way of apology. They both knew it took a lot more than a laughing fit over a rock to make him truly upset. "Now really, cricket," he said, leaning forward to grasp her chin, "stop being so proper and come sit with me." He reached down and captured her hand, gently tugging her into his arms.

"Oh, very well," she acquiesced, giving him a wry look. "Seeing how I'm somehow there already, I suppose I can manage that."

He lay back against the grass, pulling her down with him. "I should hope so, buttercup." He closed his eyes, sighing in contentment and drawing her closer. "If there were tea, this day would be perfect," he remarked wistfully.

Laughing silently because she knew he could not see her, Alice rested her head on his chest, burrowing up underneath his chin. She exhaled softly, breath warm against his neck. "I think it's practically perfect already," she said, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"See," he murmured distractedly, trailing a hand through her hair, "isn't this better than reading?" He could feel her lips brush against his neck as she smiled. "I supposed it could be considered as such," she said drowsily. His chest vibrated as he chuckled. "Deny it all you like, cricket, and it will still be true."

Alice's voice was soft and laced with sleep. "You're so certain in your appeal, Mr. Theophilus."

"The third, and of course I am. Who can resist me?" He raised his arms to the sky to emphasize his point, but the dramatic gesture was lost on Alice, who only closed her eyes and made herself more comfortable, nestling into her make-shift pillow.

Reginald rested his head back against the cushion of grass, turning slightly so that his nose rested on the top of Alice's head. He placed gentle hands at her waist, holding her close as she slept. As she sighed in her sleep, moving her arms to return his embrace, he smiled outright, her golden hair tickling his lips.

"Exactly."

So? Was it good, bad, decent, a commendable effort, or just exceedingly awful? I'd love to hear your thoughts!