Author's Note: This piece was actually done in dribs and drabs over the course of a month. It was just a few days ago that I finally had the time to stitch it all together from the random bits of paper and Notepad files I'd written it on/in. I even had two disparate scenarios that I tweaked one to fit with the other. It was actually really fun, and I'm actually slightly proud of this piece now, even though I thought it would be a total disaster! Lots of fluffy romance, a pinch of drama, stir well, and viola! Not only that, there is more than one kiss. It just happened!
A HUGE round of thanks goes to everybody who reviewed the first story, especially tsukara and nefi who both reviewed here and commented on LJ! You guys are wonderful! And, as always, major props to the "movingcastle" LJ community for being my test audience.
Once again, my characterizations and situations are based on the book. That means Michael is fifteen and courting Sophie's youngest sister Martha... who switched places with the middle sister Lettie. And Suliman refers to Ben Suliman, the original Royal Wizard, who is quite male. Not the movie's amalgam of Suliman and Mrs. Pentstemmon.
Kiss Theme #1 - Look Over Here
Rating: PG
Pairing: Howl/Sophie
Genre: Romance
Summary: In which Howl comes up with a new invention, but only Sophie can help him make it work.
by Mimea
Peace and harmony never lasted for long in the Jenkins residence.
Sophie was plying her needle on a rare day when the shop was closed. She was getting worn out from the daily ritual of gathering flowers and selling them to the residents of Market Chipping, so she had decided to take a well-deserved day off. Having been forbidden from touching any article of Howl's clothing ever again, she was darning Michael's socks in a fit of sisterly kindness. "Or I soon will be his sister at the rate things are going," she murmured to herself as she set the last few stitches in one particularly abused heel.
Michael had gone out early that day, calling out as he left that he was meeting with "his Lettie", so not to expect him back any time soon. Sophie shook her head. She had a feeling Martha would remain "Lettie" for the rest of her life now, and there would always be confusion as to whether people were discussing the original Lettie, or Michael's "Lettie". But the important thing was that Michael was obviously in love with Martha, no matter what she looked like. And that was all she could wish for her youngest sister.
Calcifer wasn't "at home", either. Now that it was summer and there was no need for him to heat the castle at night, he usually disappeared when the sky turned dark enough and came back sometime the next afternoon. She had a sneaking suspicion he was missing his old home in the sky and would spend his nights there before the cold fall rain and winter snow showers would force him to stay inside.
So she was enjoying the rare stillness in the castle when her reverie was shattered by the house door slamming open with such force that she jumped right out of her chair, the sock she'd just finished mending falling dangerously close to the ashes in the hearth. She turned to face the door, making a mental tally of where the most dangerous items in the house were. A swaying hunk of metal staggered through the door from the Kingsbury entrance. She readied a command to a wickedly sharp set of kitchen knives and was about to shout it when she recognized the shoes and pair of hose visible underneath the machine.
"Howl! What on earth..?"
All she got in response was a grunt. The door swung shut of its own accord and the hunk of machinery rose a bit as her husband attempted to negotiate the steps.
Sophie harrumphed. "You're not getting any sympathy from me," she said. "As for you, you silly lump of metal, stop sitting there and go where Howl was intending to take you. You've been babied long enough!"
"Sophie, no!"
But Howl's exclamation came a moment too late. The boxy, bulky machine leapt out of Howl's arms and crashed its way across the paneled flooring, using its bottom corners as tiny feet as it swayed to and fro toward the workbench. Sophie stared in horror at the scuffs and splintered holes it left in its wake, and she gave out a cry as the enchanted machine leapt up from the floor to land on the workbench with a resounding CRASH that caused hairline cracks to run down the legs of the bench as they were pounded into the floorboards. The wooden top groaned and threatened to split, but miraculously held firm.
"Would it kill you to think things through for once?" Howl groused, clutching the top of the stair railing for dear life. He made a brusque gesture and the floor and workbench mended themselves. "One of these days, you're going to..." His voice faded as his eyes closed and he pitched forward.
"HOWL!" Sophie cried, running toward him and only wincing slightly as she fell to her knees to cushion his fall. His head fell against her chest and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
After a slight struggle, she was able to pull the rest of his torso and shove his long legs onto the floor of the main room. She rearranged him as best as she could, his head cushioned in the crook of her elbow, the remainder of his body draped over her lap. She brushed his unruly pale blond bangs, which had been combed and styled to perfection the evening before, away from his forehead. She took in his ashen complexion and the bluish circles under his eyes.
"You've overworked yourself, haven't you? On that thing, I'll wager." She cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at the machine on the workbench. "And you say I don't think..."
Just then, Howl's eyelids fluttered and he let out a small groan. He shifted, drawing his feet up so that his legs were bent. He took several deep breaths, then opened his eyes to stare up at Sophie. "Don't tell me I..."
"Yes, you fainted," Sophie said a trifle more sharply than she had been intending.
Howl grimaced and struggled to sit up. Sophie slowly helped him to his feet, hanging on to his elbow so he wouldn't try and escape. He couldn't even if he wanted to.
"Just a bit more. I have to finish by tonight."
"No. It's still morning. You have plenty of time. If you don't rest, you'll just make things worse. In fact, you'd probably break it in this condition!"
Howl sighed, realizing she did have a point. "Fine, fine." He attempted to shake her off, but she had too firm a grip on him. "I'll get some sleep, but wake me if I sleep past three. Promise me."
His green eyes fixed on her, in a moment of rare honesty. Sophie found herself agreeing. "Only if you let me help you up the stairs. It's easier to get up them on your feet than your face!"
"All right," he gave her a tired, affectionate smile that made her blush. She snorted to try and cover her embarrassment and focused on getting him safely up to bed.
It was half past two the next time Sophie saw Howl. He sailed down the stairs and into the bathroom, without so much as a glance in her direction.
While he napped, she had finished all the darning and turned to the tried-and-true tasks of sweeping and washing dishes to try and keep her mind off how exhausted her husband had been. The war hadn't been going so well, and the King had been making more and more demands of his Royal Wizards. She also knew Howl had been taking the lion's share of the work so that Suliman could have free time to court Lettie. Of course, Howl would never have told her this. The news came from Lettie herself, her rosy cheeks filled with extra color and her eyes sparkling as she came to relate how well things were going.
She really couldn't begrudge them. But just because she was already married didn't mean she was willing to give up her time with Howl. Granted, most of that time was spent arguing, but that was how they were happiest, after all.
Howl re-emerged from the bathroom precisely at three, just as Sophie was putting away the last clean dish. She found herself surrounded in the scent of honeysuckle as his arms found her waist, and his lips brushed her forehead as she tipped her head back instinctively.
"Sleep well?" she asked.
"Not as well as when you're beside me, but well enough," Howl replied with a wink. Then he released his blushing wife and tied the trailing sleeves of the green and copper suit he had donned behind his neck. "Now to see to this little problem."
Knowing how single-minded he could be, Sophie sighed and shook her head. At least she had gotten him to rest a little bit. "Well, if you're going to keep pushing yourself, I might as well go get some decorations to brighten this place up a bit," she huffed as she marched over to the hat rack.
Howl made a noncommittal noise and gave a slight nod to indicate he'd heard.
Sophie jammed her hat onto her head and stalked to the door in high dudgeon. She spun the doorknob with a flick of her wrist so that it pointed to purple and flung it open, making sure to close it with a BANG behind her.
An hour later, she returned to the castle, her arms full of various flowers. She'd forgotten to take a knife or gardening shears, so her sewing scissors had taken a beating. But she was now dirty, sweaty, and her frustration had been well disposed of in hacking through brambles and doing a bit of weeding along the way.
The door opened before she could even touch it. She edged inside cautiously, but the only thing she saw was Howl, still slaving over the hunk of metal he had brought home that morning. As soon as she was inside, Howl waved and the door shut behind her.
She wanted to make several scathing comments about what if she were an enemy and he'd pulled that stunt, but she knew her objections wouldn't even be heard. Howl was frowning in concentration, his eyebrows knit together in irritation and puzzlement. Instead, she took her flowers over to the kitchen table and spread them out before fetching several vases from a cupboard.
She had finished three arrangements and was beginning a fourth when a cry from Howl nearly made her nick her finger on a rose thorn.
"Ah-ha! I got it!" Howl exclaimed, beaming at his own ingenuity.
Sophie stiffened instinctively. With a cry like that, she had the sinking feeling she was about to become involved. Her fears were confirmed when one graceful hand landed gently on her shoulder.
"Sophie, dear..."
"Whatever it is, no, I won't do it." She gave the flowers she was arranging a little extra shake for emphasis.
"But you haven't even heard my brilliant idea," Howl wheedled. "Won't you at least hear me out?"
"No. I'm very busy."
Howl raised an eyebrow. "So I see," he remarked, measuring the pile of flowers that had already been touched by her industrious hand against those waiting their turn. "But you're almost done, right? You should take a little break."
"I will when I'm finished," she informed him, "and not a moment before."
Her husband gave her a crestfallen look and a resigned sigh. "Ah, well then, the kingdom shall fall to ruin all thanks to the hard-heartedness of the wife of the Wizard Pendragon who refused to use her talents for the good..."
"All right, all right!" Sophie huffed, stumping over to the workbench, making sure to bump into Howl on the way. Howl only grinned as she jostled him. "But it's only to keep you from lecturing me for the next hour."
"Understood, lovely lady," Howl replied, triumph erasing any trace of reproach.
Sophie poked at the odd contraption. "So what do you expect me to do about this?"
Howl came to stand next to her, then positioned himself on the other side of the workbench so that he faced her over the top of the machine. He pointed to a small cylinder visible between two tiny slabs of metal. "Look over here," he told her.
Sophie squinted. "I don't see anything wrong with it."
Howl gave her a dry look. "It's supposed to be whirring around furiously. As you can see, it's just sitting there. I was wondering if you could try persuading it to work."
Sophie eyed him suspiciously. "Isn't that cheating?"
Howl sighed and looked quite put upon. "The King wants a working prototype by this evening. I only have a few hours left. I'll tweak it later, I swear!"
"Uh-huh," Sophie commented dubiously, but she bent her head down to get closer to the cylinder. "Now, listen up. I'm talking to you, little rod. There's plenty of room for you to move. Go ahead and spin!"
The cylinder refused to move.
Sophie poked it. "Wake up in there! I told you to spin!"
Still nothing happened.
Sophie ordered, pleaded, even put on her best commanding voice. Still, it would not budge.
"I think this thing is..."
Sophie meant to say "broken", but her final word was swallowed by a pair of very warm lips. She had made the mistake of raising her head, and she only caught a flash of mischief in Howl's eyes before he leaned in to kiss her. She was too stunned to respond at first, but she soon caved under his gentle, insistent pressure, her eyes sliding closed involuntarily.
Suddenly, the machine sprung to life, startling Sophie out of the moment and away from Howl. She stared as the cylinder whirred furiously, producing tiny, magical sparks. Her brows furrowed in annoyance. "Now you choose to listen to me!"
Then she noticed Howl had hidden his face and his shoulders were shaking. Suspicion flooded her.
"Howl, what on earth is this thing for, anyway?"
Her husband couldn't stand it any longer. He burst out in whole-hearted laughter.
"This isn't a war machine, is it?"
"But the King did want it by tonight!" Howl wheezed, trying to catch his breath.
Sophie let Howl recover slightly from his fit of merriment before continuing. "Why? What's happening tonight?"
Howl startled her once again by taking her hand, so much so, she nearly pulled back. He led her away from the table, then twirled her gracefully into the center of the room. "I cannot believe you've forgotten that it's the annual Sweetheart Ball."
Sophie snorted, but she stayed where she was, having been drawn close to Howl. "Romantic nonsense," she remarked cynically.
"So, you won't come with me?" Howl's eyebrow and voice rose questioningly.
"I never said that," she retorted. "Wait, is that why Michael isn't here?"
"Well, when he asked if he could spend the day before the Ball with 'his Lettie', how could I refuse? I may be a strict master..."
Sophie snorted.
"But I am not heartless, either literally or figuratively. Besides, in the mood he was in, he would have set off the machine, so I wouldn't have been able to test it properly."
"So, are you going to tell me yourself, or shall I corner the King tonight?"
"You wouldn't... You would," Howl commented with a sigh of resignation. "All right, Mrs. Nose." He led her back over to the workbench, then released her to stand to the side of it and gesture with a flourish. "I call it the 'Romance Sparker'!"
"Romance Sparkler?"
"Indeed. But it's 'Sparker'. No 'l'," he tutted. "Whenever sparks fly between a couple, this beauty gives a physical manifestation of it."
"And the use of it is..?"
"At a function such as the Sweetheart Ball, there will be romance a plenty. So this fellow will be filling the air with sparks." He gave the machine a little pat.
"I don't think anybody would like it if their clothes caught on fire."
Howl eyed her reproachfully. "Even I am not that careless. They're magic sparks. Be reasonable. Do you really think I would endanger fine garments?"
Sophie glanced at him dryly. "You're right. How could I have forgotten?"
"You're the one who's a menace to clothing."
"Only yours," she calmly replied. But a niggle of doubt crept in. "Wait, why were you so sure I wouldn't set it off?"
Howl's eyes shone with amusement and an odd tenderness. "Because Michael and your sister are still in the passionate throes of puppy love. They haven't settled into the respectable," he ignored Sophie's rather rude noise, "yet deep-rooted love of a long-standing relationship such as ours."
"It's no use trying to sweeten it, Howl. Why don't you just come out and say it's because your wife has a heart of ice."
"Sophie!" Howl reprimanded her. "I think no such thing. You are simply more sensible than the ladies pledging their undying vows of love all the live long day, or feckless cads who fall head over heels in love with a pretty face, dress, or manner." He gave her a self-depreciating wink that made her flush indignantly. Although whether it was because of the backhanded compliment, the insult he'd given himself, or her frustration at her inability to stay mad at him, she wasn't sure.
He touched a hand to Sophie's cheek, and she mindlessly leaned into it.
"Besides, if your heart were made of ice, you wouldn't respond to my touch like that."
The subtle implications of his words made her turn another shade darker, and she tried to straighten her head. But Howl's right hand came up to her other cheek. He smiled, the warmth and playfulness in his eyes making her breath hitch.
The Sparker whirled to life, shooting tiny particles of light into the air, filling the room with colorful, miniature shooting stars.
But instead of the kiss she was expecting, Howl simply saluted the tip of her nose and released her. He drew back, grinning impishly, the sparks continuing to fly in vibrant hues.
Sophie sighed in exasperation, but her husband gestured grandly. "Is this proof enough for you?" he challenged. "No matter who, no matter where, no one will ever compare to my stubborn, reckless, bossy, disgustingly clean wife."
It was then that Sophie tackled him, nearly knocking him back into the Sparker. But he held his ground, catching her as she fastened her lips to his. He drew her close, their bodies fitting together with unhurried familiarity. The sparks practically became fireworks.
"Just like there'll never be anyone like my vain, cowardly, slapdash, dust-loving husband," Sophie finally murmured as their lips drifted apart, only to find other places on which to bestow kisses.
"And the world rejoices," Howl muttered between kisses. The scene carried on a bit longer until the machine finally ran down. The rainbow colors faded into the pristine whitewashed walls, no longer hiding the fine layer of dust on the dark beams of the rafters or the countless chemical stains splattered over the top of the workbench.
Sophie smiled as they finally drew apart.
"I declare this invention a complete success," Howl announced, throwing a burlap sack over it. "The King should be very pleased."
"I hope you realize I don't have a thing to wear!"
"My dear Sophie, you keep seeming to forget you're married to a wizard. Go look in your closet."
Sophie started up the stairs, but she was stopped by a pair of arms circling her chest and upper arms. "Howl, what...?"
"I love you, Mrs. Jenkins," he murmured, nibbling her earlobe.
Sophie didn't say anything, but the Sparker whirred ferociously back to life, sending the rough sacking that had been covering it flying across the room. Howl cursed and rushed to retrieve it while Sophie made her escape.
As Howl fought valiantly to get the Sparker back under control, he really couldn't be angry or even the slightest bit frustrated at the extra work.
There was no doubt in his mind that he and his wife would be the winners of the "Ingary's Greatest Sweethearts" award that evening.
Author's Note: That's two down, twenty-eight more to go! Like every writer, I love reviews, so if you'd like to leave one, I'll take good care of it! I promise!
Vocabulary lesson: One more thing, a response to raedyn-l's question on the first story. The only reason I actually did use "cariad" is because it's in the book. "Cariad" is Welsh (the black-down knob goes to Wales, which is where Howl is actually from, in the book.). It means "beloved", "sweetheart", or simply "love". Basically, it can be used as a mushy term of endearment.