Disclaimer: Howl's Moving Castle characters © Diana Wynne Jones. Not mine. TT

Summary: Inspired by "30 kisses"—a one-shot for every theme. Pure fluff.

O-30x

3. Jolt!

Too long a day charming the court had Howl leaning heavily against the door to the castle after entering wearily. Why did the court have to hold so many rules and so many important persons in a so very gaudy a place? Another piece of evidence pointing to the fact that the current king really did not belong on the throne of Ingary. Honestly, even he would make a better monarch.

Howl closed his eyes a moment, reveling in the slow wash of peace that absorbed him back into the castle's homey embrace. Ah yes, back home.

He'd almost fallen asleep against the door when the squawking of raucous laughter tumbled down from upstairs. His head snapped up, for the first time noticing the lack of blue-green glow from the hearth. Where was Calcifer? It wasn't like the fire-demon to go gadding off in the middle of the night. That was Howl's job, after all.

Grumbling about the lack of love in his household, Howl dejectedly dragged himself away from the door and up the stairs, cranky but curious as to the source of this unexpected merrymaking. Sophie usually kept a damper on such things, after all.

By the time he'd gotten up the steep steps, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and weariness took a backseat for the moment. Casting his eyes from one side of the hallway to the other, he searched for signs of inhabitants.

Ah, there it was. A crack of flickering light under Michael's door.

Michael's door?

Howl thought he felt some dark cloud passing over his heart at the thought of Sophie in another man's room.

Ridiculous, he chided himself. Michael was his apprentice, after all. And quite a few years his junior. Sophie would never even dream of…especially since Michael had Lettie. Or Martha. Whatever her name was.

Howl convinced himself that it was hardly his business anyways.

Another burst of laughter fluttered from under the door to his ears. The sound of chaotic mirth drew him in. How odd to think Sophie must be part of it all…

Cautiously, he opened the door and peered in, not at all expecting the sight that met him.

"S-Sophie?" he called out incredulously. Howl was almost afraid to edge through the door.

Sophie's face, blushing with wine, turned languidly toward him. Only the barest hint of surprise filtered through her intoxicated expression, and Howl felt his blood drain at the thought of his sober, stick-in-the-mud Sophie drunk on aged wine. With Michael. Where was Calcifer? Surely the fire demon had some kind of handle on the situation. Fire demons couldn't drink, after all.

"Hoooowl!" she slurred. "You've been away a while, Mr. Jenkins!" She seemed to think this manner of address quite humorous. A giggle bubbled from her darkened lips. "Come join us!"

"Yes, join, Howl!" Michael's voice trumpeted from behind the bed. An arm shot up with an empty glass. Was Michael the cause of all this?

"What in the world is going on?" he demanded. "And where's Calcifer?"

"Calcifer's out, you slitherer-outter you!" Sophie supplied happily, shooting a conspiratorial wink at Michael. "And because of that! Michael had to unburden himself to me. Women are such trouble, you know?"

The incongruousness of this last statement confused him for a moment before a thought clicked. "Lettie?"

"Martha!" Michael corrected.

"Oh, but have you heard!" Sophie launched herself from the floor to the door faster than Howl's eye could catch. She was three inches in front of his face before he'd even blinked.

"H-Heard?"

Her lips spread in a slow, secret grin, and Howl thought he felt a blush creeping up his neck. Sophie wasn't supposed to even know how to smile like that. It was almost scandalous!

Her hair hung in untidy waves of fire across her narrow shoulders. It was the first time he'd really seen Sophie looking disheveled. The sight made him wary.

"Oh, but Michael hasn't told you yet, has he!" Sophie's eyes were wide and bright, the product of drink and childish fancy. Her delight made him crack a lopsided grin.

"No, he hasn't," Howl said patiently.

"Oh, Howl!" She squealed. "They're getting married!"

"That's—"

Out of nowhere, Sophie had flung arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth.

As if struck with a jolt of electricity, his mouth burned at the seconds' long contact, his eyes wide with the surprise of it all.

And then the moment skipped away from him. "It's simply wonderful, Howl!" She detached herself and twirled back into the room, her skirts swirling around her in a cloud of her contagious happiness.

"A wedding, Howl! A wedding! For my sister and Michael!"

Her laughter filled the room again, and all he could do was stare bemusedly at the joyous stranger a bottle had made of his steady Sophie.

Author's Note: Shorter. But I meant it to be even shorter…seems I have a tendency to ramble, eh? I'm not sure I got the feeling quite right. So, feedback appreciated. Didn't want to give the impression that Howl was unhappy with an inebriated Sophie, but I think it might've come out that way nonetheless…so I threw in an adverb! Unholy, I know.

Thanks for reading!

-kidoairaku