Title: An Awful Thing

By: Jedishampoo (Jedishampoo at aol dot com)

Rating: PG-13 overall; may get saucier later, but I ain't promising nothin'.

Summary: Howl and Sophie get mixed up in magical and dimensional doings, and Sophie is just mixed up. Humor/Adventure/Romance thingie. Crossover between Howl's Moving Castle and Terry Pratchett's Discworld.

Author's Notes: This is movieverse!Howl and company. I've read the books by Diana Wynne Jones, and so a little bookishness may creep in here and there, but the movie is what made me fall in love with the characters. Comments, constructive criticism eagerly welcomed.

Chapter 4

"Horrible woman!" Sophie said as she dragged Howl down the interminable steps. Horrible man, she didn't say aloud. People in the square were staring at them, but she didn't care, so angry was she. She was going to stomp out her wrath on the cobblestones, and they could just enjoy the show. The only problem was, she wasn't quite sure where she was going. "Why don't you make yourself useful, Howl, and point me toward Regent Street? I'm sure that's where I was this morning."

"Sophie! What? Slow down," Howl said. She didn't have to look back at him to hear the laugh in his voice, and it only made her angrier. She was no misfit; she was going to take care of this, just like she took care of everything else. Love was such an awful thing. No wonder men sang about it and wrote poems about it and talked about it so much. They were all such idiots, love was the only chance they had of getting women to actually be near them for any length of time.

"No! We've got to hurry," she said. Stupid, she didn't say aloud.

Sophie heard Howl give a long-suffering sigh. "Wait," he said, and twisted sharply, using her death-grip on his arm to swing her into a little side alley. He yanked his arm free and then grabbed her shoulders to give them a little jiggle. "Why are you mad at me? Surely you don't think I meant you? Do you?"

He wasn't even pretending to misunderstand her. Perhaps he was less stupid than she'd thought a few seconds ago, but that didn't make him even less a man. And he was so close now, it was distracting, and his eyes had that intent look in them, the one she couldn't stare into for long. She tried her best to stare back, and didn't speak.

"Do you?" Howl repeated. He was smiling again, and squeezing her shoulders, and her heart was pressing so hard against her breastbone that it hurt. Howl went on. "She is a horrible woman. You knew that. She'll twist your words until you don't know what you're saying, and no matter how clever you think you are, you always realize too late that you're completely out of her league. Why do you think I spent all that time running from her?"

"I know," Sophie sighed, reluctant to release her anger. Anger felt so good. It gave one a purpose, kept one from feeling so unsure and befuddled all the time. Things had been so clear a few months ago. Now she was in this weird limbo, where nothing she thought or did made sense, and the slightest word or event sent her off in these wild, spiraling directions. Love was an awful thing for more reasons than one. She couldn't think, not logically, when he was this close to her. And Howl was entirely too good at being that close. Sophie finally found her tongue again. "She just made me so mad! And then when you said that!"

"I know." Now he was leaning his forehead into hers, and kissing her nose, and his voice was so reasonable and sweet that Sophie's body turned boneless, sagging against the wall like she had no control over it, which she didn't. "And I meant her. But you-- you were wonderful! Fantastic!"

"Really?" Sophie managed to whisper, now feeling proud but pathetic at the same time-- how was that possible? It was because he was kissing her, lips so soft and coaxing, and her hands moved of their own volition to his chest, and it was warm and she could feel his heart thumping there, so alive and full of promise.

"Oh, yes," he whispered against her lips, with heated puffs of breath. "And wow, but you're pretty when you're angry. Pink cheeks look great on you."

"Oh! You!" Sophie said, and pushed at his chest, shoving him away from her. He only laughed, and Sophie felt the heat rush through her limbs and stain her cheeks and realized that she was still pathetic. But at least he'd allowed her to break that deliciously uncomfortable moment. "Don't you think we really should find that man, at least?"

"As long as you're not mad at me," Howl said, stepping back.

"No," she said, and it was the truth. This up-and-down of emotions was wearing her out. "Regent Street?"

"Follow me," he said and took her hand in his. By the time they'd walked a few blocks she could let him do it with most of her equanimity intact, and could feel that her feet were on solid ground.

The streets were more crowded than they'd been this morning. They teemed with fish vendors from Porthaven and vegetable sellers from the countryside and all manner of shoppers winding among the stalls. Sophie began to worry that she'd never find the sausage-man again. He'd seemed to appear from nowhere this morning, approaching her and pressing his wares upon her as she'd gawked at the market. But then she heard a familiar call over the mumbling noise of the crowd.

"Sausages inna bun! Sausages!"

That's what the man this morning had said to her. Sophie tried to stand on tiptoe to peer over the crowds, cursing herself for not being taller. But soon she spotted the man's odd metal hat, and in the air next to it, his hand-held stick ringed with knobs and little trinkets.

"Howl, he's over there!" she said, and pointed in the direction of the voice.

Howl waggled his fingers and the crowd parted easily before them, people stepping aside and looking as if they were unsure they'd meant to. And there was the ugly, scrawny man from this morning, and his plate of sausages. Sophie caught a whiff of them.

"That must be him," Howl said. "I recognize that smell."

As if by some instinct, the man turned and glanced their way and in the same instant twisted and started to run, almost before Howl had completed his sentence. Sophie began to say, Oh no, but Howl had already let out a little whoop of delight and taken off after him.

The trinket-man was fast, Sophie would give him that. It was as if his scrawny, sickly-looking legs had learned long ago how to evade pursuit. And given his disgusting sausages and his nefarious magical dealings, it seemed he'd had a lot of practice.

But he was no match for Howl. Sophie went along for the ride and watched with some pride as Howl sped them onward so fast the crowd was a colorful blur. Soon they stood before the little man, and Howl had gripped his shoulder.

"We'd like to talk to you," Howl told him with a bit of a smug grin. "Please come with us."

"Don't wanna!" the man cried, eyes flickering like a trapped rabbit's in every direction, as if seeking help or a way out. Apparently finding neither, he screwed his face into a miserable, wheedling expression. "If I don't sell these sausages, I'll be broke! I'm cutting me own throat selling 'em this cheap, but I've got a wife and starvin' kids at home--"

"I'll pay you for the sausages," Howl said. "But you'll have to leave them here."

End Chapter 4.

Does it suck? Catch anything wrong? Like it? Tell me! Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: HMC characters owned by Diana Wynne Jones and/or Studio Ghibli; Discworld characters owned by Terry Pratchett. I made no money writing this, it is purely for fun.