The Common Cormorant
Pairing: Alice/Hatter
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Alice takes her first kiss from Tarrant.
A/N: Thanks to oceans_heart for the beta-beating.
"The common cormorant or shag
Lays eggs inside a paper bag."
Every night it's the same. Some time ago, Tarrant and I fell into the habit of retreating to his quarters after supper so he could share with me his favorite works of poetry. Nightly we sit knee to knee, almost touching, pouring over his most beloved volumes. It was always like this. He always drew very close to me.
Of course, it did not take long for me to notice that the Hatter was in this way, apparently, ignorant to the laws governing personal space. Though, it did take me a while to determine the meaning of it. I simply did not know what to make of him. When we conversed he had the strange habit of drawing far too close. Often, our faces were only inches from one another. Yet, he almost never actually took the liberty to touch me. So, at first I thought this peculiarity was one of his many eccentricities or, perhaps, a cultural difference.
He paused to turn the page. He never seems to take off his bandages nor his thimbles or his ring. His hands are stained and they tremble. Yet, he's so gentle with his books.
"The reason you will see, no doubt..."
It has become apparent that he puts much thought and time into finding clever ways to amuse me. Some of his gestures - such as fashioning me strange trinkets or convincing Thackery to learn to cook my favorite meals - border on romantic. When I realized this I began to feel as though he were frequently on the verge of kissing me.
But, I've had never had a kiss before. Or, at least, I've never had the type of kiss I have the feeling the Hatter would give. As a girl, I never had interest in such things and, as a young businesswoman, I never had time. The entire situation makes me quite uncomfortable. However, the idea of being kissed is not not entirely unpleasant. In fact, it's exciting. It seems to create the feeling that every thought we share, from the mundane to the fanciful, is a secret of the gravest importance.
I constantly wonder, 'I should kiss him?' It never seems right to interrupt. He does so enjoy reading to me.
"It is to keep the lightning out."
But, I've waited for what felt like an eternity for Tarrant to express his intentions. To my great confusion, excusing his intermittent eruptions of fury and flights of extravagant whimsy, he is always a perfect gentleman. He frustrates me to no end. How can I be sure of him if he doesn't seem sure of himself? I've dropped hint after hint that he should move this forward in some way. He is either oblivious or extremely shy.
"But what these unobservant birds..."
I have no experience in these sorts of relations. But, Father taught me nothing if not to trust my intuition. The tension between us seems to be reaching a peak. If I go on any longer being so nervous when he's about I'm not sure what I'll do. Sweating palms and having such great difficulty coming up with anything interesting to say is entirely unplesant.
Stop second guessing yourself, Alice! A resolution urgently needs to be reached. If I allow too much time pass and our friendship - as well as what could possibly become of it - will stagnate. Remaining in this odd limbo indefinitely just because the silly man won't take action is absurd.
Don't be frightened. He's just a man. And you've been thinking about it long enough to know it's not a whim. Lean in close, under the table, and place your hand upon his thigh.
There.
It felt peculiar to touch him there. I was unprepared for the warmth radiating off him and the hardness of his leg. He responded by dropping the line he was articulating.
"...have never noticed is that--"
Then, in one motion, he stiffened under my fingers and sat up poker-straight. We proceeded to sit silently for one or two awkward beats too long. Neither of us met the other's eyes. I began to feel quite foolish with my hand resting lamely on his leg. Though, I could have sworn I detected him shaking with nervous energy. It was difficult to tell through my own trembling. A blush burned up my cheeks, fueled by the terrible fear that perhaps I had misread him. How would I ever look him in the face again if I had? Surely, he would think me a silly child.
“Alice?”
The air was electric. I felt as though there was a heavy weight pressing on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I could hear in the Hatter's voice that he too was moved in some way. He pronounced my name softly, as though he were feeling too timid to entirely put his mouth around it. But whether I was hearing fear or arousal or some other passion, I could not be certain.
I was tempted to back down, to pass the touch off as a mistake. Instead, I swallowed hard and worked my numb mouth around the words, “I should like for you to hold me.”
He cast down his glance and his cheeks colored a deeper pink, “Ah, I see.”
“You wouldn't like to-” my heart plummeted. I withdrew.
“On the contrary,” he said, hesitantly catching my hand in his.
Under my lowered lashes I saw that he smiled shyly but, made no other movements. I concluded that he looked as nervous as I felt. His hand strayed from mine and slowly slid up my arm, until it stopped on my shoulder. It was strange but, not unpleasant. I remember that the metal of the thimble he wore tickled my skin. Finally I turned to look at him he pulled me into an embrace. He stiffly held me for a good minute, and then let go.
“All right, Alice. What's next?”
He whispered with such gentleness that I couldn't help but laugh. The absurdity of it! I had never expected to be the one taking the lead. There was a shade of vulnerability in his wide green eyes. Why had I never noticed it there before?
“I believe,” I explained, “we're doing this backwards.”
Tarrant's brows knit and his head tilted. He looked for all the world as though he were trying to solve a riddle of great curiosity.
“Backwards?” he repeated in consternation, “Alice, if this is backwards how ever could we do it forwards?”
“No, no. I mean to say that I was taught that in these situations the woman should be shy and the man should be bold.”
“What a ridiculous notion,” he mumbled in amazement.
It was difficult for me not to begin laughing again. Trust Tarrant to go against the grain of every bit of what I disliked about my upbringing. Sometimes it is difficult not to forget that he is not simply the product of a wishful imagination.
“Never mind, let's try a kiss.”
“Let's,” he agreed.
He watched me carefully. I came forward and fell just short of making contact. But, to my delight, he closed the distance. This time he held me much less stiffly. He closed his eyes, tilted his head towards me and kissed me chastely.
Feeling fully the firmness and the heat of his body was shocking. His flesh felt as though it were on fire. In turn my fingertips felt as though they had been set vibrating by the new sensations. The foreignness of his lips against mine was so unlike anything I had experienced before that I froze rigidly, and clamped my eyes shut.
Slowly I overcame my trepidation and licked at his lips. Apparently, that was what he wanted because his mouth gave way with a small murmur of satisfaction. I took advantage of this to press further. He hummed his surprise into me.
Only when we pulled apart did it occur to me that our lips were swollen and our breath was coming short. Also, I couldn’t help but notice that there was a slight bulge in his trousers. The sight both frightened and pleased me immensely. The very thought of it set something burning in the pit of my stomach and made my heart beat so fast I almost feared I would faint.
I slid my hand upwards, ever so slightly closer to his groin. My own intrepidity thrilled me. He was visibly shaking now, hands clamped around my waist. Though I wouldn't have been surprised if I was also trembling.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
I drew away, afraid that he was about to lecture me on my most unladylike behavior. It would not be entirely unlike him and my heart sank again at the idea of what he might think of me. He glanced one way and then the other before leaning conspiratorially in to brush his cheek against mine. He began to whisper excitedly:
“This feels so, exactly, just right. So much so, in fact, that I'm unsure why we didn't try it before,” here he smiled. “Oh, I believe I've made a rhyme. Anyhow, I think I know that this was just what I waiting for. It's been such a very long time since I started waiting that I forgot I was waiting. But, you're here now and I see that I shan't wait any longer. What I'm saying is that I just now know that I only have eyes for you,” he paused. “No, that's not entirely right. Rather, it just now seems right to say so... So, if you are amenable I would so like to continue. But, these matters are private and...”
“And?”
“Would it not be wise to continue behind a locked door?”
The weight of what he was proposing hit me heavily. Again my heart beat painfully fast and the flame burning in the pit of my stomach reignited. I reminded myself to remain level headed. Even so, my voice shook so heavily with nervousness that it sounded unfamiliar to my own ears.
“Yes. I think...” I started.
Though, I did not know what I thought. What was expected in Underland, in these situations? What, even, would continuing entail? The idea was exciting, to be sure. But, it also filled me with a strange sort of foreboding. Continuing wasn't something I had fully considered in my hours of thinking on this problem.
Apparently, it was Tarrant's turn to laugh. I could hear him smiling, his voice a shade darker than it had been only a moment before. He asked, more to himself than to me:
“Why is it you are always too small or too tall?” Upon receiving no answer he concluded, “No matter, waiting is not tedious for me. I'm sure Time will allow us plenty of kisses behind locked doors.”
He untangled himself from me and returned unceremoniously to the poem we had been sharing. I, for my part, suddenly felt that it was just as strange not to be touching as, moments earlier, it had been to embrace. I reached down for his hand and, as I had hoped, he grasped back.
"But what these unobservant birds
Have never noticed..."
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Alice takes her first kiss from Tarrant.
A/N: Thanks to oceans_heart for the beta-beating.
"The common cormorant or shag
Lays eggs inside a paper bag."
Every night it's the same. Some time ago, Tarrant and I fell into the habit of retreating to his quarters after supper so he could share with me his favorite works of poetry. Nightly we sit knee to knee, almost touching, pouring over his most beloved volumes. It was always like this. He always drew very close to me.
Of course, it did not take long for me to notice that the Hatter was in this way, apparently, ignorant to the laws governing personal space. Though, it did take me a while to determine the meaning of it. I simply did not know what to make of him. When we conversed he had the strange habit of drawing far too close. Often, our faces were only inches from one another. Yet, he almost never actually took the liberty to touch me. So, at first I thought this peculiarity was one of his many eccentricities or, perhaps, a cultural difference.
He paused to turn the page. He never seems to take off his bandages nor his thimbles or his ring. His hands are stained and they tremble. Yet, he's so gentle with his books.
"The reason you will see, no doubt..."
It has become apparent that he puts much thought and time into finding clever ways to amuse me. Some of his gestures - such as fashioning me strange trinkets or convincing Thackery to learn to cook my favorite meals - border on romantic. When I realized this I began to feel as though he were frequently on the verge of kissing me.
But, I've had never had a kiss before. Or, at least, I've never had the type of kiss I have the feeling the Hatter would give. As a girl, I never had interest in such things and, as a young businesswoman, I never had time. The entire situation makes me quite uncomfortable. However, the idea of being kissed is not not entirely unpleasant. In fact, it's exciting. It seems to create the feeling that every thought we share, from the mundane to the fanciful, is a secret of the gravest importance.
I constantly wonder, 'I should kiss him?' It never seems right to interrupt. He does so enjoy reading to me.
"It is to keep the lightning out."
But, I've waited for what felt like an eternity for Tarrant to express his intentions. To my great confusion, excusing his intermittent eruptions of fury and flights of extravagant whimsy, he is always a perfect gentleman. He frustrates me to no end. How can I be sure of him if he doesn't seem sure of himself? I've dropped hint after hint that he should move this forward in some way. He is either oblivious or extremely shy.
"But what these unobservant birds..."
I have no experience in these sorts of relations. But, Father taught me nothing if not to trust my intuition. The tension between us seems to be reaching a peak. If I go on any longer being so nervous when he's about I'm not sure what I'll do. Sweating palms and having such great difficulty coming up with anything interesting to say is entirely unplesant.
Stop second guessing yourself, Alice! A resolution urgently needs to be reached. If I allow too much time pass and our friendship - as well as what could possibly become of it - will stagnate. Remaining in this odd limbo indefinitely just because the silly man won't take action is absurd.
Don't be frightened. He's just a man. And you've been thinking about it long enough to know it's not a whim. Lean in close, under the table, and place your hand upon his thigh.
There.
It felt peculiar to touch him there. I was unprepared for the warmth radiating off him and the hardness of his leg. He responded by dropping the line he was articulating.
"...have never noticed is that--"
Then, in one motion, he stiffened under my fingers and sat up poker-straight. We proceeded to sit silently for one or two awkward beats too long. Neither of us met the other's eyes. I began to feel quite foolish with my hand resting lamely on his leg. Though, I could have sworn I detected him shaking with nervous energy. It was difficult to tell through my own trembling. A blush burned up my cheeks, fueled by the terrible fear that perhaps I had misread him. How would I ever look him in the face again if I had? Surely, he would think me a silly child.
“Alice?”
The air was electric. I felt as though there was a heavy weight pressing on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. I could hear in the Hatter's voice that he too was moved in some way. He pronounced my name softly, as though he were feeling too timid to entirely put his mouth around it. But whether I was hearing fear or arousal or some other passion, I could not be certain.
I was tempted to back down, to pass the touch off as a mistake. Instead, I swallowed hard and worked my numb mouth around the words, “I should like for you to hold me.”
He cast down his glance and his cheeks colored a deeper pink, “Ah, I see.”
“You wouldn't like to-” my heart plummeted. I withdrew.
“On the contrary,” he said, hesitantly catching my hand in his.
Under my lowered lashes I saw that he smiled shyly but, made no other movements. I concluded that he looked as nervous as I felt. His hand strayed from mine and slowly slid up my arm, until it stopped on my shoulder. It was strange but, not unpleasant. I remember that the metal of the thimble he wore tickled my skin. Finally I turned to look at him he pulled me into an embrace. He stiffly held me for a good minute, and then let go.
“All right, Alice. What's next?”
He whispered with such gentleness that I couldn't help but laugh. The absurdity of it! I had never expected to be the one taking the lead. There was a shade of vulnerability in his wide green eyes. Why had I never noticed it there before?
“I believe,” I explained, “we're doing this backwards.”
Tarrant's brows knit and his head tilted. He looked for all the world as though he were trying to solve a riddle of great curiosity.
“Backwards?” he repeated in consternation, “Alice, if this is backwards how ever could we do it forwards?”
“No, no. I mean to say that I was taught that in these situations the woman should be shy and the man should be bold.”
“What a ridiculous notion,” he mumbled in amazement.
It was difficult for me not to begin laughing again. Trust Tarrant to go against the grain of every bit of what I disliked about my upbringing. Sometimes it is difficult not to forget that he is not simply the product of a wishful imagination.
“Never mind, let's try a kiss.”
“Let's,” he agreed.
He watched me carefully. I came forward and fell just short of making contact. But, to my delight, he closed the distance. This time he held me much less stiffly. He closed his eyes, tilted his head towards me and kissed me chastely.
Feeling fully the firmness and the heat of his body was shocking. His flesh felt as though it were on fire. In turn my fingertips felt as though they had been set vibrating by the new sensations. The foreignness of his lips against mine was so unlike anything I had experienced before that I froze rigidly, and clamped my eyes shut.
Slowly I overcame my trepidation and licked at his lips. Apparently, that was what he wanted because his mouth gave way with a small murmur of satisfaction. I took advantage of this to press further. He hummed his surprise into me.
Only when we pulled apart did it occur to me that our lips were swollen and our breath was coming short. Also, I couldn’t help but notice that there was a slight bulge in his trousers. The sight both frightened and pleased me immensely. The very thought of it set something burning in the pit of my stomach and made my heart beat so fast I almost feared I would faint.
I slid my hand upwards, ever so slightly closer to his groin. My own intrepidity thrilled me. He was visibly shaking now, hands clamped around my waist. Though I wouldn't have been surprised if I was also trembling.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
I drew away, afraid that he was about to lecture me on my most unladylike behavior. It would not be entirely unlike him and my heart sank again at the idea of what he might think of me. He glanced one way and then the other before leaning conspiratorially in to brush his cheek against mine. He began to whisper excitedly:
“This feels so, exactly, just right. So much so, in fact, that I'm unsure why we didn't try it before,” here he smiled. “Oh, I believe I've made a rhyme. Anyhow, I think I know that this was just what I waiting for. It's been such a very long time since I started waiting that I forgot I was waiting. But, you're here now and I see that I shan't wait any longer. What I'm saying is that I just now know that I only have eyes for you,” he paused. “No, that's not entirely right. Rather, it just now seems right to say so... So, if you are amenable I would so like to continue. But, these matters are private and...”
“And?”
“Would it not be wise to continue behind a locked door?”
The weight of what he was proposing hit me heavily. Again my heart beat painfully fast and the flame burning in the pit of my stomach reignited. I reminded myself to remain level headed. Even so, my voice shook so heavily with nervousness that it sounded unfamiliar to my own ears.
“Yes. I think...” I started.
Though, I did not know what I thought. What was expected in Underland, in these situations? What, even, would continuing entail? The idea was exciting, to be sure. But, it also filled me with a strange sort of foreboding. Continuing wasn't something I had fully considered in my hours of thinking on this problem.
Apparently, it was Tarrant's turn to laugh. I could hear him smiling, his voice a shade darker than it had been only a moment before. He asked, more to himself than to me:
“Why is it you are always too small or too tall?” Upon receiving no answer he concluded, “No matter, waiting is not tedious for me. I'm sure Time will allow us plenty of kisses behind locked doors.”
He untangled himself from me and returned unceremoniously to the poem we had been sharing. I, for my part, suddenly felt that it was just as strange not to be touching as, moments earlier, it had been to embrace. I reached down for his hand and, as I had hoped, he grasped back.
"But what these unobservant birds
Have never noticed..."