Fic: Like Riding A Bike
As shocking as it was, after managing so well for himself in dangerous, dismal, everything-is-trying-to-kill-you-Wonderland, Hatter did have some trouble adjusting to life in New York.
There was the language, of course, though thankfully, no one expected him to speak any brand of American English. That didn’t change the fact that there was something of a language barrier between him and very nearly everyone else. The many Yiddish phrases that peppered your average New Yorker’s speech did nothing to help dismantle that barrier, and for every chutzpah and mensch on their end there was a mimsy or outgribe on his. The mantra of “I’m from Yorkshire” went a long way in explaining it, though, and it wasn’t too long before he got the gist of the dialect. He was quite clever, after all.
The fact that New York functioned largely in two dimensions also threw him for a bit: he kept expecting there to be doors and ledgeways where there were only fire escapes and really noisy alarms. But it wasn’t too long before he was cured of that habit, and if he still thought that two dimensional infrastructures wasted a lot of space, then, well, you can take the Hatter out of Wonderland…
But on the whole, he was doing fine: he was working two jobs, part time but still paying fairly well, Wall Street was enough like the Tea Market that he had a good handle on his finances, Earth food was fantastic, and he got along well enough with Alice’s family. His sublet on Jack’s apartment would only last another four months, true, but it wasn’t like he was all that attached to the place, and now he got to go apartment hunting with Alice.
But every so often, something would come up, just to remind him that he wasn’t exactly a natural New Yorker. Or Earthling, even.
“You know, you could have just told me that you don’t know how to ride a bike,” Alice said, helping him to his feet after his fifth overbalancing.
Hatter winced, more at being caught out that at any physical discomfort. “It just doesn’t make sense. I flew that flamingo just fine-”
“That was your first time on a flamingo?” Alice asked swiftly, horrified.
“No- but I was fine my first time, thank you very much.” He picked the bike up from the ground, where it had been spinning its wheel mockingly at him. “I hardly wobbled at all, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a lying liar who lies.”
He mounted the bike again, and managed two pedal-pushed before tumbling down again. Not exactly a triumph, but it did wipe that smirk off Alice’s face.
“Right then,” he said, disentangling his legs from the frame and propping himself up on the curb. “Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”
Alice complied, flicking back the kickstand on her bike with the heel of her boot, and pushing forwards. He noticed that it took more effort to get the thing started, then the pedaling became smoother, the muscles in Alice’s leg working an easy rhythm beneath the tights she wore.
“We should have brought a camera,” Alice interjected.
“Huh?” Hatter asked.
“I said we should have brought a camera,” Alice repeated. “That way you could have taken a picture. It would last longer.”
“Ah but I have the real deal right in front of me,” Hatter said, getting to his feet. “Why bother with the picture?”
He reached out and swept her off the bike; she let out a small shriek, and then glared at him for making her do so. Hatter smiled his brightest smile, and she melted under the influence of his dimples.
“Shall we walk?” he suggested, nodding to where her bike had fallen to the ground.
“Are you going to do that for both us?” she asked dryly.
He thought about it for a moment, and then put her back on the ground. And so they walked, the wind blowing inland almost drowning out the sounds of the Belt Parkway just on the other side of the small stripe of actual park between it and the shore, wheeling their bikes alongside them.