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Alice/Hatter text ficlets
So, remember when I threatened people with text fics? Yeah. Poor ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
temaris and the4ts ::g::
Alice/Hatter wee ficlets below the cut.
Hatter loves his hats. They define him in, oh, so many different ways and sometimes Alice thinks that he loves them more than her. It's difficult not to get jealous at the way his fingers stroke over the stiff fabric of the brim, brushing away the dirt and indignities of life in an American city.
But Alice is smart and Alice is resourceful. Most of all, Alice is patient. She's had to be, the way that the search for her father has taken up her life. But now she's found what she's been looking for, hatted or not.
She waits and she watches and, when Hatter leaves his favourite hat behind one day in favour of another, she finally takes.
When Hatter comes back she's wearing it. It and nothing else. His fingers shake and the hat he had clutched in them, fingers tight on the brim, falls to the floor, disregarded.
She doesn't need to smile or crook her finger but she smiles anyway and - anyway - he comes. This time his fingers brush over her skin, just as carefully, just as possessively as he's ever touched any of his hats, and when his favourite tumbles from her head he leaves it be, tangling his fingers in her hair and kissing her instead.
-o-
Alice has never been flippant or frivolous. She's the kind of girl who has pension plans and stock portfolios, not the kind of girl who kicks her shoes off and dances in the rain. But Wonderland has changed many things and most of all it's changed Alice. *Hatter* has changed Alice.
Hatter's the kind of man who grabs hold of Alice's hand and drags her running through the park, laughing, just for the joy of moving. Nothing chases them here, not yet, but who knows what the future holds, least of all Alice? Hatter's schemes go oft awry and Alice has always known how to roll with the punches.
Each day with Hatter Alice discovers new things - about Hatter, about the world. About Alice herself. She finds out what grass feels like between her toes as she runs and swirls, and it clings to her feet, damp with dew.
Alice knows what it feels like now to dance in the rain, to twist and turn and fling her arms out wide, giddy with laughter, her face turned up to catch each drop she can on her tongue.
Hatter watches her, his hat tipped back on his head and a grin on his face, drinking in her joy like she drinks in the rain. She loves this, and he loves her and, rain or not, all is right with her world.
And the fact that Hatter - as he puts it - has a thing for a certain very pretty girl in a very wet dress certainly doesn't hurt.
temaris and the4ts ::g::Alice/Hatter wee ficlets below the cut.
Hatter loves his hats. They define him in, oh, so many different ways and sometimes Alice thinks that he loves them more than her. It's difficult not to get jealous at the way his fingers stroke over the stiff fabric of the brim, brushing away the dirt and indignities of life in an American city.
But Alice is smart and Alice is resourceful. Most of all, Alice is patient. She's had to be, the way that the search for her father has taken up her life. But now she's found what she's been looking for, hatted or not.
She waits and she watches and, when Hatter leaves his favourite hat behind one day in favour of another, she finally takes.
When Hatter comes back she's wearing it. It and nothing else. His fingers shake and the hat he had clutched in them, fingers tight on the brim, falls to the floor, disregarded.
She doesn't need to smile or crook her finger but she smiles anyway and - anyway - he comes. This time his fingers brush over her skin, just as carefully, just as possessively as he's ever touched any of his hats, and when his favourite tumbles from her head he leaves it be, tangling his fingers in her hair and kissing her instead.
-o-
Alice has never been flippant or frivolous. She's the kind of girl who has pension plans and stock portfolios, not the kind of girl who kicks her shoes off and dances in the rain. But Wonderland has changed many things and most of all it's changed Alice. *Hatter* has changed Alice.
Hatter's the kind of man who grabs hold of Alice's hand and drags her running through the park, laughing, just for the joy of moving. Nothing chases them here, not yet, but who knows what the future holds, least of all Alice? Hatter's schemes go oft awry and Alice has always known how to roll with the punches.
Each day with Hatter Alice discovers new things - about Hatter, about the world. About Alice herself. She finds out what grass feels like between her toes as she runs and swirls, and it clings to her feet, damp with dew.
Alice knows what it feels like now to dance in the rain, to twist and turn and fling her arms out wide, giddy with laughter, her face turned up to catch each drop she can on her tongue.
Hatter watches her, his hat tipped back on his head and a grin on his face, drinking in her joy like she drinks in the rain. She loves this, and he loves her and, rain or not, all is right with her world.
And the fact that Hatter - as he puts it - has a thing for a certain very pretty girl in a very wet dress certainly doesn't hurt.