It's Cold Outside
Author's Warnings/Notes: This was originally going to be based off of the song "Baby It's Cold Outside" and I suppose in a way it could still be considered as such, but somehow other elements invited themselves in and what should have been a simple two page story warped into this possibly (probably) confusing five page ordeal. I'm not going to say this is my best writing; far from it. This is all that I seem capable of producing at the moment, though, and for that I heartily apologize.
If you dislike constant parenthesis (like this) and a fussy Hatter, than this story is not for you.
The holiday the Hatter mentions in this story (Feailley Guel) is simply another name for Yule.
This is a bit late, but as it's still technically the 23rd where I live (for a whole extra hour! Woot!) I'm going to give myself a pass. ;)
Title: It's Cold Outside
Rating: PG
“It is very cold outside.”
“I’ll be fine, Tarrant,” Alice smiled over her shoulder at him as she wound her brand-new scarf about her neck. (He’d knitted it for her himself; while it was a pale gray, not a proper Alice blue, Tarrant still flattered himself by thinking that it looked fetching, indeed.)
So busy was he, thinking about the scarf, and how the soft threads he’d assembled looked wrapped around her pale throat, that Tarrant missed entirely the donning of her jacket. Alice was pulling on her gloves (another Feailley Guel gift from himself to her; traditionally only one gift was given to friends, but Tarrant had justified the extravagance by assuring himself that a scarf was no good without gloves to accompany them. The delicately knit cap atop her golden curls had been given with the same rationalization in mind. Mally had been scandalized that he’d been so generous with a woman that he was “not even properly courting” but then, when was Mally not scandalized?)
“But Alice…it is cold outside.”
Smiling impishly, Alice replied, “You might have mentioned that earlier. I’m sure that I will be perfectly fine, Hatter. It snows quite often Topside, you know.”
“It is not the snow that concerns me, Alice,” Tarrant pressed, ignoring with practiced restraint the sting he felt at Alice addressing him by his occupation instead of his name. “Although it is getting quite high. An hour more and we shan’t be able to open the door!”
“Which is why I need to take my leave of you now, Hatta,” Alice said softly, perhaps just noticing how very distressed the idea of her leaving was making Tarrant. “You heard it yourself; if I stay in Underland past Boxing Day, I shall miss Christmas in London entirely. You had Thackery ask Time for me, remember?”
“Aye, that I do, lass.” Tarrant pressed his lips together in a thin line as his brows bristled and scrunched low over his eyes, almost obscuring his vision entirely. It had been a discussion that they’d had just the week before. Alice had arrived in Underland unannounced (as she had been doing with increasing frequency--something that was Very Welcome to Tarrant!) whilst the preparations and decorating were underway for Feailley Guel. Exclaiming in delight over the shimmering, sparkling, shiny baubles strewn along every pathway and in every tree, she had asked (in her fantastically curious Alice-way) what the occasion was, that they were all decorating for.
After the celebration had been explained to her satisfaction (and Tarrant knew it was to her satisfaction for two reasons; one, she’d stopped asking questions, and two, she’d nodded her head in that decisive manner she had, the one that said “Ah yes! I understand now!”) Alice had told him that there was a celebration the following London day, something called “Christmas” that seemed to be similar. She’d explained the basic tenets of it, of how families gathered to remember the birth of a man who would go on to save them all, but Tarrant did not understand what wrapped presents and special foodstuffs and trees had to do with that. (And when he’d asked if perhaps he should arrange a similar celebration in Underland for Alice, being as she was their savior, she’d turned quite white and told him that perhaps she’d explained the entire concept poorly, for what she did for Underland was not the same thing at all.)
He knew it was important to Uplandish families to be together during the Christmas holiday, yet he’d still wanted Alice to stay in Underland for Feailley Guel and Mummer’s Day, (what Alice called Boxing Day--such a strange name for a day, if there were not to be a sporting match or wrapping up of packages in strings) at the very least. So together they’d gone arm in arm (and how wonderfully specially skin-tingling-ly that had been!) to see Thackery. (He was the only member of the Mad Tea Party whom Time had forgiven for killing him. The one time Alice had tried to speak to Time herself had been Very Bad, as he apparently blamed her for the entire situation to begin with.)
The Mad March Hare informed Alice (while standing on his head and speaking backwards; they’d had to hold a mirror up to his mouth for the words to come right-ways to their ears) that, should she leave Underland the evening of Mummer’s Day, Time said she would arrive in London just soon enough for her family celebration; any later than that, though, and it would be the New Year when next she stepped through the glass.
What Thackery had not said, nor had Tarrant, was that travel in Underland on Mummer’s Evening was extremely dangerous and difficult. It was one of the days of the year when three days were used together for warmth; therefore, that evening was three times as cold. Tarrant didn’t tell Alice this simply because (despite knowing differently) whenever Alice spent any span of time in Underland, sometimes he…willfully forgot…that she belonged somewhere else.
So yesterday on Feailley Guel, when he’d invited Alice to spend the entirety of the following day with him watching their assorted friends mummer and guise dance, followed by joining him at the Hat House for dinner, well…at that moment he’d thought that Alice understood…he’d thought that maybe, when she’d smiled so widely and said, Yes, I’d love to! that this time she’d chosen Underland over her family…(for in those moments, he’d remembered quite well that Alice was from London) or better yet, she’d chosen to spend her Christmas Day not just with Underland, but…with him. For hadn’t she said that Christmas was for spending with the ones you loved?
Stupid, foolish Hatter!
Of course Alice would not know what her acceptance of dinner at the Hat House would entail; she’d not know that once darkness fell, travel back to Marmoreal--and the mirror she used to get from Here to There--would be nearly impossible. He should have suspected, when she’d accepted his invitation without a trace of hesitation on her features, should have known that she would not understand all that he had implied and desired and hoped for…that by dining with him that evening, she would essentially be house-bound, alone, with him until the New Year, when days started being used one-at-a-time again!
Yes, he should have known, should have realized that she would not be aware of the situation, but when she’d agreed to dine alone with him, his heart had lifted, joy had bubbled under his breast, and he’d promised himself that yes, he would Tell her (after dinner had been eaten and they’d moved into the sitting room for the warmth of the fire) what it was that he felt for her. It seemed most appropriate-- the night that was the polar opposite of that May Day when he’d lost his entire world--for him to finally speak the words he’d tried (and failed) to express so many other times.
Yet now that he did realize that she didn’t know…that she’d no clue what accepting an invitation so close to nightfall on this day meant…no, he couldn’t.
But neither could he let her leave the house. If he allowed her to leave, and something happened to her out there, on this bitterly cold and snowy night, he’d never forgive himself.
“I’d stay longer if I could, Tarrant,” Alice said, breaking him out of his self-misery and scattered recollections and back into the present. Then she turned, grasped the door handle, and pulled.
*~*~*~*~*
“No, don’t!”
Alice startled as a warm Hatter-hand clamped down firmly on her shoulder and yanked, hard, attempting to stop her from opening the door before she opened it.
Unsuccessfully.
A blast of air, beyond frigid, beyond any concept Alice had ever known of cold before, struck her body, sending her sprawling backwards and into the circle of Tarrant’s arms. Those arms enveloped her and drug her back inside, and, huddled as she was with her chin tucked against her chest, she saw one battered, tattered leather-clad foot kick the door shut behind them.
Alice could count on one hand the number of times that Tarrant had touched her that was neither accidental or from some sort of dire, the-Red-Queen-is-coming sort of need.
“What…” she chattered, “was that?”
“As I’ve been trying to tell you, Alice,” the Hatter burred against her ear, sending a shiver that had nothing to do with her bone-deep chill down her spine, “it is very cold outside.”
“Yes,” Alice sniffed, pushing her body closer to his, shamelessly attempting to warm herself in his embrace, “so you’ve said. But there is cold, and then there is cold. What in Underland is going on, Tarrant?”
The Hatter loosened his hold on her and stepped away, much to Alice’s silent disappointment. She should not have expected him to continue to hold her so, but Alice had hoped, with his invitation to dine with him, and just him, in the Hat House tonight, that maybe he was not so immune to her as it seemed. But if he could not even stand to hold her even while she was racked by shivers and chills, then how could she continue to hope that he would regard her less as the Alice, Champion of Underland, and more as Just Alice, or even, possibly, maybe the Hatter’s Alice.
“You recall that I told you that it was warm to-day because on Mummer’s Day Underland uses three days together for warmth?”
“Of course.” She did recall; it was a fantastic thing, Alice had thought as she and Tarrant had walked, arm in arm, that they could watch their friends and acquaintances sing and perform in the gardens of Marmoreal without either one being bundled in winter clothing. Another, older memory tugged at Alice’s mind, and she paused before saying, “Oh. Three days together for warmth…means that tonight is three times as cold, doesn’t it?” Then the full import struck her. “If it is that cold…Hatter, I won’t be able to get to Marmoreal in this weather!”
“Aye. I…know.” Tarrant’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he wore a spectacular frown.
“You knew when you asked me,” Alice said flatly, the pendulum of her emotions swinging back towards hopeful. If he knew it would be too cold for her to leave, and also that if she did not leave then she would have to spend another full week in Underland (and now, it seemed, stuck in the Hat House with him) then… This supposition gave her a bit of bravery. Alice asked, in a soft voice, “If you knew, Hatta, then why did you not encourage me to leave earlier?”
He was silent for so long that Alice began to wonder if she would ever get an answer. Finally, after a long, slow blink of his eyes, he said, “I suppose because I wished for you to stay, Alice.”
Moving close, Alice shivered (this time was from a combination of the chill and her nerves) and said, “You wanted me to stay. Here, with you?”
Visibly swallowing hard, he nodded vigorously enough that his hat slid forward on his head, only held up by his springy curls. “Yes,” he admitted with a lisp. “I had hoped…it was terribly selfish of me, Alice, but I had hoped that you would wish to spend your Christmas Day with me.”
“My mother will surely worry about me, will wonder where I am. Margaret, too.”
His head jerked to one side, his jaw clenched. “I wasna thinking o’ yer family, Alice. ‘Twas only thinking of myself, and how I wanted ye.”
How I wanted ye…
Licking her lips, Alice came to a sudden, mad, crazy, wonderful decision.
“Tarrant,” Alice reached up, fingertips tickling his jaw. Finally he raised his face to look into her eyes, and she said, gently, “I should be very cross with you for not telling me this would happen. Despite that, I can not help but to be happy that I will be here with you.” Standing on her tip-toes, she gathered her Muchness and kissed him, damning the consequences even as she prayed she had not misunderstood his words and what he had really meant when he uttered them.
His mouth was wonderful--warm and soft and yet firm and insistant--as he returned her kiss. It was all too brief, though, for soon he was pulling away from her, a hesitatingly pleased wrinkle on his forehead.
“Does this mean that you’re not completely adverse to spending the next week snowed and frozen into the Hat House with me? What about your Christmas?” Tarrant asked, petting her hair with his be-thimbled and bandaged hands. Alice smiled once again, so wide she felt her face might burst from trying to express her delight.
“I might be able to resign myself to missing Christmas,” she teased, “if you allow me to kiss you whenever I so desire.”
Irises flickering green-gold-green, Tarrant returned her smile with a slow, soft, suddenly and warningly assured one of his own. “Aye. I might be able to accommodate such a request, lass.”
Alice waited expectantly, but Hatter just continued to hold her, staring into her eyes.
“You’re not going to kiss me?” Alice asked.
“Oh!” Tarrant started, as if just waking from a pleasant dream. “I had thought that our arrangement was such that you were to kiss me whenever you wished, not that I would be able to kiss you whenever I desire.”
“So it was!” Alice said, as she pulled him down to her once more. "But I think..." she murmured, as they pulled apart and came together again, "that we can adjust our agreement so that kisses are mutually given and received, can we not?"
"That we can, Alice," Tarrant grinned against the curve of her lips as he lowered his mouth to give her the first of many Tarrant-to-Alice kisses.
"That we can."
If you dislike constant parenthesis (like this) and a fussy Hatter, than this story is not for you.
The holiday the Hatter mentions in this story (Feailley Guel) is simply another name for Yule.
This is a bit late, but as it's still technically the 23rd where I live (for a whole extra hour! Woot!) I'm going to give myself a pass. ;)
Title: It's Cold Outside
Rating: PG
“It is very cold outside.”
“I’ll be fine, Tarrant,” Alice smiled over her shoulder at him as she wound her brand-new scarf about her neck. (He’d knitted it for her himself; while it was a pale gray, not a proper Alice blue, Tarrant still flattered himself by thinking that it looked fetching, indeed.)
So busy was he, thinking about the scarf, and how the soft threads he’d assembled looked wrapped around her pale throat, that Tarrant missed entirely the donning of her jacket. Alice was pulling on her gloves (another Feailley Guel gift from himself to her; traditionally only one gift was given to friends, but Tarrant had justified the extravagance by assuring himself that a scarf was no good without gloves to accompany them. The delicately knit cap atop her golden curls had been given with the same rationalization in mind. Mally had been scandalized that he’d been so generous with a woman that he was “not even properly courting” but then, when was Mally not scandalized?)
“But Alice…it is cold outside.”
Smiling impishly, Alice replied, “You might have mentioned that earlier. I’m sure that I will be perfectly fine, Hatter. It snows quite often Topside, you know.”
“It is not the snow that concerns me, Alice,” Tarrant pressed, ignoring with practiced restraint the sting he felt at Alice addressing him by his occupation instead of his name. “Although it is getting quite high. An hour more and we shan’t be able to open the door!”
“Which is why I need to take my leave of you now, Hatta,” Alice said softly, perhaps just noticing how very distressed the idea of her leaving was making Tarrant. “You heard it yourself; if I stay in Underland past Boxing Day, I shall miss Christmas in London entirely. You had Thackery ask Time for me, remember?”
“Aye, that I do, lass.” Tarrant pressed his lips together in a thin line as his brows bristled and scrunched low over his eyes, almost obscuring his vision entirely. It had been a discussion that they’d had just the week before. Alice had arrived in Underland unannounced (as she had been doing with increasing frequency--something that was Very Welcome to Tarrant!) whilst the preparations and decorating were underway for Feailley Guel. Exclaiming in delight over the shimmering, sparkling, shiny baubles strewn along every pathway and in every tree, she had asked (in her fantastically curious Alice-way) what the occasion was, that they were all decorating for.
After the celebration had been explained to her satisfaction (and Tarrant knew it was to her satisfaction for two reasons; one, she’d stopped asking questions, and two, she’d nodded her head in that decisive manner she had, the one that said “Ah yes! I understand now!”) Alice had told him that there was a celebration the following London day, something called “Christmas” that seemed to be similar. She’d explained the basic tenets of it, of how families gathered to remember the birth of a man who would go on to save them all, but Tarrant did not understand what wrapped presents and special foodstuffs and trees had to do with that. (And when he’d asked if perhaps he should arrange a similar celebration in Underland for Alice, being as she was their savior, she’d turned quite white and told him that perhaps she’d explained the entire concept poorly, for what she did for Underland was not the same thing at all.)
He knew it was important to Uplandish families to be together during the Christmas holiday, yet he’d still wanted Alice to stay in Underland for Feailley Guel and Mummer’s Day, (what Alice called Boxing Day--such a strange name for a day, if there were not to be a sporting match or wrapping up of packages in strings) at the very least. So together they’d gone arm in arm (and how wonderfully specially skin-tingling-ly that had been!) to see Thackery. (He was the only member of the Mad Tea Party whom Time had forgiven for killing him. The one time Alice had tried to speak to Time herself had been Very Bad, as he apparently blamed her for the entire situation to begin with.)
The Mad March Hare informed Alice (while standing on his head and speaking backwards; they’d had to hold a mirror up to his mouth for the words to come right-ways to their ears) that, should she leave Underland the evening of Mummer’s Day, Time said she would arrive in London just soon enough for her family celebration; any later than that, though, and it would be the New Year when next she stepped through the glass.
What Thackery had not said, nor had Tarrant, was that travel in Underland on Mummer’s Evening was extremely dangerous and difficult. It was one of the days of the year when three days were used together for warmth; therefore, that evening was three times as cold. Tarrant didn’t tell Alice this simply because (despite knowing differently) whenever Alice spent any span of time in Underland, sometimes he…willfully forgot…that she belonged somewhere else.
So yesterday on Feailley Guel, when he’d invited Alice to spend the entirety of the following day with him watching their assorted friends mummer and guise dance, followed by joining him at the Hat House for dinner, well…at that moment he’d thought that Alice understood…he’d thought that maybe, when she’d smiled so widely and said, Yes, I’d love to! that this time she’d chosen Underland over her family…(for in those moments, he’d remembered quite well that Alice was from London) or better yet, she’d chosen to spend her Christmas Day not just with Underland, but…with him. For hadn’t she said that Christmas was for spending with the ones you loved?
Stupid, foolish Hatter!
Of course Alice would not know what her acceptance of dinner at the Hat House would entail; she’d not know that once darkness fell, travel back to Marmoreal--and the mirror she used to get from Here to There--would be nearly impossible. He should have suspected, when she’d accepted his invitation without a trace of hesitation on her features, should have known that she would not understand all that he had implied and desired and hoped for…that by dining with him that evening, she would essentially be house-bound, alone, with him until the New Year, when days started being used one-at-a-time again!
Yes, he should have known, should have realized that she would not be aware of the situation, but when she’d agreed to dine alone with him, his heart had lifted, joy had bubbled under his breast, and he’d promised himself that yes, he would Tell her (after dinner had been eaten and they’d moved into the sitting room for the warmth of the fire) what it was that he felt for her. It seemed most appropriate-- the night that was the polar opposite of that May Day when he’d lost his entire world--for him to finally speak the words he’d tried (and failed) to express so many other times.
Yet now that he did realize that she didn’t know…that she’d no clue what accepting an invitation so close to nightfall on this day meant…no, he couldn’t.
But neither could he let her leave the house. If he allowed her to leave, and something happened to her out there, on this bitterly cold and snowy night, he’d never forgive himself.
“I’d stay longer if I could, Tarrant,” Alice said, breaking him out of his self-misery and scattered recollections and back into the present. Then she turned, grasped the door handle, and pulled.
*~*~*~*~*
“No, don’t!”
Alice startled as a warm Hatter-hand clamped down firmly on her shoulder and yanked, hard, attempting to stop her from opening the door before she opened it.
Unsuccessfully.
A blast of air, beyond frigid, beyond any concept Alice had ever known of cold before, struck her body, sending her sprawling backwards and into the circle of Tarrant’s arms. Those arms enveloped her and drug her back inside, and, huddled as she was with her chin tucked against her chest, she saw one battered, tattered leather-clad foot kick the door shut behind them.
Alice could count on one hand the number of times that Tarrant had touched her that was neither accidental or from some sort of dire, the-Red-Queen-is-coming sort of need.
“What…” she chattered, “was that?”
“As I’ve been trying to tell you, Alice,” the Hatter burred against her ear, sending a shiver that had nothing to do with her bone-deep chill down her spine, “it is very cold outside.”
“Yes,” Alice sniffed, pushing her body closer to his, shamelessly attempting to warm herself in his embrace, “so you’ve said. But there is cold, and then there is cold. What in Underland is going on, Tarrant?”
The Hatter loosened his hold on her and stepped away, much to Alice’s silent disappointment. She should not have expected him to continue to hold her so, but Alice had hoped, with his invitation to dine with him, and just him, in the Hat House tonight, that maybe he was not so immune to her as it seemed. But if he could not even stand to hold her even while she was racked by shivers and chills, then how could she continue to hope that he would regard her less as the Alice, Champion of Underland, and more as Just Alice, or even, possibly, maybe the Hatter’s Alice.
“You recall that I told you that it was warm to-day because on Mummer’s Day Underland uses three days together for warmth?”
“Of course.” She did recall; it was a fantastic thing, Alice had thought as she and Tarrant had walked, arm in arm, that they could watch their friends and acquaintances sing and perform in the gardens of Marmoreal without either one being bundled in winter clothing. Another, older memory tugged at Alice’s mind, and she paused before saying, “Oh. Three days together for warmth…means that tonight is three times as cold, doesn’t it?” Then the full import struck her. “If it is that cold…Hatter, I won’t be able to get to Marmoreal in this weather!”
“Aye. I…know.” Tarrant’s eyebrows were furrowed, and he wore a spectacular frown.
“You knew when you asked me,” Alice said flatly, the pendulum of her emotions swinging back towards hopeful. If he knew it would be too cold for her to leave, and also that if she did not leave then she would have to spend another full week in Underland (and now, it seemed, stuck in the Hat House with him) then… This supposition gave her a bit of bravery. Alice asked, in a soft voice, “If you knew, Hatta, then why did you not encourage me to leave earlier?”
He was silent for so long that Alice began to wonder if she would ever get an answer. Finally, after a long, slow blink of his eyes, he said, “I suppose because I wished for you to stay, Alice.”
Moving close, Alice shivered (this time was from a combination of the chill and her nerves) and said, “You wanted me to stay. Here, with you?”
Visibly swallowing hard, he nodded vigorously enough that his hat slid forward on his head, only held up by his springy curls. “Yes,” he admitted with a lisp. “I had hoped…it was terribly selfish of me, Alice, but I had hoped that you would wish to spend your Christmas Day with me.”
“My mother will surely worry about me, will wonder where I am. Margaret, too.”
His head jerked to one side, his jaw clenched. “I wasna thinking o’ yer family, Alice. ‘Twas only thinking of myself, and how I wanted ye.”
How I wanted ye…
Licking her lips, Alice came to a sudden, mad, crazy, wonderful decision.
“Tarrant,” Alice reached up, fingertips tickling his jaw. Finally he raised his face to look into her eyes, and she said, gently, “I should be very cross with you for not telling me this would happen. Despite that, I can not help but to be happy that I will be here with you.” Standing on her tip-toes, she gathered her Muchness and kissed him, damning the consequences even as she prayed she had not misunderstood his words and what he had really meant when he uttered them.
His mouth was wonderful--warm and soft and yet firm and insistant--as he returned her kiss. It was all too brief, though, for soon he was pulling away from her, a hesitatingly pleased wrinkle on his forehead.
“Does this mean that you’re not completely adverse to spending the next week snowed and frozen into the Hat House with me? What about your Christmas?” Tarrant asked, petting her hair with his be-thimbled and bandaged hands. Alice smiled once again, so wide she felt her face might burst from trying to express her delight.
“I might be able to resign myself to missing Christmas,” she teased, “if you allow me to kiss you whenever I so desire.”
Irises flickering green-gold-green, Tarrant returned her smile with a slow, soft, suddenly and warningly assured one of his own. “Aye. I might be able to accommodate such a request, lass.”
Alice waited expectantly, but Hatter just continued to hold her, staring into her eyes.
“You’re not going to kiss me?” Alice asked.
“Oh!” Tarrant started, as if just waking from a pleasant dream. “I had thought that our arrangement was such that you were to kiss me whenever you wished, not that I would be able to kiss you whenever I desire.”
“So it was!” Alice said, as she pulled him down to her once more. "But I think..." she murmured, as they pulled apart and came together again, "that we can adjust our agreement so that kisses are mutually given and received, can we not?"
"That we can, Alice," Tarrant grinned against the curve of her lips as he lowered his mouth to give her the first of many Tarrant-to-Alice kisses.
"That we can."