Ambrose paced his lab, grinding his teeth in frustration as he wore a trench in the floor. Hint number 127 had again gone unnoticed, passing over its intended target like air and leaving the target unaware and Ambrose close to sobbing. Six months ago he had gotten his brain back, about an annual ago they had defeated the evil witch and saved the OZ, and for those last six month Ambrose and Glitch had worked to sort out their issues. Combination therapy had worked, between counseling and sessions with a viewer there was finally only one personality left. No longer was there two people living in one body, fighting for the smallest things in fear of fading away, there was only Ambrose now, who while smarter still glitched on occasional and said and did silly things.

Now he almost wished he hadn't gotten his brain back because the lack of progress in his plan made him want to forget the whole things and with all his faculties restored that wasn't going to happen. It kept him up at night, running different scenarios and coming up with new plans. Yet nothing was getting through.

It had started small, so small Ambrose had been unaware that he was even doing it, the wistful glances, the hitch in his breath once he'd come to terms with all of himself he was able to see how he was acting for what it truly was, he was in love. And it was just his luck to be pining after the most stubborn, hard headed, tightest pants wearing, most by the book Tin Man ever. Wyatt Cain.

Being the smart man that he was Ambrose devised a plan, hints. He'd leave the Tin Man clues and see if he felt the small, after all calling another man 'sweat heart' had to be an indication of something. Yet that seemed not to be the case, after a successful surgery, Cain no longer hung around like he'd once done which made Ambrose's plan harder since his target was not easily presenting itself. Then again Ambrose wasn't the type to let that bother him, so he started same.

Every day he awoke early and made sure the maid took a small assortment of flowers that he'd handed picked to Cain room when she cleaned. He'd been quiet proud of this plan till he realized that Cain might think the maids put fresh flowers in every room when they tidied up. Ambrose had cursed himself for a few days for over looking such an obvious flaw in his plan.

Since the Tin Man no longer sought him out, Ambrose had to come up with excuses to be near him, at dinner he got Cain's seat moved so they were next to each other. The casual touch of his leg against Cain, reaching for the same plate of food let him cast his eyes down and mutter incoherent apologies. Touch was a good start after a week of this Cain no longer flinched when their hands brushed each other, or moved his leg away as quickly. However he wasn't leaning into the contact either and starting it of his own volition either. Still it was progress even if it was small and left Ambrose aching for more.

Next step was more blatant, besides dinner Ambrose still wanted to spend more time with Cain. After wracking his brain it was decided that having a similar interest might get them closer together. So Ambrose asked Cain to teach him how to shoot a gun. This earned him a very odd look, somewhere near disbelief, curiosity and amusement. Questions had followed; Cain was wanted to know why he needed to know how to shot when he could easily take out a small army with his hand to hand skills. Seeing an opportunity and a possibly a challenge in Cain's words Ambrose upped the ante and offered to trade: hand to hand sparring for the Tin Man's teaching him around a pistol.

So for the next few months Ambrose spent his mornings doing his research and experiments, the afternoon was dedicated to the shooting range and nights, as it was cooler, in one of the open chambers sparring with Cain. Now that he had a reason for the rest of the day Ambrose's productivity doubled and he blew less things up, it seemed in keeping busy and having a full schedule helped his now whole brain function smoothly and he glitched less often.

The afternoon, after lunch, had him eagerly jogging down to the field that Cain had step up as a shooting range. The Tin Man proved to be a relentless teacher, making him learn all the parts and pieces, having him build and rebuild the revolver so much he could now do it in his sleep. Protests went unheard when Ambrose tried to explain he'd built a better and newer model and this was outdated technology, Cain insisted that if Ambrose wanted to learn then he'd learn how he was teaching, new technology be damned.

It did get better after that Ambrose used every excuse he could think to have Cain behind him, helping him line up a shot or repositioning him to a proper stance. With Cain behind him Ambrose could blush and grin at the feel of the other man pressed against his back, his mouth breathing warm air in his ear. He even managed to slip and make Cain scramble to catch the both of them before they tumbled to the ground.

After a light dinner, where Ambrose was still taking the opportunity to touch Cain as often as he could, the two men headed down to one of the unused open chambers. Ambrose had the servants line the floor with straw and fill a circle with hard packed dirt for their sparing ring. Ambrose couldn't have asked for a better set up, both he and Cain stripped down to their pants, no shirts, no shoes, the advisor was hard pressed to remember he was not suppose to be staring and ogling the blonde man.

They'd started off with Cain attacking and Ambrose blocking, explaining the holes in Cain attack and suggesting better moves. Once they both had that down they really had at it, grabbing and tossing each other down, limbs tangling as each fought for dominance. Ambrose was in heaven, he got to see the muscles beneath Cain skin ripple as he moved, smell the scent of him and without feeling too guilty, grab and touch. Yet it was still all superficial, it was all surface and no depth.

Tossing himself in to bed at night Ambrose knew he'd wake up sore, unsated, frustrated, and yet happy for what he was able to get. With so many hints dropped to the Tin Man, Ambrose was close to crying, yet there was no reaction, no flicker of interest or disinterest. Was Cain simply uninterested in him now that he could take care of himself? Sighing Ambrose willed himself to sleep tomorrow was another full day and more hints to drop.