Title: Thoughts
By: Mishka
Rating: K+... But T to be sure!
Summary: Just a little something for Spring! Set sometime before Joseph and Clarisse get romantically involved...
Dedicated To: Katie, because she's the sweetest; Cátia, because I promised her this story (I'm not sure if this'll surprise you, my dear, because I really don't think it will -- it's too normal!); and Leonie, because she beta-read this for me... and she helped me a lot! And, Leonie, my dear, don't kill me if you still see so many errors!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Princess Diaries... I only wish I did. There would have been more Clarisse/Joseph stuff!

A/N: This is a very short story. In fact, the chapter after this will be the last. So, bear with me! Enjoy!

Chapter 1

It was a beautiful early morning. The air was crisp and the palace, not surprisingly, quiet. All of Genovia was still snug in bed, and snores, loud and soft reverberated through the rooms of most of the royal staff. The birds were singing the same almost soothing, soft, little songs that they sang every spring.

But even with this sleep-inducing sound, Genovia's Royal Head of Security was awake.

The kitchen was woken early, and coffee was started. The stove and the frying pan started the early shift. Eggs were scrambled; peanut butter spread over a slice of bread. And he, the early one in his bathrobe, stood facing the stove, a bowl of scrambled egg in one hand and a turner in the other.

He couldn't sleep anymore, and he wouldn't want to anyway. Sleep had simply eluded him. Every time he had closed his eyes, the same pictures pop up, and he'd open his eyes to find himself breathing funny. So he had gotten up and had left his bed for what it was; a mess of navy blue sheets he didn't want to be with. He had reached for his black robe and covered his pajamas. Subconsciously, his steps had led him to the kitchen, all cold and uninviting. But, nonetheless, he had gone in and had started an early meal.

oOo

On the other part of the royal palace, everything was just as eerily silent. But the only resident of the family wing was, quite unexpectedly, wide awake. She sat on the sitting room couch, facing the hearth. There was no fire burning and she was cold, wearing only a silky cream robe over her nightgown. A book, marked somewhere near the middle, was face down on the coffee table before her. Her pair of glasses was still perched on her nose, and her wide, brilliant blue eyes were open, looking at anything she found amusing at that moment. The picture frame, the painting, the flowers, even the used candle; she found them quite interesting for ten seconds and then she'd find something else to stare at.

She couldn't sleep. Her Majesty, the Queen of Genovia, simply couldn't get back to sleep. Every time she had tried to close her eyes again, the same thought would enter her mind, and it had distracted her. She had known there wasn't a chance she'd be able to sleep. Goodness, she had realized, she hadn't been sleepy to begin with. So she had gotten up, left her bed and the comfort it might have offered had she stayed there a little longer. Her soft slippers beckoned for her, so she had slipped them on, put on her robe, and had grabbed a book to read on the couch. Twenty minutes for reading two pages had proved to her that she was, undoubtedly, out of focus that morning.

Her daze annoyed her, and she figured that a cup of tea might help her to sleep. So she took her glasses off, placed them on top of her book and found her way to the kitchen. The soft cluttering of metal and china intrigued her so she set her pace, and found the very person she least expected to see.

oOo

She couldn't back out now since he had already processed her profile on the kitchen doorway. He stared. She blinked. Time stood still. But they couldn't go back to their own rooms without saying a word to each other; they were much too polite for that. And besides, who'd have thought about being in the kitchen at three in the morning? She couldn't say it was a coincidence, he couldn't say it was instinct…

"Clarisse..." He said, startled at her presence, and placed his fork down.

"Joseph." They stared a few seconds more before she finally decided to step inside and talk to him properly. "I wasn't expecting you here."

"Neither was I expecting you'd come here." He smirked and she smiled, looking at the food on the table. She felt famished all of a sudden.

"That's quite a meal you have there. Would you care to share?" she asked, walking over to the counter to fetch a cup of coffee for herself instead of tea. It would help her to be awake in a somewhat awkward situation right now.

"Of course." He waved his hand, gesturing on the food. "Help yourself." He started eating again, waiting for her to grab a plate and fork and sit down with him.

"Can't sleep?" she asked conversationally as she sat down on the table and took a slice of bread and omelet.

"You're right," he said, holding his fork up in agreement. They both chuckled, even as the tension increased between them. "I'm quite certain you have the same reason?" he rather good-humoredly asked.

"Mm-hmm." She smiled, not elaborating on what the real reason was for her not being able to sleep. It would only be too embarrassing if he would ever know.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances now and then. She noticed he was dressed in a simple white shirt underneath his black robe, peeping from below the edge of his sleeve. His hair—well, what remained of it—was a bit tousled and his muscles were taut. Good god, what was she thinking, describing him in such a way? He was her best friend, and he shouldn't be more than that.

Meanwhile, as Clarisse's thoughts moved like roller coasters in her own head, Joseph couldn't help but notice what she was wearing: a silky, somehow translucent cream-colored robe over her nightdress. The softness and loose cut of her robe showed a subtle amount of cleavage peering out at her neckline, and her golden hair was floppy and flat on her head. Quite obviously, she was wearing no make up, and her natural beauty shone. She could wear the best gowns, but the way she looked now was a rare privilege to see. He looked down on his food. He should not think such things about his friend, let alone his employer and queen.

"So… how are you?"

Joseph almost jumped. He had been much too engrossed in his own little world.
To cover his start, he simply said, "I'm fine, busy as ever." He grinned at her. "How are you? How's the proposal you made?" She looked at him, smiled rather sadly, and bent her head to look at her empty plate.

"Fine. The proposal's been approved, but Parliament will soon meet again for it." She stood up, picked her plate and fork up, and placed them on the counter. "Are you done with yours?" she asked, looking at the small piece of omelet left on his plate.

"Yeah." He quickly finished the last bite, and handed her the plates on the table. "But you don't need to do that," he said, pointing to the dishes on the sink.

"I'm not."

There they are again. Everytime they had started to communicate, they ended up staring at each other's eyes or fidgeting with whatever thing was at hand. They both had known it annoyed them. But could they really do something? They were alone. Besides talk, what could they do? To put it straight, they had known something changed between them since the month after the King's death. Everything had changed when life made a turn and fate had seemed to lend a hand. Each day and night the only person they could think of had been the other. She couldn't get him out of her head, and he simply couldn't stop thinking about her. What had bothered them was that, at their age, they wondered… could they perhaps be in love? Wasn't it just friendship they had felt towards the other? They had known it wasn't; deep in their hearts, they had known that what they felt wasn't JUST friendship, it was something else much, much deeper. But they had been much too afraid to acknowledge it.

"So," Joseph said, gesturing with one hand towards the kitchen doorway.

"So…?" Clarisse asked. What exactly was he trying to say?

"Are we going to sit and talk, or am I to escort you to your rooms?" He dropped his hands and grinned at her. "I have quite a feeling that you're exhausted."

"I am. Why don't we call it a night?" At the look he gave, she chuckled. "Alright, I know it's late, since it's…"—she looked at the wall clock above the shelves—"… 4:00 in the morning." She took a deep breath—a broken gasp—it was that late?

"We should get some rest." He looked at her, rather concerned. "Come; I shall accompany you to your door."

She simply nodded and together they walked through the dark, empty hallways that led to the solitude of the family wing. There were no guards at this time of day, and so they merely walked side by side to her suite. There wasn't any touching, and hardly any glance at the other. No sounds were made, no word uttered. Not even their steps sounded on the marble floor.

As they reached her door, however, they stopped and looked at each other, half smiles plastered on their faces. She smiled and tipped her head towards the door; a silent gesture of goodbye. He smiled back in unspoken agreement.

But as she turned to open her door, however, he caught hold of her hand, and her actions faltered. She slowly turned to see him in the darkness, illuminated only by the faint light of a lamp far away. Their breaths caught. Slowly, he raised his hand to tangle in her hair, and she closed her eyes... Oh God, what was happening?

After the three seconds that seemed to last an eternity, she felt his lips on her forehead and his hand on the back of her head. His other hand still held hers, and he squeezed it gently before his lips left her face and he looked at her. She opened her eyes to gaze at him once again. His face bore a tender expression while he smiled lovingly at her.
He squeezed her hand again.

"Sleep well, Clarisse…"

And then he was gone, leaving her baffled and staring at the sharp turn, some few feet away, that shielded her from the rest of the palace. She shook her head and tried to ignore the intensity of the emotions she had felt as his lips had come in contact with her skin. She went inside her bedroom, into the seclusion of her thoughts, and finally laid her head to sleep.

to be continued...
Review, and you can sleep with Joseph! Hehe...