Chapter Eight: When You Come to the End

Theodore awoke to the morning sunlight, soft beams gently caressing his face. For a moment, he was disoriented, not recognizing the plushness of the bed or the thick quilts wrapped around him, but then he shifted and a shudder crawled down his spine at the weakness of his hips and everything came rushing back. With a soft moan, he forced himself to sit up, only one thought on his mind.

He had to find Chesh.

The Cat wasn't in the bed next to him, and for a moment Theodore thought Chesh had left, before he realized how absurd that thought was. He had to be in the house somewhere.

The Rabbit swung his legs down off the side of the bed, fighting not to let his knees buckle when he stood. Sometime this morning, or possibly last night, Chesh had collected up Theodore's scattered clothes and left them folded neatly on the nearby nightstand, but the Rabbit didn't want to get dressed just yet, at least not properly—so he picked his glasses up off the top of the pile, and, setting them on his nose, made his way over to the wardrobe against the opposite wall.

The first time he opened it, it was empty. Frowning slightly—he was sure that couldn't be right—he closed it and pulled it open again. This time it was full of tight pants in Chesh's typical style, revealing shirts, and the occasional jacket, in various colours and shades, most of them striped, all of them completely inappropriate for Theodore to wear. The next time he opened it it was full of formal suits, some of them far more elaborate than what the Rabbit was used to wearing, and that was a little better but if he wanted to wear a suit he might as well just put his own back on, and so he closed the door again and pulled it open and this time he found rows of sweaters, loose cotton pants, and billowing short-sleeved shirts—and, hanging on the door, a warm dressing gown in muted shades of dark purple, the fabric softer than anything he had ever felt before, and so sensual that it was all he could do not to shiver when he pulled it on.

He found the Cat in the kitchen, cooking eggs on the stove while toast browned on a rack on the back burner. He had pulled on a pair of loose pyjama pants, but his chest was bare, and all Theodore could think of was running his hands up the sculpted muscle of his back. The Rabbit didn't realize he had stopped in the open doorway, staring, until Chesh turned to look at him with a smile and beckoned him into the room.

"You look sweet," the Cat said, putting his free arm around Theodore as the Rabbit stepped into the circle of his arms. "My wardrobe didn't give you too much trouble?"

"What?" the Rabbit said, distracted by the warm skin under his fingertips. "Oh. No, it was fine."

The Cat chuckled. "That's good. It can be a little temperamental at times." He leaned down, kissing Theodore's forehead. "Tea's on the table, if you want it..."

"Mh," the Rabbit said, just tucking closer to him.

Chesh laughed softly. "Look at you. I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed."

Theodore turned his head, pressing his face into the Cat's shoulder. "I don't feel relaxed. I feel... like I'm buzzing..."

Chesh shut the stove off, turning to look down at him, but Theodore wasn't paying attention, too busy tracing patterns down his chest.

"I feel like... there's a magnet inside my blood, and it won't stop pulling me towards you," he said, his voice hushed. "I feel like every time you get near me my body starts thrumming... I can't think straight... you're the only thing in my mind..." His searching fingers were tracing down the Cat's stomach now, outlining the shape of his muscles, before sliding down to his waistband, almost absently.

"My head feels so hazy...," he whispered.

Without a word, Chesh tipped his head back, fingers threading into his hair, and kissed him deeply. The Rabbit pressed back up against him, a soft moan escaping his throat as his pulse jumped into overdrive, his entire body flushing with heat. The Cat was so close to him, so strong, and then Theodore's robe was open and he could feel Chesh's body against his skin, and he couldn't remember if he had left it like that himself or if the Cat had undone it but as far as he was concerned it didn't matter—

And then Chesh broke away suddenly, breathing hard, his fingers trembling as he buried his face in the Rabbit's soft curls.

"Chesh—"

"We don't have time for this," the Cat said, fingers stroking through Theodore's hair, pressing kisses to his crown. "You haven't eaten yet, and I need to take you home so you can get changed before you go to work."

"I don't want to go to work. I want to stay here with you."

"Theo," Chesh said, his tone scolding, even though there was a smile in his voice. "Just the other day you told me you couldn't come home early because you had too much work to do."

"I don't care," Theodore whined, pressing closer to his lover, and for a moment he felt the Cat's breath hitch. "Chesh, please...!"

"No," Chesh said finally, after a long pause. "You have to go to work, Theo. As much as you might like to, you know you can't skip work for something like this."

"But—"

"I promise, I'll be there to pick you up at six," the Cat said, smiling fondly as he brushed the Rabbit's hair back from his forehead. "Once you're done work, we can come back here and you'll have me to yourself all night."

"But I want you now," Theodore said, pressing forwards again.

For a moment, the Cat seemed to be warring with himself, desire battling against practicality, but in the end his emotions won out. "All right. But we have to be quick."

Theodore felt his pulse throb as excitement flooded through him, and he nodded rapidly, willing to agree with anything Chesh said if it meant he could stay just a little bit longer.

A flash of a smirk crossed the Cat's face at Theodore's eagerness, and then his arms were around the Rabbit's waist, lifting him up, moving him back to set him down on the edge of the kitchen table. Theodore was shaking with nerves and anticipation, looking down at the Cat with undisguised lust in his eyes, so overcome he was unable to speak.

"Just try to relax," Chesh said. He was between the Rabbit's legs now, one knee resting on the seat of a chair, gripping Theodore's hips with both hands as he leaned over him to start trailing kisses down his chest. Theodore gasped, just nodding again as he buried one hand in Chesh's hair.

"Chesh, please—"

"Shh," the Cat whispered against his stomach, pressing a sucking kiss just below his navel. "I'm not going to leave you wanting."

Theodore opened his mouth to reply, then shut it abruptly when he felt a breath of warm air ghost down his length. His gaze dropped; Chesh was looking back at him, a wicked smirk playing over his lips, his mouth only inches away from the source of the heat now spiralling through Theodore's body. The Rabbit was unable to tear his eyes away.

"Chesh," he whined, his tone very different from that of a moment before.

Just smirking wider, the Cat opened his mouth and took him between his lips.

Theodore moaned at first, then screamed, writhing under the Cat's clever tongue until he finally quieted, as behind him their morning tea grew cold on the Cat's kitchen table.

When Theodore walked into the Palace of Hearts that morning, he found the servants in a state of high activity. Maids were rushing about carrying bed linens and chamber pots and who knew what else; page boys where delivering messages left and right, constantly underfoot; a crowd of footmen hurried past at one point, one—who looked suspiciously like a frog—wearing his tunic backwards. Theodore encountered at least three collisions on his way to the King's study, and narrowly avoided being involved in one himself more than once. It was with a sigh of relief that he reached the relative safety of the study, though it didn't last long.

"Ah, excellent, Darwin, you're here," the King of Hearts said distractedly from behind his desk, where he was hurriedly scribbling out a long proclamation on a scroll of parchment. "As soon as I'm done with this you'll be taking it down to the front steps to read it out—the Queen and I will of course be at the top of the stairs waiting to greet them royally—"

"Them?" Theodore asked, bewildered. "What am I reading out, your Majesty?"

"Why, the announcement, Darwin, the introduction, of course! Do hurry, we're running out of time—" The King was blowing on the parchment now, already starting to roll up the top half.

"Whose introduction, your Majesty?" the Rabbit asked, growing more lost by the second.

"The visiting royalty, Darwin!" the King cried, stuffing the scroll into Theodore's hands. "The Red Queen and King from Looking Glass Land! They've reached the Tulgey Wood already and the White monarchs and their entourage aren't far behind!"

Theodore thought back. Dimly, he recalled hearing something about messengers being organized to invite foreign nobility to the ball, but he had had no hand in it and the last month had been so hectic that he barely remembered whether or not it had actually happened. Well, evidently it must have, because they were arriving now, but the frenzy of organizing the ball was rather far from being the foremost thing on Theodore's mind at that moment. Much closer to the top were the thoughts of all the interesting things he was thinking about doing with a certain warm, sun-kissed body.

The sun would certainly not be the only thing that had kissed the Cat's body by the time he was done—

"Darwin!" cried the King, jolting Theodore from his reverie. "We're late!"

Theodore had always hated to be late. He bolted.

By the end of the day it had become clear to not only Theodore, but to everyone else around him as well, that the Rabbit was very distracted that day.

He could barely remember reading out the Red monarchs' introduction. He was sure he must have fumbled somewhere, but he couldn't recall what parts. He also had the vague memory that the King of Hearts' hasty scribbling had smeared some of the words, but which ones they had been and what he had said in their place would forever remain a mystery to him. He was certain that the Red Queen was very upright and proper, and equally convinced that the Red King seemed to be practically sleepwalking—and in fact would have been outright sleeping if not for the aid a knight in outlandish red armour—but the events that had led him to forming these impressions were all a blur.

The arrival of the White monarchs was no better. There had been something about a sheep, he was sure—it had been following the White Queen for some reason, and had caused a bit of a stir—but all he could remember was being grateful that it had taken the spotlight off him for a few moments. The Queen herself had also seemed very distracted and scattered; of the King, he had no recollection, beyond that he had been holding the hand of a young girl in a glittering tiara. The only moment that stood out with astonishing clarity was his first view of the White King's manservants, who looked so much like the Mad Hatter and the March Hare that they might have been their twins, and in fact the Rabbit mistook them for the Wonderland denizens at first. But they were dressed in the White monarchs' livery, and showed none of the Hare's snobbishness or the Hatter's absent-minded daze, and so despite watching them with a touch of wary confusion, Theodore let it go.

After that, the day dissolved into chaos. It fell to the Rabbit to ensure that the monarchs and their various entourages were settled in properly and had the necessary supplies and servants to live in the manner to which they were accustomed. Still he seemed unable to keep his mind on the task at hand, and more than once he tripped over something or stepped on one of the pins the White Queen seemed to be shedding everywhere she went. The Red Queen took it upon herself to scold him, but the content of her lecture had slipped his mind almost before she finished speaking. At one point the King of Hearts pulled him aside to ask him what had gotten into him; he explained it away by saying he hadn't slept much the night before, which was partly true, and that he was looking forward to getting to bed that night, which was definitely true. The King was unsatisfied with his answer, but Theodore refused to go into more detail—and neglected to mention whose bed, precisely, he was looking forward to getting into—and so eventually he was released to go back to organizing a large-scale croquet game that the Queen wanted to host for her guests.

By five o'clock, he was interrupting himself every few minutes to check the time—his most extensive use of his pocket watch since getting it back from Chesh. By quarter to five he was getting so jumpy that the King finally snapped at him and ordered him out of the study. Not wasting another minute, Theodore bolted for the front door, where he waited in agony for the slowest thirteen minutes of his life before the Cheshire Cat finally—finally—appeared to take him home. The knowing smile the Cat gave him just before Theodore threw himself into his arms and covered it with his own lips left no doubts that Chesh knew exactly what state the Rabbit had been in all day, but Theodore couldn't bring himself to care.

"Missed me that much, did you?" the Cat purred when his lips were finally released.

"Oh, god, I couldn't think all day," Theodore groaned, pressing his face against the Cat's collar. He was already trembling with anticipation. "Please, let's go—now—"

Chesh just laughed. "Whatever anyone else says about you," he said, wrapping his arms around Theodore as the world faded out around them, "never let them argue that you don't behave just like a rabbit."

Not five days later, Theodore was already thinking longingly of the end of the ball, when they would be able to send their royal guests home. He had grown used to the isolation of the Palace of Hearts in the days of the King and Queen's troubles, and was only just now adjusting to the newfound bustle of everyday life; adding four dozen unfamiliar faces and a handful of royal egos was simply too much to deal with.

The Kings, at least, weren't too much trouble. They both seemed to be fairly slow-moving, absentminded gentlemen; the Red King was often sleeping, and the White King, despite having the perplexing habit of getting himself into the most out-of-the-way rooms in the Palace, seemed content to just sit and make notes in the journal he carried with him at all times. No, it was the Queens he was having trouble with.

The White Queen, at least, didn't mean any harm. She was even more distractible and absent-minded than her husband, and always seemed to be losing her way or dropping her things or pinning her clothes on backwards—still, after having ordered a search of the rose gardens when she had got herself lost for the third day running, it was hard to feel especially charitable towards her.

The Red Queen, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. She was not unkind, but was extremely prone to lectures and scoldings on the etiquette of anyone and everyone she came across. Stern and extremely capable, she insisted on getting things done herself, and getting things done right. To the servants of the Palace of Hearts, who were used to being left to their own devices for the most part, her intrusion into the order of things was unwelcome at best, and it was often Theodore who had to soothe ruffled tempers.

And then there were their entourages.

On top of the White King's two manservants, who seemed to be taking messages all over the Palace at a constant rate, there were also a pair of unruly footmen who looked rather like fat schoolboys, the sheep that insisted on following the White Queen about, and a Unicorn who was constantly getting out of the stables—particularly when the cook had set a pudding to cool on the window sill. Then there was the Red Knight, who was boisterous and rather given to tipsiness; a pompous scholar with a head like an egg, who the Rabbit had gathered was part of the Red Queen's retinue; a large crow, who seemed to delight in tormenting the White King's fat footmen—and Theodore could have sworn he had seen a Lion prowling around the Palace one night. Lily, the White Princess, seemed to be constantly exploring and getting underfoot; the White Queen's elderly Knight, though kindly, had a penchant for inventing strange things and was constantly trying to improve the Palace's machinery. All in all, it was making Theodore rather thankful that the worst he usually had to deal with was the Queen of Hearts.

And after five days of dealing with this, he decided, a long break for luncheon was certainly in order.

He had tucked himself into an out-of-the-way back corner of the labyrinthine rose garden—so far off the main path that a yellow rose bush, of all things, had been allowed to flourish, unmolested by terrified gardeners wielding paintbrushes. He found it to be a quite pleasant change from the usual blood red, and so sat down on the patch of grass just beneath it to eat his lunch, breathing in the soft scent. He had finished his cucumber sandwiches already and was just on the point of beginning to entertain the idea of getting back to work—a thought that didn't appeal to him in the slightest—when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

Startled, a flash of panic jolting through him, he catapulted forward, scrambling away—he had been positive no one would come this far into the garden! And if it was found out that he was avoiding work—

A familiar laugh sounded behind him as he heard its owner settle himself down onto the grass. "It's been a while since you've had that reaction to me showing up."

"Chesh!" he exclaimed, unable to think of anything better. "Don't startle me like that!"

"My apologies," said the Cat, bowing as grandly as he could from his place on the grass. "Will you sit back down now?"

Ruffled feathers soothed somewhat, Theodore dropped back down next to him, tucking himself under the Cat's outstretched arm. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might appreciate a bit of a break," Chesh said, adjusting the Rabbit's tie. "The Palace hasn't exactly been a relaxing work environment lately, and I'm sure you're stressed."

Now that he was over his surprise, and with the Cat so near, Theodore's skin was starting to prickle in quite a different way. "I know how you could help me with that...," he said, trailing off, one hand skimming down the Cat's forearm.

"Really," Chesh said. He sounded almost amused.

"Mhmm," Theodore said, gently pushing the Cat down onto his back, climbing over him. "No one will find us here..."

Chesh settled his hands on the Rabbit's hips, almost without thinking. There was something like surprise in his gaze when he met Theodore's eyes. "No, they won't... you're right..."

"Well, then... if you want to help me relieve some stress," the Rabbit said, tracing his fingertips down the Cat's chest, "what is there to stop you?"

Chesh stared up at him, violet eyes going dark with lust. "Nothing," he said, voice soft.

"Good," said the Rabbit, arching his hips down against the Cat's.

Chesh's breath hitched, and he let out a low chuckle. "Damn, Theodore... when did you get so bold?"

"Around the same time you taught me how to relax."

"You don't want to relax," the Cat said, halfway between laughing and gasping. "You're just horny."

"And you're not?" Theodore said, pressing his hips down again.

"Point—nhh." Chesh smirked up at him, licking his lips, hands creeping around his hips to unfasten the front of his trousers. "But you've got to get back to work soon... better make it quick."

The Rabbit didn't bother to reply, shifting up to his knees to get at the waistband of the Cat's pants. Chesh moaned softly, lifting his hips to help as Theodore tugged them down just enough to free him. With one brief moment of concentration, the bottle of oil from his bedroom materialized in his palm, and he pushed himself up on one elbow to uncap it and drip some over his fingers, slicking himself up. A sharp whine brought his attention back to the Rabbit; Theodore had finished what the Cat had started, his trousers around his knees, and his eyes were desperately hungry.

"Chesh," he whimpered, reaching for him.

The Cat let out a low groan, guiding him forward, and, breath coming short, Theodore crawled over him, sinking down with a soft cry. Chesh could feel himself tightening, pushing up into that dizzy heat, his back arched, his hips rocking, and then the Rabbit started moving back against him and it was all he could do not to cry out. His dazed eyes were focused on that beautiful pale body above him—he was so taken with Theodore, so deeply in love, and in these moments nothing mattered but him, nothing mattered but the love and trust and feeling between them—

"Theo—oh, fuck—"

He heard the Rabbit's answering cry, felt Theodore's fingers dig into his ribcage, and he tightened his grip on his hips, pulling him closer, deeper, as their rhythm built. Theodore was shaking now, shuddering as he drove himself down against the Cat, and Chesh responded in kind, moaning at the heat and the pressure and the depth—he could feel the Rabbit's every motion, every touch, and his blood thrilled to it, pounding through him at a frantic pace—he was so close, rushing faster towards the edge with every second—

His head was spinning, he couldn't hold on any longer—

"Theo—ahh, ah—fuck!"

"Chesh, please—"

He was burning up—

"Chesh, please come—!"

With a sharp cry and a sudden jolt, he reached his limit, slamming into the wall so fast it left him breathless—he was shuddering, his body wracked with spasms as he spilled himself for his love—

"Ahh—Theo!"

The Rabbit screamed then, tightening around him, his body jerking, and Chesh gripped him firmly, pumping him until he was sure he was spent, and then they both collapsed onto the grass, arms wrapped around each other in bliss.

After a few moments, Theodore stirred, sitting up stiffly, and the Cat opened his eyes. The Rabbit was fastening his trousers. Smiling, Chesh sat up, arms wrapping around him for a moment before tugging the rest of his clothes back into order.

"Feeling better?" he asked, kissing the back of Theodore's neck.

"Mmm," the Rabbit sighed, sinking into his hold. "Much. Thank you."

"Anytime," Chesh said, turning Theodore's head to kiss him properly. "You'd better get back to work."

"Yeah," the Rabbit said, detaching himself slowly from the Cat's arms. "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll see you tonight."

Theodore nodded, a smile tugging at his lips, and disappeared around a wall of rosebushes. Humming, the Cat climbed to his feet, sliding his pants back onto his hips, the mess vanishing with a wave of his hand. Looking up then, he noticed for the first time that the bush they had been sitting next to was decorated not with the Queen's favourite red roses, but with flowers of a bright sunny yellow.

"Hm," he said, a smile breaking over his face. "How unusual. These must be the only yellow flowers in the whole garden."

When Theodore got home that evening, he discovered on his kitchen table a vase he had never seen before, containing a single yellow rose.

"I don't know when I'll be able to leave work tomorrow night," Theodore murmured sleepily.

The Cat shifted against him, lifting himself up on one elbow. "That's right, the ball is tomorrow, isn't it?" His voice was quiet; they were both hesitant to break the nighttime hush that hung over the Tulgey Wood.

"Mhm..."

"It doesn't matter," Chesh said, leaning down to press a kiss to the Rabbit's temple. "I'll be there with you, so we can spend the night together anyway."

"You don't have an invitation," Theodore mumbled, not sounding like he cared at all.

"I've never had an invitation, but I haven't missed a ball yet." The Cat stretched out again, tucking Theodore's back against his chest, and the Rabbit snuggled into him happily, closing his eyes.

"Besides," Chesh added, nuzzling into Theodore's hair, "that way, when you do want to go home, you won't have to wait for me."

"And you can be my stress relief."

Chesh chuckled. "That too."

"Okay," Theodore sighed, smiling softly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Theo."

The Rabbit was already asleep.

Compared to the week running up to the ball, the event itself was almost peaceful. Of course, it wasn't going to last, but Theodore was determined to enjoy it while he still could.

When the ball had started, he had been up by the front door, announcing the entrance of the nobility, but now that royalty was inside and the Duchess, the March Hare, the Mad Hatter, and the Dormouse had arrived, he had been allowed to move. Now the Rabbit was stationed near the back of the room, supervising the comings and goings of the servants as they supplied hors d'oeuvres and circulated with trays of champagne glasses. So far he had averted any major collisions, and things seemed to be going well, despite their incessant arguments over which direction it would be better to circulate in. He had stopped listening to that and simply designated one door as the entrance to the kitchen and the other as the exit, and then stood back to observe.

Most of the guests seemed to have arrived already; the thin trickle that was entering the hall now seemed just to be the latecomers arriving from town. He had seen the Dodo, and Bill, the Lizard; he was even positive that he had spotted Mary Ann somewhere in the crowd, in long gloves and a delicate gown of blue and white. Musicians hired by the Queen of Hearts had been joined by a choir of singing flowers from the Looking Glass Land, and, on top of the townsfolk now merrily dancing, Theodore had spotted the Gryphon and the Mock Turtle sitting near the stage, the latter singing along mournfully and looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Everyone, particularly the monarchs, was dressed in their finest, and it was a veritable feast for the senses.

Theodore was distracted from his contemplation of the crowd by a sudden stir of gasping and muttering from the door. Frowning slightly, he moved forward to see; the crowd parted slightly, drawing back from the newcomer, and he caught a flash of rich purple and white lace. And stared.

It was the Cheshire Cat.

Already so imposing in the casual clothes he wore every day, his power was only enhanced by the formal silks he had donned for the ball. His jacket was cut short at the waist, tailored to perfection, and, like his high-waisted trousers, a stunning dark violet. His white shirt was crisp and fresh, accenting the rich, shimmering purple of his vest. His buttons were silver, inset with glittering violet stones, and a swirling pin of similar colours kept his cascading lace cravat in place at his neck. He had replaced his elbow-length gloves with a pair of short gentleman's gloves, the fingertips coming to a point to avoid puncture by his claws; he had even, Theodore noted with some amusement, donned a pair of black dress shoes.

"You look—stunning," the Rabbit said, still staring, as the Cat approached him.

Chesh smirked slightly, taking his hand and bowing over it, his fluffy tail flicking back and forth behind him. "I guessed, by your rather stunned expression," he said, kissing Theodore's fingertips.

The Rabbit blushed, stammering.

"Your compliments do wonders for my ego," the Cat said, straightening up, a more familiar smile flashing across his face. "But as much as I'd love to remain by your side and lap them up for the rest of the night, I have to pay my respects to the royalty." He nodded towards the nearby Red Queen, who was looking at him with an expression frank curiosity. "I'll be back soon."

"Of course," was all Theodore could say, still struggling to collect his thoughts. Chesh smiled again, kissing the Rabbit's palm, then let him go, moving off towards the Kings and Queens. Theodore couldn't help but compare his finery with theirs; every time, the monarchs came up wanting.

Now that he was in the thick of things, he could observe the guests more closely, and his attention was diverted by the townsfolk whirling around the dance floor. Dodging around them, he gained the relative quiet of a table against the wall, but quickly realized he wasn't the only one taking refuge there.

Not twenty feet away, down the table, the Mad Hatter was sitting with his back to the wall, watching the dancers and happily conducting the music with one hand. The March Hare was next to him, sitting close, one arm over the back of his chair. When he spotted Theodore, he shot him a glare, but there was a touch of fear in his eyes. Theodore was sharply reminded of the look on the Hare's face when he had come to deliver their invitation, and he blinked, looking at the pair of them with a new gaze.

Why did the March Hare fear the ball?

Did it have something to do with the way his eyes seemed to track the Hatter's every movement?

Theodore's consideration of the Hare's emotional state was brought up short by the arrival of the Duchess at their table. He looked away, not wanting to observe any kind of display between her and the Hare, but his caution was unfounded; the Hare barely looked at her. She seemed almost timid, showing none of her usual boiling rage or overeager kindliness, and obviously didn't want to be the first to speak, but when the Hare continued to say nothing, she opened her mouth.

"Might you perhaps fancy—"

"No," the Hare cut in.

"No?" the Duchess said, taken aback.

"No," the Hare repeated. "You bore me. I'm staying here."

"But you promised me a dance, March," the Duchess pleaded, laying her hand over his. "Please, won't you—"

"I lied, Clarissa!" the Hare snapped, jerking his hand back. "I said you bore me. Get away."

"Oh, please—" the Duchess said, reaching for him again. She never had a chance to touch him.

Before she could make any other move, the Hare jumped to his feet, striking her across the face. "You stupid woman! Get away from me! I don't want your fucking dance!"

"You promised, March...," the Duchess whimpered, pressing her hand to her reddened cheek, and suddenly Theodore realized that while she had given the Hare permission to use her given name, she had received no such permission in return. "You promised me..."

The Hare shot her a murderous glare, and she fled.

The Hatter had been watching this exchange in shock and fear, but scarcely a moment had passed before it seemed to slip his mind completely. "Who was that, Harlan?" he asked pleasantly, back to conducting the band idly.

"No one of consequence," the Hare said, sinking back into his chair. Now that the Duchess was gone, he seemed to be perfectly calm again, but even more unwilling to let the Hatter out of his sight than before.

What on earth was going on?

Before Theodore had the chance to puzzle out the answer to that question, he felt a touch on his elbow, and he jumped, turning around. Standing next to him was the diminutive figure of the Dormouse. Before Theodore could open his mouth to speak, the Dormouse raised a finger to his lips, nodding at an empty corner farther away from the Hatter and the Hare.

As they walked, the Rabbit took the opportunity to observe him, for if he was ill-acquainted with the Hatter, his knowledge of the Dormouse was even sketchier—in fact, he couldn't remember ever having seen him awake before. He was fairly pale, though nowhere as near as light as the Rabbit's own albino skin, and freckled, with curly auburn hair and large, floppy ears of a soft grey-brown. His clothes, in shades of dusty green and brown, seemed a touch too big for him, and he moved with the cautious clumsiness of one who has just recently woken up. He didn't look dazed, though—in fact, his pale green eyes were very alert, darting around the room and assessing everything he saw.

When they had reached the safety of the corner, he turned to Theodore, bowing briefly. "Thank you for speaking with me," he said. His voice was light and lilting, almost musical, and Theodore was almost surprised to hear him talk. "I know we've never been acquainted, but I am in desperate need of your assistance."

Startled, the Rabbit could only nod. "Please—I'm at your service."

"To be honest, I don't know that there's much you can do for me," the Dormouse admitted. "But you're in very close contact with someone who will be able to help."

"The Cat," Theodore said.

"Yes." The Dormouse nodded. "I would like you to pass a message to him for me—I think he will know what to do."

"But he's here," the Rabbit said. "Wouldn't it be better to speak to him yourself?"

The Dormouse gave him the most frank look Theodore had ever seen on any face, especially one so given to sleepiness, and for a moment he felt foolish.

"Of course. How stupid of me—he's a cat and you're a mouse. I apologize," he said. "I'd be happy to pass on any message you need."

"Then please tell him," the Dormouse said, "that ravens and writing desks grow less alike by the day, and that they will soon be overtaken by spring fever if we cannot do something."

Theodore hesitated. "I'm sorry. Ravens and writing desks grow less alike by the day?"

"And they will soon be overtaken by spring fever," the Dormouse said, nodding. "He will understand. Please."

Though the message sounded like utter nonsense to Theodore, in the face of the Dormouse's desperation, he could do nothing but accept. "I'll tell him."

"Thank you," the Dormouse said. "Hopefully it's not too late." And then, bowing again, he left the Rabbit on his own, and was swiftly hidden in the crowds.

Theodore felt rather overwhelmed by everything he had learned recently, but as much as he might have liked to contemplate it, he heard a crash from across the ballroom and came to the sudden horrible realization that he had left the servants unsupervised for the last fifteen minutes—and if there was one thing he had learned while working in the Palace of Hearts, it was that Wonderland servants were never to be left unsupervised.

It was two of the servers, as he had feared, and a small crowd had already formed around them by the time he had got there. The pair of them were tangled up in a heap, one sitting on the other, bickering with each other with no regard for anyone else or for the broken glass, champagne, and salmon pâté now covering both of their tunics. But before Theodore could advance to scold them both and send for a mop and bucket, the Cat stepped out of the crowd, looking down at them with a tolerantly amused expression.

With a moment of concentration, the entire mess had vanished into thin air, the trays were rescued from the floor and piled high with conjured glasses and delicacies, and the servants were both clean and dry again, without a single stain showing on their livery. They didn't seem to notice at first, continuing to argue about who had been going in the wrong direction, then without a single sign between them they both stopped talking and looked up at the Cat, who had quirked a brow in their direction.

"I suggest, next time, no matter which direction you are going, you watch out for someone coming the opposite way," he said mildly, bending down to lift them both to their feet. The tray of champagne glasses went to one of them; to the other went the hors d'oeuvres, which looked rather nicer than any Theodore had yet seen coming out of the Palace kitchen. Losing interest, the crowd dispersed, and the two confused servants were left to look down at their trays, then at each other, then back up—but by the time they had, the Cat had already moved on.

"You handled that rather well," was all Theodore could say as Chesh took his arm and led him away from the scene of the collision.

The Cat smiled. "After cleaning up the whole Palace already, that was nothing."

"Speaking of which, I'd better get back to work," the Rabbit said regretfully. "I can't let that happen again."

"It won't," Chesh said, and he spoke with such certainty that Theodore couldn't help but believe him. "Dance with me, love."

Theodore's heart thumped in his throat. "Now?"

"Of course," the Cat said with a charming smile. "I want everyone to see me dancing with you, so that they know how lucky I am."

"Oh," Theodore said. "Well. I guess that's okay, then."

Chesh just smiled, taking his hand and leading him onto the dance floor as the band started playing a waltz—and, since Theodore hadn't heard them playing a waltz all evening, he was fairly certain that couldn't have been a coincidence. Still, he wasn't going to question it, not when it meant the Cat would put his hand on his waist and hold him close for the entirety of the dance. Distantly, Theodore was glad Chesh was leading, because he could hardly remember the steps.

But the Cat didn't seem to care, and soon neither did Theodore. He could feel the weight of the crowd's stares on them, but they were easy to forget about. All he had to do was look into Chesh's eyes.

The Cat was smiling down at him with the most tender expression Theodore had ever seen. The Rabbit was suddenly left breathless—and he was fairly certain it wasn't because of the complicated spin the Cat had just put him through.

"About a month ago," Chesh said suddenly, his mouth close to Theodore's ear, "after I rescued you from the Caterpillar... I promised you something while you slept."

"Really?" Theodore asked softly. "What was it?"

"I promised that I would be your safe place," the Cat said, taking a deep breath. "Your asylum. I promised to look after you. And I just wanted to know... did I do a good enough job?"

Theodore looked up at him, surprised red eyes meeting concerned violet. He thought about all the times Chesh had comforted him; he thought about how safe he felt sleeping in his arms. He thought about how, two months ago, he could barely function without checking his watch every half hour, and how now he only looked at it when he needed to pause and calm down. He thought about all the late nights he had spent in Chesh's bed, and how comfortable he felt right now, publicly displaying his feelings in front of everyone he knew. And he smiled.

"Yes," he whispered, pulling Chesh down into a soft kiss. "Yes."

The End