A/N: cute, fluffy little pre-Abyss one-shot. i know, i haven't finished Steam yet. (yes, there IS a second part.) but this cute, fluffy little plot bunny was threatening me with a nail bat - what could i do? also, i really like writing bratty Oz. XD

A/N 2: apologies to those who got multiple notices about this damn thing. FF net seems to hate me, and it changes everything i upload somewhere between the edit stage and the public posting stage. since i'm new to this evil system, i had to figure out how to edit an already-posted story, and somehow managed to delete the whole thing in the process. gratuitous sorries to anyone whose inbox got slaughtered with NEW STORY ZOMG notices. .

*****

"But I don't want to go," Oz exclaimed, folding his arms. "I don't even like Eduard!"

Mrs. Kate sighed; ever since Oz had reached his fourteenth birthday, he had been even more difficult than usual - which was quite a feat, considering how much mischief the boy had managed to get into before. "It doesn't matter whether or not you like him," she said reasonably, trying to get the Bezarius heir's uncontrollable cowlick to lie down in some semblance of tidiness. "The Lakewood family is very important, and as the heir of one of the four Grand Duke houses, you should be there to congratulate him on his birthday."

"But why?" The boy's voice was dangerously close to a whine. "Can't I just send him a gift? Eduard is boring, and the whole party will be, too." He scowled at his reflection in the mirror before him. "Besides, this suit is horrible."

The harried governess pulled a bit harder on Oz's hair than he considered truly necessary and finally gave up on it, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You, Young Master Oz, are the one that's horrible. It's a two-hour party, there will be plenty of boys your age there, and plenty of sweets. You can manage it for two short hours, can't you?"

Oz scowled harder; the suit was horrible, and itchy besides. Not to mention that since Eduard was so boring, the sweets would probably be just as boring as he was, and the cake probably wouldn't even have strawberries or anything on it. Oz would be surprised if it even had frosting. "Where's Gil?" he asked. "Is he in a suit as bad as this one?" Disagreeable as he felt at the moment, the thought of his best friend in a worse outfit was somewhat cheering. "His had better have a pink cravat or something."

Mrs. Kate tried to keep her face as calm as she could; she had known this was coming, and had been putting off telling him for as long as possible to avoid the inevitable tantrum she knew her young charge would throw. "Gilbert is downstairs blacking your boots, like he's supposed to," she said, putting the silver-backed hairbrush on the dressing table.

"But we'll be late unless he dresses soon," Oz pointed out. "If I have to go to this bothersome party, I should at least be on time, don't you think?"

"He isn't going," she replied, bracing herself internally. "He has work to do."

The boy's mouth fell open. "Not going? Why not?"

"Because you can't take your servant to an aristocrats' party. Now stand still while I straighten your cravat, it's all crooked."

Oz backed away, fixing the poor woman with a look that would have had Gil cowering, had he been there to see it. "I won't go without Gil! He's not just a servant, he's my friend!"

"Oh no, you're not boycotting this party, Young Master."

"Then Gil's coming, too."

"Be reasonable," Mrs. Kate coaxed, reaching for Oz's white necktie to adjust the knot. "Gilbert doesn't have a suit nice enough for this party, and it's too late to go and buy one."

He stepped back even further, dodging his governess's hands, and sidestepped the lunge she made to grab him. "He can wear one of my old ones! I won't go without him - I'll be bored enough as it is, and if Gil isn't there for me to bully, I'll have no fun at all!"

"You shouldn't be bullying him in public anyway!" she cried, chasing about after the boy in a rather undignified fashion. "All the more reason for him to stay here! Now stand still!"

"I won't!" Oz answered loudly, like a small child. "I'm not going!"

The door opened and Oscar walked in, coat and hat in hand. "Here, what's all the shouting?"

"She says Gil can't go with me!" Oz blurted, pointing an accusatory finger toward Mrs. Kate. "Tell her he can wear one of my old suits, Uncle Oscar! Tell her Gil's not just a servant! He has to come, or I won't go, either!"

The not-just-a-servant in question, who had been right behind Oscar, carrying Oz's own winter coat, peered around the big man. He was rather embarrassed to be the source of so much commotion, and his cheeks were pink. "But, Young Master Oz, you have to go to the party! I don't mind if I have to stay here." In all honesty, he would very much have liked to go; he would have loved to see Eduard's house, and the guests all dressed up, and the cake and the presents - but most of all, he would have been delighted just to be there with Oz, to keep him company, to make sure he enjoyed himself. But he had already been told he wouldn't be allowed to go, and he understood the reasons why: first, he wasn't an aristocrat, and it was an aristocrats' party; second, he didn't have anything to wear, and it would look bad if he wore one of Oz's old suits, not only because it was out of fashion, but also because a servant shouldn't own an outfit that nice, even secondhand; and third, he hadn't been invited, anyway.

Oz ran to the smaller boy's side and peered into his flushed face. "You can't be serious! Don't you want to go? It's a party! There'll be cake and cookies and--"

Oscar rested a gentle hand on his nephew's head. "That's enough, Oz. He knows he can't go, don't make him feel bad about it."

Oz looked from his normally very lenient uncle to Gil's shining golden eyes and back again; he couldn't believe it! They'd actually told Gil he wasn't going to go, and he'd just accepted it? Well, of course, Gil never complained no matter what was done to him - but still! "It isn't right," he said, looking up into Oscar's sympathetic face. "And I don't want to go, anyway."

Oscar frowned. He understood, he really did - but Oz was too young and too spoiled to understand social etiquette well just yet, and he knew if he allowed his nephew to bring his favorite servant to the party as a guest, the gossipmongers would never let it go; such a faux pas would not be forgotten, even when Oz had grown up and become a Duke, and as much as Oscar dearly loved both boys and wanted to see them having fun together at a social gathering of children their own ages, he knew it just wasn't possible this time. "Oz," he said, using a stern voice that felt strange in his mouth, "I understand you want to take Gilbert with you, but you can't. And if you don't go to this party and behave properly, you won't go out of the house for a week - and there'll be no desserts, either."

Gil was horrified. As much as he wanted to say, Don't go! Stay home with me, and I'll give you all my desserts in secret! he knew it wouldn't be right. Not allowed to go out for a week, and all because of him! "Young Master Oz," he pleaded, forcing himself to be as reasonable as the adults, "if you're kept in for a week, you'll miss the Winter Fair."

Oz's eyes widened - he'd been looking forward to the Winter Fair for months. The candied apples, the hot cider and cocoa, the snow on his cheeks and in Gil's hair, the bonfires and the vendors and the snowball fights... he couldn't miss it, he just couldn't! "Uncle Oscar, you wouldn't keep me in during the Fair, would you?"

Oscar forced himself to nod. He felt like an ass for making Oz look so sad... but it had to be done. "I would, and I will, if you don't behave. Now put your coat on, the carriage is waiting."

Oz's chin trembled slightly, but he allowed Gil to help him into his coat. "All right. I'll go." He looked at the other boy, who was still mortified to be the cause of all this strife. "I'll bring you a piece of cake."

Gil blinked, surprised, and smiled at his young master. "Thank you."

Oscar looked affectionately at the dark-haired boy; thank God for that child's sweet nature and good sense, or the whole night would have been a complete disaster. "Let's go, Oz." He ushered the older boy out the door, then ran a hand over Gil's curls and mouthed the words Thank you.

Mrs. Kate and Gil followed the pair to the front door to see them off, and as the carriage pulled away, Gil waved and called out: "I'll be here when you come back! Have fun, Young Master Oz!"

Oz looked down at his feet and willed himself not to cry.

*****

The library door banged open, startling Gil so badly he nearly dropped the book he was reading; Oz blustered into the room like a blond whirlwind, his cheeks pink with either cold or anger, Gil wasn't sure. "That was the worst party I've ever been to!" the Bezarius heir exclaimed, full of fury. He untied his cravat and yanked off the itchy wool jacket and threw both over a chair before flopping down on the couch beside Gil, who looked rather as if he wanted to run away. Seeing the smaller boy's expression, he lowered his voice and gave him an apologetic look. "Be glad you didn't go, it was awful."

Gil didn't know what to say other than, "Oh."

Oz thrust a somewhat crumpled napkin full of cookies in various crumbly states into his friend's hands. "Sorry there's no cake - I ate it on the way home." He sighed. "At least that was good."

"That's okay," Gil answered, pleased just to have been remembered... although he really would have liked to have had a piece of cake if it had been that tasty. "Thank you."

Oz reached into the napkin, selected a cookie that was less crumbly than the others and munched it angrily. "It was so boring, Gil, really! Even the games were dull, especially..." He trailed off and turned a bit redder.

Gil waited for the other boy to continue, not wanting to be rude, but when his young master didn't seem to be forthcoming, he prompted, "Especially...?"

Oz looked up, a strange glimmer in his green eyes. Uh oh. Gil knew that look, and it was never good for him. "Gil?"

"Y-yes?" He was beginning to wish he hadn't pressed.

"Have you ever played Spin the Bottle?"

"W-what? No, how do you play it?"

"You mean you don't know?" Truth be told, before the party, Oz had never heard of the game, either - but he wasn't about to tell Gil that.

The raven-haired boy blushed; he was used to Oz lording it over him, but he still felt a little silly every time he didn't know what his young master was talking about. "No, I don't."

Oz bit his lip as if in thought, then got up and went to shut the door. "I'll teach you." He came back, took the cookies from Gil and set them on the end table, then pulled the younger boy by the sleeve down to the floor. "Sit here."

"O-okay." Gil did as he was told, watching Oz search the room for something. "What are you looking for?" he asked, eager to help as always.

"Ah ha!" Oz crowed triumphantly, pulling an empty crystal decanter down from a display shelf. "Found one!"

"What's the bottle for?" Gil asked, completely befuddled. "That's a very valuable--"

"Be quiet," the blond boy answered, coming to sit on the rug across from his friend. "It's the only bottle in the room, and I'm not going to the kitchens and asking for one. We'll be careful, it won't break."

"Okay," Gil replied, a curl of trepidation rising in the pit of his stomach. "But... what's it for?"

"To spin, stupid. The game is called 'Spin the Bottle', you know."

"Oh." Gil still didn't get it, but he knew if he pressed further, Oz would tease him mercilessly for the rest of the night. Besides, if he just waited, he'd learn anyway.

"We played this at the party," Oz informed him, lying the decanter on its side between them. "There were six boys and four girls, so it was a little off-balance, but it seemed to work out okay." For everyone but me, he wanted to add, but didn't. "You sit in a circle, and one person spins the bottle, like this." He took hold of the bottle in one hand and twisted his wrist, quickly letting go so that the decanter spun in a circle; when it stopped, the crystal stopper was pointing off to one side, toward the writing desk. "Oh," he said, looking a little disappointed.

Gil blinked. "No wonder you were so bored," he said, sympathetically. "If this is all you do--"

"It isn't. I just can't do anything with that. You spin now."

Gil did as he was told, and when the bottle stopped spinning, the stopper was pointing at Oz's right knee. "What now?"

"Since it's pointing at a person, now you have to do something."

"Oh. What do I do?"

Oz grinned. "You have to kiss me."

Poor Gil almost fell over. "W-what!?"

"That's the rule. If it's pointing at someone, the person who spun the bottle has to kiss them."

The younger boy blushed from the collar of his sailor shirt all the way up to his hairline. "But- but- we're both boys!" A thought struck him, and he asked, "Is that why you came home so angry? Did you have to kiss a boy?"

"Stupid!" Oz almost shouted, and chucked a throw pillow from the couch at the hapless servant. "Of course not! There were girls playing, too."

"Oh." Another thought, just as stabbing as the first: "Did you have to kiss a girl you don't like?"

Oz sat back on his heels. "No."

"Oh. Was it a pretty girl, then?" Gil wished the knifelike thoughts would stop going through him like that; he was getting far too close to feeling jealous than he would have liked.

"I didn't kiss anybody." Oz pulled the stopper from the decanter and toyed with it, his cheeks pink. "Every time it was my turn, the bottle pointed at Richard or James, and it doesn't count if it's another boy."

"But I'm a boy, too - why do I have to kiss you?"

Up until that moment, Oz had forgotten about Gil's spin; he hadn't actually been serious about it, but now that the other boy had brought it up - and believed Oz really intended for them to kiss - he wasn't about to let it go. "Because we're the only ones in the room. If there are only boys playing, then of course it counts."

Gil's heart skipped a beat or two - or three. "But- but- but--"

"Don't you want to kiss me?" The look on Gil's face was priceless; Oz would've liked to have had a painting of it done or something. "Come on, those are the rules."

"I didn't say...! But... but..."

Oz stifled a laugh; Gil was so much fun to tease! "Do you want to play or not?"

The smaller boy turned a shade redder. "Well, yes, but..."

"Then kiss me already, or you lose."

Gil swallowed hard. "Okay."

Oz blinked. "What?"

"Okay, I'll do it."

The older boy scoffed. "Stupid, I didn't mean--"

"Close your eyes, though, okay?"

Oz was about to say that he hadn't really been serious, but he took one look at Gil's flushed face and determined expression, and what actually came out of his mouth was, "Okay."

Gil scooted across the rug on his knees to sit closer and leaned forward. "Close your eyes, or I can't."

"Why?" Oz's voice came out as a hoarse squeak, despite his efforts to remain calm.

"Because!" Gil went even redder. "I can't do it with you looking at me!"

"I bet you can't do it, anyway!" Oz flared, his own face feeling hot.

"Yes, I can! Just close your eyes, and I will!"

"I bet you won't!"

"I won't if you keep looking at me!"

Oz shut his eyes, huffing. "There. Now do it, or say you forfeit the game!"

There was a pause as Gil stared blankly at his young master: Oz's long, sandy lashes brushed against his flushed cheeks; his golden hair hung over his closed eyes; his mouth looked warm and soft; and Gil was starting to think, Maybe this isn't so bad. "O-okay. Here I go."

Oz waited, his heart pounding.

Gil leaned in very close; he felt Oz's breath on his face; he licked his own lips to keep them from being too dry, then thought that Oz might find that kind of gross, so he backed off to wipe his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"Are you going to do it or not?" Oz asked, his eyes still shut. "Because if you don't, then I--"

The feel of Gil's lips on his own shut him up.

It was a quick, clumsy kiss, but Oz's heart leapt against his ribcage and his fists clenched on his knees; when he opened his eyes, he saw Gil's face inches away, his golden eyes bright, his mouth open as if he were surprised at his own daring - and he probably was. "You... you actually did it."

Gil swallowed, half excited, half terrified. He'd kissed the young master! What had gotten into him? What on earth had ever made him think it was okay to do such a thing? "I'm sor--" he started, but didn't get any further before Oz leaned in and returned the kiss.

It was still clumsy, but a little longer.

When the older boy withdrew, the two sat there looking at each other, the late afternoon sun shining through the window and glinting over their hair; Gil was filled with fear and joy, and it occurred to him that Oz was like that sunshine, warm and golden and soft. He had kissed sunlight, and it felt wonderful.

"It's your turn," Oz whispered.

"I just spun it," Gil replied, confused.

"We're the only ones playing, so we know who we're going to kiss already." Oz swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. "We may as well do it without the bottle."

"Oh." Gil couldn't stop staring at the other boy's half-open mouth. "Okay." He leaned in again, his stomach full of butterflies. "Close your eyes."

"No." If Oz were going to have any control at all over the situation, he would have to keep changing the rules - and he had to stay in control, because if he didn't, things could get out of hand. Not that they weren't already, but... this was fun, and he really didn't want to stop. "You have to do it with me watching you this time."

Gil backed off in surprise. "Why?"

The Bezarius heir fumbled for an answer and came up with: "Because you can't kiss the same person the same way twice. It's in the rules."

Gil had the distinct feeling that his young master had just made that rule up on the spot, but since he didn't really know anything about the game other than what he'd just been taught, he didn't really have any evidence, so he decided not to argue the point. "Okay." He forced himself to focus on Oz's shining green eyes and leaned forward once more. "Here I go."

Kissing someone with one's eyes open was a much different experience, they both discovered; as their lips met, they each watched the other's eyes, watched the shifting sunlight shining in their irises, watched the emotions flashing behind the glassy surface changing as the kiss drifted into something more than a game. Suddenly, Gil realized he meant that kiss all along, was actually enjoying everything, and felt so profoundly embarrassed and guilty that he had to close his eyes; he simply couldn't look at Oz while he was doing that!

Oz's hands grasped Gil's shoulders and held him still as the kiss continued on and on; somehow, when the younger boy had closed his eyes, it had seemed like a concession of defeat, a sort of submission, and that had done something to Oz that he couldn't explain. He wanted to make Gil concede completely, to make him admit defeat aloud, to... well, he didn't really know what he wanted - he just knew he didn't want to stop kissing his friend.

Gil's own hands wandered up to clutch at Oz's dress shirt, wrinkling the fine fabric; he felt his young master's hair tickling his face and shivered all over; he started to open his mouth to say that they shouldn't be doing this, that someone might catch them, that he was enjoying it far, far too much - okay, not the last part, he'd die of embarrassment if he ever said that out loud - but something...

...and Oz's mouth opened, too, as if they were playing instruments in tune with each other.

The open-mouthed kiss was even clumsier than the previous closed-mouth ones, but when Oz's tongue shyly traced Gil's lower lip, the younger boy felt as if he were in the company of the most experienced kisser in the world. His whole body reacted to it: his face grew very warm, his eyelashes fluttered, his fists clenched a little tighter, and to his horror, he heard a soft, muffled moan come from his own throat.

That little cry was the most gratifying thing Oz had ever heard, and he realized at that moment that that was what he had wanted, that was what he'd been waiting for, and he instantly decided to make Gil do it again and again.

"Young Master Oz!" Mrs. Kate's voice from the hallway made the boys leap apart, breathing heavily. "Where are you? Young Master!"

"In here, Mrs. Kate!" Oz jumped up to sit across the room by the window, while Gil sprang guiltily to the couch and began munching the crumbly cookies. "The library!"

The door opened and the governess entered, looking fairly vexed. "The Lakewood family just sent over a messenger."

Both boys looked up. "Oh?" Oz asked.

"Yes, Lord Lakewood sends his regards, and says he heard from his son that you didn't enjoy the party." She held out a letter sealed with red wax. "I don't know what you did, Young Master, but he's sent along an invitation to another party, to be held next week."

Oz took the cream-colored envelope and opened it; inside was a handwritten invitation to a winter bonfire party, made out to Oz Bezarius and Guest. "Wh-what...?"

Mrs. Kate looked from one red-faced boy to the other before she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

*****

"Here, you look like you could use some, too."

"Did he really talk about him the whole time?" Mrs. Kate accepted the glass Oscar offered her and sat down.

"Not quite, but pretty close." He poured himself some wine and ran a hand through his hair. "I think he stopped long enough to wish Eduard a happy birthday."

Mrs. Kate groaned a little.

"But," he continued, "I guess it doesn't matter, since he did go, and he was polite. He wasn't exactly gracious, but he's still young, and Lord Lakewood seemed to understand. After all, he has a fourteen-year-old son, too."

"What are we going to do?"

"I suppose we'll have to buy Gilbert a suit," Oscar said with a sigh, and refilled his glass.

Watching him pour the wine, Mrs. Kate remembered something. "Lord Oscar?"

"Yes?" Feeling somewhat better, he sipped the drink a little slower this time.

"Was there anything in that brandy decanter in the library?"

"What?" Oscar thought about it for a moment. "Oh, the crystal one? No, it's never been used, it's just for show. Why?"

The woman frowned in confusion. "Well, when I went in to give the invitation to Young Master Oz, that decanter was lying on the rug, and both the boys looked sort of flushed. I thought they might have been drinking, but if there was never anything in it..." She trailed off, sipping her wine thoughtfully.

"What? It was on the floor? But why would--" A memory came to him: he saw himself at a party at age thirteen, his blond hair sitting on his shoulders, his cheeks pink as the green glass bottle he and David had stolen from the kitchens pointed accusingly at him, the smell of Miss Elizabeth's rose perfume as she leaned across the rug and...

He downed the rest of the glass in one gulp.

END.