#Pandora hearts fanfic

[lana7779]

People should really be careful when saying things like "hey, you should write (insert the randomest idea)", because by god, I will make it happen.

So here we are, 2.5k words of Gil taking out Break's hairpins...

Yuuuup... That's all this is...

Pulling out your partner’s hairpins as a metaphor for sex.

Gil was angry. Overall, relieved, of course, but still, very angry that Xerxes didn’t tell him. Didn’t tell him that he was blind, and carried that weight in secret. 

After Yura’s mansion when they got back the Rainsworth mansion and the debrief was over, they each went to their rooms, but Gilbert followed Xerxes to his. 

When he arrived, he saw the blind man fumbling with his hair pins, turned away from the mirror on the dresser because he no longer needed it. That angered Gilbert even more. He stalked into the room, not bothering to keep his presence a secret and slammed his hands down on either side of the Mad Hatter, trapping him with his body against the wood behind him. 

Break jumped a bit at the abrupt sound, Gilbert’s anger radiating off of him practically like heat. He kept his hands by his hair, looking in the direction in which he could feel the younger was near him. And he was so damn near. The reason Gilbert’s anger was comparable to heat is because he was indeed close enough to feel every fibre of Gil’s being. 

Gilbert probably felt like he could get this close only because Break couldn’t actually see him. Whatever the reason, his presence was penetrative, though not unwelcome. It was his favourite little pathetic Gilbert after all… What could he possibly do to him that Sharon already hasn’t put him through with her harisen? Although, being this close to the Raven, he truly did not know what to expect. So he pretended as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aside from that loud bang of Gilbert’s hands against the dresser. 

The Raven breathed heavily, composing himself to not scream at his mentor in such close proximity. It would be rather counterintuitive to yell at someone whose all other senses except for sight were sharper now. Or could Break be going deaf as well and wasn’t telling him that either? 

Either way, all that came out of him was a measured sentence, the only question that he needed confirmation on from the source himself. Head bowed in front of his mentor, he asked. “You really can’t see… Can you?”

Despite showing the best fighting Gilbert has seen from his teacher in a while, the sight of the older fiddling with the hairpins was quite pitisome. At this point, he was wondering if eyesight was truly the issue or just lack of skill in the hair department. 

Break thought of a million different ways to retort to that question. To tease Gilbert about barging into his room like that and to now be bent over him like so. He wanted to. He really did. But at the end of the day, he could not be more grateful to the person that saved him from committing an irreversible mistake. He lowered his hands from the back of his hair in defeat. In an unnaturally small voice, he confirmed the younger’s suspicion. “No.”

Break both heard and felt the sharp inhale that Gilbert took. It was so… desperate… as if a part of Gil hoped for the opposite answer. But there he was, disappointing his subordinate. 

At this point, Gil decided to look up into Break’s unseeing eye. It was so unnerving, because Break looked back at him, and for a moment, he thought he could see recognition and some sensory input, but no. The iris was unfocused, not looking him directly in the eye as one would in this close proximity. Break was just doing his best estimate to figure out where he should be looking. 

Gil let out a defeated sigh, seeing how there was nothing to be fighting here for. No bargaining nor anger will do him nor Break any good here. He took a long look at his mentor and the situation they were in. He was in Break’s room, effectively pinning him against his own dresser, a blind man, no less. How opportunistic of him… Granted, had he tried to do so earlier, it would have definitely ended with his being thrown out in the most creative ways Break could conjure at the time. Now though, all Break did was stand there, accepting fate for what it was. 

Gil leaned forward to look behind Break’s head at the mess that was created there after a whole evening, which also happened to include a fight. With his breath ghosting over Break’s ear, he asked quietly. “How did you even get them in there?”

With Gil this close, Break suddenly felt uneasy, a slight heat rushing through his body. They’ve never been this close before outside of training and fighting. There was something… intimate about this moment. Not only that, but Gil’s sudden change in tone. Going from angry to soft after Break’s confession really put him through some mental hoops. 

This close to Gilbert, he could smell the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. He tried not to inhale too deeply so as to not appear as if he was actively sniffing his student. Though, he dared say, the scent was pleasant to his taste. However, the warm breath on his ear… there was nothing he could have done to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. In hopes that Gilbert wouldn’t notice, he answered his question. “Sharon…”

But Gilbert noticed. How could he not, being this close to someone, and being the one with eyesight. Break’s visible bodily reaction was very noticeable and Gil couldn’t help the smile that passed on his lips. He brought a hand up to hover over the back of Break’s hair, trying to find the best place to start with the hairpins

Break only continued to talk in an effort to disguise his growing comfort at being this close to another man. “She really likes all things dress up and hair, so naturally she was the one to--ahh…” 

Gilbert finally touched his hair, barely, but still noticeable enough to make Break lose his train of thought and gasp in awe over how nice the sensation felt. 

Gilbert pulled his hand back when he heard and felt the gasp. He only touched a few of the strands to see if they were a good beginning spot, but Break’s reaction made him hesitate. “Hm? What is it?”

“Nothing!” Break shook his head, embarrassed with himself at his own reaction. ‘What the fuck was that?!’ 

“Alright… you let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” Gil reassured and went back to being infinitely close to Break. 

“Mhmm,” Break hummed his agreement and immediately fought back a low whimper once Gil’s hand actually fully immersed itself in his hair. What was this boy doing to him???

When Sharon played and fiddled with his hair, it didn’t feel like much. Just a necessity he had to sit through. But with Gilbert… the whole ordeal felt different. He was oh so aware of their proximity, but also there was something about knowing that Gil’s rough gun handling hands were doing the most miniature of tasks such as taking hairpins out of someone’s hair...

His mind swam. Maybe he should just call Sharon in here and get this over with, with no further complications to their relationship. Instead, he found himself gripping Gilbert’s forearm unconsciously, tilting his head in the direction of Gilbert’s head. What was wrong with him?

However, shortly after he realized he was holding onto Gil’s arm, Gil used that arm to return his hold on him. Recognizing this, Break’s thoughts shifted to, ‘what is wrong with him???’

Gil didn’t understand why Break suddenly decided to hold onto him, but he felt it would only be right to return the favour under the pretence that this way Break would hold still better and let him focus on his task. Or maybe he was hurting him, and Break was too proud to admit it, but instead transferred that pain into gripping him? This particular pin was a tad more tangled than the rest and he was really fumbling with it. Especially one handed, since he dared not let go of Break with his other hand. It was comforting in a sense, to them both, to be holding each other during this task.

Feeling Gil’s hand in his hair felt unlike any sensation he’s ever witnessed. No longer caring about why he was feeling this way, Break decided to just let himself get swept away in the soothing sensation of having someone fiddle with your hair. Since his hand was gripping Gil’s arm, he focused on how the muscle moved beneath the coat and skin. How firm and sturdy Gil felt in his hold. How strong his student has grown from the small and scared child he’d met a decade ago. 

He found that oddly comforting and unconsciously began leaning forward into Gil. He noticed that Gil pressed firmer into him as well, almost leaning his chest on his shoulder. ‘What is he doing…?’ 

Only being able to use one hand made the task more difficult, so with no other option, Gil decided to get his mouth involved. To do that though, he had to really lean into Break to be able to grasp the hairpin with his teeth. They could just change positions, but… somehow that felt like more work and he was comfortable enough as it was. Plus, he was practically already there. “Lean forward more, I can’t see…”

Break’s eye widened, and while he was dumbfounded, Gil used his hand to push his head into his shoulder. He gave a surprised gasp, his hand gripping Gilbert more earnestly now. His breathing picked up at being so intimately close to Gilbert, even closer than before, which is already the closest they’ve ever been. Now he was forced to inhale the scent of Gil’s coat, and to be practically embraced by his student. What a peculiar situation…

Now having a better visual on the back of Break’s head, Gil held onto the clump of messy hair with his hand and leaned in with his face to grasp the pin by his teeth. He felt Break stiffen underneath him and smirked to himself. This must be something new for his mentor as well. He had to admit, he rather liked this arrangement, for once putting Xerxes Break in an unfamiliar territory and watching him squirm as he was now. 

With the first pin successfully out of the white hair, he leaned back. Ideally, he’d have loved for Break to see him with his prize between his teeth, but alas, he will need to compensate. He pulled back slowly, talking lowly around the pin in his mouth, with his breath brushing right up against Break’s ear. “I got it…” 

Break bit his lower lip to fight back another involuntary whimper at both the sensation and action. ‘Did he just take it out with his teeth?’ He was able to deduce that much from the way Gil spoke, and how close he felt the younger’s face to the back of his head. He tried not to show his bafflement in his voice. “That one was really stuck in there, eh?”

Gil dropped the pin onto the dresser and leaned back in to get the other ones. “Mhmm,” he hummed. “The rest should be easier to get out.”

Break squeezed Gil’s arm when he felt Gil’s hand go back to touching his hair. “It’s okay, take your time…”

And so Gil did, take all the time in the world, slowly pulling out pin by pin, leaving Break to gasp, tremble and pant in his arms. After a few particularly gorgeous sounds from the older, Gil couldn’t help his own heart rate spiking, leaving him to breathe shallowly, which Break picked up on and played off of. They did not need to speak aloud to let their bodies talk for themselves. Especially when Gil’s hand would travel in between pins, just casually massaging gently the back of Break’s head. That bit in particular made Break lose composure and gasp louder than normal and grip Gil’s arm tighter. He even tried tilting his head back in pleasure a couple of times, but Gil just pushed his head right back against him, as that hindered the progress on getting the hairpins out. 

Another moment that made Break forget what was happening was when Gil would deliberately breathe against his ear hotly and sweetly. For no other reason, just because. Just because Break’s reactions likely fueled his own internal sensations, which he wasn’t hiding as well as he thought. Break could both feel and hear it. 

Particularly when Gil would get too close and actually faintly brush his lips against Break’s ear, making them each gasp in surprise, but carry on as if nothing happened. 

Soon enough, Break returned to looking more like himself with his scrunkly looking hair and the pile of bobby pins laid on the dresser beside them. Break wasn’t quite sure what to do now that that was over. As much as he enjoyed the moment, it was rather… peculiar, in the best sense of the word.

He still did not let go of Gil. Gil tried leaning back as soon as he was done, but Break kept a firm hold on him. Break’s next words surprised him. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

They just shared the most intimate moment of their lives with each other, gasping and trembling in each others’ holds without speaking a single word of it, the arousal running high between them, and Break was still holding onto him with an unyielding grip. 

Gil leaned back in to be eye level with Break again, face to face for the first time since he started pulling out the pins. “Just helping a blind man with his hairpins. Nothing more.” He whispered sweetly. 

He leaned in closer to Break’s face so that their noses would be barely touching and their lips hovering just over one another. Break was about to tilt his head to make their lips touch when Gil whispered reassuringly. “You can let go of me now…”.

Break hesitated for a split second, but did as was told. What a silly thing he did, holding onto Gilbert like that. He promptly released his grip and looked away, hand coming to hold the edge of the dresser he was still leaned back against. 

He expected this to be that, and for Gilbert to turn around and leave. That’s why despite Gil leaning away from his face, he was surprised to feel Gil caress the back of his head one last time, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers before finally stepping away from him completely. 

With his unspoken message delivered, Gil walked out of the room quietly. If Break wanted more, he knew where to find him. 

[phmonth]

Pandora Hearts Month 2023 Prompts!

Wonderful art made by @retracexcviii for last year's secret Santa!

What is Pandora Hearts Month? Pandora Hearts Month is an event that celebrates, well...Pandora Hearts, the manga created by Jun Mochizuki! Each day is a new prompt. The first three weeks celebrate the three main trios, and the fourth is a bonus week that celebrates any ships/friendships/ot3s fans chose and love--or simply any characters not covered by the other weeks! You can create edits, fanart, drabbles, fanfictions, amvs and mms...whatever you can think of, really!

Pandora Hearts Month 2023 Prompts:

Golden Trio Week (Alice, Oz and Gilbert), October 22nd-28th:

Day 1, Sunday Oct 22nd: Coat

Day 2, Monday Oct 23rd: Autumn

Day 3, Tuesday Oct 24th: Precious

Day 4, Wednesday Oct 25th: Raven

Day 5, Thursday Oct 26th: AU

Day 6, Friday Oct 27th: Blue

Day 7, Saturday Oct 28th: Sun

Rainsworth Trio Week (Sharon, Break and Reim), Oct 29th—November 4th:

Day 1, Sunday Oct 29th: Silver

Day 2, Monday Oct 30th: Fragile

Day 3, Tuesday Oct 31st: 🎃 Candy 👻

Day 4, Wednesday Nov 1st: Affection

Day 5, Thursday Nov 2nd: Grave

Day 6, Friday Nov 3rd: Moon

Day 7, Saturday Nov 4th: Winter

Tragedy Trio Week (Lacie, Jack and Oswald), Nov 5th—Nov 11th:

Day 1, Sunday Nov 5th: King

Day 2, Monday Nov 6th: Lyrics

Day 3, Tuesday Nov 7th: Spring

Day 4, Wednesday Nov 8th: Gold

Day 5, Thursday Nov 9th: Guilt

Day 6, Friday Nov 10th: Pocketwatch

Day 7, Saturday Nov 11th: Stars

Fan’s choice Week, Nov 12th—November 18th:

Day 1, Sunday Nov 12th: Hat

Day 2, Monday Nov 13th: AU

Day 3, Tuesday Nov 14th: Meadow

Day 4, Wednesday Nov 15th: Rose

Day 5, Thursday Nov 16th: Lonely

Day 6, Friday Nov 17th: Contract

Day 7, Saturday Nov 18th: Book

(If you want to use other prompts to make a Halloweeny piece, feel free! You don't have to save that for Halloween day!)

When you post, please remember to:

Tag me @i-prefer-the-term-antihero, @phmonth, and/or @this-idiots-left-eye in your posts to make sure I reblog them! (My main blog is your best bet).

Tag #phmonth23 in your tags! I will go through that tag and check if I've missed any direct tags. (If you don't see your piece reblogged on this blog after doing both these methods, please dm me!)

Either put a link, or a “read more” on long fics (or long posts in general), so they're easier to reblog!

NSFW content is allowed, but please make sure it’s clear it’s NSFW/tagged that way, and is beneath a read more so anyone who doesn’t want to see it doesn’t have to!

I also made a collection on Ao3 for writers! Don't hesitate to add your fics to it!

Don’t forget to join our discord if you haven’t! It’s a fun place to discuss the series and more easily share your creations!

You are free to have fun with this!! As I said, as long as you tag it, NSFW is allowed! Tagging ships is nice too. You can pretty much do whatever you want with the prompts!

As long as you make sure the characters from the trio are your main focus, it’s okay to use other characters in your creations too!

You can join any time, and use as many or as few prompts as you want! You don't have to post on the exact day if you can’t make it! I’ll reblog things late!

Since we live across the world, you are free to post whenever the day is for you. I myself will be making posts according to my time, which is Central Standard Time in America. 

If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to send an ask here, or post in the #questions channel of the discord!

P.S. About the Phmonth22 prizes:

Some of you may recall me posting about wanting to add a raffle aspect to Phmonth22, with the 15th anniversary merch as prizes. The prizes finally arrived!

Once the setup for Phmonth23 is done, I plan to gather up the names of everyone who posted for Phmonth22, and raffle off the two prizes: one for artists, and one for fic writers!

(Do note, however, that you will have to pay for shipping, especially if it needs to be sent internationally! )

Lastly, Vncmonth!

You guys voted to have a Vanitas no Carte month, like last year! Not sure when that'll be, I'm thinking January-February. I will work on that prompt list after the setup here is done as well!

Feel free to get started on making stuff early! (But please wait to post until the month has started!) I'm so excited to see what you make! Thank you for all your support!

i-prefer-the-term-antihero

[okamigamer1]

Hello @h0llyw0lly Merry Christmas and happy holidays!! I was your Secret Santa partner for the Pandora Hearts santa exchange. I wrote some Oz x Echo being cute together and going on a date because I really like that ship and the characters too. And Gilbert too I love him😅

I am so sorry for the mixup apparently I cannot read I thought you preferred fanfic as well and I appreciate you still wanting to receive it. Your prompts were so cute and I hope you enjoy it!!

🎁🎀🎵💗Link to the fic: ❄️💖❤️💙

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43820869

@i-prefer-the-term-antihero @phmonth2022

[soleilnewspaper]

Marauders ship names

The fandom has beautiful gut wrenching names for the mlm ships but the wlw are left with mashups?? No, no, they deserve the same poetic treatment the boys receive.

Pulling out my ap English skills (hopefully they work)

Dorlene Marlene - Elegant, great Dorcas - Gazelle

= GracefulGazelle

Pandalily Pandora - “All gifts” from Greek, and there is the legend of Pandora’s box. Lily - Pure, Lily flower 

Gift of flowers = Bouquet 

Box+flower = Flowerbox, Flowercase or Flowervase

Pure - angel + box = Angelbox 

Pandora - Panda - Bamboo tree + Lily = Lilytree 

 Marylily Lily - pure, Lily flower  Mary - Star of the sea; Beloved;

Star of the sea - sea + lily + = Seaflower or Sealily 

Sea+lily = Lilypad??

Beloved - love + lily - petals = lovepetals

Mary - marigold + lily + = Goldlily (not mine, saw someone suggest this) 

Nobleflower for Narcissa and Alice

Bonus:

Xenophilius Lovegood and Pandora Rosier 

Xenophilius's name comes from two Greek words: Xenos "strange" and -Phile "love” giving the meaning of one who loves the strange Pandora means all gifts, and there is still the legend of Pandora’s box 

Valentine

love from Phille from Xenophilius, and on Valentine’s Day couples often receive gifts, Pandora means gift 

Jewerlybox 

Jewerly from love (Phille) as you give jewerly to loved ones, and box from Pandora 

[lunariar02]

I’m writing my first Marauders era fanfiction in English. Aahh!!! Anyways the first two chapters are up and the third one will be out tomorrow!

It’s about Regulus’ life and it’s going to go through all of his school years and events until his death. And it has jegulus!!

[sunsetsmakemesad]

At the end of the day every story is about love

[kanouseis]

let me read to you your defeat

📜 pandora hearts

📜 elliot/oz

📜 highschool au, silly fluff, repressed feelings

📜 rated g

📜 1.7k words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52651852

[mikariin]

So don’t know if anyone remembers this tragic anime, but like what about a Pandora Hearts AU with MarAce, but without the fudged timeline of sorts?

I can see Marco being part of the Pandora Hearts society, going to form a contract with a chain and it’s supposed to be a Phoenix type one, but he ends up summoning Ace, who actively has no idea what’s going on and even the contract is fucked because guess what? Roger was a human and Rouge was a chain and they made this amazingly adorable half breed, who never even knew he was a chain until they realized they made the wrong summoning symbol.

Now Marco and Ace have to figure out how to work together without killing one another, due to Marco being a stickler for all the rules and Ace being unable to follow simple instructions, for the simple fact that he couldn’t give less of a shit what Marco or any of the others wanted.

(This came to mind when my playlist played the Pandora hearts opening lol)

[narrators-journal]

Kinktober 2023

This is a day early, but I fear I will forget if I don't, so <3 Remember to follow the rules! and mind the edits specified on the prompt list's post! Everything needed will also be linked there as well as here for ease.

Date made: 9/30/23

Date updated: 12/14/23

Prompt list and credit: Here

Rules of request: Here

Fandoms I write for: Here

Day 1: Masturbation

Home videos (KatsuBao)

Calling collect (akeshu)

Day 2: Car sex

My half of the deal (hisollumi)

Day 3: Mirror sex

Day 4: Against the wall

Dessert before dinner (narukami x sho)

Day 5: Breeding kink

New moon (ryomina)

Human nature (akechi x Arsene)

Anniversary lilies (ryomina)

Compliments (Narukami x Margaret)

Breed the Easter Bunny (narukami x elizabeth)

Day 6: Morning sex

Calling collect (akeshu)

Day 7: Public/semi-public sex

A tigers booty call (beast!shin soukoku)

Just a normal lunch date (ryuji sakamoto x oc x yusuke kitagawa)

A steamy Siren's call (Eikichi Mishina x oc)

Day 8: sensory deprivation

Day 9: bondage/shibari

Sweet dreams (yandere! Monster!Jun tatsujun)

Left blowing in the breeze (sengen)

Sexual healing (hisoka x machi)

I'm a bad, bad magician (sengen)

Day 10: Wax play

Day 11: exhibitionism/voyeurism

Just a normal lunch date (ryuji sakamoto x oc x yusuke kitagawa)

Home videos (katsuBao)

Day 12: pet play

Bow to your emperess (Haru okumura x Akira kurusu)

Sweet dreams (yandere! Monster!Jun tatsujun)

New moon (ryomina)

Anniversary lilies (ryomina)

Compliments (Narukami x Margaret)

Breed the Easter bunny (narukami x elizabeth)

Day 13: Orgasm delay

Just relax and enjoy yourself (ryuji sakamoto x oc x yuuki Mishima)

Just a normal lunch date (ryuji sakamoto x oc x yusuke kitagawa)

Left blowing in the breeze (sengen)

Anniversary lilies (ryomina)

When the cats away, the rat will play (fyozai)

I'm a bad, bad magician (sengen)

Day 14: filming

Home videos (katsuBao)

Smile for the camera (shuake)

Day 15: food play

Day 16: Toys

Day 17: Teratophilia

Full moon (ryomina)

Day 18: Titfucking

Day 19: Deep throating

Day 20: shower sex

A steamy Siren's call (eikichi Mishina x oc)

It's only gay if you kiss (souyo)

Day 21: knifeplay

Keeping the spark alive (tatsujun)

When the cats away, the rat will play (fyozai)

Dessert before dinner (narukami x sho)

Day 22: Somnophilia

Sweet dreams (yandere! Monster!Jun tatsujun)

Anniversary lilies (ryomina)

Day 23: First time

Piano lessons (Leo Baskerville x Elliot Nightray)

Day 24: Glory hole

Day 25: spanking

Sexual healing (hisoka x machi)

A wolf in sheep's clothing (ShuAke)

Day 26: Cockwarming

Day 27: Double penetration

Day 28: Dacryphilia

My crown jewel (yandere!Akira Shuake)

Human nature (akechi x Arsene)

Full moon (ryomina)

Day 29: Sixty-nine

Day 30: phone sex/sexting

Calling collect (akeshu)

Day 31: Costume/lingerie

Compliments (narukami x Margaret)

Breed the Easter bunny (narukami x Elizabeth)

[ayxi12wo]

I came up with a plot for a maxi break x rufus fic, I scribbled a couple of scenes in my notes, I also recorded everything on a dictaphone, then I drew it and I started crying. All this was accompanied by the songs of Maya Kotovskay and Fleür

I realized that in order to write this the way I want it to be, I need to read all the Old Testaments, the Gospel and the Koran + watch the analysis and actually understand

[i-write-hurt-not-comfort]

Who's your favorite character to write?

thank you for the question! i assume this was for my drunk asks prompt but i went to sleep so i'm just answering sober, though i think my response would be the same.

you might think i'd say ruki and kou, my two favourites, but you'd be incorrect. obviously i love writing them and they're integral in my OTPs, but ruki and kou both go through a lot of complex development. kou is almost too unstable and can be a challenge to write due to how complex he is, and ruki has a very dry humour which can be difficult to capture.

firstly i'd say i really like to write subaru, he's gentle but feisty and quite easy to get down i think. he's flexible too, he can be embarrassed and cute, aggressive or horny.

secondly i love writing ayato because he's so silly. he can say really stupid things sometimes and it's such fun to write. his character has a lot of angst potential, true, but i think he's funnier to write in jokey/crack fics.

finally, first on my list is definitely reiji. reiji had gone up in my rankings in many ways over the last 18 months and a lot of that is because of how i've written him. he's got so much range - he's mean and critical, he's a fucking simp, but most importantly he's ANGRY at the world. he's hurt, he's got a really complex relationship with shu which is great to explore, and he's got a ton of insecurities and it makes him the perfect target for angst. but he's also funny in crack fics and such because of how sarcastic and cocky he is. reiji is always a blast to write.

[lana7779]

And some more Gilbreak ficlets:

[nandalikesstuff]

Going Back to Those Times

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Characters: Oz Vessalius, Gilbert Nightray

Summary: Many have said that the child we once were is never lost, it’s only waiting inside us for a chance to go out and play again. Gil and Oz have just proven that theory true.

A/N: Like I've said, one of my goals for 2024 is to finally finish all the wips that have been collecting dust on my folder for ages. This fic is a part of this project and a specially difficult one at that, because:

1) Believe it or not, this fic was supposed to be a fill for a prompt on the kink meme in LiveJournal (computer says I started it in 2011, which makes sense, but somehow feels wrong, where did time go?); and

2) Do you think past!me wrote down what the prompt was or saved a link to it anywhere? She did not! :D So I had to put together a plot and ending for this fic from the thousand or so words I had already written for it and my very vague memories of where I was intending to go with this.

Bright side is: I did it! Not exactly sure how close it is to the prompt it was supposed to fill anymore, so uh, if you had a prompt on the kink meme that involved Gil and Oz playing as kids again in some way and you happen to see this, I hope you like it! And I hope everyone else likes it, too!

If you prefer, also read it on AO3!

~~**~~

When Gilbert Nightray got out of his bed that day, he expected and resigned himself, as always, to face all kinds of strange, scary, dangerous, and very likely to cause serious body damage situations. And all that setting aside the part where he would eventually have to actually go out of the Rainsworth mansion to hunt the human-eating monsters that were known as “chains”.

He did not expect, however, that an apparently harmless excursion to the market would lead to him finding himself thrown to the ground and then smashed by five of what should be the most annoying, tireless, relentless and devious kids he had ever seen.

Aside from his master Oz, that is.

Gilbert felt all the air being forcefully pushed out of his body and struggled to get it back, but, with the combined weight of the children pressing directly onto his ribs and lungs, this task seemed almost impossible. He gasped, desperate for air, and tried to scream and make the kids get off of him, but only managed to get out a strangled whisper.

One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar in victory, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.

An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children?

He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering, and went back to the events that had brought him to this ridiculous situation.

~~**~~

Gilbert had woken that morning to a mansion immerged in complete silence, what was, considering the people that lived there, rather odd and suspicious. Plus, having lived most part of his childhood with Oz Vessalius, he knew that silence was never a good thing.

While he washed himself and changed, his mind rushed through the possibilities of evil plots that could be being put into action at that exact moment. Horrible images started rushing through his mind: Of the mansion being blown up or he being thrown in a room full of cats or… Who even knew!? (And no, he wasn’t paranoid, thank you very much. Some of those things had actually happened before, especially the ones that involved cats).

Afraid of what he would face once he started wandering the corridors, the raven considered, for a moment, staying in his room and pretending it had nothing to do with him, but the fear of what could actually happen if he didn’t keep an eye on Oz and Break was enough to make him storm out the door, looking for them.

The obvious place to look at that time would be the dining room, as it was breakfast time, and, surely, as soon as he approached the door he heard Oz’s voice coming from behind it, but the one answering the blond was not who Gilbert had expected.

He opened the door to find Oz chatting animatedly with Reim (Well, the younger boy was chatting animatedly, the other was just listening, but seemed to be having a good time nonetheless). There was no one else there, which was odd. Where were Sharon, Break and that stupid rabbit? His master looked up at him when he entered the room and gave him a smile:

“Hey there sleepy-head. It was about time you woke up, Gil!”

“Good morning, Mr. Nightray.” Came Reim’s greeting soon after.

Deciding to ignore Oz’s comment, he took his place at the table, sitting right in front of them.

“Morning…” He looked over at Reim, trying not to look too curious, but he must have failed it, because the other soon added:

“I came to deliver some documents that master Barma wanted Lady Cheryl to analyse, and then I ran into Oz, who was kind enough to invite me for breakfast.”

One mystery solved. There was still the other one.

“I see… And where are the others? I mean, that stupid rabbit is probably still asleep, but where are Break and Sharon?”

It was Oz’s turn to ignore part of Gilbert’s comment. He had known since long that all the animosity between Gil and Alice was just for show, so he didn’t even pay any mind to it anymore.

“Sharon wanted to give Alice another one of those ‘lady lessons’ and took her to the city. Break went with them, of course, and he also said we could have the day off.”

At this, the raven-haired man sighed visibly in relief. So there wasn’t any evil plan being plotted, after all, thankfully (Okay, so he was just a little paranoid. No one could blame him for it after all he had been put through). More relaxed, he filled himself a cup of coffee. The rest of the morning went down smoothly.

Things continued calm until the middle of the afternoon. The others still hadn’t come back, so Gil and Oz were killing time at the library. The blond was sitting on the floor, back against one of the shelves while reading one of his adored Holy Knight books, and Gilbert was on the nearest table, filling up some paperwork, when the boy lifted his head and said the phrase that was bound to be the source of all of Gilbert’s nightmares:

“You know, Gil… I could really use some cookies right now…”

Gilbert didn’t even look up. The other wasn’t seriously asking him to drop everything to go bake cookies, was he? Didn’t he remember what had happened the last time he tried?

“So go ask one of the maids to bring you some.”

“But I want the ones that you make!” Oz almost but whined. “You were never able to finish them last time and I have been craving your cookies since then!” (Damn, so he did remember).

Receiving no answer, Oz huffed, immediately changing his tone of voice.

“Come on now, Gil; don’t make me turn this into an order, because you know I will.”

Yes, Gilbert didn’t have a doubt he would…

He really didn’t feel like making cookies at the time, but if that was going to make Oz happy, then he didn’t really mind.

The raven sighed, although it was only for show, and pushed his chair away from the table.

“Fine, I will make your cookies. I’ll be back in an hour or so, ok?”

“Oh, really?! Thank you, Gil!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he left the room. Oz had the sweetest of smiles on his face, as if he hadn’t just blackmailed him into doing just so, the manipulative brat…

Oz chuckled as he heard the library door closing. They were nice, these times when they played their little games, Gil pretending he didn’t like to obey Oz’s orders and the boy pretending that he didn’t give a damn. It was something they had been doing since they were kids, the only difference being that there used to be a lot more whining and crying from the (now) older’s part. But it was ok, most of the times. If the game was always the same, it would eventually become boring, but not with Gil. With Gil it just felt nostalgic, safe, welcomed... Just like home. Even if that “home” was always surrounded by deep darkness.

Caught in his own thoughts for a while, the book was lowered to his lap, almost forgotten. The sound of the opening door pulled him back to Earth with a startle, but he quickly composed himself and was back to his book-focused appearance by the time Gilbert appeared on the door frame.

“Wow, back already? You must be the quickest cookie-baker in the whole world!”

Gilbert huffed, not finding the slightest fun on the lame joke and thereby deciding to ignore it.

“The cooker said they have run out of vanilla extract because of the amount of deserts prepared for last night’s dinner and today’s lunch so I offered to go to town and buy some, since we are on a day off anyway. Just thought I should let you know.”

“Whaaat? You are not going to invite me to go with you? Are you abandoning me, Gil?”

Gilbert had only been teasing, and the comment was said on a tone not meant to be taken seriously, but shocked that his master would have that impression about him, Gilbert quickly sputtered a desperate excuse.

“What?! No! A-As if you needed any kind of invitation, idiot. And weren’t you the one that said that was going to stay glued to that book the whole day, anyway? I thought you would prefer staying here.”

“Huh? All alone? No way! I prefer going to town with Gil, it’ll be way more fun!”

Oz rushed to the exit, grabbing his sleeve, and started to pull him through the corridor, but that excited façade didn’t fool Gilbert. He had learned how to see through these expansive actions; that forced joy. He could count on his fingers the times Oz had really had fun after returning from the Abyss, and having to watch his desperate attempts of bringing back his old self, on continuing to seem untouched by the events surrounding them, clutched at his heart with an iron claw and ripped it to pieces.

No, even this was a false nostalgia, somewhat. There had been a lot of darkness surrounding Oz, even back then, that was why Gilbert was always doing – had always done – everything his master wanted, everything he thought might make him happy. But before his father’s ritual, there had at least been real innocence, real happiness in Oz and in plenty of his moments, specially when he was with his uncle Oscar and Ada. Now even those moments seemed tinged with a hidden angst.

If he didn’t know Oz as well as he did, though, it would be impossible to see. As he walked to and around town towards the market, the other boy chatted and ran everywhere, pointing at birds and interesting objects on the shop windows, and even making Gilbert chase him once or twice. Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder about the picture they painted, him all black and moody and Oz all golden and smiles, everyone that saw them would think they didn’t have a care in the world, though deep down he thought Oz was always ever so energetic because, if he stopped, then his thoughts would catch up to him.

“Hey, Gil, let’s take a shortcut through here!”

The call cut him from his thoughts, and he looked around to find Oz waving at him and pointing at the entrance to the park.

“That is not a shortcut. It will take us at least twice as long to get to the market through there.”

“No, no, it’s a shortcut. Trust me, Gil.”

Well, what was he supposed to do? Say he didn’t trust Oz? He begrudgingly followed the other into the park and off the path through the trees until they came to a clearing in the middle of the woods. Well at least it seemed like they were walking in the general direction of the market and should-

Something hit him on the back of the head, and he acted in a fraction of second, grabbing Oz by the arm and pulling him behind him as he turned around and pointed his gun in the direction of the enemy.

Unfazed, an angry looking young boy threw his ball in the direction of Gilbert’s face now, making him duck fast not to get hit.

“Hey, old man! Get out of the field, you are interrupting our game!” The boy yelled at him, and Gilbert quickly hid his gun away before yelling back.

“Don’t shoot balls at people, you know how dangerous that is?!”

“I wouldn’t have to shoot my ball at you if you didn’t walk in the middle of our game in the first place!”

Some other voices yelled in agreement behind him, and Gilbert looked around to see there were three or four more kids around, and no indication this was a playing field of any kind.

“Well, you shouldn’t be playing in the middle of nowhere like this. Where are your parents?!”

“None of your business!” The boy had the audacity to blow a raspberry at him, but before Gilbert could argue further, Oz got free from his hold and walked around him.

��A game? What game are you playing?”

“It’s a game I invented.” The boy said, sounding all cocky. “It’s called ‘monster’. The monster needs to try to shoot the ball at the others and if he hits someone, that person will be the new monster.”

“Woow, sounds super fun, can I play?”

“Sure!”

“Oz, we don’t have time to play, we need to go to the market and back to the mansion.”

“Aww, but Gil!”

The boy grabbed Oz’s hand and started pulling him away. “Don’t listen to that ugly nanny of yours, come play with us!”

The other kids cheered as Gilbert simmered in rage at being called an ugly nanny. He grabbed Oz by the back of his shirt. “No, we don’t have time to spend with these brats. Let’s go, Oz, or don't you want your cookies?”

Oz whined a little more, but soon his pout turned into the devious smirk Gilbert knew so well. He had a feeling he would not like whatever came next.

“Hey, I just thought of a new cool game we can play!” Oz said, and the other kids looked at him with confused faces. He pointed straight at Gilbert, and Gilbert immediately knew he absolutely would not like whatever came next.

“That guy is a super ugly, super mean monster, and we are the knights that are going to bring him down! Whomever can hit him with the ball, wins!”

“Oz, wait a-“ Gilbert started protesting, but had to jump to the side to avoid a ball one of the other kids had already thrown at him.

“Let’s get the monster!” She yelled and all the other kids, including Oz, cheered.

Oh, fuck.

Gilbert spent the next minutes running, dodging and jumping as the kids ran around him shooting and kicking the ball in his direction, trying to “kill the monster” or whatever it was. Oz gleefully joined in the torture and his attacks were the hardest to dodge since he knew Gilbert’s movements so well. It wasn’t particularly tiring or difficult after being trained most of his life by Break to fight Chains, but it was getting pretty annoying.

An idea suddenly stroke Gilbert and he wondered how he hadn't thought of it before. The next time one of the kids threw the ball at him, he grabbed it and held it high above his head.

“Game over, I win.”

“Aw man, that’s not fair!” One of the kids complained.

“That wasn’t part of the game!” Another joined.

The kid that had had an issue with him from the start looked angry for a moment and then gave a devious smirk that rivalled Oz’s and yelled:

“The monster is cheating! Let’s get him, guys!”

There was another round of yelling and before Gilbert could understand what he meant by that or react, one of the kids jumped at him from behind. He wasn’t expecting it so he lost his balance and stumbled, but he would have been able to recover, if the other kids didn’t follow soon after.

He fell to the floor with a scream, a couple of kids landing on his back and the others jumping after them in a pile over his body that left him unable to breathe. One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.

An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children.

He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited, and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering as he tried to think, and that’s when he heard it.

Laughter. Pure and joyous laughter that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

His head jerked in the direction of the sound, and he could slightly make out Oz sitting on the floor and laughing like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life.

He had missed that sound so much. Oz’s real laughter, without any sign of being forced or hollow, like the one he had had when they were both kids. Before Abyss, before his father, before chains or Baskervilles; it elated him, it was his most favourite and the best sound in the world. It made Gilbert so happy himself, he almost started crying from the relief of it.

He would do anything to keep that sound alive.

With renewed strength, he pushed himself up, making the kids fall on their own pile behind him, then he turned around, glaring down at them, and said:

“Now you have made the monster angry. I am going to eat all of you!”

He fake-growled and the kids screamed and scattered as he chased them randomly around without any intention of getting any of them. After a few seconds of this, he turned and looked at Oz. The other boy was looking at him with a surprised look on his face, half thinking it fun and half disbelieving, so Gilbert turned to him with hands half raised in claws, and fake-growled again.

“And you! You turned against me! I’m going to eat you first!”

He ran towards Oz and was pleased to see him reacting just like the other kids: with a fake scream and starting to dash around. He ran after him for a while, and almost exploded from happiness when he heard Oz laughing again, before he took a sharp turn towards one of the other kids that were nearby and continued chasing them randomly around the clearing among the trees.

Every once in a while, the game changed: soon the kids organised themselves into a monster hunting squad, and started chasing him again, then the ball was rediscovered near a tree and they went back to something more similar to what the boy had explained at first, with the “monster” trying to catch the others by hitting them with the ball, which somehow turned into a soccer match, and a game of hide and seek, and another round of tag.

Every time Oz laughed or smiled or cheered together with the other kids, it made Gilbert laugh, too, and soon he had forgotten that his own laughter had also died over ten years ago or that he was a hunter and a killer, the Raven from the Nightrays, and not simply a boy playing together in the park with his best friend.

This is what they were supposed to be, they were supposed to have had more of this, still years of this to come. They had been robbed from themselves and each other, their lives turned upside down, but this was their defiance: they could still laugh, and smile and play, and every time they did, they were taking back a little piece of what had been stolen from them, they were back to being just boys and best friends playing in the park, with freedom and their whole lives ahead of them.

They would never be able to go back to those times, but they could pretend and heal for a while, at least.

~~**~~

The sun was already setting when Gilbert and Oz finally sat down on the grass propped against each other, exhausted and trying to catch their breaths. The other kids said goodbye and waved as each disappeared back to their own homes, inviting them to come back and play again tomorrow. Even the boy that had initially disliked him said they could come back anytime; it made Gilbert smile.

“I’m completely beat, I hadn’t run so much in ages.” Oz remarked, and Gilbert had to agree.

“How was this somehow more exhausting than taking down a Chain? What do kids nowadays eat?”

His dramatic statement made Oz laugh again, and Gilbert beamed. He would never get enough of that sound.

“What made you change your mind, Gil?” The other suddenly asked. “I never thought you’d start a game yourself, but you were almost having more fun than me.”

The raven didn’t know what to say for a moment. He didn’t want to bring attention to Oz’s present happiness – and general unhappiness, by consequence -, in fear it would make it disappear, so he just shrugged. “I just wanted to teach those kids a lesson for piling on top of me, and I guess I got carried away.”

“I see… You were really cool when you called yourself the monster like that, I couldn’t believe it!”

The comment made Gilbert blush a bit. “Don’t make fun of me, I was just going along with what you said.”

“I’m not! You were really cool, I mean it.”

They stayed silent for a little while longer, until Oz said, almost inaudible:

“Thank you, Gil.”

It took Gilbert by surprise, but then he smiled, and put his hat on Oz’s head in place of an answer.

“Come on. Let’s go find a cab and go back to the mansion, I can’t walk the whole way back again.”

They found their way back to the main entrance of the park and Gilbert hailed a carriage for them to climb into. Oz fell asleep almost instantly, and Gilbert contented himself with watching over him on their way back.

It wasn’t until they were back at the mansion that he realised they had forgotten all about the vanilla extract and the cookies, but it was okay. They had gotten something way more precious instead.

[okamigamer1]

I wrote something for PHMonth23 for Alice/Oz/Gilbert it's just porn what plot smut but it's here!

@i-prefer-the-term-antihero

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @pandorazine ! I got to write about my favourite family, Lacie, Oswald, and the two Alices. I did a slightly canon divergent piece—just pretend that Lacie and Oswald can get reincarnated and that everyone got reincarnated together.

…

…

…

…

i.

“I’m pregnant,” Lacie announced casually one Sunday afternoon. Seated in front of the grand piano in his music store, she ran her fingers along the keys and added, “And we’re out of milk.”

From behind the counter, Oswald looked up from the form he was filling. Lacie didn’t say anything else, her fingers striking random keys in the faint semblance of a song. The afternoon sunlight bathed everything in a golden glow. Aside from her first statement, this was a typical Sunday afternoon, down to her humming. Not sure how to reply, Oswald tentatively tried, “We can buy groceries after.”

“Hmmm, I should make a list.” Lacie leaned back on the piano seat. Her frilly dress flowed around her like a flower’s petals. “Bread. Eggs. Lettuce.”

As she rattled off needed items, Oswald scrawled them quickly on a pad of paper. She still didn’t say anything about her first statement. Was it a joke? He couldn’t tell sometimes with her, when she was serious and when she was just teasing him. It would probably be that way for the rest of his life.

“Oswald.” He looked up to find her standing in front of him now. Lacie leaned forward, elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her interlaced hands. Smiling, she stated, “You’re an uncle.”

Somehow, he had expected more fanfare for such important news. Something dramatic, maybe, or at least an announcement that didn’t sound like she was talking about the weather. Immediately, he asked, “This isn’t a joke?”

“Not this time, brother dearest.” Her wine-red eyes took him in, her smile as sardonic as ever. “What do you think?”

“Pregnant…” Oswald glanced at his sister’s flat belly. “You’re sure?”

“There’s other ways to tell than that.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “I’ll get fat soon enough, don’t worry.”

“How?” As far as he knew, his sister had never taken on a dedicated lover. There had been people who’d sought her, of course; Lacie was beautiful. It was impossible for anyone to resist her. There was that blonde actor who liked to follow her around like a lost puppy, or her mysterious stage director who had a different woman on his arm every time they crossed paths. And beyond Lacie’s job at the theatre, there was the market, the post office, the tailors. The city was full of people. “Who?”

“Well, I don’t really want to explain to you how a baby’s made.” Lacie laughed, shoulders shaking. “As for who…well, that doesn’t matter.”

He frowned. “It doesn’t?”

“No, he will have nothing to do with them.” Lacie straightened, standing tall now. A hand rested on her belly. “My kids are mine. And I suppose they’ll have you to look after them, right?”

Despite her light tone, he could hear the unasked question behind it. The fear that kept her spine rigid. Oswald was dense when it came to most social matters, but there were things even he understood. Last time, she had gone through this alone.

Last time?

“Oswald?” Lacie repeated.

Leaving the counter and his thoughts, he walked over to her and nodded. “Of course.”

“Great.” Lacie hooked an arm through his and steered him toward the door. “Babysitter’s are expensive.”

ii.

“Isn’t she cute?” Despite how exhausted his sister looked, lying on the hospital bed, her tone was as light as ever. Her cheerfulness had never been the infectious type; that was the bubbly blonde from the theatre. Instead, Lacie had always been darkly jovial, like pink on black or a flower crown on a skull. She pushed her sweaty locks away from her face, her other arm cradling her baby.

“She looks like you,” he commented idly, looking at her other baby in his arms. Oswald hadn’t expected twins. The eldest one was the spitting image of his sister, even with her eyes closed and random tufts of brown hair. Glancing at the one in her arms, he frowned as he took in her white hair. There was only one person he knew with that hair colour. “Is their—”

“Everyone will know Alyss is the older one,” Lacie interrupted, cooing softly as she poked her sleeping baby’s cheek.

His frown grew deeper and he tried again. “Is their—”

“I bet Alice will cause her a lot of trouble.” Lacie smiled at him pleasantly, but he knew the sharp expression in her eyes. This line of questioning would get him nowhere. “Now, brother dearest, will you kindly stop asking?”

It bothered him. Even now, eight months after she’d told him, he was no closer to figuring out what had happened. Maybe Lacie had just woken up one day and decided she’d have kids, married or not. It would be difficult, in their society, for a single mother, but Lacie had never balked at anything merely because it was hard to do. Actually, she never stopped for anything and Oswald wished that sometimes she would just take a step back and think before she acted.

Still frowning, he glanced from one baby to the other. “You named them both Alice?”

“No, no. Alice and Alyss,” she corrected gently. “The spelling is different.”

“It sounds the same.” He reached down to push a stray hair out of Alice’s face. Half-asleep, her tiny hand grabbed him, her fingers too small to even encircle his finger.

How tiny. How soft. He wanted to show her a world she’d never seen, the places a princess locked in a tower could only dream of.

“Alice,” he muttered. He couldn’t help but smile.

iii.

“Oz,” a three-year-old Alice blurted out, her chubby hands on his knee.

Sitting in the living room, Oswald set aside his newspaper and frowned. Lacie hadn’t been pleased when Alice’s first word had been ‘Oz’, though Alyss slightly mollified her by saying ‘Ma’. Even now, a year after the fact, she still sometimes glared at him and called him a baby thief. It hadn’t helped that the girls started walking when he had been watching them.

Now, though, that they were three and rapidly increasing their vocabulary, it was time he corrected this mistake. He was not going to live with this nickname forever. “Oswald.”

Alice beamed happily. “Oz,” she chortled, bouncing on her feet. Her hands were still on his knee, the only reason she hadn’t fallen over. “Oz!”

Oswald furrowed his brow. This happened every time. Slowly, he stressed, “Osswaalld.”

Cocking her head, Alice blinked. “Ooo…Osssswwaa…Oz!”

“Ossswaalldddd,” he tried again; she had been close.

“Oz! Oz!” Alice giggled.

iv.

Sitting on a stool in the kitchen, Oswald glanced at the clock. It was ten am. “I have work,” he announced, slowly standing up.

Lacie clicked her tongue and pushed him back down. “Not for another hour, and you have plenty of time to get ready.” Her grip was firm, as though challenging him to get up again.

He glanced up at her. “Why are we doing this?”

“It’s fun,” she stated matter-of-factly. He could almost believe it was the truth. “And it’ll be funny.”

That second one was probably it. He stared at her flatly. “You want to do this.”

“Maybe, brother dearest.” She wrapped an arm around him, taking on her sweetest tone. “But the girls are expecting it and you wouldn’t break their heart, would you?”

Before he could reply, two eight-year-old girls dashed into the kitchen, their arms overloaded with lipstick, nail polish, and other make-up goodies. Still in their pajamas, they came to a stop in front of them.

Looking entirely too proud of her bounty, Alice almost dropped her load in her effort to show off. “I got everything!”

“You like this, uncle?” Alyss glanced at Oswald shyly. Ever her mother’s daughter, she hadn’t taken to him like Alice had. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

He wasn’t sure where that thought came from. Lacie stepped on his foot and he stared down at it. “That hurts.”

“Why can’t you ever take a hint?” Lacie bemoaned, rubbing her forehead. “You like this.”

It wasn’t a question. Oswald nodded; it was too late now anyways. “Yes, it’s fine.”

Alyss smiled softly and slowly lowered herself to her knees before dumping everything on the ground. “I’ll make your nails pretty,” she informed him, determinedly studying the nail polish they’d grabbed.

“I’ll fix your hair!” Adding her stuff to the pile, Alice picked up a comb and several rubber bands. He would probably have a million ponytails at the end of this. Oswald hoped it wouldn’t be as hard to remove as last time.

“And then we’ll do his face,” Lacie chimed in, picking lipstick.

“You’re doing this too?” he asked, knowing what the answer would be and wishing otherwise.

Lacie’s smile could only be described as pure evil. “Don’t worry, you’ll be a hit with the ladies after this.”

(He was not a hit with the ladies.)

v.

Oswald glanced up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in sight and with the sun gently beating down on them, it promised to be a warm day. Finally, winter was over, and he could go on walks again to the nearby park. Though he didn’t mind going out in the cold, it took far too long to put on every single one of Alice’s layers and she always insisted on joining him. Children, he found, needed jackets, sweatshirts, hats, gloves, scarves, snow pants, and two layers of socks.

Children also couldn’t put all of those on themselves.

Still, it was spring now, and he didn’t have to think about that anymore. Standing by the front gate to their small bungalow, he closed his eyes. Somehow, despite the season change, the waiting was the same.

“Hello.”

At the unfamiliar voice, he opened his eyes. In front of him stood two young men, probably in their mid-twenties. As tall as him, they were dressed in suits and appeared to be businessmen. The blonde one had a pair of mismatched eyes, a green and a red that looked just like Lacie’s. The other one was raven-haired, his expression tight as though he was suppressing something.

Oswald cocked his head. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but he knew these two. “You…”

“Yes?” the blonde one replied eagerly. He had been the one to initiate the conversation too. “We?”

“Stop.” The other one—his brother, Oswald’s brain supplied helpfully, though he couldn’t say how he knew—rested his hand on the blonde’s arm. Shaking his head, he tried to pull back. “We shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s too late. We’re already talking,” the blonde pointed out, his eyes never leaving Oswald’s for a second.

“I know you,” Oswald stated. He could feel the truth of it in his bones, a fact just like he knew Alyss was secretly feeding a stray cat or that Alice couldn’t sleep without her stuffed rabbit.

The brunette stepped back. “No, you…we shouldn’t…”

Oswald waited. He was good at that, so he waited and watched and felt the soft tap of a memory in the corners of his mind. It was the same feeling he got sometimes when he looked at the girls and Lacie, the sensation that he was making up for past mistakes. “You look happier,” he said. That was a truth, though he didn’t know why.

The brunette’s expression almost crumpled at that. “Yes.”

Reaching out, the blonde grabbed Oswald’s hand. “And you? Are you happy?”

The hand holding his was shaking. There was an importance, a weight to this question that he couldn’t understand. Glancing from one man to the other, Oswald nodded. “Yes.”

The relief on their faces was heartbreaking. Oswald didn’t know them, but he remembered another hand reaching for his. Two tiny ones from two tiny, eager boys. It was on the tip of his tongue, the words, the names. “Gilb—”

“Uncle Oz!” Alice yelled as she bounced out of the door. “I’m ready.”

Oswald glanced at his niece, running down the path toward him. When he turned back, the two men were gone, leaving not even their shadows behind. He stared at the empty space in front of him, still feeling the weight of the blonde’s hand, the ache of the other’s expression. His heart hurt.

“Uncle Oz?” Alice asked, looking around him. Confused, she stared up at him, eyes wide. He could see a glimmer of the future in them. “What’re you doing?”

The space in front of him remained empty. Those men, he intuitively knew, wouldn’t be back. Shaking his head, he held out his hand. “Let’s go.”

[turnupswritessometimes]

A couple of scenes looking at Oz and Gil when they're twelve/thirteen, and one after Oz returns from the abyss. (It does not go well.)

Fic below the cut:

Oz had been reading – had been staring at the page as his mind wandered. It was raining heavily, the rain pattering against the glass, so they were all stuck indoors. Gilbert was actually buffing the boots he’d worn out that morning, and gotten completely covered in mud. That was when the thought occurred:

“Good Lord!” Oz half-cried, and dropped the book he’d been pretending to read. It bounced off the table in front of him, before landing face down on the carpet.

Gilbert, in turn, dropped the boot he was polishing. It tumbled limply to a halt. His amber eyes were wide, like a startled cat. Even if he wasn’t that new to the household – even if it had been two years since he arrived – he still thought every mistake would see him thrown out. Perhaps if Oz’s father was around, it would.

“I’ve just realised.” Oz looked at him, toying with his bottom lip. The bored, twelve year old son of a lord, he knew. Quite enjoyed acting like that. “I’ll have to get married, someday.”

He saw Gilbert pause. Saw the little line between his eyebrows form as he thought about it. “Do you…not want to?”

“Not if it’s my father doing the choosing.” Oz stood. He stepped over the book, absentmindedly. It rain streaked the window in silver ribbons; the wind catching the trees and trying to tug them over. “He’ll choose a lady he wants us to have closer ties to, never mind what the girl is like. Imagine if she’s boring.”

“I suppose if she’s truly boring you don’t have to spend time with her.”

Oz watched Gilbert’s reflection in the window. He’d abandoned the boots and picked up the fallen book. He took a moment to smooth out the pages – they’d been creased – before closing it reverently.

“No,” Oz said. “I couldn’t do that. I won’t be like…”

He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. It was obvious who he meant. He would not be like his own father. He would not stand by and ignore his family.

Gilbert didn’t reply. He placed the book on the table, and stared at it.

Oz leant against the wooden windowsill, turning to watch him. The rain pattered against the glass behind him. He hated that sound. That constant sound. If it rained at night, he could never sleep. It was worse than a ticking clock.

Gilbert still stared at the book, his fingertips tracing the leather binding. If he could read, he hadn’t made it known, and no one else thought it crucial for a valet to know how to. Maybe Uncle Oscar thought Oz would grow bored of him in a month and make him a footman instead.

“Maybe she won’t even be pretty,” he said. Perhaps that had been the first glimmer of the thought, then. That the boy stood before him, in his oversized shirt and too big boots, was pretty. His neck hair curled around his neck daintily; his lips were rosy against his pale skin; his fingers quick, and nimble.

Gilbert’s frown reappeared. “That’s a shallow thought, young master.”

The rain continued pitter-pattering outside. Oz pressed his head against the ridges of the wooden frame until it stung. He shrugged, crossing his arms.

“Oh, don’t try to teach me good virtues, Gil. I’m far too awful for that.”

Gilbert had been staring at the floor, his long hair falling into his eyes, but now he looked up. He examined Oz, and, he felt a shiver tiptoe up his spine. That hadn’t happened before, and he didn’t think he liked it.

“I don’t believe you,” Gilbert said.

Oz didn’t believe Gilbert. He knew he was awful. The few times he’d spoken to his father had confirmed that. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been seen through, as easily as he could see through the glass to the rain beyond. It made him feel as though he’d missed a step in coming downstairs. He could only stare at Gilbert.

Gilbert, who dropped his gaze again, his cheeks steadily turning pink. His skin was usually so pale, that any blush showed up terribly. Prettier, Oz thought, when he blushed. And it was easier to focus on that; on Gil and his pretty cheeks; than on anything else. He wanted to turn that pink to red, and knew how.

“At least I’ll still have my valet.” Oz sat on the windowsill, drawing a knee up into it. He’d leave a scuff mark, he knew, and knew that the servants would think it was because he was a spoilt, uncaring child. “You’ll still be my valet, won’t you, Gil?”

Gilbert seemed untethered. He left the book, and took a tentative step back to where the boots still lay. “I – I suppose.”

“And then my wife won’t matter.” Oz watched him, from under his bangs. “Because you’re pretty, anyway. We’ll just have an affair.”

Gilbert stiffened. He stared down at the shirts, his hair falling forward to reveal a triangle of pale neck. He was frozen, entirely, for a good few seconds. Then, his voice was small, when he said, “No, we can’t.”

“Of course we can. Plenty of fancy lords have affairs with their valets.”

Gilbert stayed still for a moment more. Then he looked up, brushing dark strands from his face. His cheeks weren’t crimson, like Oz had been expecting, but they were still dusted pink.

“I think you’re just trying to seem wicked,” Gilbert murmured.

“It’s true,” Oz insisted.

But Gilbert went back to polishing the boots, with a rigid determination. He didn’t say anything else, but the colour didn’t fade from his cheeks.

Oz pulled his other foot up onto the windowsill, turning to press his cheek against the glass. It was cold against his skin. It was true; he’d heard servants gossiping about it. One Christmas party he’d seen a Lord grope at his manservant, and the man had smiled back. He had been right about it happening. Perhaps it was wrong. That seemed to be what Gilbert was implying, and surely it was what the priest said on Sundays. But he’d also been told he’d be thrown into the Abyss, and that hadn’t happened yet, either. Now Gilbert thought Oz was just pretending to be interested in that to shock him. And he’d thought it.

But, then he kept stealing glances at Gilbert as he worked. His hands were practised. Oz stared at the curve of his nose; the way his eyelashes fanned his cheeks when he looked down; the way his eyes glinted in the grey light of the day. Amber, just like Ada’s cats. He was pretty. As pretty as the girls that Oz danced with, at those Christmas parties. The ones he smiled and flirted with, because he wanted their attention – because he wanted to be a prince to their princess.

And he thought, perhaps, that he felt that way about Gilbert, too.

So maybe that did make him wicked, after all.

*

Those feelings kept growing. Oz kept noticing things about Gilbert that made him feel like he was fizzing like a glass of champagne. Kept thinking that Gilbert was as pretty as a girl; no, not quite; he was pretty, but in a different way to how girls were. A different pretty, and one Oz liked.

And he liked making Gilbert blush. Liked teasing him to make his cheeks turn red, or to see him pout. Liked making him smile, more. Liked making him laugh the most. It made him feel giddy. When he was concentrating on that, he didn’t need to worry about Gilbert seeing through him. Especially as he thought that was just another of Oz’s masks; that he was just teasing. That made it safe.

It meant that Gilbert, hopefully, didn’t notice that Oz’s heart pounded when they touched. That, when Gilbert was dressing him, his pulse raced. His fingers would brush Oz’s chest as he buttoned his shirt, graze his neck when he tied his tie. He often glanced up, as he tightened it, his amber eyes searching Oz’s. It stole his breath, every morning. Every morning, he wondered what Gilbert would do, if he leant forward and kissed him.

It wouldn’t be that hard to do.

It happened in the summer when he was thirteen. On a long, lazy morning where the sun was hot enough to make everyone drowsy. They'd played with Ada until she'd fallen asleep in the shade of a tree, a kitten in her lap. Then, they'd gone for a walk themselves. Oz swung a branch lazily; he was too old to pretend it was a sword, and that made him feel a pang of sadness.

"Don't forget that Lady Rivers is coming to tea this afternoon," Gilbert said, trailing after him. "You've already gotten your short-trousers dirty."

"That's because you insist on dressing me in white." Oz glanced back. A slight wind ruffled his hair, and he thought it would make him look elfish. "That's foolish, Gil. It only encourages me to ruin it."

Gilbert pursed his lips.

Oz turned around so that he wouldn’t stare. His stomach twisted.

"Is Lady Rivers bringing her daughter?" he asked instead. There was a flowerbed to his left, and he stepped onto the low, wooden beam that corralled it.

"I believe so." Was it his imagination, or was Gilbert's tone more careful?

Oz couldn't balance on the beam. It was too narrow and his boots were too clunky. He stopped. "Do you think she's pretty?"

Gilbert paused. For so long that Oz glanced back, to see his amber eyes staring at the grass.

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"But I'm asking."

"I don't know."

His cheeks weren't flushed. It seemed like Gilbert really didn't think so. Which was odd, because the daughter of Lady Rivers was very pretty indeed. She had shining, curly hair and big brown eyes; she looked like a princess from a fairy tale. Oz flirted with her, at every chance, and she giggled and blushed, seemingly flirting back. It felt easy.

Oz stopped. He stared at Gilbert, watching a dark lock fall in front of his face. He glanced up at Oz, then away, shifting slightly. It made him feel like a dog with a scent; his ears were pricked.

"I think she is," he said. Perhaps a bit forcefully. "I think I'll begin courting her."

There. He saw Gilbert's shoulders stiffen. Just for a moment, before he said, "That would be your choice, young master."

"What do you think?"

Gilbert's fists were clenched. "My opinion doesn't matter."

"I'm asking for it."

"But it is not my place."

Oz stepped forward. And again. They were close now, but Gilbert still didn't look up. Every part of him was rigid, like wood. It bothered him. This bothered him. That meant something, and Oz needed to know more.

"What would you say if I said I wanted to kiss her?"

"It's not my choice," Gilbert whispered.

Oz leant even closer, his hands behind his back. "What if I said I wanted to kiss you?"

For a moment, Gilbert didn't breathe. He jerked his chin up, and stared at Oz, his eyes wide. The sun cast curling shadows of his hair against his skin. The sun caught his lashes too, and made them look darker and longer, as he examined Oz's face. He was smirking, he knew, and that he probably looked like a wolf. He let his own gaze drop, down to Gilbert's parted lips, meaningfully.

"Well?" Oz prompted.

"You can't," Gilbert whispered.

"Why not?"

"You're not allowed."

"Who would know?"

Gilbert stayed quiet. His breath came in fast, warm puffs against Oz's cheeks.

"I'll only kiss you if you'd like me to." Though Oz didn't know how he would be able to stand being around Gilbert and not being able to kiss him. "Would you like me to?"

There was another long moment where the long, sunny afternoon stretched around them. Then Gilbert nodded. Then he raised his hand slowly, fingers brushing the front of Oz's jacket.

So Oz kissed him. A sudden, jerky movement that had their teeth knock against each other. But it was a kiss. A kiss that released that fizzy, excited feeling.

Oz caught hold of Gil's shoulders – his arms – kissed him again, tilting his head properly this time. It worked better. He felt Gilbert's mouth move against his own. He clutched at Oz's jacket, leaning into him.

When he pulled away, his breath came heavily. Oz's thoughts had turned to fireworks. To gather them, he brushed a stray lock of hair from Gilbert's face. He tucked it behind his ear; concentrating on that, rather than meeting Gilbert's eye.

"Well, good," Oz said. "That's sorted."

"Young Master Oz." Gilbert's own pale fingers brushed a lock of Oz's golden hair from where it hung in front of his face. He looked as worried as he always did, when Oz was leading them into trouble. But his cheeks were also flushed, his eyes shining.

It felt right. This. Them. Pressing another kiss against Gilbert's forehead and feeling him squirm closer. He smelt of fresh cotton and shoe polish, and those smells shouldn't have been so wonderful. Oz usually hated those smells.

He held him, his arms slipping around to Gilbert's back, and knew he'd started something. Something that could not be undone; a chain between them.

And he revelled in it.

So it continued. A few snatched kisses – Oz was usually the initiator – clasping each other's hands, brushing lips across cheeks and knuckles and foreheads as easily as shaking hands. It was to show affection. It was to chain this bond between them into something real and solid. Now that Gilbert had pledged himself so fully to Oz and he was breaking his one rule. He was accepting one absolute.

Gilbert was the absolute.

So this only made sense. He was the one who knew him better than anyone. Who would stand by him, no matter what. And, more strangely, Oz would stand by him. This was his one. His valet and his everything.

So when Gilbert tied his tie in the morning, of course he kissed him. When he tied his laces, he offered a hand up. When Oz lay despondently, his cheek against the window, Gilbert pressed against him, or kissed his knuckles when he'd finished his studying. It was natural.  Easy.

And it didn't matter about what the future would bring - about engagements and coming of age ceremonies - because for now, he was happy.

For now, he had Gilbert.

*

Now, Oz sat in Lady Sharon’s drawing room, in the evening. Those days were before the abyss; were apparently ten years ago, and even though he hadn’t lived those ten years, it felt like a lifetime ago. His worries had been very different, then.

He sat on the wide windowsill, just like he used to, staring at the glass. It was too dark outside to see anything properly; the moon was like a distant streetlamp, and the stars just pinpricks. The main thing he saw was his own reflection, staring back at him. He was the same; still had unruly, fair hair and a few leftover freckles across his nose. Still didn't need to shave; still had limbs a little too long for him, like a growing colt. He hadn't changed, but it had been ten years; the whole world had changed.

Or maybe he had changed. Because he had been trying to talk to Gilbert for the last ten minutes. Since Break had retired and Sharon had pulled Alice upstairs to toilette together, he had been repeating the words over and over in his head. It was ridiculous. The man sat on the sofa, reading, was Gilbert. His friend. More than his friend. But he didn’t have the courage – he’d always had the courage, before.

Oz snatched a glance at him, resting his chin on his knee. It was stupid to leave it at: 'he'd grown;' of course he had. It was more interesting to see how he stayed the same; his dark hair was still just as unruly, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck; his eyes were still that same amber, like a cat's; he still tapped his fingers, or jiggled his leg, in that nervous way. He was still, underneath, Gilbert. How could Oz not have seen it before?

"Gil?" he asked, as though double-checking that he was right. His heart raced.

"Mm?" Gilbert was lit by the soft light of the gas lamp; the warm glow settling on his hair and cheekbones.

Why didn't you tell me to start with, Oz thought. Why hadn't he been forthcoming about who he was? Why had they all pretended that ten years hadn't gone by? But those weren't the pressing questions. They weren't the questions that he needed to ask, and he didn’t think he’d get a satisfactory answer.

"Do you remember – what it was like before?" Oz's voice didn't waver, and he was proud of himself for that.

Gilbert marked the page in his book, and closed it softly. "I remember you teasing me with cats, whenever you had the chance."

"Not that."

"Actually—" Gilbert placed the book on the side table. Either he had always known how to read, or it was another thing he’d learnt. "You teased me in general, at every opportunity."

"I couldn't help it," Oz said. "You're very easy to wind up. But that's not what I meant."

Gilbert didn’t supply him with what he did mean. He didn't even met Oz's eye – which was exactly like how he used to, when he was embarrassed.

"I meant about us." Oz's heart pounded on his tongue. "About how we were, together."

Gilbert stayed still. It was like they were back to square one. At least it gave Oz the confidence to stand from the window.

"Do you remember a couple of days before the – before my birthday? At the suit fitting?" It was hard to get his tongue to move.

There was a very long second before Gilbert's reply. "Yes."

Oz waited. Took a step forward, forcing his mouth open to say more, but Gilbert continued, softly: "You said you loved me."

Oz had taken Gilbert's hands in his own, twining them tightly together. He'd felt like a Prince in one of Ada's fairy stories. And he'd had to say it, whilst they were alone for five minutes, because it felt like there wasn't anything after the ceremony. Because it was overwhelming, and he knew he would be a disappointment. He'd leant forward and whispered those three words into Gilbert's ear.

"I did." Oz’s voice did waver then. He didn't feel like a prince, stood in his borrowed clothes. He felt like a schoolboy.

"And I said I loved you." Gilbert's eyes flickered up, then back down again. His hands were in fists on his lap.

Oz remembered that. Remembered those yellow eyes looking up at him, and the soft, shy smile on Gilbert's face. He'd squeezed his fingers back. And Oz had felt like he'd swallowed a star.

He swallowed now, his throat sore. "And...?"

"And...what?"

"What about now?" Oz managed to take another step, though his voice sounded desperate.

Gilbert looked up, eyes as warm as the gas lamp. "Of course, I still love you."

Relief flooded through Oz. The champagne was back; a tingling feeling spreading all the way through to his fingertips. Like a star trapped inside him. Of course Gilbert still loved him. It washed away the tenseness, the sore throat, the confusion and anxiety that he'd held ever since finding out that Raven was Gilbert and Gilbert was Raven.

"Oh, good," he said. Grinned. Crossed to the sofa. "That's all sorted then, because I still love you too."

Maybe he should have noticed Gilbert's reaction. Noticed that his eyes widened in panic, and his brows knitted together, and he was about to say something. But the relief was too great – the knowledge that he still this; that he and Gilbert hadn't changed.

So he leant down and kissed him. His hands found Gilbert's cheeks, tangling into his curls.

"It was so unfair, that day," Oz managed to talk between kisses. "The wretched tailor came back in and then it was all schedules—" More kisses, and he was dimly aware that Gilbert wasn't touching him back, as he settled in his lap. "We barely had a moment alone until the—" He kissed him again to avoid saying the word. "But now it can be just like—"

Gilbert did touch him then, finally. But it was to catch his shoulders – to push him away. "Stop, Oz."

He did. His hands fell from Gilbert's hair. His mouth tingled, and he realised that Gilbert never used to call him just 'Oz.'

"You can't," Gilbert said. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed.

"That's what you said then, too." Oz pushed against the hands holding him back, but they were firm. "But that didn't matter."

"This is different." Gilbert's hands shifted to Oz's waist. His stomach turned over, despite the frown on Gilbert's face. But he wasn't pulling him closer. He was easing Oz from his lap, like he was a child. "This isn't a rich boy's fling with his servant."

"It still is." He went limp, to make himself harder to move.

"No, it's not.”

“I said I wasn't letting you go so easily just because you're a lord, now."

Gilbert was stronger than him. He deposited Oz on the sofa cushions, and he landed in an ungainly heap. He scrambled to sit, his hands sinking into pillows.

"And I'm still your valet." Gilbert's amber eyes were soft. "I said that. But things are different. I'm ten years older, now."

He was speaking softly, and calmly, though his cheeks were still flushed. He still sat in that stiff way. When he did that, he did look like a Nightray lord.

"Not to me!" Oz clutched Gilbert's shoulder, and felt him twitch. He dropped it, feeling heat flush down his neck. "It's been no time at all for me. I'm still me, and you're still you."

"And I'm a man." Gilbert looked at him. Seriously. Like a teacher with an unruly pupil. "I'm a man, now, Oz. And you're still a—"

"Don't you dare call me a child!" It came out as a yelp, like Oz was a kicked dog. He sat, properly, putting his boots on the floor.

Gilbert took a breath. "You're still fifteen. You have to understand."

"I don't." He stood, feeling hot. "I don't understand how you can pretend this didn't happen. I don't understand how you got to grow up and I didn't. Where's my future?"

"On your chest."

He might as well have slapped Oz. It was even worse than twitching away from him. He blinked. "That's not fair."

"You're an illegal contractor."

"You had ten years to save me." Why didn't you save me, Oz wanted to ask. He gritted his jaw. That wouldn't be fair, either.

"Ten years to do the impossible."

They fell silent. The embers crackled in the grate. It was Oz's turn to stare at the elaborate rug, and he glared at it, as though he could scorch it with just his eyes. This wasn't his house; he couldn't go back to his house; he didn't have a home. What little family he had didn't know he was back. The only connector had been Gilbert, but even he was different.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked the rug. He knew, of course. He was supposed to find Alice's memories. He was supposed to find a way out of the contract before it dragged him back to the Abyss. He was supposed to put everything right. And usually he would be able to shrug, and laugh, and keep going, but suddenly it all felt like so much. Suddenly, he was so aware of how he was different. There was no fixing this – this missing ten years.

Arms appeared around him. Suddenly. They wrapped him up, easily, pressing him to Gilbert's chest. He turned into him, clutching at his ridiculous black coat. He wasn't crying – he never cried – but he was close to it. His eyes were prickling and it was difficult to breathe. He held onto Gilbert, but this Gilbert didn't smell like himself. He smelt of cigarettes and stale cologne; not fresh laundry and shoe polish.

"Nothing could have changed that day." He could feel Gilbert's mouth move against his hair. His palms pressed against Oz's back. "You understand that, right?"

He did, deep down. That the Baskervilles would appear – that he would be thrown into the abyss no matter what. But he had allowed himself to think about the possibility, just for a moment. It was foolish. It had happened. And of course Gilbert would follow his thinking; he always knew what Oz was thinking, because he knew Oz.

"I know." He pulled away from Gilbert, just enough to dredge up a smile for him. His heart still raced, and he still felt like a ship in a storm. "Nothing can change the past."

Though he didn't pull away. Not yet. He stayed close, searching Gilbert's eyes. "But you do still love me?"

Gilbert's hands tightened. It almost hurt, but he didn’t mind. That pain was better to focus on.

"Gil? Look at me."

Gilbert’s gaze inched slowly round, his eyes sliding over every little detail in the room until they couldn’t escape meeting Oz’s eyes.  His voice was a whisper, "Yes."

"Then – who would know?" Those words had worked before. He raised himself onto tiptoes – that was new – catching himself on Gilbert's chest. He was so tall, now, but he liked it; liked feeling protected.

But this time, when he said that, Gilbert caught his shoulders again. Pushed him back a step, frowning, as though he was trying to concentrate. Oz caught his wrists, and held on. Knew he was almost pouting, and hoped it at least made him look endearing.

"I do – love you," he said. And his hands shifted, palms cupping Oz's cheeks. It made him feel small. "But I look at you now, and you're - so young."

He was a child, in Gilbert's eyes. Which didn't seem right, because Gilbert had always been younger, and shorter, and more of a cry-baby. And Oz didn’t feel like a child; he certainly wasn’t being treated like a child by anyone else.

"That's not fair." And Oz realised that saying it didn’t help his case, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

"I know." Gilbert's thumb twitched on his cheekbone, and it sent a shooting star streaking under his skin. He turned his face into it, his eyes closing. Gilbert's hands had changed, as well. They weren't just bigger; they were rougher. Closing his eyes didn’t help to pretend things were the same.

Oz pressed his mouth against the centre of his palm. He pressed a kiss there, keeping his eyes shut, to play innocent. A last try at persuasion; he’d always been able to persuade Gilbert.

Who saw through it, now – he always saw through him – he pulled his hands away with a slight sigh. Though, when Oz opened his eyes, he could see that his expression was soft. He was smiling, slightly. Fond. He was fond of Oz. He still loved him.

But not in the way he had before.

Gilbert kissed him. But not on the lips. On his forehead, and through his hair. His fingers twitched in it, smoothing it into place.

"Goodnight, Oz," Gilbert murmured.

He left his book on the side. His coat swept behind him as he closed the door, leaving Oz stood there, alone. He could still feel the ghost of Gilbert's arms, the tingle from where their lips met. His heart thundered dully in his ears.

That was it then. Everything really had changed. He had lost his choices to Alice and Pandora. His future and his past was wrapped in this mystery. He had lost his home when he had come back from the abyss – bundled away here, and part of whatever subterfuge Break was planning. He was stuck in a web that he couldn’t even see. And that would be fine; he would be able to accept that; able to get on with things and fix it all, or let himself get caught by the spider. But the boy he loved had also changed. Now he was a serious man who worried about age and status and reputation.

And Oz was still just a child.