Work Text:
I do not own Pandora Hearts.
...
"... -useless..."
"... stupid-"
"... manservant!"
Oz wakes up with a series of insults and expletives being thrown directly at his face from that recognizable voice he's grown so fond of. To others, it may be rude, vexatious and aggravating, but to him, it's merely an intrinsic part of his everyday life.
Today is a cold morning too, just like it's been in the past days. He can hear the rustling of leaves and whistling of the cool air just outside the window where birds are humming and flowers are blooming. He concludes it's a remarkable day, nonetheless, as he becomes conscious of how exceedingly pleasant and warm he feels.
Oz decides to keep his eyes closed for the time being. As he reckons, losing one of your senses will heighten the remaining others. His sense of touch is currently tingling in gaiety and he wants to luxuriate in it for as long as he can.
His overly soft and fluffy duvet is almost devouring his entire body, his pillows are just as heavenly as they pile over each other like they're meant to submerge him in a state of tranquility and bliss, and above all, he has a bundle of radiance and sunshine locked in his embrace, comforting him and warming him with unparalleled efficacy.
Funny, though, that that same radiance and sunshine is also the one cursing him to death right now.
"Stupid Oz! Wake up, damn it!"
Alice isn't particularly struggling in his arms, but Oz can feel a hand on his shoulder tapping him with a certain force unique to her. She's probably trying to draft a fair distance between them, apart from her attempts to wake him up, but Oz's clinginess is not allowing it. His hands on her back are firm and restraining, fingers interlaced and joined together to form a clamp impeding her escape. It's no wonder her tone is gradually getting coated with so much irritation as her thinning patience becomes apparent with every uttered word.
He hums, slightly amused and slightly wary.
"You're awake, aren't you!? Hey!"
Oz smiles this time, ending his charade of feigning asleep. He's been pushing his luck for too long that the consequences of his insolence is already looming right in the corner. Alice can get creative with her punishments when she's feeling especially merciless and Oz longs to never become acquainted with it again.
He opens his eyes a fraction, sneaks a gander at his companion and immediately regrets it as he gets assaulted by a blinding brightness peeking through the gap of the curtain. In the short span of time from him waking up until now, the sun begins its ascent, birthing rays and beams of light and gracing the earth of its brilliance. The thin line of light penetrating the dim room hits Oz straight in the face and reminds him that sometimes, the sun can be harsh and relentless, very similar to the one he's holding in his arms.
With the thought of relieving his eyes vaguely occupying his mind, Oz grasps a hold of Alice's hand and latches it on the back of his nape, making certain it stays securely and in place. He hears a grunt that sounds both annoyed and confused that he promptly answers with a whisper of, "Hold on."
Then he seizes Alice's lithe form, takes her weight and carries her with him as he turns on his other side.
A surprised yelp has reverberated through the confines of the room before a closed fist bops him vehemently on the head. "The hell are you doing!? I told you to get up, you useless manservant!"
He chuckles. Alice's indignant expression never fails to charm him no matter how threatening she aims to appear. Right now, the face she's unwittingly showing him is a mix of angry and flushed.
"Alice is so cute and small," he comments, brazen and daring, the spark of remorse he previously harbors getting expelled as he retains a newfound boldness and confidence.
"Idiot! I'm not cute and small, I'm ferocious!"
Oz replies by pulling her even closer to him and squeezing her petite body in his arms. She fits perfectly in there, compact and snug as she molds against his body like a puzzle piece finding its rightful place. He feels the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of the oversized long-sleeved oxford she's wearing (it's his), sliding a palm over her tiny waist and furtherly enveloping her small frame as he traps her with his limbs.
He does another aqueeze and Alice lets out another shriek.
"Ow, Oz! You're crushing me!" Her protests are getting slightly muffled, however, as her face gets planted on his chest. "Are you trying to suffocate me to death!?"
"Hm. Really cute and small," he mutters, his eyes gazing at the crown of her head and his lips curving upwards into a wide, happy smile.
"I told you I'm-"
Her next words get lost and forgotten after Oz deliberately cuts her off.
"Alice feels so nice to hug." He tilts his head, tipping it down so his nose will get buried on her silky hair and his lips will land on her temple. He kisses that spot and mutters, "Let's stay like this for a bit longer, okay? Please?"
Alice smells powdery and sweet like a marshmallow, but also nostalgic and cozy like home. She's a combination of soothing gentleness and fierce protectiveness. Not only is she the sun in Oz's life that provides a shine to his dull world and radiates positivity to his deprecating mind, but she's also the sun that's eager to nurture and protect those she cares for and Oz is more than fortunate to be one of the select few.
She's like a shelter to him, a shield guarding him from the abyss of his own mind. She's a constant in his life that makes the world beautiful and worth living in. She's his safe haven and his home.
"Geez. You're really so needy," Alice says after a while. She speaks it like she can read his mind, like she can sense his mood. Finally allowing him to savor this moment, she ceases her efforts of slipping away from his embrace as her tone mellows into a soft, mindful volume that Oz greatly appreciates. "You should be more grateful that your master is so generous. After all, I'm letting you hog all my time even before you serve me breakfast."
Yeah, Oz thinks as his chest gets flooded with warmth and affection, that is a very generous thing.
"I love you, too, Alice."
A pause.
"Idiot! I never said I love you!"
He laughs, carefree and blithe. "I know."
Because Oz doesn't need to hear it and Alice doesn't need to say it. Her actions speak louder than any words. Behind the colorful language and violent tendencies, the dangerous smirk and haughty laugh lies the sincerity of her being. She's kind and compassionate, understanding and considerate. She cares and she loves and she displays it in her own ways.
And he knows, he notices. He's learned to recognize all of them, has committed them to memory, has cherished and regarded them as his own personal treasures. He hunts them and seeks them, always on the look out so he doesn't miss a single thing.
Simple actions like permitting her manservant to monopolise her time and have all of her to himself are proofs of her tenderness, of her benevolence, of her love.
Alice can sock him on the face all she wants, swear on him and degrade him like there's no tomorrow, order him around and makes impossible demands, but Oz knows, he will always know.
She loves him and he loves her, that's all there is to it.
...
-k-