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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #35)

Chapter #35. SURPRISE!!!🎄 🎁 Merry Christmas! 🎁🎄 I couldn't leave us on that big of a cliffhanger! Not on Christmas! Anyway, here is a little holiday gift from me to you. I want to sincerely thank everyone in this community who takes the time to read this story. I am so grateful for each and every one of you! Where is Natalie taking Alexander? Is he going to love it or hate it? It's usually 50/50 with him.

Previous: Chapter #34

Next: Chapter #36

Word Count: 8,756 Read Time: Approx. 90 mins

CW: Physical intimacy. SO much physical intimacy.

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

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A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #35: La Petite Aiguille

[Alexander’s POV]

Rows upon rows of bolts of fabric in every color, shade and pattern I could fathom, lined the walls. Custom racks accommodated spools of thread all arranged in the gradient of the rainbow, while tungsten sconces bathed the room in an orange, electric glow. The solid wood beams of the ceiling gave the room an old-fashioned gravitas, while the smell of polished wood and starched linen ignited my olfactory senses.

Everything was immaculately organized, each thread having its place.

There was a break in the floor-to-ceiling shelves on the left, where a maroon curtain separated us from whatever lay on the opposite side.

On display on the tables in front of us and on the counters of the classical oak desk that served as the register, were mannequins sporting all kinds of clothing, from impressive gowns fit for a runway stage, to elaborate, themed costumes, to, yes, even beautifully crafted suits in every cut.

But the best part?

Every single article of clothing on display, from the dresses, to the outfits, the hats and shoes, were perfectly proportioned to my dimensions. This entire, wonderful place accommodated people like me.

I stared, slack jawed, unable to believe this wasn’t some sort of very realistic dream, when I felt Natalie’s gaze on me, “What do you think? This is supposed to be the best place in all of Massachusetts…” She hummed softly, the fingers of her left hand stroking the outside of the pocket, about level with my chest.

Unable to tear my eyes away, I swallowed, gripping the fabric to keep from showing her any pathetic emotions, “I—“

Before I had a chance to complete, or even begin, that thought, the sharp clink of metal rings sliding across a curtain rod hit my ears, as someone crossed the threshold.

My heart jumped. Another human. What was this one going to be like?

My hands itched for something to defend myself with. Whether she could feel my body stiffen, or just guessed by instinct, Natalie gently pressed her fingers over my heart, caressing my forearm with her thumb. I looked up to catch her gaze. Her eyes seemed calm, reassuring. I did my level best to relax.

As the figure crossed behind the main desk, I endeavored to take in all of her details, reading her for any signs, positive or negative.

Her hair was cut short, tight pin curls looping and twisting in a gravity defying mop of pure white. Her keen, bright eyes shone beyond the rim of her, golden reading glasses, perched low on her nose. Her vintage jewelry, including an elegant gold watch, sparkled in the light of the lamp beside her. Her outfit was clearly custom made, a beautiful matching vest and skirt in warm earth tones, with white dress sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hands were lithe, yet possessed a certain air of intentionality with every move she made. She held a leather bound tome under her arm.

“Apologies for the wait, we’re at the peak of our holiday orders at the moment. How can I help you?” She locked eyes with Natalie, seemingly not noticing me quite yet. Her voice was soft and clear as a bell. She set down her book, cracking it open and scribbled something along its many columns and rows. Natalie stepped up to the counter as she spoke. I leaned forward, enjoying the swooping, artistic motions of her calligraphic script as she wrote in incredibly ornate cursive.

“Oh, hello, there.” She’d stopped writing. I looked up to find her gaze, dulled with age but not without a keen spark, was fixed on me.

I clenched my jaw as I hardly dared to breathe… I waited for the condescending comment to come next. She leaned down to address me again, “Sir? What can I do for you today?” A smile played about her lips, but it was far from anything like a sneer. It was warm, friendly.

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was waiting for my reply. She was addressing me directly. I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I believe I’m here to purchase a suit.” I raised my voice to cover the distance, trying to sound like I did this sort of thing all the time.

“More than just one. He’d like to be fitted today, please.” I whipped over my shoulder to look up at Natalie. Was she serious? When I met her eyes, she nodded and winked at me.

“So you want the full custom package?” The woman looked at me, I looked to Natalie, Natalie nodded in the affirmative. The human across from us checked her wrist, nodding with an exact precision I couldn’t help but admire, “Perfect timing. I believe I can squeeze you in between our other standing consultations. Right this way.” She motioned for us to follow her into the curtained room.

We entered the back area and were greeted by two tables with ornate lion’s paw legs. The one on the left was piled with fabric, neatly folded, with tools of the trade including rulers, pushpins, scissors and measuring tape. On the right, the surface of the table was bare, save a series of pristine white boxes, each sitting side by side, along its center. I wondered what those were.

Instead, we curved toward the left. I supposed I’d just have to wait to find out more.

We came to a stop in front of the table with its neatly organized tools. I was beginning to deeply appreciate the pristine organization of this place. It was far more comforting than Natalie’s rat’s nest approach to every inch of her living space, though I'd managed to train her out of her most egregious lifestyle habits.

I was torn from my musing when fingers descended all around me, the pad of Natalie’s thumb resting over my chest while two fingers hooked under my arms as she applied light pressure.

I met her eyes to see her arched brow, as she sought permission to pick me up and set me down. With a curt nod from me, she lifted me up and out, placing me on my own two feet in the center of the table. As she fished for my crutch, the other woman approached the table, setting a clipboard and red ink pen down on the surface beside me.

She adjusted her glasses as she pulled the chain to a lamp behind me, bathing my surroundings in a soft glow. I couldn’t help but notice the way my jaw involuntarily clenched and I held my breath as her arm loomed overhead.

I realized with a sharp pang the indignity that was about to commence.

Natalie was finally granting me the opportunity to dress like the gentleman I was, a wonderful thing indeed, but… no tailored suit, big or small, was possible without acquiring that gentleman’s measurements.

I felt a twist in my stomach, as I pictured being pinched, grabbed, and puppeted about like a doll, as string was cinched too tightly around my arm or leg to quantify the size of limbs. This strange woman’s hands who I’d admired from a distance for their precision and poise, now intimidated me in the lamplight, seeming too aged, bony and frighteningly precise in their movements to be anything but painful when they seized me.

The liver spots that dotted her arm, the thin and almost papery nature of her skin that displayed the blue veins snaking beneath and the pronounced knuckles on her arthritic, littlest fingers all reminded me of a particular set of hands I’d fought very hard to forget.

“… Alexander?” The present circumstance came back into crystal clear focus at the sound of my name from Natalie’s lips. I blinked hard and looked up at where the sound had come from. Her finger and thumb held my crutch between them, as she bent at the waist to address me, her brow slightly furrowed with worry, she gently brushed my arm with the side of her curled fingers, nudging me back into reality, “… Here you go.” She offered me my walking aide, and I cleared my throat, taking it from her while staring at the floor.

“Ah, is that your name? I don’t think we got properly introduced.” This time it was that voice that tinkled like a bell in my ears. I’d admit, it had a pleasant ring, despite my trepidations, “Hello, Alexander, I’m Marianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She offered a finger to shake. I admit, I was taken aback. Why was she so courteous? She was smiling at me.

It put me on edge.

When was she going to burst into laughter? Was it when I gave in to her invitation to shake, like equals, only for her to pull her hand away? Or would it be the moment I turned over my shoulder where she’d take the opportunity to snatch me up by the collar? I refused to believe this wasn’t an act.

She was still offering her finger.

I was taking too long, if I waited much more I’d be questioned.

I took a few steps forward and stiffly shook the pad of her finger with my hand. Immediately retreating the few steps back when it was over. Good. No funny business. Not yet. I decided as long as she continued this charade of being polite, I’d do the same. An eye for an eye and all that.

“Well, we’re delighted to have you here. And what’s your name, young lady?” Natalie introduced herself and shook hands with the older woman with a warmth I found reassuring. “Welcome to La Petite Aiguille.” I suppose she thought that name was terribly clever. How gouche. Of course, she probably assumed I couldn’t understand French, which would be a false assumption.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, as she addressed us again, “May I interest either of you in any refreshments?” She had my attention, now, as she acquainted us with our options. I ordered herbal tea, Natalie chose coffee. The woman, Marianne, excused herself to prepare them both.

After the clack of the woman’s shoes on the hardwood faded, Natalie leaned down, resting her chin on her forearm, setting down her free hand close to where I stood, “So? Whaddya think?” Her eyes gleamed. Always so excitable, wasn’t she?

“It…” I felt heat rise in my face. I mustn’t come across like some giddy child let loose in a toy store, “It seems like a professional and respectable establishment.”

Her face fell, she was clearly hoping for more enthusiasm from me, but I was far too embarrassed to show her just how excited I was. Before she could form a response, Marianne returned with a tray, including a steaming mug of coffee I could’ve taken a dip in if I so chose, as well as a teapot, mug and saucer balanced on an embossed tray, all sized to me. But that was not all. In hand, she also clutched a proportional end table and chair which she gingerly placed beside me. I served myself the tea as she continued.

“As you can see we specialize in custom clothing for those of nimbler proportions than our own.” Nimbler, eh? I quite liked that. “So what’re we getting outfitted for today? A holiday party? Gala? Wedding?” Me? At a human wedding? I nearly spit a mouthful of tea back into the cup.

“No, nothing like that.” Natalie swooped in to save the conversation, “He just likes to be sharply dressed. Personally, I love lounging at home in sweats and a t-shirt but this one wants cufflinks and starched collars.” Her index finger brushed the toe of my shoe, “He’s suffered for way too long in casual clothes. Now that he’s more healed up, he deserves to dress to the nines every day if he wants to.” She winked at me. My heart knocked at my ribs. Stupid, impressionable, laughable idiot! Just drink your tea and stop with the flushed face already! I swallowed everything in the cup in one go.

“A true mondain, I see. Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place. Let’s see what we can do.” What was this woman’s deal with sprinkling French into every other sentence? Was she trying to show off? She grabbed her pen and started to jot things down on the form before her.

I poured myself another cup of tea, and directed my words to the ceramic vessel, “Vous pensez que vous êtes si intelligent, n'est-ce pas? Je peux aussi parler français, tu sais.” The woman, I supposed I could start thinking of her by her name, Marianne, never paused in her writing. The line came and went without her understanding. I pursed my lips and couldn’t help the smug smirk that crossed my face. It seemed she didn’t know the language nearly as well as she’d put on. I continued to revel in my superiority, until I heard the human to my right clearing her throat theatrically.

I looked up to see Natalie’s eyebrows raised as she scowled at me disapprovingly. “Be nice!” She mouthed. I opened my hands and shrugged as if to say “What?”. She didn’t get a chance to retaliate, however, as Marianne raised her eyes from the page and addressed us.

“Now, first thing’s first, we’ll need your measurements.” Damn. I came down from my temporary high and felt my heart in my throat again.

Evidently I wasn’t as skilled at masking my feelings on the matter as I’d thought, because she reassured me while preparing her tools, “Not to worry, Alexander, there will be no rough treatment here. I’ll be as gentle with you as Natalie would.” I snuck a glance up at the woman she’d mentioned, only to find, much to my embarrassment, that she was already looking me over.

We both instantly turned our attention back to our drinks.

Marianne carried on unperturbed. I was beginning to wonder if this woman was one of the least observant people on the planet, or if she was just exceedingly polite. She scribbled things on her paper, before organizing her rulers and measuring tapes before her. She addressed me as she prepped, “So, you’re fond of gentleman’s wear, hm? Not many young men care about keeping up appearances anymore. I’m glad you’re an exception to the rule. My Henri was fond of his pinstripes and pocket squares. A perfect pairing for a seamstress, you can imagine!” Her eyes sparkled with memories long past.

“I… I’m sorry for your loss…” Natalie’s voice was kind and genuine.

“Oh, that’s alright, honey. We had many wonderful years together.” She turned to me, “I think he would’ve quite liked you, Alexander.”

Me? I couldn’t imagine how much I and an older human man could possibly have in common, besides our manner of dress. And in any case, this woman had only just met me, how could she possibly make such a rapid assessment?

I nodded politely in agreement anyway, hoping to move past this rather somber moment and return to the exciting part of getting me into a beautiful suit.

Of course, Natalie couldn’t help but ask follow up questions. Annoying, the way humans always politely placated each other with niceties and small talk, “Did he help you run this place?”

Marianne cracked a smile, “Oh, yes! The whole thing was his idea. Down to the name. I was perfectly happy to stitch away on my little creations at home, but he encouraged me to share my skills with others. He was always the gregarious one…” you don’t seem to have any problem talking at length, as far as I can see. “… and much better at putting our clients at ease, though, I try my very best. I know the constant invasion of personal space can be unwelcome.”

Finally someone acknowledges this well-known truth!

“Now, Mr. Alexander, if you’ll take a few steps forward, I’ll get your height to start.”

The flattery of being addressed so formally was quickly counteracted by an unwelcome reality that the aforementioned invasion of personal space was about to begin.

I looked about myself to set down the cup in my hand. The side table was just out of reach from where I stood. I shifted my weight, about to turn over my shoulder to cross closer to the surface when a finger brushed the length of my forearm, warm and soft. I stopped in my tracks and looked up.

Natalie was offering to take the cup from me. Her lips curled into a soft smile as my gaze locked with hers, “Don’t worry, I won’t accidentally drop this one. I promise.” She winked.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, and shake my head before balancing the cup on the pad of her index finger. She pinched it between finger and thumb and carried it to its proper place for me.

*****

As Alexander stepped forward, away from the tiny furniture, the experienced hands of the craftswoman carefully slid a polished wooden ruler behind his back. I found myself balancing my chin over my crossed arms to get a closer look at what the measurement tool showed.

He stood very still, his posture perfect, and his chest puffed. I could tell he was stretching his spine to stand as tall as he possibly could. As I squinted to discern the tiny lines that Alexander could easily trace with his fingers, I saw his exact height for the first time.

Five and half inches, exactly.

My heart melted.

As the ruler was removed, I searched his face for signs of unease. I wouldn’t blame him for being nervous. He was already grumpy enough being handled by me, I knew having a stranger’s hands all over him wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park.

“You okay?” I mouthed, unable to resist brushing the toe of his shoe with a fingertip. He nodded, sucking in a sharp breath. I could see he was steeling himself.

I trusted Marianne, she seemed extremely kind and respectful. Still, her fingers, though aged and thin, were each over half the length of his entire little body.

She prepared a length of bright crimson thread, tying it off in a knot in one graceful pull.

“First, I’ll ask you to let your arms rest at your sides…” he shuffled his weight, unsure what to do with the crutch in his hand.

“You okay to stand without it for a few? I can hold it for you.” I offered. He nodded, clearly disinterested in needing any help, but having no choice.

“…And then I’m going to measure the width of your shoulders, will you turn to face Natalie?” I liked that she walked him through every single step she was taking. I could see he was starting to relax a bit as he shuffled his feet to face me. Marianne used the bit of string to measure along his shoulder blades, from point to point. The scribble of her pen on paper and the hum of the heater somewhere behind us, were the only sounds in the room.

Until…

Thunk, thunk, thunk.

I think I jumped more than he did. Someone was knocking on what I assumed must’ve been the back door of the shop.

Marianne had a different reaction, “Oh!” She dropped the thread and checked her watch, “They’re early! I apologize, someone is here to drop off a bulk order. You’ll have to excuse me. This is the trouble of running things all by myself!” She looked flustered and embarrassed for having to pause, “I should only be a minute!”

She stepped through the curtain and after a few moments I could hear the sounds of a door opening and the low rumble of male voices mixing with hers. The activity faded into the background as I took in the little life before me.

“You wanna sit down? Rest your leg?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I wasn’t convinced but it didn’t seem worth it to argue over. I found myself reaching for the bit of string that had served as his measuring tape. Threading it in and out from between my fingers.

That’s when we heard Marianne’s voice cut through, far more flustered than we’d heard before, “No! No, this is all wrong. You have half of my satin and georgette mixed in with someone else’s bolts of polyester! How difficult is it to keep your orders straight?” I could hear the clack of her shoes on hardwood growing louder as she suddenly thrust aside the curtain, “I’m so sorry for this little hiccup. I’ll just be a bit longer… Oh—“

Her eyes cast down to the crimson thread pinched between my finger and thumb. “Were you measuring him yourself?”

Alexander and I both exchanged flustered glances before I tried my best to respond, “Well, I—“

I heard the low voices of men and the shuffling of heavy feet beyond the curtain. As Marianne checked over her shoulder, her eyes widened, “Be careful with that! You almost knocked it over!” Her head of curly white hair, popped back in to address us, “No, no. Please. Go ahead! It’ll save us time! You’ll have to excuse me!” She gestured at the thread between my fingers before dashing off, footsteps fading even as I could hear her shout in exasperation about some other mishap those workers were creating in her shop.

And suddenly it was just he and I.

He cleared his throat, pulling at his collar.

“So…” I finally mumbled, breaking the silence. His blue eyes met mine when I spoke. My face felt warm.

“So.” He shifted his weight, his face splashed with pink, while he craned his neck to stare up at me.

“I guess, I’m gonna— I mean, if you’re okay with… me??”

He thrust his hands in his pockets, nodding his head, while his blonde bangs hung in his eyes, “Right, no. I mean. We must… Musn’t we? For the sake of-of the time. Like she said.”

“Yeah. Totally. Uh. Okay. So…” I twirled the piece of thread around my finger, while I glanced at the sheet of paper, “It looks like I’m supposed to measure your chest next…” My hands inched toward him. I could feel my pulse in the tip of every finger, I had to concentrate to keep them steady. Alexander watched my encroaching hands like a hawk, his spine stiff, his lips taught.

“Wait!” He threw up his own little palm. I stopped, confused. His brow furrowed as he addressed me, “You’re practically towering over me, standing like that. Do you know how exhausting it is to practically break my neck just to be able to address you? Go find a chair.” I raised my brows, he rolled his eyes, “Please.”

I pulled it up before the table and sat down, “There, better?” I was so much closer to eye level with him now, and yet, he still seemed so far away, standing in the shadow I cast.

He won’t seem so far once I’m physically touching him. I felt a thrill rush through me at the thought.

I took the knotted end and gently held it against his sternum. He rocked back on his heel from the pressure, nevertheless. His little heart was pounding against his ribs. I melted again.

After a moment, “Ahem, Natalie?” I was frozen in place, just mesmerized by the thrumming of life beneath my fingers.

“Right, right! Sorry!” I shook my head. “Okay hold that for me, please…” his lithe little fingers took over for my gigantic one, as I wrapped the string around his chest and arms. I pinched the string where it met the knotted end and pulled it away from his body. Finally, I laid it flat to the tape measure before jotting down the number. We proceeded to do this with the length of his arms, the circumference of his tiny little wrists, even his neck, which I tried to be painstakingly delicate with.

With his chin thrust in the air, I could feel him gazing up at me as he held the knot against the hollow of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak and I bit the inside of my lip, worried he might snap at me out of discomfort, but instead he spoke so softly it was almost too quiet to hear, “You’re not too bad at this, Ms. Marquez…”

As he spoke, I could feel the tiny vibrations in his neck as I very delicately brought the string around. What a mesmerizing feeling. I swelled with pride, “Oh really? Approval from the Little Nightmare? Not a single criticism yet? It’s my lucky day. What’d I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t let it go to your head… it’s big enough as it is!”

“Hey! Rude!” I released the string, pretending to be offended. To my delight, his little face broke out into that lovely crooked smile I adored so much.

“You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t ya?”

“As I ought to be! It was a shining example of my cracking wit, and you ought to be more impressed.”

“You ready for the next part, Mr. Chuckles?”

“Oh! Come on!” He wrinkled his nose in disgust, “That was terrible. Was that the best you could come up with? I’ll take Xandy over that, any day!”

“What’s that? I can call you Xandy now??”

“No!!! No that’s not what I said! Don’t you dare– Hey! What’re you doing?!”

**********

As I spoke, her fingers and thumbs rushed up from behind and landed on either side of my waist. The warmth was intoxicating, her grip all encompassing, and intimate. My face flushed with color and heat.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s the next thing on the list!” She was defensive. I twisted and squirmed feeling the tension in the thread as it rested at the small of my back.

She had to be playing coy with me! Couldn’t she see how flustered she was making me? It’d been hard enough to keep my composure when she rested her fingertip over my heart, or gently guided my arms where she wanted them, or leaned down so close while she regarded me with such care and gentleness that her fingertips left electrical pulses where they brushed against my skin. But now this?

I was finding it hard to breathe.

“You could at least warn a man before you trap him in your colossal grip! Have you learned nothing?”

“I’m not– Look, we don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re gonna get all pissy about it.” She looked crestfallen. That soft warmth dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared when she pulled her hands away, the thread dragging limply along the table’s surface, pinched between her finger and thumb.

No, no, no! This isn’t what I wanted at all. Couldn’t she see I was addicted to it now? That warmth, that soft touch? This was all her fault.

“Wait!” I stepped forward, snatching up the opposite end of the thread before it snaked away from my reach. She looked at me with curiosity, waiting to see what I’d do next, “If you’re going to hold me by the waist, have the courtesy to let me participate.” Her golden green irises dilated as her mouth parted slightly. I had her complete attention.

A tremor ran down the nape of my neck to the curve of my lumbar as I pulled the string toward me. She let this tension in the thread move her hand forward with no resistance. My heart skipped a beat. She was letting me control her.

I guided her fingertips to the soft flesh just above my hipbone, where my obliques flared and rippled as I fought to keep my composure. I transferred the thread to my right hand and fed it behind my back, allowing the tension to hold my weight as I leaned back, feeding it around to my left side. I could count each and every quaking beat of my heart as I held the crimson thread in my fist, offering it to her. She slid the tip of her index along the inside of my forearm, making me suck in a sharp breath, before uncurling my fist and taking the string from me.

“Now what?” she whispered, two pairs of a finger and thumb resting on either side of my body, waiting for my instruction.

I’d never felt so big in all my life.

I guided one set of fingers to rest on my navel. Could she feel how my breath shook when she touched me?

I grounded myself and brought the other side to meet, letting the string cross itself at the proper place. She pinched the spot with her thumbnail and slowly, gently, retreated to measure and write down her findings.

“Okay, now hips,” She held the length of string in front of me, waiting to be guided once more. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from beaming.

I performed the same little ritual with her, and this time her fingertips landed over a much more intimate part of myself. I flushed bright, hissing between clenched teeth, “Careful!”

I expected her to scoff at me, but the eyes that met my upward gaze were soft, “I’m only going where you put me. You’re in control.”

I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly my legs buckled and gave way beneath me. She was quick to act, wrapping a finger around my hips and pinning me between finger and thumb.

Dear god, what was she doing to me?!

Before I could take another breath, the clattering of human footsteps and the scrape of metal met my ears and made me jump.

Marianne’s voice cut through our built up tension like a razorblade, as she seemed completely unaware of our situation, “Okay! So sorry about that, you two!” Natalie quickly let go, as I rushed to tidy myself and readjust my crooked clothing. The seamstress rounded the corner of the table and entered my periphery, glancing over the measurement sheet “Looks like you got the vast majority completed. That’s perfect, we’ve got a great place to start.” She clapped her hands with a sharp crack, a smile warming her aged features as she leaned down to address me, “Now, Mister Alexander. What’re we in the market for?”

My head spun as I tried to engage my brain, lips and tongue again, “W-what am I—? Uh, um…” It was a truly foreign sensation for words to elude me. I shook my head trying to clear my mind, “A, uh, A classical cut is always best, single breasted, three piece, wool, tweed or cotton, with a notch lapel and double vent.” The words flowed with an easy familiarity, and I found it easier to breathe for the first time since she had left Natalie and I to our own devices.

“You were right,” She addressed the woman before me, “He really knows his stuff!” Natalie nodded vigorously and smiled, as if to say “You have no idea”.

“Ah— And no pinstripes. I hate pinstripes.” I added in haste.

“Duly noted! I think I have quite a few pieces you’ll be interested in.” She gathered the paper with my measurements, Natalaie’s chicken scratch contrasting sharply with the older woman’s elegant script. As she crossed the room, opening a cabinet and searching for something, she spoke over her shoulder, “Please, feel free to come to this other table here…” She gestured to the table with those mysterious boxes on them.

Natalie and I exchanged a glance, before she slid her palm beside me, hooking her thumb beneath my left arm. She gathered me in her hand, her other fingers supporting my weight before she lifted me off the table.

She crossed with me to the opposite side, her free thumb gently stroking my cheek. It wasn’t all that long ago I would’ve recoiled at such a caress. Now I melted beneath it.

What has gotten into me??

Soon, I was being lowered to my feet, before one of those mystery boxes. I could see now that the front was obscured by a curtain.

“Go ahead,” Marianne had just placed a polished wooden case of some kind on the table just to my right, as she seemed to register my curiosity. I took a step forward, only to feel a warmth and pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see Natalie offering me my crutch, balanced on a fingertip. I acquiesced and took it, before thrusting the curtain aside.

I’m not sure what I’d expected but it wasn’t this.

Beyond the veil of the fabric, and just a small step up, was what I imagined a dressing room to look like. I’d never been in one myself, human-sized or otherwise, but it fit my expectations and then exceeded them. On the wall opposite me was a full length mirror, held in a gilded, golden frame. A beautiful Persian rug softened the faux wooden floor. There were hooks along the wall to hang clothing, as well as a vanity complete with a mirror and chair. Along the walls were framed prints of famous art pieces. I admit, the Lady with an Ermine was the only one I recognized. Everything felt… authentic. Real. Human. Is this what rooms looked like to them all the time? There was a wide variety of plants that looked… were they real? Not just plastic bastardizations of the typical human houseplant?

I stepped into the ‘room’ and as I marveled, heard a breathy “Wow, fancy…” from up high. I craned my neck to find that this room, for all its proportional realism, lacked a ceiling, and, therefore, Nat was easily able to peer down, her arms crossed, and smile at me from above.

But there was one area in the corner, also sectioned off by a curtain, which, when I peered into it, I realized was actually fully enclosed, complete with an electric wall sconce to brighten the space.

Oh. What a relief. I wouldn’t have to change in front of these two women. I never expected humans to think of these things. This was a nice surprise.

“Is it suitable to your tastes?” Marianne appeared beyond the edge of the far wall, “My Henri designed every detail. We had such fun putting them together. Oh speaking of… try these on for size…”

A wrinkled finger and thumb descended into the space, shattering the illusion that I was in anything other than a highly detailed doll house. Pinched between her digits, was a suit jacket, vest, and matching slacks, each hanging on their own seemingly custom wooden hangers. She carefully placed each of these on one of the wall hooks. Her hand disappeared and then returned with another set and another and another.

I admit, I felt my heart race at just the sight of them. I’d missed the familiar fit of a suit so very much. My grip on the walking aide was becoming clammy as I absentmindedly bounced on the ball of my good foot in anticipation.

She also laid down a folded under shirt on the vanity (the folds were crisp and tidy. Impressive for fingers that big) and several different collared shirts on the remaining hangers.

“I’ll work on ties, belts and shoes while you start with these. How’s that sound?” I nodded in agreement, already making a beeline for the undershirt, a white collared dress shirt and the first vest and pair of slacks on the rack before she’d finished speaking.

I was just about to disappear into the changing room when a finger on my shoulder stopped me.

My mouth twisted into an instinctive grimace as Natalie halted me. What?? What did she want?? I was moments away from shedding this baggy loungewear for something sophisticated and elegant. What could possibly be so important that she needed to interrupt me at this very moment?

I turned to face her, only to realize precisely what. Offered up between her fingers was that pair of tweezers. The same ones I’d used to help myself change since I’d blessedly escaped that god awful tie dye shirt. She’d brought them from home for me.

“Just in case,” she winked at me. Oh. Now, I felt like an ass.

I breathed out from my nostrils, releasing the tension in my shoulders, “Thank you.” I even briefly patted the side of her finger as a show of appreciation as I took the object from her. I figured she’d like that, what with her love of touching me all the time.

The sudden thought of her touch and heat and softness completely overwhelming me just moments ago on that other table top made my face flush with shame.

I hurried inside the changing room, where, luckily, no one could see my changed complexion.

**********

I drummed my fingers on the table, just dying for him to throw that tiny curtain aside and reveal himself. Marianne flitted about the room, opening drawers, cabinets and boxes, finding just what she was looking for, all while peering over the rim of her glasses with the keen eye of a master at work.

Soon she had a lineup of tiny accessories displayed on the vanity table for him to peruse.

I caught her gaze and mouthed “Thank you”, she nodded warmly and winked, before catching something out of the corner of her eye and gesturing for me to look too.

That little curtain fluttered with movement, and before I knew it, there emerged one tiny socked foot, then another, with a metal and rubber crutch complimenting their rise and fall.

Then, my heart skipped.

Hello there, Alexander.

He looked absolutely incredible, and he wasn’t even fully dressed yet. The slacks sported a flattering pleat down the length of his leg, settling perfectly about his waist. The vest fit beautifully, cinched slightly in the back, the white dress shirt contrasted nicely and the sleeves fit him just right.

I immediately dropped my chin to the surface of the table to get a closer look.

He emerged with his head ducked as he gracefully threaded the final button on the vest, the royal blue wool lacing through his lithe little fingers.

Suddenly, two icy blue irises like crystals of frozen flame were trained on me and I had to bite my lip to keep from embarrassing myself. The blue of the suit made his eyes shine even more brightly than before.

“It looks like a perfect fit. How does it feel?” He craned his neck to listen to the voice looming above him. He adjusted his shoulders, made sure the vest was perfectly centered, and he toyed with his shirt sleeves until they were just right, before he turned to the full length mirror.

With my head balanced on my hand, I could just make out a sliver of my face reflected in the tiny mirror over his shoulder.

Seeing his entire body against the backdrop of one small part of mine reminded me of that first day, when I’d forced him into that ugly little doll shirt and held him up to my bathroom vanity admiring our size difference. That truly felt like a lifetime ago.

Marianne passed him a silky rust colored tie, and I watched with flustered amazement how his fingers expertly worked the flimsy material into a pinprick of a complicated knot, even and perfect. I felt like I was glimpsing into a whole other world of his, a past I only faintly understood.

With each infinitesimal adjustment of his collar, sweep of his hair, and threading of his tie beneath his vest, I felt myself staring slack jawed at this new version of the little man I thought I’d known so well.

Now for the jacket. She handed it to him, and he spread the lapels to admire the inner lining (a gorgeous, patterned silk with flowers of purple and blue) when his eyes stopped at something sewn into the collar just as the nape of the neck.

*****

I stared at the inside of the jacket, almost in disbelief.

Sewn with expert precision, were a handful of stitches that unmistakably spelled out “For My Henri”.

I was flabbergasted.

Marianne had said he was the love of her life, that they’d built this business together, that he’d encouraged her to use her talents to help others, and this man had been… like me?

“I-I can’t possibly accept this…” I shook my head, thrusting the beautifully crafted garment away from my body and offering it back up to this kind hearted woman who peered down at me.

She simply smiled, “Just try it on, at least.”

She couldn’t be serious. But it would be nice just to try it on for size. She could use it as a reference. I was determined to refuse her offer if she brought it up again, but I saw no harm in at least donning the final piece of the suit, just to see it all together.

I took a deep breath and easily twirled the garnet over my shoulder, sliding my arms along the silken lining and letting it fall around my body, gazing into the mirror once more.

Oh, hello there, Alexander. It’s good to see you again, old friend. How I’ve missed you.

It was beyond perfect. It was the most beautifully crafted suit I’d ever had the pleasure to wear. I looked wonderfully smart. My chest swelled as a small smirk creeped onto my features, threatening to boil over into a boyish grin if I wasn’t careful.

I refocused the lenses of my eyes to take in Natalie’s gaze, dominating the landscape behind me. Her pupils were dilated, her expression dreamy. I turned to face her, leaving my crutch behind for now.

I thrust a hand in a pocket, unbuttoning the jacket to show the vest underneath and spun on my heel, feeling altogether like a million bucks.

“You look… incredible” She practically breathed. The way her eyes shone when she gazed at me… Why did my knees suddenly feel weak at hearing her sigh at me like that? Perhaps I needed my crutch after all.

“She’s right, you know. It suits you. I suppose I can’t convince you to try on the rest of them can I?” The older woman issued me this challenge with a twinkle in her eye.

Natalie furrowed her brow and cocked her head. As if to say “What could possibly be the problem with that?”

Of course. She didn’t understand what Marianne and I already did.

I slid off the jacket and held up its stitching to her. She leaned in so close I could feel the heat of her exhale as she finally managed to squint enough to read the name sewn there.

“Oh, oh my god. So…your… he was…?” Natalie stuttered.

Marianne nodded, a smile sparkling with decades of memory igniting in her eyes. Eventually, she busied herself with handing me the next suit, this one a beautiful gray, continuing to address Natalie, “He was the best thing to ever come into my life. We found each other when I spent a summer in Paris, a whole lifetime ago. I couldn’t bear to return home without him. Luckily, he agreed to travel halfway across the world to be by my side. It took us a while to come to terms with our feelings, believe me, most people couldn’t possibly understand… especially not in those days. I hope you two don’t let your fear get in the way.”

My face burned and my mouth felt so dry, my voice cracked as I spoke, “Oh, no, we’re not… we-we—“

Suddenly Natalie’s louder voice tumbled atop mine, cutting me off, as she spoke through a strained smile, “Thank you.”

I sensed that I’d committed some sort of social faux pas, though I couldn’t understand what. Natalie and I weren’t… that is to say we didn’t have that sort of dynamic. Despite this, I decided to bite my tongue out of a desire to spare Natalie any unnecessary embarrassment. Judging by her bright pink complexion, she was already suffering enough from my attempt to set the record straight.

I put that interaction out of my mind, though, as I returned to the garments in my hands. I admit, I allowed myself the small pleasure of trying all four of Henri’s suits, each one as beautifully crafted as the last and still in such incredible condition for their age.

I tried on various loafers, belts, ties and even, to my utter delight, tie clips and cufflinks!

As a boy coming of age, I’d been repeatedly reprimanded after asking for cufflinks to match my larger counterpart, being told they’d be “much too small to be worth any effort to make them in the first place”.

Once I’d enjoyed everything those suits had to offer, she asked me to describe what I’d like to have custom made, letting me touch various fabric swatches and color options to help me make my decisions.

This was all a dream, right? Some sort of beautiful, wonderful dream that I never wanted to wake from? It had to be. Well, if it was all make believe, I supposed asking for what I really wanted wouldn’t hurt any.

She took notes as Natalie watched on. Why was it every time I turned over my shoulder, she seemed to be looking at me?

I sat in the chair, pulled beside the vanity, palming the perfectly proportionate cufflinks, and rolling them between finger and thumb. They were so detailed and well crafted I wondered if Henri had made them himself.

What is wrong with me? These things aren’t mine to take. No matter how wonderful they were.

I deposited the little metal pieces on the counter beside me, folding my hands in my lap, determined not to fidget anymore.

As if reading my mind, Marianne travelled around to the side of the table to face me.

“Well, you’ve been quite the model today.” I nodded in agreement, “I think we’ve put you through more than enough. Now, your custom orders will be shipped to you in approximately ten to twelve weeks. If you need any alterations at all, feel free to come back to the store.”

What a lovely dream this was.

She continued, gesturing to those beautiful suits hung along the dressing room the wall, “Which one was your favorite?”

“Oh, well… I couldn’t possibly— they’re all equally wonderful. You possess incredible skill…”

“I want you to have them.”

Both Natalie and I let out an incredulous exclamation, in sync with one another:

“No, no you’re being far too kind—”

“We couldn’t take them, they belong with you!”

She shook her head smiling warmly first at Natalie, then to me, “He would’ve wanted them to go to a fine young gentleman who can appreciate every stitch, rather than gathering dust in some box. I’d be honored if you’d take them. Think of it as Christmas coming early!”

I was completely taken aback, a rush of emotion making my chest swell and my throat tighten as my vision suddenly blurred, “I— I’m at a complete loss for words… T-thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Alexander. Thank you for coming to visit today.” She leaned down to offer me her finger to shake. With a trembling hand, and biting back tears, I shook her finger tip, squeezing it much harder than was called for, and yet I didn’t imagine it was enough to hurt her, “I’m delighted you like them so much. Why don’t you wear the blue one home? It was always my favorite. Now I’ll finish packing the rest and will wait for you to check out in the other room.”

And suddenly, it was just the girl with the wild hair and warm eyes, and me. She caught my gaze, a smile playing on her lips “Surprise!” She chuckled.

The swell of deep gratitude, delight, overwhelm and pure joy flooded through me once again and I was perilous to keep it at bay. I rushed forward, my leg aching from the effort, as I crashed into her hand, squeezing myself into the hollow of her palm, as I clutched the base of her thumb and wept, mumbling my thanks between tears of joy.

“Oh, Alexander…” she breathed, gently enclosing her fingers around me, embracing me back. Her index finger on her free hand gently caressed my hair, neck and shoulders as I wiped the tears from my eyes. I couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how hard I tried. She held my chin with her fingertip, wiping tears with her thumb, “I’m so happy you’re happy. You deserve this. I’m sorry it took so long… but I’m so glad you finally got what you wanted.” She beamed at me. I bit back more tears. She arched her brow and jutted her chin in that mischievous way she always did, “Now pull yourself together and go be all dapper and shit.” She nudged my arm with her thumb. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her.

Before long, I found myself perched on the countertop of Marianne’s desk in the front of the shop, dressed to the nines from head to foot. I wore the blue suit, of course, with brown leather shoes, and belt, a silken ochre tie with matching pocket square, cufflinks, and a tie clip. I stood tall as the women above me exchanged money for goods.

I felt a lightness in my body and mind that I hadn’t felt in… well, had I ever felt it? I couldn’t be sure. I had to keep biting the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning ear to ear like some stupid little boy. I’d never been spoiled like this. I’d never been treated like this. I had no idea what to do with myself.

As we were about to leave, Marianne turned to me, her lips curled into a smile. She gazed at me over the rim of her glasses, giving me a clear view of her keen eyes. “Alexander? N'ayez pas peur de lui dire ce que vous ressentez. Il est clair qu'elle t'aime de tout son cœur. Vous méritez le bonheur autant que nous tous.”

*******

I had no clue what she’d said to him, but whatever it was, he looked like he’d been shot through with an arrow, after hearing it. His little eyes went wide and his face burned bright red.

“Hey…” I rubbed his little shoulder, and he seemed to snap out of it. I smiled apologetically at the woman on the other side of the desk, “Sorry, I think he’s just really excited and overwhelmed about everything that happened. Thank you again, for all you did for him.” As I spoke to her, I coaxed the little man into my hand, his movements suddenly sluggish and distracted.

“It was truly such a wonderful thing to meet a pair like you. You give me hope for a better future. Thank you for coming in today. You’re always welcome back at any time.”

“Thank you so much, Marianne!” I echoed her warmth. When Alexander stayed silent, I nudged him a little with my thumb and he seemed to come to.

“Y-yes! Thank you. V-very much!”

What had gotten into him? Maybe the thrill of the whole thing had worn off and he was just exhausted. Because of his dogged determination to push himself to the limits all the time, it was easy to forget how much more effort it took someone of his size to just interact with people so much bigger than him. He was also standing and walking on his injured leg without his crutch for much longer than normal. I wondered if he was in pain and trying to fight through it.

Whatever the case, I was looking forward to getting him home with me, and giving him a chance to relax.

I took in the wonderful sight of him lounging in my palm, his head resting on the pad of my index finger, his calves and ankles hanging off the far edge of my palm, his little hands spread against my skin, keeping himself steady. He stared at his tiny leather shoes, and seemed disinterested in looking in my direction. How funny he was. I wondered what on earth was on his brilliant little mind.

Strange little nightmare, let’s get you home.

___________________________________________

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#double feature!!!

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certainwizardlady · 29 days ago

Text

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #34)

Chapter #34. What's this? ✨🎄Has Christmas come early?🎄✨ Nope, it's still tomorrow, but hey, while you wait for Santa to visit, you can read about tiny little grumpy guys! In this chapter, Nat makes a mess, Alexander's mad about it, and someone draws blood. This is sounding like every other day in their lives at this point.

Previous: Chapter #33

Next: Chapter #35

Word Count: 4,192 Read Time: Approx. 40 mins

CW: Blood? I guess? It's like a drop of blood, people. Don't worry!

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #33: Kinstugi

[Natalie’s POV]

I’d kissed him. And the second I did it, all I’d wanted was to do it again. He’d been so warm lying there in my hand as he slept. His mess of hair, no bigger than my fingernail, was so soft on the surface of my skin. I recalled the electric feeling that had pulsed through the tip of my finger when I glided it over the length of his back, trying so hard not to wake him.

Over the time I’d had with him, I’d gotten used to learning how to handle and interact with someone so much smaller. How to temper my voice when I was near to not startle or overwhelm him. I’d had to memorize the right amount of pressure to pinch beneath his arms so he didn’t slip through my fingers, without bruising his skin. I’d learned how to keep my fingertips steady when trying to brush a stray lock back in place on his head, or to tap his shoulder without too much force when I needed his attention, and he was wholly engrossed in whatever he was reading.

Though he was never particularly fond of being handled, I swelled with pride thinking about how much more relaxed he was now, cradled in the palms of my hands, than when we’d first met.

I could feel my pulse thundering in my ears just thinking about those icy blue eyes gazing up at me from inside my gentle grip.

I was now in a similar position to admire him, as I sat up in bed, my feet touching the carpet below. I leaned over my bedside table, taking in the sight of a man, snuggled up on his own little mattress, not much bigger than the palm of my hand.

He slept peacefully, curled into himself with his head resting on his tucked arm, his other, draped over his side and dangling just off the edge of the bed. His covers, once pulled taught over his shoulders, had been kicked past his knees, gathered in a lump at the foot of the bed. His hair fell in his closed eyes, his lips, tinier than any part of me, were left slightly open, his chest rising and falling a fraction of an inch with each breath.

What a brilliant mind and a brave little heart. How did he not just fall apart? I couldn’t imagine life in his position. How unfair it was. How constantly humiliating. I would’ve probably just laid down and died by now, if I were in his shoes.

You’re so much stronger than me, you know that?

As I gazed down, he twitched in his sleep, his nose crinkling slightly as his fist clenched and relaxed.

I sucked in a sharp breath. His fitful movements reminded me so much of that first time I’d set him down in the drawer on that stupid, fuzzy, pink sock. I could recall him begging to be left out on the desk and me not even bothering to listen. God, so much had changed between now and then.

As I watched, he tucked his arms closer to his chest, his brow furrowing even more, while his lips turned down slightly into a grimace. He slid his feet further down the length of the bed. It took my eyes a moment, because the movements were so tiny, but the little twitches of his body, I realized, were actually him shivering from the cold.

Without hesitation, I pinched the fabric on either side of his bed, and gently lifted the covers, lowering them back down over his shoulders. He immediately gripped the comforter, curling into a ball, still trembling.

You know, I have a much warmer place where you can sleep…

The thought came instantly, and surprised even me. I could picture him, clear as day, nestling inside my chest, bright blue eyes peering up at me before curling up and falling asleep there. The image alone made my face burst with color and I couldn’t help but draw my hand back in a flinch of embarrassment.

As my left hand recoiled, my fingers knocked the corner of his bedside table, kicking it off balance, and sending its contents sliding to the wooden ‘floor’ below.

CRASH!!!!

The tiny ceramic mug and saucer shattered on impact.

Shit!

He jolted upright, brow furrowed, eyes wide and chest heaving. As guilt washed over me for waking him so suddenly, I sat there, frozen and dumbfounded.

He looked around himself, trying to discover the source of the noise. His eyes flashed quickly to the floor below, now littered in ceramic fragments, but they soon wandered, to his left, where, caught in the act, my right finger and thumb still clutched his comforter and lingered dangerously close to him.

He looked back down at the mess, back to my fingers, and then for the briefest moment, locked eyes with me, before turning away swiftly. I couldn’t help the heat rising to my cheeks as we both pretended not to notice the awkward tension in the room. He’d clearly made up a narrative in his mind for what had just happened. I tried to say something in my own defense, but the words just stuck behind my clenched jaw.

As if on cue, we both frantically tried to busy ourselves with cleaning up the little broken pieces of ceramic.

Alexander swung his legs over the side of the bed, but before resting his feet on the floor, I sucked air between my teeth, stopping him in his tracks.

“Careful! I don’t want you to step on any of the pieces!”

He rolled his eyes, firmly planting himself on the floor with gusto, and rising to standing, “I’m not blind, Natalie, I can see where and where not to watch my step perfectly well, all by myself.”

I sighed, trying not to take it personally. Turning my attention to the task at hand, I licked the tip of my finger and pressed the pad down on the first tiny piece, before a little voice cut in down below.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Was that some sort of trick question? “… Just picking these pieces up?”

“Are you coating them in your saliva? Don’t do that. That’s disgusting! Are you not going to reassemble it later?”

As someone who was supposedly not blind, how could he not see that this tiny mug was smashed to oblivion?

“Dude, these pieces are absolutely tiny, how else am I supposed to pick them up?”

He huffed, clearly dissatisfied with my answer, “Get out of the way, just let me do it.” He took an unsteady few steps forward, careful to avoid the sharp pieces, before batting at my fingers and shooing me off.

Seeing I wasn’t budging, he ignored me and bent down to pick up a piece. I could see it pained his knee. I winced.

“Hey, don’t strain yourself—“

“I’m fine, stop worrying about me all the time…” he reached for a particularly gnarly piece with a razor’s edge point. I couldn’t help myself, I swooped in and pinched it between my fingers before he could.

“Hey!!” He scowled, clearly incensed.

“I’m just saying, this is super sharp… it looks awfully big compared to your hands. It’s easier if you just let me…” as I held it before him, comparing his size to it, his hands flew up to snatch it from me.

I pinched the piece tighter between my thumb and my forefinger, just as he wrapped his little fist around it. His brow arched, as he scowled up at me.

“Let go!” He pulled back, hard, but his little effort did nothing to sway me.

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, I just don’t want you to accidentally—“ not listening to me, he pulled on it again, this time really leaning his weight against me. I could see him boil as he couldn’t so much as move me an inch. I pulled back in response, not hard. Or at least, I didn’t think so, but it broke his grip anyway, and he lost his balance, falling backwards as he let go of the piece. I gasped.

Too far now to fall back on the mattress, his arms swung in the air as he tried to steady himself. I slipped my free hand behind him just in time for him to collapse into the cup of my palm. I muttered my sincere apologies as he recovered against the wall of my hand.

He grimaced at me, “Don’t want me to what? Accidentally cut myself??” His face broke into a self-satisfied grin, as he crossed his arms over his chest. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze, down to my fingertip.

Having successfully wrestled the piece from his tiny grip, and being distracted by his fall, I hadn’t noticed that the sharp little edge had managed to slice my finger open, and a bead of crimson liquid now bubbled to the surface.

“Mmm, what was that, again? You were worried I might accidentally hurt myself??” He was over the moon.

“Okay, alright.” I sighed. He kept beaming up at me, his crooked little smile lighting up his features. I kept going at his insistence, “You win. You were right. I should’ve shut up and just let you do it.”

“Will you repeat that again and let me record it?”

Little nightmare. I broke into a grin, shaking my head, “You were right. You’re almost always right. I should listen to you more often, but I’m just a big dumb, clumsy human. There, ya happy?”

He pushed himself up and away from my hand, eyes gleaming. He was about to retort when I noticed the drop of blood was about to overflow and drip down the side of my finger. Letting the ceramic piece clatter back down to the table I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked to staunch the blood.

Upon seeing this his face twisted in disgust, “Again, with the licking! Stop with the licking. That’s disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

I smiled, arching my brow. Taking my finger out, I addressed him again, “Oh? What did you say? You think this is gross?” I approached him with my spit covered finger.

He shifted his weight back, on the defense, “Natalie… don’t you dare…”

I kept coming closer, “What about this is gross??” He backed away as I kept closing in the space.

He’d retreated as far as he could, when he collapsed on the bed, trying to squirm away. Getting desperate, he grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me, of course it had no more consequence than a cotton ball. Then he threw the other. He was mumbling protests, warning me not to get any closer, but I could see the smile that briefly played on his lips before he tried to hide it behind a deeper scowl.

Before he could scramble over the opposite side of the bed, I’d managed to almost pin him against the headboard, my fingertip floating just an eighth of an inch or so over his chest.

Suddenly, looking at him, sprawled on the bed, little ribcage heaving as his neck arched, his eyes wide and his breath panting, I felt like we weren’t just playing a stupid game anymore. The air between us was electrified, and I could feel the heat rise in my face. He flushed too, swallowing hard, gripping the sheets beneath him into balled fists.

Then suddenly, “Y-you’re bleeding again…” his voice was strained, tight.

Shit. He was right. I pulled back, cradling my finger to keep blood from spilling. I crossed away from him and grabbed a bandaid from the bathroom, making sure to wash my hands before I returned to the bedside.

He was right where I’d left him, though his posture was slightly more relaxed. He watched quietly while I struggled to open the packaging with one hand, that smug little grin still on his face.

I ignored him, all while he stared on, delighting in my failure. Finally, he cleared his throat.

Sighing in defeat, I offered him the bandaid and my mess of a finger. He sat up, eyes aglow. I was never gonna hear the end of this was I?

He gripped the paper package between two hands and with some effort, managed to rip it in two. Then, taking my bloodied finger in his lap, he rested his whole hand over the top of the bandaid, keeping it in place on my wound, while he reached beneath and pulled at the tab. He ripped it away in one graceful motion, even if it took him the entire length of his arm to do it. Then, he tackled the other, switching hands. Without looking up, he addressed me.

“… It’s best that I do this for you. If I’d left it up to you, it would be a crooked, uneven mess with irregularities and folds in the bandaging. And guess who has to deal with that, up close and personal, on a daily basis? Don’t flatter yourself, this is in my own best interest. I’m only doing this so I don’t have to have my skin forcibly exfoliated by uneven edges.” As he spoke, he very gingerly and precisely folded one adhesive edge along the side of my finger, and then the other, wrapping them neatly with no overlap. I could feel my heartbeat in my finger tip, as it quickened.

It wasn’t often that he touched me. Not willingly and not for this long. He checked his work with nimble fingers, and seeming satisfied, he held my finger between his two hands, before looking up at me.

Suddenly, he let go, casting his gaze down and clearing his throat, “Done.” He mumbled simply. It was as though he only noticed the intimacy of his actions after the fact.

“Alexander?” I gently guided his chin with the tip of my thumb, “Thank you. That was very sweet of you.”

He went bright red, he shifted in his seat, “That wasn’t— I’m not sweet. I told you I did it to benefit myself.” It’s like he had an instant angry button.

Uh huh. I smiled at him. His brow furrowed.

“What??” He snapped, “What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Always gotta be on the defensive, huh?”

“Well in my experience with you, it’s highly necessary. Shall I harken back to just a minute ago when you tried to slather me in your spit??”

“Alright, touché. Look. I’m sorry about accidentally waking you so suddenly…”

He furrowed his brow as if to say, “…and?”

“And for fighting you on cleaning up… And torturing you with germs. I owe you. It wasn’t exactly the best morning. I know we’ve got a lot of work to get back to…”

“Yes, finally! I thought you’d never ask!” He sat up and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.

“Wait—“

“Ugh!!! He groaned and immediately collapsed back against the bed. Always with a flair for the dramatic, with this one!

“Hear me out. I’d like to make it up to you with something I think you’ll be really excited about. Would you be willing to come with me out of the apartment for a little while?”

**************

Leave? As in… Outside? The last time we’d done that had been an utter disaster.

Looking up at her face, though, that gleam of excitement in her eye, I couldn’t help feeling giddy too. This was new territory for me: Surprises. Well, I should say, surprises with positive connotations were a new phenomenon.

I realized that even as recently as a few weeks ago, my stomach would’ve turned in knots at the very idea of allowing her to whisk me away to wherever she wished, and, being utterly powerless to stop her, filled with dread that it would culminate in some kind of sick joke, with me as the punchline.

But… now?

I knew at my very core that I trusted her. Despite her stupid, tasteless jokes and misplaced worry, I knew her delight was genuine and that she really wanted to brighten my day. What a strange feeling to admit that to myself, even if only inside my own head.

I trusted her. If she wanted to take me somewhere, I’d let her. If she told me it was worth looking forward to, I believed her.

Did the concept of leaving these familiar walls behind for a world filled with unpredictable, disagreeable and altogether unintelligent humans frighten me? Though I’d never admit it out loud, the answer was yes.

It was a big world out there. I knew that now more than ever before.

But I’d be okay.

I chose to trust.

I swallowed, “Okay.” I shook my head in the affirmative.

“Wow. Really??”

“What? Do you want me to go or not?”

“No, of course I want you to… I just. That was way easier than I thought. No interrogations? No million follow up questions? You’re like… cool with me just surprising you? You feeling alright?”

“You act as though I’m some sort of rigid automaton incapable of deviation from the norm! I can be spontaneous when I choose to be. All I will say is that this had better be worth my time to pull me away from my work like this.”

“The boring old case documents aren’t going anywhere, and I promise, you’ll love it. Get ready and I’ll meet you back here in a few, okay? Oh! And hold on…” She suddenly rose from the bedside and disappeared into the bathroom again. The sound of water running briefly hit my ears before she returned, a damp washcloth in hand. “Stay still…” she plucked up my two pillows, that had been tossed in self defense, between her fingers and set them aside, before clutching either side of my bed in a loose grip, and lifting it up off the table’s surface. I clung to the bed sheets as she suspended me and my entire bed in the air with little effort. She smiled at me, I tried to focus on keeping my heart rate down.

Using the wash cloth, she carefully gathered all the shattered ceramic into a dusty pile. Once satisfied that the place where my bed usually lay was free of any debris, she set me back down. I breathed a sigh of relief.

She pinched the pile of broken tea cup inside the towel and lifted it off the table, and after wiping with the damp edge for anything left, she looked satisfied, “That’s what we should’ve done in the first place, huh?”

Then I wouldn’t have gotten to bandage your finger.

The thought rose to the surface, unchecked. I used a hand to brush my hair out of my eyes and shake it off. It unfortunately didn’t dissipate until she finally rose from the bed to get ready.

I wasn’t sure how much more my cardiovascular system could take these constant adrenaline spikes. I sucked in a clean lungful of air, before pushing to standing, and grabbing my crutch for balance this time, I made my way to my vanity to ready myself.

As I washed my face, the cool water breathing fresh life into my pores, I couldn’t stop wondering just what she had planned. Was it another outdoor excursion, perhaps to a nearby park, to admire the snow on the trees? Or maybe something simple and domestic, yet still novel for me, like taking me to the grocery store and having me help her pick out her next recipe? I didn’t find the prospect of being around that many humans particularly thrilling. My mind was still abuzz when I heard her re-enter the room, her muted footsteps giving her position away, as she asked if I was ready.

Now in a fresh pair of black joggers and a sky blue sweatshirt, (how I loathed the endless parade of elastic pants and thick, unflattering lounge wear) I turned to face her. She stood before and above me, her hands in the pockets of a lavender winter coat, a thick scarf spooled about her neck in circular layers. She laid her hand flat for me, and once I settled in the middle of her palm, my crutch over my lap, she lifted me up. She held me before her breast pocket, and my heart quickened again, remembering the recent, embarrassing bout with that region of her body.

Still, traveling in there, where I could see and stay upright was much better than being shoved into a side pocket or purse. I shuddered at the thought.

She pinched the breast pocket open, showing something else, shiny and plastic, stuffed inside. Seeing my confusion she clarified, “It’s a hand warmer, you know, to keep you nice and cozy…”

I scoffed, “You don’t have to coddle me…” She pressed a thumb into my back and curled her fingers around me until my legs dangled free, as she held me about the middle.

Slowly she lowered me into the pocket, as I continued, “I’m not that susceptible to— Oh- Oh my….” It felt amazing.

Warmth radiated from the plastic packaging, creating a cocoon of comfort on all sides. My muscles relaxed immediately upon being fully placed inside.

“Thought you’d like that…” She smiled to herself. Points to Natalie, she was right for once. “Come on, let’s go…” She smiled down at me. I nodded, hugging the fabric edge of the pocket to my chest as I folded my arms over the lip. She started to walk through the apartment and out the door.

It filled me with far greater joy than I dared to admit to see the world from this incredibly high vantage point. It was much lower than her point of view, I knew, but it was still a significant upgrade for me. I used this marvel to distract me from the soft undulation of her body against my back and the thumping of her heart which I could still feel through the thick fabric of her clothes.

She opened the door and we were greeted with an icy blast of wet, whipping wind. The second we were outside, the fingers of her left hand rested over the pocket, her index lightly caressing my elbow, “You alright? Warm enough?” The bare skin that was exposed to the elements was far from comfortable, but the rest of me was so delightfully warm that I answered in the automatic affirmative to her question.

Soon we were sheltered from the elements inside her car. She was careful to adjust her seatbelt to keep it from crossing over me. Then, we were off, the machinery of the vehicle rumbling in the freezing air as she navigated the snow and ice on less traveled roads.

I admit, the vibration of the car, the steady rhythm of the drum that was her heart, coupled with the delicious, manufactured warmth of the pocket made me extremely sleepy within just a few minutes of driving. I blinked hard. Fighting to stay awake.

I woke up to her fingertip caressing my head, “Hey, good morning, Sleeping Beauty… we’re here.” Who knows how long I’d been out. I squirmed in place, embarrassed I’d been so easily lulled to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and did my level best to wake up as she removed the key from the ignition and the great beast of machinery grew quiet. Using the textured fabric for purchase, I clamored my way back to an upright position.

“Where’s here?” I choked out, the muscles of my face still coming to. I felt that sick twist in my stomach again. What was I about to walk into?

Well, to put it more accurately, what was she about to walk me into? Did my palms feel sweaty? Was I nervous? Or excited? It was hard to tell. I craned my neck to look out the windshield, but it was no use. It was snowing again, in white, fluffy sheets, obscuring our view of anything beyond a few feet in front of the vehicle.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” What was it?? Why was she being so cryptic? I shouldn’t have been worried, should I? My heart thundered in my chest.

In a blur, she exited the car, and we were thrust out into the storm, I braced for the snowflakes to sting my eyes, but when I opened them, I realized I was being shielded by a cupped hand. Thank you, Natalie. All I could see was down below: the length of her woolen coat, down, down further, far, far away to the snow crunching under her boots. What a long and terrible fall that would be.

I watched as snow and concrete transitioned to the aluminum threshold of a door. The clear tinkering of a bell greeted us as those snowy boots landed on a maroon welcome mat and creaking hardwood floors.

I could hardly take it anymore. Where were we?!?

In the same breath, she lifted her hand away, revealing our location to my cautious and curious eyes.

No... Way…