i have such a voracious appetite for fluff that i decided it was time to give back and write some myself. writing this was extremely fun, but took MUCH more skill than i had expected; to all you wonderful masters of fluff out there, i give credit. DG/Glitch. of course! falls into the plot-what-plot? category )

A piercing cry woke me with a start, and I froze instinctively, struggling to get my bearings. Shifting groggily and waiting for my eyes to adjust to the velvet darkness, I realized I was in my room. My new room, in the eastern wing of the palace, which—while it was certainly grand and full of finery—I couldn't seem to adjust to. It was vast, open and formidably large, especially compared to the claustrophobic attic quarters I'd grown accustomed to. With an mmphff, I nestled closer to the comforting warmth at my side. Every morning it took a moment for me to realize where I was; apparently my subconscious hadn't gotten the memo that this was no dream. I really was in the OZ, and clicking my heels Judy Garland style wasn't bringing me back to Kansas.

A wiry arm wrapped around my waist. I pressed my cheek against Glitch's chest and inhaled the familiar woodsy scent, thankful I had a certain half brained someone to brighten my days, or comfort me in the dead of night as the case may be. All that body heat trapped under the blankets had me drowsy again, and Glitch made such an awesome pillow. My lips curved into a smile against his skin, and I marveled at how stress evaporated effortlessly when I was near him. We inhaled, exhaled to the same rhythm, pulses pounding to the same beat. Mumbling incoherently in the throes of some dream, Glitch's hand grazed the small of my back and settled on the lean curve of my hip, fingers splayed.

Mind wandering to the topic of my room, I winced at the thought of the heirloom tatted lace that edged the bedspreads, curtains, valances…and the antique mahogany vanity, with carved feet and wrought iron knobs, was not my style. Of all the things to agonize over, I chose blatantly tacky bedroom furniture--I really am an idiot sometimes. Ah, well. Given the absolute absence of noise pollution so common back home—the Other Side, I corrected myself—Glitch's steady, unhurried breathing was relatively raucous in the silence. Glancing at his face, I saw his eyes dart behind closed lids, an inane smile flickering briefly across his lips.

After a languorous stretch and a bit of wriggling, I rested my head once more on the other half of Glitch's pillow. Nose to nose, I contemplated kissing him. He looked so peaceful though, so much less haggard, that I couldn't bear to wake him--and I really was exhausted. Comforted by the caress of his breath on my skin and the tranquility of the frozen night itself with such silent, deep purple-blue shadows, my limbs grew heavy.

Secure in Glitch's arms, the world and its worries were a distant nightmare fading fast. Somewhere along the line I finally fell asleep, although just when I can't remember.

It was a beautiful day, despite the grey drizzle steadily beating down the unopened flowers, pulling the leaves from the trees, dripping down the windowpane in sparkling rivulets. Glitch, lying at my side, wrapped an arm around my waist and pressed his lips to the tip of my nose with a smile. It was my favorite type of day, but still…I pulled the covers over the two of us, loathe to leave the bed. The rhythm of the rain outside lulled me softly, and I felt myself relax into his arms, glad it was a Saturday. No pressure, no worries, no obligations. Re-instated princesses didn't get weekends off, but the workload was easier. More free time. Which was...useful.

Sensing my train of thought, Glitch shifted so I was lying on top of him. With a mischievous glint in those chocolate eyes, he traced swirling patterns on my back with feather light touches; I didn't have the heart to even resist, shivering at the sensation.

There was a silence that lay over the palace, and it draped around us like a comfortable, well worn blanket. I didn't want to speak, to puncture the peaceful stillness with a single syllable. Fingering the collar of his shirt, I looked at the absolute image of perfection in front of me; my hands itched with a craving to reach out and touch his face. Lips curving up slightly at the edges, Glitch tilted his head to capture my lips as if he'd heard my thoughts. Trailing my fingers up his cheek and running them through his hair, I fought to rein myself in; it was a struggle to refrain from plunging head over heels into a dangerously passionate kiss. Moving his lips down my neck and, slowly, to my shoulder, Glitch sighed slightly; this lazy weekend morning was stolen time. Outside, the lonely raindrops plummeted towards the ground like suicidal crystal beads, crashing to the ground, the sounds of their collision echoing in the emptiness.

Muted slivers of light slipped past my shuttered window. Resting my chin on Glitch's head, pressing my face into his hair, I closed my eyes. I felt him pressing his ear against my chest, listening to the chaotic beating of my fragile heart. Every thump echoed, tattooing its rhythm into our minds, as a single thought hung, unspoken, in the air. Taboo, taboo, each beat seemed to whisper, taboo, reminding us both of something already on our minds. exactly what this was, neither one of us was exactly sure. Liaison, affair, friends with benefits?—defining our strange relationship was something we religiously avoided. No point in wasting time talking when there were plenty of other things to do…and it didn't matter what people called us anyway; their words couldn't change anything. I cupped my fingers under his chin and he met my gaze with a crooked smile. I tried to rearrange my face into a braver expression, rather than letting him see my apprehension and concern about where we went from here.

His eyes radiated love, and the warmth and compassion of it sent shivers down my spine. The depth of emotions I saw in his face, beautifully complex and almost frightening, mirrored my own. All the while, our hearts beat to the same rhythm, every breath synchronized.

He twined his arms around me and pulled me closer, until we were tangled together. The bedsprings creaked in protest, but neither of us batted an eye.

"Glitch…"

He pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck, and moved his mouth to my ear. "Hmm?"

"You should probably go." But I want you to stay.

Somehow, I always managed to use just the wrong words. I'd meant to approach the topic subtly. We both knew that he couldn't sneak into my room at sunset forever. You should go—yeah, because that was real subtle. I might as well have dropped a bomb. Brilliant job, DG.

In the silence, crickets chirped.

I lost my nerve to talk. Instead I counted backwards in my head…three, two, one—boom?

Eventually Glitch pulled away and opened his mouth to speak but seemed to choke on his reply. There was bewilderment and hurt written in the slant of his eyebrows, the set of his jaw; but Glitch closed his eyes for a moment and smoothed his face. When he opened them, it was with an unreadable expression. I looked away.

"You're right; I don't belong here with you." The low monotone of his voice was painful to hear.

Shit. What could I say? 'I didn't mean it like that'? Words were not my friend.

I snaked an arm around his neck, catching it in the crook of my elbow and pulling him towards me until our foreheads touched. I wanted him to look in my eyes, see the answer there that I couldn't seem to give voice to—yet I couldn't meet his gaze, looked everywhere but there. Odd how I'd never noticed the delicate crow's feet near his eyes or the slight curve of laugh lines etched into his face…

"Liar." My voice was thicker than I'd expected, and it took a moment to clear my throat. "You'll always belong here. Don't you dare deny it."

Glitch raised a quizzical eyebrow and held me tighter.

"Just because you should do something doesn't mean I want you to do it! Just because I know we shouldn't be doing this doesn't make it any more possible for me not to," I moaned, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my face into the pillow.

"Woah there," Glitch shushed me, "who said it was a problem? Right or wrong, does it even matter?" I smiled as he slung an arm around me and pressed a kiss between my shoulder blades. Laughing when I shivered from his touch, Glitch moved his lips to the nape of my neck before proceeding to nip the curve of my shoulder playfully. I couldn't help it; I squirmed helplessly.

"On a more serious note, today is the big occasion—highly influential figures congregating to confer and conceive a solution for this whole fiasco. I doubt they'll be successful, but desperate situations require desperate measures…we'll need to make an appearance, you know." I'd forgotten, of course. My good mood deflated as my heart sank to the depths of my stomach; Glitch continued speaking. "There'll have to be the customary, overly-elaborate feast, which may take hours--people are much more amicable when well fed and possibly inebriated. The discussion will follow all formalities a man can think of, and then some. This may very well drag on for weeks." Damn.

As he talked, Glitch absentmindedly outlined my collarbone with the calloused tip of his thumb in a way that made my toes curl, driving me mad in an oddly enjoyable way.

"There are so many things to be concerned about—the problems never seem to end. If I even let myself think about how many troubles this world has—and the fact that we're expected to solve them--I'm going to worry myself into a premature grave. But you make it awfully hard to think…"

"Is it such a bad thing?"

"I think I'll have to get back to you on that one. I mean, I don't think I mind it. It is kind of nice sometimes."

Glitch rolled his eyes towards the ceiling in mock superciliousness; "If you ever think you mind it, just say the word and I'm gone," he informed me, extending his hands palm up in a gesture of capitulation (though the mischievous glint in his eye was anything but).

"Hey! Who said you could be sarcastic?" I grinned, propping myself upon my elbows and attempting to cow him with a mighty glare. Despite my endeavors that irascible man had the audacity to resist my daunting scowl and laugh.

"GLITCH!" I roared, kicking his shin for added emphasis.

The accused turned the full force of his ochre eyes on me—foul play! Unfair!—and it his lip to stifle the offending laughter. "You huffed, DG. Like a sulking six year old being told 'no'—you actually huffed!"

"I did not huff! And anyway, I don't see how that's amusing. What? You huff all the time. You huff too! Will you stop looking at me like that? You're the headcase, zipperhead, not me-- "

Glitch shut me up in mid-tirade by closing the distance between our lips, and I arched into him, surprised but definitely enjoying the ferocity of this sudden assault. With a smirk more wicked than I would've thought Glitch capable of, he slid a hand under my—his--shirt (I was wearing one of Glitch's button-downs...although the majority of its buttons had been ripped off by now) and tickled me. His fingers tapdanced impishly up and down my spine, skipped across my ribcage and along my sides. Immature and juvenile as the gesture was, I gave him the finger and tried to scowl. I had to bite my lip to keep from writhing, but even if it drew blood I'd rather that than give Glitch the satisfaction of making me scream in delight; damn that man to hell for using my ticklishness against me. He was relentless.

"Stop holding back, Deej." The whisper in my ear burst through my restraint, and if I'd thought the bedsprings had been creaking in protest before then they were screeching now. Note to self: invest in new mattress. We laughed and we rolled and in the mêlée of tangled limbs and groping hands, I somehow found myself pinned beneath him. This didn't usually happen, and by the expression Glitch wore he was as surprised as I was. Still, there was no reason I couldn't take advantage of the situation and have a little harmless fun. I wiggled my hips a bit, squirming until he straddled my waist. I generally did the straddling, and this role reversal was extremely amusing; all my efforts not to squeal in glee were utterly useless.

"Um, Deej?" he looked down at me, puzzled. "Is there something I'm missing?"

By now I was beginning to get a cramp from laughing so exuberantly, but I really couldn't stop. Any moment now I'd start flailing. "No, not really. I mean, you're not missing something funny." You are something funny…but I meant that in the most loving way possible, and if it'd tried to voice it, it wouldn't have come out right. "I'm just having one of those fits of hysteria."

"Oh," Glitch replied, eloquently. Peering up at him from my odd angle, my gaze drifted from his bemused face and wandered south. Because there was less strain on my neck. of course. From the corner of my eye I thought I saw him blush. Aww.

"DG?"

"Hmm?"

"What…er, what're you—"

"Admiring the view, that's all."

Apart from a choked cough, Glitch made no reply.

"You've got a nice chest," I said absently, my fingers itching to feel his skin. That would take too much effort, though, and I was pretty satisfied with my current arrangement.

Expressions of discomfiture and smug (though he tried to hide it) gratification vying for control of his features, I decided flustered Glitch was actually endearing. Automatically, he murmured a thanks before his (remaining?) mind even processed my comment. What's more, Glitch nearly returned the compliment in kind; "So do—" was as far as he got before the synapses kicked in, but we both knew what he'd been on the verge of saying. Glitch was outright humiliated, although there were certainly worse things he could've said.

"Remind me to embarrass you more often. You're kind of cute when you're mortified."
I got no reply, which was okay--I hadn't been expecting one. I did, however, drag him down for a thorough kiss. Outside, the sun was rising, washing the grey skies with searing, vivid hues of pink and orange. But in our own world, our mini universe where nothing else seemed to be real, we were too furiously caught up in each other to register the breaking dawn (or the screeching bedsprings, thankfully. Nothing like a creaky mattress to kill the mood).
fin

hopefully this was stomache-able; i've never done much fluff before xD

i know there are rough edges and areas where it flows a little..oddly; suggestions are definitely appreciated :D