An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A/N:
A Very Merry Unbirthday
To you! (To me?)
A Very Merry Unbirthday
To you! (To you!)
felt it fitting to post the first chapter of my new piece on my birthday, non-Unbirthday tho it be XD
Mally blinked at the small plastic shopping bag resting next to his guitar stands. The Dormouse’s steps were hesitant as he walked across the stage, nudging the bag with a booted foot. The plastic rustled softly, something inside shifting at the prods. He knelt down to hook a finger through one of the handles. Packets of spare strings and picks glinted in the afternoon light. He pulled a few out and looked closer - exactly the ones he preferred.
He quickly settled himself on the stage and began the process of replacing strings and tuning both guitars to his satisfaction. It was a pleasant way to spend a lazy afternoon since there was no show planned for that night. Even so, there was a never-ending stream of interesting folk that passed by outside the Rabbit Hole gates that provided visual entertainment to pair with the Dormouse’s familiar motions.
The sky was just beginning to bleed when Mally deemed his task satisfactorily completed.
CONTINUE ON AO3
He leaned over to replace the second guitar, the plastic bag once more crinkling as he brushed it. A flash of colour in the bag caught his eye. From beneath the remaining plastic packets he lifted a fashion patch. A simple red shield with two swords crossed on top. Mally turned the patch over in his hand, running a thumb along the stitch work as a soft smile plucked at the corner of his mouth.
Thackery trudged into the green room lounge, collapsing into the nearest chair at the table. The raucous sounds of the rest of the band paused outside the door kept his attention pulled that way until the noises split and began to travel in different ways, a sure sign his friends were heading to their dressing rooms instead of the lounge. A half-smile tugged at a corner of the March Hare’s mouth as he listened to the voices fade away into silence. After a moment he allowed his body to slump forward, far enough to rest his forehead against the tabletop as his teal ears splayed across the cool metal surface.
He couldn’t think of many things he enjoyed more than performing for the humans in their park of amusements, at least not in this world. But by the Mirror, it was exhausting. The sheer amount of energy needed to not only keep up with the fast-paced music but also the Hatter and Alice and even Mally as they cavorted across the stage endlessly every night was staggering, and not for the first time Thackery found himself a little relieved to be done with the mayhem for a moment. The chaos here had a different flavor, a different sense than the madness they knew back home.
Home. Sometimes Thackery longed to be done with the T Party and be returned to the real thing, the long table in the meadow and him and Tarrant and Mally and endless tea...
The room around him pulsed with a weird purple-teal glow cast across everything. The Hare jumped back in his seat, the chair legs squealing harshly against the concrete floor. He took a deep breath and looked down. His hands were clawed against the edge of the table.
It took a minute to convince his fingers to uncurl and he quickly stepped away from the table. He spun around, reaching for the cabinets where they kept the tea things even as he teetered slightly. The glow was starting to fade and he didn’t want to think about why it had existed at all. No, right now, all he wanted was some tea, some nice, calming, clearing, simple, any-month-of-the-year-but-that tea ...
Thackery paused and blinked at the teacups stacked in the cupboard. He couldn’t put his finger on what about the cups was suddenly tickling something in his mind, something known and familiar and normal to him. So he stood there, hands resting on the cupboard door handles, head tilting softly to and fro as he studied the dishes.
A stagehand walked through the room and told him goodnight. He almost didn’t hear them and turned sharply to respond before they completely vanished out the other door. As he shifted to once more observe the cups, his eyes widened. The cups.
“They’re crooked! They’re stacked slightly crooked! Nobody but us could do it like that! I wonder...”
The Hare gently took one of the top-most cups off the artful arrangement. He suspected their resident Mad Hatter but it didn’t really matter. The small visual reminder of their far-away home had done what had been intended. His hovering malaise was fully evaporated as he set about making tea, enough for the group he knew would be returning soon.
True to form, the rest of the Mad T Party Band burst through the lounge doors helmed by a giddy Mally and Alice. The group spread out, claiming seats and waiting for the unspoken order of who made tea when. The March Hare’s eyes had simmered completely back to their normal hues and he watched his friends contentedly.
It was only when Tarrant discovered the teacups and excitedly asked who had done it that Thackery realized he might have been wrong. The man’s glee was genuine, the Hatter never put on airs like that. As everyone crowded around to see, a shadow at the back door caught Thack’s attention and he could swear he had seen a purple hood and red eyes peering through the porthole for just a second. He looked carefully between the door and the band, and a new thought bloomed.
When Tarrant turned to him, the Hare told them of finding the wonderful surprise earlier and that he’d suspected Tarrant, but apparently not. The group debated as they made their individual cups but soon the conversation floated to other topics. Thackery remained quiet, using his known fatigue as a cover as he considered words that started with J and F and .... he glanced at the 12-month whiteboard calendar on the far wall. Unconsciously his eyes drifted to the third section on the top line.
