{A/N – Noon+Arthur. Long author's note at the bottom. Please read it.}

.

.

.

.

Monday's Name Game

.

.

.

The sensation was different. Not bad different, no, definitely not that, but unusual in the way that no one had really bothered to play with his feet before. The long fingers belonging to another were stroking odd and random patterns over his soles with their unusually smooth pads, twisting and curving the unseen glyphs around the balls of his feet and spreading down over the heels, enticing his toes to wiggle in nervousness. Or was it in anticipation?

Arthur's breath caught in his throat, then emerged in a sort of breathless giggle as his right knee bent and his foot tried to escape the fingers teasing its underside. As the deft hands caught it by the ankle he laughed again. It was a complicated laugh, meant for three things instead of one. The first being that laughing was a natural response when the nerve-endings in certain areas were over-stimulated. The second being the absurdity that someone was actually making the effort to tickle him; and the third being that it was Monday's Noon who just so happened to have Arthur's feet in his lap.

The spectacle most certainly would have been one to behold, especially the responses should someone just so happen to enter through the single door into Monday's Dayroom and catch a glimpse of the two in their rather undignified positions.

Lord Monday, who preferred to be known as Arthur rather than any of his many and still growing titles, was arranged in a rather indecorous manner, sitting atop his large Manchester desk half-reclined and resting upon his elbows with the cuffs of his faded jeans rolled up to his knees and his legs extended in front of him. He was most definitely a sight. What would have struck an even odder nerve, however, would have been the Denizen known as Monday's Noon reclining within his master's cushioned chair, one of his legs bent and propped up against the edge of the desk, with Monday's feet resting in his lap. And Arthur wiggled most interestingly when Noon ran his fingers under the base of his toes. He laughed again.

"Noon?" He asked once his fit of giggles had died down.

The Denizen looked up from Arthur's feet and gave him a curious gaze, making a small, questioning sound deep in his throat.

Arthur took it to mean a yes and continued. "What's your name?" he asked.

One of Noon's elegant blonde eyebrows rose. "My name is Noon." he answered.

A small smile twitched at the corner of Arthur's mouth as a finger brushed the sensitive skin on the inside of his big toe, but it faded away as Arthur tried to make himself look serious.

"No." He said. "I meant your real name, not the name of your position."

Noon looked up again. "It's just Noon, sir." He replied, running a thumbnail down the centre of Arthur's sole. Arthur let out a small squeak and attempted to pull his foot back from that teasing nail. Noon kept a firm grip on his heel, however, and his foot didn't move far.

"That's an incredibly silly name." Was Arthur's retort, his voice strained from keeping back his laughter.

Noon managed to keep the twisting at the edges of his lips under check.

"You gave it to me, sir." he replied.

"Yeah, and to do so I had to take the even sillier name of Dusk away from you." Laughed Arthur, now gripping the edge of the desk with his hands and curling up his toes as tight as he could.

Something somewhat reminiscent of a pout made its way across Noon's face, turning his lower lip more round and full.

"I liked the name Dusk." He said.

Arthur's smile became achingly wide as Noon's fingers began to dance fleetingly over his arches. "Well," His voice wrought, full of withheld giggles. "If you don't like the name Noon so much, then tell me your real name."

"Noon."

"Gah!" Arthur shouted, his left foot jerking spasmodically as Noon touched someplace especially sensitive. "Come on, Noon. Please?"

The Denizen shook his head.

"Well, then what were you called before you were Monday's Dusk?" Arthur asked.

For a moment Noon stopped his ministrations upon Arthur's feet, his blue eyes looking distant and thoughtful, then after a while his fingers started up again and Arthur's respite was short-lived.

"I don't quite remember, sir." Noon replied. "It was many centuries ago."

Now it was Arthur's turn to look thoughtful and introspective. When he came out of it he met Noon's blue eyes over the edges of his twitching toes.

"Can I give you a name, then, if you can't remember your true one?" He asked.

Noon's eyes stayed locked with Arthur's for a long moment before he shrugged and nodded. "If you want to, sir." He replied. "I find no issue with it."

"If you're sure…" Arthur said warily, although mentally rubbing his hands together that Noon had allowed him. Levering himself up into a full sitting position, he rolled over onto one hip, freeing up one side of his rear, and reaching behind into one of his back pockets he pulled out a small cloth-covered book.

Noon's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the Atlas, but he otherwise said nothing and continued to play with Arthur's feet.

"Atlas," Said Arthur, holding it in his right hand. "Tell me about Monday's Noon."

.

.

A few minutes later had Arthur in a fit of giggles, the Atlas closed on his desk, and his feet nowhere near the vicinity of Noon's fingers. Nowhere near Noon at all, in fact, who was still sitting in the recliner chair and now sporting a furiously blushing face and a full lower lip. Arthur, who was finding it hard to breathe through his laughter (which was a real feat while in the House) had fallen off the desk barely twenty seconds before and was now lying in a heap on the floor, his head buried in the crook of one arm and his shoulders heaving with his laughs.

"That's-" He stuttered through his mirth. "That's just… so… so PRETTY!" He exclaimed, and laughed again.

If possible, Noon managed to blush even brighter.

.

.

-The End-

.

.

.

.

.

A/N – Yeah, the end was a little abrupt, but hey – it was just meant to be a little scene between the two. Go the sub-text loving! ^.^

Please don't flame me for the content, such bad reviews will be deleted as they are just a waste of space occupied by biased and unsubstantiated opinions from people who don't imagine much past their own noses. And if I do receive any I will know that they are from people who also have no patience nor respect towards others for they would have completely neglected reading these notes. You poor people, how did/do you ever manage school-life? Your essays must seriously suck ass, but then again, you're not reading this, so there's really no reason for my ranting.

As I was saying before, Constructive criticism is welcome, there's nothing better than receiving a review that is formed of well-meaning opinions and helpful hints on how to improve the work. Thank you to all those out there who know how to support the budding writers that are hosted here, on behalf of all of them (even the hypocritical ones) I'd like to say just how much it's appreciated. You keep us reaching; I hope you keep striving, too.