I don't own Alice.
Basically, I'm a huge fan of the books. I especially love the poetry, like Jabberwocky and Fury Said to a Mouse. Jabberwocky was the first poem I ever memorized, and when Borogoves were mentioned, I felt as if I had been stung by a billiwig. It was that happy-making. So I thought I'd write out a scene in which Hatter gets confused over the differences between Boringland and Wonderland. If you peoples like this, I may make it into a series of one-shots, all focusing on Hatter adapting to life here. I really wanted to make a certain reference in this one, but couldn't fit it in. Please R&R!
"Alice, this was actually quite good." Her mother said to her.
"What do you mean, 'actually'?" she asked. Hatter could tell she was disappointed, though she managed to keep her face indifferent as she spun to face her mother, her left arm akimbo to her cocked hip.
"Well, Dear, you've never really done much cooking before. I just never gave much thought to how well you would cook; I'm not saying that expected you to do poorly."
"Well, thanks, I guess," She said, blushing. "I was kind of hesitant, but I thought David might like it."
Alice's mother turned to face him expectantly. He was supposed to say something, but he wasn't sure what. He'd never really had dinner a girlfriend's mother before, mostly because he had never had a girlfriend before Alice. Also, he hadn't really been listening to their conversation. As usual, he was daydreaming, though he supposed 'fantasizing' would probably be a more fitting term.
"What did you think of dinner, Dave?" Alice spoke up, coming to the rescue before her mother could notice his silence.
"It was great," he smiled, hoping his lie didn't sound as false as it was. "What kind of meat was it?"
"Chicken, of course," Her mother piped up.
"Chicken." He repeated. The word sounded silly as he said it.
"Have you never had chicken before?" Her mother sounded judgmental, as if his never having had this food made him less human.
"It's just that it tasted like borogove to me, but it didn't look like one."
Alice cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly in warning.
"Which was a dish from back home" he clarified quickly. He felt bad. Alice had been having to pretend to cough too often; she was starting to mention of a sore throat and she was sounding hoarse. If only things here weren't so bloody different from back in Wonderland. It was nice that there was no Queen of hearts going around and beheading people, but there was so much contrast that he slipped up almost every time he spoke in public. He had been in this world for nearly a week now and it was only yesterday that he learned that casinos existed here. He was shocked until Alice had explained the difference between casinos and The Casino.
After dinner, when he expected to be expected to leave, he was instead offered a coffee—another strange word. He accepted, but, after forcing down the first sip, left it on the table in front of him. He decided he didn't like coffee.
He was glad to be able to speak with Alice when Ms. Hamilton excused herself to the restroom.
"You don't like the coffee?" She asked, nodding at the still-full mug in his hands.
"Erm… no. It smells weird, and tastes a bit like mud."
She chuckled at this. "You'll probably be able to get away with that. Your accent sounds like an English one. They drink tea instead."
"I thought you said—"
"Not that kind of tea"
"I'm sorry you're so confused, Hatter. I wish there was something I could do to make it all better."
"Don't be sorry. I'll get the hang of it. It's all worth it when it means I get to stay with you." He smiled and kissed her softly, adding emphasis to the point he'd been making. "And you do help, like with the borogove thing."
"You didn't like the chicken either." She said. This time it wasn't a question. "I thought you would; I tried to make it taste like something familiar for you."
"You succeeded. It was frabjous." He reassured her using a word which he'd learned didn't exist here, but that she found sounded fun. It worked, he noted as a half-smile graced her lovely face. "I just don't care for borogove is all."
"Oh. I'm sorry. I was fond of the taste. I didn't consider that you wouldn't be."
"Yeah, they taste fine. But you wouldn't have been so fond of it if you knew what they look like before they're cooked."
"Imagine a mop-head." He instructed.
She closed her eyes. "O.K."
"Now give it little, black, beady, evil demon-eyes."
"Yeah. They're disgusting little buggers. And they tend to mope about a lot."
"So I thoroughly enjoyed the taste of a depressed mop from hell."
"Yep." He said shortly. She chuckled, much to his confusion. "And you seem to be quite beamish about it."
"Yeah. You know—content."
"Why shouldn't I be?"
"Well, I'm having similar problems here as you are when it comes to my Wonderlian quirks. But it's making me uffish and you're just the opposite."
"I'm just glad we're in this together. And I'm glad to be going through this together with you." It was her who leaned in to kiss him this time. By the time she pulled back enough to see his face, he was grinning.
"I love kissing you." He stated plainly, as if mentioning that it was a full moon. It was something that he respected and found beautiful, but it was also something that was just a plain fact of life.
"Then do it again." She suggested.
"Callooh, Callay." He chortled in his joy.