Buttermilk Chocolate Cake with Caramel and Ganache

It wasn’t that being a man was so unpleasant. She had yet to find out any of the intricacies but thus far despite tottering in heels that her feet didn’t fit in, she’d not had too many problems. She needed a haircut, mind you. The plait wasn’t really particularly masculine. That said, masculine wasn’t really what Alice wanted to go for. She wanted her own body back, preferably. The point was that though she didn’t mind this temporarily, once she jumped over the hurdle of getting used to it that is, being a bloke forever wasn’t what she wanted for herself. Moreover, she had no idea how Ollie was going to put up with it, either, and if she was going to be truthful then that was what was sending tears streaming down her cheeks. She wasn’t worried about herself – she’d had to adapt to worse than this, chameleon that she was – but she was worried about her lover.

“Lemon would be really good right now,” Alice nodded, reaching up to rub at her eyes. The dog would probably have some choice looks for Alice, too. Then again, Lemon would probably completely ignore her owner in favour of Eric and the day would turn out to be a pleasure trip for Lemon rather than anyone else. In truth, Alice wanted to retreat into her room, or preferably Ollie’s but she had no idea what he’d make of that, curl up underneath the covers and watch nonsense television until she could go to sleep. Equally, staying on the sofa would be a good option but in truth, Alice was already beginning to despair at the sympathetic looks she was getting from the boys.

“Your dad will probably laugh,” Alice mumbled, fiddling with a few wispy bits of hair at her temples. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Either way works just …” Alice bit her lip. “Maybe not the entire office,” she drew her hand over her face as frustration snuggled onto her features again. “I can only wonder what those dreadful girls will say.” She sighed testily and Ariel smiled from across the room, folding his arms across his chest. He opened his mouth to query whether she wanted to come to work with him and learn to become a handyman but he immediately rued suggesting so when she glared at him over the tips of his fingers.

“I can really do without being this fluffy,” Alice moaned woefully, finding a smile despite herself. Ariel chuckled, shook his head and got to his feet. “I should go and look for some sort of potion to sort this out shouldn’t I?” Alice queried, dropping her hands to her knees. She wanted to be productive now. Ariel raised an eyebrow at her, dubiousness showing. She puffed a straying lock of hair out of her eyes and dropped back against the cushions, throwing her arms up over her head and over the back of the cushions as petulant disgruntlement registered within her.

“I think you’re better off doing something else,” Ariel suggested, pulling his jacket off of the hook. “I’ll go and get Lemon, yeah? Why don’t you two do something else? Watch telly or bake something, maybe? There are fresh ingredients going and I’d kill for some shortbread. Just a hint.” He smiled and took Alice’s keys out of her bag before exiting the flat, clearly glad to have departed from the tension. Alice got to her feet, deciding that baking was one of Ariel’s better ideas.

“D’you wanna help?” Alice asked, finally reaching to take hold of Ollie’s hand, offering him a hesitant smile.

"We don't need those girls coming up with additional reasons to be petty and horrible," Oliver agreed, his frustration with the lot of them - well, besides his girl, of course - breaking through his otherwise sympathetic expression. Those women were trolls, the lot of them, and Oliver wished sometimes that he could convince Greg to fire people for being awful to their coworkers. Mind, he only really cared about how they treated Alice. But that was neither here nor there.

Ariel's suggestion was one Oliver was glad for, and he nodded in silent agreement. It would be better for Alice to focus on something else, and let the boys start looking into it. Not because they were the 'real' boys or anything, but more because the two flatmates would be hellbent and likely more threatening to those who didn't want to help. At first. So when the werewolf headed off, Oliver looked to Alice for some hint as to what he was meant to do, for what he was allowed to do.

Usually it wouldn't have been so hard. Usually it would've been movies, beer that Oliver wasn't sure he liked, maybe a bit of writing before bed, and - if she decided to stay - Alice would be there reading or whatever she wanted until he gave up and moved to her side, where he belonged. There would've been cuddles and some gentle whispers of affection or terms of endearment from both of them, and eventually Oliver would be coaxed into sleeping by the sandman, Alice's small frame curled into and around his larger one as she too wandered off to the land of safe, nightmare-free dreams.

That was not, however, the way in which Oliver's evening would be spent. No, he was going to be forced into awkward moments of being uncertain. Unsure of his role, unsure of what Alice needed, and mostly unsure if he was supposed to be more okay with what had happened. It wasn't like Oliver had any true, worthy reason for complaining, after all. He wasn't the one who was in a different body. What would Alice have done if it had been him who was switched? Surely she would not have been normal about touched and gestures that would have been so simple otherwise. It made every time Oliver had brushed off a physical interaction, declaring it meaningless, seem like a sin. Nothing meant nothing when it came to Alice. Nothing ever could. Immediately, he missed just being able to toss an arm over her shoulders, missed resting his fingers at the small of her back to lead her through a door he had just opened or into his car if they were driving somewhere. He missed the ease, the permission to do those things.

He missed Alice.

This wasn't not Alice... But it wasn't exactly right, either. When his hand was grasped by a surprisingly large one, Oliver had to fight to keep his expression neutral. She deserved that much. It wasn't her fault. Oliver just wasn't sure which gestures, of those that he missed, would be managed while he was thinking so thoroughly about everything.

"Of course," he nodded. "Always."

So he stood alongside her, giving her new hand a squeeze before releasing it to run his hand over the bizarrely-muscled arm that should have been much daintier. It was so wrong. But it was still Alice, so it wasn't entirely wrong. Just kind of. It was just weird. That affection shown and offered up, Oliver gestures towards the kitchen, but stopped on his own way over to turn on the radio to the local station. It played mostly the top 40, but also let the popular songs rest in favor of some old classics, which Oliver really preferred. But he supposed he could give the station a shot. A commercial finished up as the radio personality greeted them, and one of the more recent favorites of seemingly everyone was piped through their speakers.

When he made his way into the little, sequestered kitchen area, Oliver was pleased to note that everything really was ready for them to bake with. Not that he knew the slightest thing about shortbread. But he supposed that Alice wouldn't have picked things out if they weren't the proper ingredients. So he leaned against the counter and awaited his instructions, but couldn't keep quiet for very long.

"I'll talk to dad about your work schedule. You'll need to pick a name for... Well, your alter-ego, I suppose. Gotta be a full name so you can present yourself as such to your coworkers," he mused aloud, tilting his head to the side. Alice was, obviously, intelligent enough to figure that out for herself. But he felt better for offering some attempt at help. "I've got some work I need to do there later in the week, so I can check in or bring you food and the like if you feel more comfortable with that than eating with those prissy messes. Although, it might be interesting to see if they take to this version of you," he supposed. "Then you'd really have something to keep in mind, eh? At least you'd be all the more glad not to be bothered with them, right, love?"

The oven dial turned in over-large fingers to one hundred and sixty degrees. Eyes in their familiar shade narrowed a little, focusing the lenses that were stretching with all the hours bent over books and paperwork, and the numbers came properly into view. The light came on in the underbelly of the oven and the witch-cum-wizard lifted her head and swallowed before inhaling a deep, consoling breath in through her nose. It made sense to be productive. Yet, at the same time, there was an overwhelming desire trashing within her to curl up somewhere, in a small, warm space, and just hide until perhaps the magic wore off. She was willing to wait, too.

As she began to divvy out the measurements, Alice nodded along to what Ollie was saying though she was prepared to confess that it wasn’t all sinking in. She lifted her hand and in a somewhat clumsy manner she opened the cupboard and took out the small bottle of vanilla essence before closing the cupboard again. She gently sieved the flour and sought to absorb more attentively the kind words he was offering her. He helped to soothe the hammering of her heart and the thunder crash within her. She felt a smile touch at her lips she nodded, laughing a little bit, though quickly stifling the sound as she didn’t like it against her ears.

“Unless they thought I was sleeping with you like this, too,” Alice retorted with a little bit of glib cynicism, rolling her eyes impassively at the image. She couldn’t imagine being talked about behind her back while a bloke, too. That would have just about finished her off. She knew why they did it and couldn’t blame them for it, really. She wasn’t tried or tested. She was aloof and preferred to work alone than in groups. She didn’t talk much to anyone apart from to the overly keen boy in the copying room who was too pleasant not to seek the company of. She looked and appeared standoffish. Coupling that with the fact that she was with the boss man’s son, earning her all of the privilege she like, she made for an entirely dislikeable character.

“It’s really just going to compound the problem even more, isn’t it? It’ll really show how out of place I am there.” She put the sieve down, managing to keep her hands steady despite the strained clanging in her voice. “In fact, I might prove to be some sort of popular figure like this and I’ll get all of the vitriol that’s actually about me flushed onto this body because I’m not actually there as far as they’re concerned and as the newbie I need to be caught up on the over-dressed nonsensical try-hard who got where she got by parting her legs and gaining favour from daddy-in-law. At least I’ll get to hear it all first hand, won’t I? Instead of from the copy boy.”

She scoffed and threw the margarine roughly onto the scales, not caring as the needle shrieked its way across the board, surprised at the sudden weight. She brought a hand up to her face and pinched at the bridge of her nose, pulling at it roughly before suffering a sigh and cutting away some of the marg. She added a bit and the needle found the number she wanted. She took the marg out and packed away the scales, pushing them back into their proper place before lowering her hands to the countertop. She shook her head, a few tendrils of hair loosing themselves from her plait, and she closed her eyes, trying to stifle her temper.

“I’m not ungrateful to your father,” she murmured, lifting her head. “You know that,” she stated, though she was looking for affirmation. Hate was a strong word, but somehow she found it was easy to use on those women. “I absolutely abhor them: they’re hateful, hate me and I hate them. I’d rather work from home if I can,” she muttered, imagining her current self in the pink and pastel flat she’d made for herself, scribbling away. She suffered a longer sigh this time and drew her hand across her mouth, frustration abundant. “What work?” She asked, tempering out her body language, deciding that asking after him was a better plan.

Alice took a fork out of the cutlery draw and began to cream the margarine and butter together. It was a rough job and channelled the anger fairly well, considering.

“Maybe,” she considered as she abandoned the fork to bring the two ingredients together with her hands, “this won’t last long and I’ll be able to go to work without incident.” She shook her head, knowing that that also meant having to deal with them with all kinds of emotions churning up within her. Sometimes she looked at them and wished she could crawl home to her own father and beg for her job back where her reputation was earned by being a harpy when the French ambassadors didn’t get their way. She wanted to be the scourge of boardrooms again. Instead she was the unpopular girl at school. Were all workaholics this unhappy?

“I love you,” she said after a moment, lifting her gaze over to him. “You’re far more patient than I am.”

Oliver couldn't say why, exactly, Alice's words hurt him. They were clearly not directed at him, nor aimed to cause him harm. But the idea that she somehow defined herself as just someone he slept with... that made him absolutely furious. It made him about as angry as he imagined he would be to hear that Alice had gotten drunk and done something with someone else. Even something as meager-sounding as a kiss would probably do him in. It would dole out some pain if nothing else. It would imply that he wasn't enough, or that - while drunk and more open to admitting to what she really wanted - Alice would choose someone else. Both ideas frightened him, rendering Oliver speechless for a moment. In the end, all he could conjure up was:

"I- Alice, you don't really think of yourself that way, do you? Like all you are at work is some person I slept with? Is that all you think I-? I mean..." He frowned, trying to choose his words with care, considering he had done a lousy job thus far. His hand came up to the back of his neck, anxiety marring what should have been a handsomely calm face. "If I thought it wouldn't backfire, I would tell them all off. But I know that would make things worse for you. So I just... Alice, I don't want to hinder you in any way. But I don't know what to do. I don't know what you want."

She continued on, and Oliver started to feel like he was drowning. How was he supposed to fix something like this? He wanted her in his life, but all it caused her was pain. Hell, he had gone and done it again without meaning to. All he wanted was to give her a fair footing in her career, but even that had turned out wrong. He could manage small, basic romantic gestures, he supposed. Her reaction to the book dedication implied as much. But this? This was his fault, entirely. He shouldn't have paid the bail, really. He should have sent her father a letter, and her father could have kept her in her job, and she could have been disappointed in him for not helping as much as he could have, but she wouldn't have hurt so badly, and she wouldn't have been stuck in the job she seemed to hate. He wouldn't have gotten her stuck there. She wouldn't know, she never would have initiated anything, and he probably would have gone home to his family alone, left to agonize over her but decide it was better to leave her be.

Nothing would have been so hard for her, if he had just been smart enough to do what Paul wished had been done. Well, it wasn't like he had done very well in school. He was clearly no Ravenclaw.

Her final words surprised him, and Oliver assumed it was because he had kept quiet so long. Perhaps she thought that he was just trying to give her time to let it all out. Really, he was just standing there like a post, trying to find a reason why what he had chosen to do was right. Currently, all of the explanations he had were selfish and based in his own wants and his own feelings. They were strong wants and feelings, to be sure. But they weren't fair. And now Oliver wasn't sure what to do.

He wanted to say, We're good. You know that, right? Even though everything else is going wrong, we're good.

But he couldn't.

Instead, Oliver gave a heavy sigh and fixed her with an apologetic, pained expression. "I love you, too. And I thought... I thought that it would be enough. That I loved you enough to fix everything. But what I feel... It's selfish and it's so strong that it overpowers all sense. And that's why I've caused you so many problems. I have more drive to be with you than I have intelligence at this point, and that's insane. And it's dangerous for you. Alice, if you give me a list of things you want, I'll do it. I'll complete the whole thing. You can rest assured on that. But I can't promise I'll go about it the way I should. Or that you'll like the results. Thus far, I'm basically zero for five. It isn't going well. I don't know why you think I can handle myself when it comes to you," he admitted, his tone becoming frustrated and impatient. "I want to tear up that whole office and fire the lot of them without asking my father, if that's what it takes to make you happy. It'll just make more enemies, though. I want to rip the streets apart and find whoever did this to you," he gestured vaguely towards her... Er, him. "But mostly, I want to make you happy. And I'm not doing a very good job."

“Do you know me at all?” She exclaimed thoughtlessly, her face scrunching with dismay. “Of course I don’t think like that! But they do, no matter how hard I work. All I wanted was to fit in and get on with them and instead I come off as this aloof bitch and I know that’s on me but I’ve never tried to be like that and I don’t know what to do about it. So now I’m being selfish and unfair and I’m taking this all out on you and you don’t deserve it and I am sorry, Ollie, I’m sorry.”

The pity of it was that somewhere along the line, the little girl whose fine-tuned survival instincts had wormed her into the heart of the most powerful advisor to the Minister in France had disappeared amidst a livelihood of privilege. She’d been given another easy ride, though this one didn’t have as much of the interior politics which had blighted her earliest years. She hadn’t been assassinated, at least. The survivor had been chipped away at and all ability to adapt and change long left forgotten about. Faced with any kind of strife, she floundered and got lost at sea without an anchor. She’d forgotten what it had all felt like, to really and truly hurt, and now even the most ludicrous of situations, like this one, set her into a tailspin.

Alice took her hands out of the bowl, having rubbed the flour into the mixture, and washed them under the warm tap. After drying her skin, she hooked up the tea towel again and looked at Ollie, her wide eyes tingling with hurt, embarrassment and every other feeling of a piteous heart. She was pathetic, and she knew it. He didn’t deserve any of her ungrateful griping. Not when all he had ever done was, as he’d said, try to make her happy. All it served to do was churn up post-argument guilt and she groaned into her hands, wishing she could wiggling into his arms and hide there, whispering pleas for forgiveness into his chest.

“None of this is your doing, Oll,” she murmured, her eyes flicking to the floor before glancing back up to his face. “You can’t do wrong. You don’t do wrong because all you do want to do is make me happy and you do but the fact of the matter is that I’m treating you like crap at this moment in time and all it really goes to show is that they are right and I’m not a good person. You are wonderful. You always have been. But it’s not worth firing them on my account. Especially not when all I’m proving to be is a selfish whiner.” Then she wanted to ask him why he loved her. In that moment she truly wanted to know because she couldn’t see any reason in herself.

“Do I make you happy?” She asked softly, wringing her hands together. “I mean, probably not at this moment, but … but normally? Do I make it worth it, Oll? Am I worth it? ‘Cause I can’t help but wonder whether you should be stood there looking at me like you love me. God knows I don’t deserve it. I wonder how you can. I wonder why you do and why you don’t get someone that’s not obviously crazy, who isn’t born from a nutty past and who doesn’t arbitrarily turn into a bloke and take all of that out on you. You deserve someone a little bit more normal, I think. A dull thing who’s star-struck and doesn’t treat you like shit when things get a bit rough.” She took a breath, reaching up to rub away yet more tears. She was sick of them. “I’m sorry, Ollie. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

Alice shifted away from the countertop and sat herself down on the bench at the dining table. She reached up and scratched her fingers through the front of her hair, expelling a long-held breath of air. She apologised again and dropped her hand down around her neck, pulling at it, worrying the scar.

“Could I … could I have a hug, maybe?” She asked softly, dropping her hands into her lap. “The truth is that I guess I’m just scared. I’m scared that your dad is going to stop thinking I’m good at my job, that I’m not actually worth it. I’m scared that like this it’s just going to make you finally click that, actually, I’m not someone you’re really actually in love with. I keep thinking you’re just going to turn around and look at me and wonder why you’re bothering and why you’re not with someone easier, who doesn’t invite the weird. You make me happy. You make me so happy but I’m scared I don’t make you happy and I’m scared that this is just the eye opener you needed to show I’m not worth the risk or all of the problems with my father or anything else. I’m terrified you’re going to look at me and want out but not get rid of me because you pity me or feel you need to stay with me because I can’t sleep without screaming or some other stupid reason … some sort of feeling that you have to stay. I just can’t help wondering whether you’d be happy elsewhere, without all the complications.”

"Don't you ever let me hear you talk about yourself like that again," Oliver snapped finally. "I swear to God, Alice... Don't you see? You perpetuate it. You let them win by falling prey to it. And you're not some girl who accidentally has stuff happen to her. You're not. I firmly believe that you could do whatever you wanted to, without any help from anyone, because- because you made it, babe. You've made it through so many things that I can't even begin to understand. I probably don't even know them all, yet. I'm not asking you to tell me more than you already did, mind. Because that was brave, and just further proof that you've got this. Please," Oliver added belatedly, "don't make this about you somehow failing anyone. Make this about life failing you, Alice, because nothing could be more true. You're a good person, love. My favorite person."

His hands twitched, desperately wanting to reach for her. But Oliver was pretty sure that wouldn't be allowed, considering her current... state. Both emotionally and physically, actually. But when she asked her question, his heart sank. Why did this feel like an ending of something? It was too similar to what had happened with girls before, the only difference being that this time Oliver refused to just let her leave. And he wasn't about to do the walking out. That was for damn certain. Not after all they had been through. The problem he faced, really, was how to reassure her. Part of him wanted to give the proposal speech he had planned out in his head, but Oliver knew that she probably would rather receive it when she was herself, and when she would be allowed - if she said yes, that is - to cling to him right back. Because he absolutely would, if she were insane enough to agree. It would just prove that they were both equally mad, except in a good way. Mad for each other.

"Alice," he began, trying to force himself not to look nervous as he let the words escape. "This isn't the Sound of Music, okay? I don't care if you think I shouldn't, because I do. This isn't about deserving something. It's about whether or not you are capable of love, and I've never doubted that for a moment. How could I, when I finally realized that you were looking at me in the same way? Babe, no one has ever - or could ever - be worth more to me than you. I don't have exact reasons right now, and I know that's not really good enough. But I'm nervous that you're rearing up to run away and I-... Just, please don't. Please. I need you so badly. And I love you so much. Don't let outside forces pull you from me. I'd be lost again."

Finally, the acceptance of the gestures he wanted to make was given. So Oliver crossed the kitchen and sat with one leg across the bench on the inside and one on the outside, facing her. He gave her the time she needed to get her words out, then pulled her into his chest. Yes, the different feeling was a bit odd. But he couldn't forget that it was his girl, and his girl needed him. Nothing was more important than accepting this, and now both of them had.

"Here's the thing," he mumbled into her temple. "Nothing is stupid when it comes to you. Your reasons and your fears are your own, so they shouldn't be discredited. But you don't have to handle them on your own. You don't have to hide them for the sake of leaving me without worry. I know it's said that you shouldn't tell people your problems just for the sake of burdening them, but I don't want you to be afraid of telling me. If you get a bruise, I want to know why. I don't want to sit there wondering if someone hurt you. Does that make sense?" He asked, pulling back to look at this new version of her. The eyes were just the same, and Oliver focused there, both to feel the connection to the Alice he knew, as well as to prove that he didn't care what she actually looked like. "I worry if you don't explain. I worry that what's caused you harm is something I've done or said or... Well, I don't know. But I'm so afraid, Alice. I didn't want to have to say it, but this goes both ways. So you deserve to know that I'm freaking out inside, every day. You have every reason to go, but you never do," he elaborated, tilting his head and sending her a look somewhere between confused and awed. "I still don't know why you're accepting of the fact that I'm broken, but I guess we both are, in different ways. And, despite the thought that one day you might realize it isn't worth giving up the chance to have a family that is truly, completely yours, and despite knowing it would be my fault you wouldn't have one, if you chose me... I feel whole when you're around, Alice. No matter what or who you look like. I won't say it doesn't feel like I'm cheating on you by saying it right now, because my mind is still playing catch-up, like a damned idiot. But I don't care."

His expression changed into one of pure determination and he sat up straighter before continuing. "I'm going to figure this out. I am. I don't care what it takes. And I'm going to go into that office tomorrow, and if anyone dares talk to me about you, they'll get hell. Because you're-" he faltered, biting back the words he wanted to say and replacing them with better ones. "You're the only person I've ever wanted like this. And being so spectacular that you made me fall in love with you? That makes you ten times better than any of them. Not because I'm particularly sought after, mind you. That sounded really, really egotistical. Sorry. I mean... I would never want any of them, but everybody seems to want you, Alice. That's why the girls are so upset. They're obscenely jealous, because every guy in that office knows you have someone and they can't bloody well stand it. Except Mark. He's quite clearly into men. Avoid him if you go to the office like this, yeah? I don't need him on my list, too."

His words bit out into the warm kitchen air and she stiffened, somehow managing to look small despite the broadness of her frame. She lowered her gaze and nodded, wringing her fingers together, pulling at the joints and listening for the pop-pop-pop of the bones. His tone had shocked her to her very core and she wasn’t entirely certain she’d ever heard him like that before. The fact that it was levelled at her made it all the worse, too, and she couldn’t help but colour up and feel, once more, the first springs of tears. She peeked up at him as he reached the end of what he was saying and despite the churning misery within her, she found a teary smile for him.

It felt odd for someone else to believe in her. Her parents would always be in her corner, embarrassingly supportive. Their mutual friends always would be, too. Jemma and Dan would never have seen Alice upset or the like. David had never actually believed in her, though. At least, she wasn’t sure he did. It was the only reason why supposed she felt so utterly floored by the way he ultimately came to speak to her. He believed in her. He absolutely believed she could achieve. Despite the way she’d treated him. Despite how she now found herself. He still believed in her. Alice felt her chest tighten as she looked up at him and in that moment she wished she was herself because never had she been so desperate to kiss him.

When she finally fell into his arms, Alice felt all of the air she was holding within her break past her lips and she closed her eyes, the lines in her forehead softening as the tactile comfort of his body and arms wrapped around her. Her hands came up to cuddle after his arms, to demand that he stayed there and didn’t pull away, and she turned her face into his chest, wanting to hide there always. In his arms, all of the tension that was tying up knots under her skin swept out of her and though her brows remained worriedly furrowed, she looked that little bit calmer, and more reassured. He was a miracle worker. All he had to do was hold her.

“I don’t want to run away from you,” she whispered. Her eyes flicked up to his and she felt her face fall a little as she accepted the gravity of what he was telling her. As much as it still felt weird, she carefully brought her hand to his cheek and drew her thumb gently across his cheekbone. “You’re not broken,” she murmured intently, “not in that way. It’s not a sacrifice and nothing is being given up because what is the point in having a family if you’re not there? If I can’t have you, then it’s not worth it. I’d rather adopt or just have dogs if it means I can have you. I don’t care about having a family because all I want is you, Oliver Connolly. Ever since we were first thrown together at that party, I’ve wanted you. We could be impoverished and homeless but none of it would matter if I had you. You’re all I need.”

Despite herself, she found a cheeky smirk for him when he confessed to feeling odd about the whole thing. It amused her a little bit, really, that he should feel like that. She understood where he was coming from, knowing how weird it’d be if Ollie suddenly became ‘Olivia’ but it was a bit funny to her. In fact, the whole scenario was, really, and now that a little bit of humour punctuated all of the tied up feelings, she understood how ridiculous it was that they’d fallen into a pseudo-argument in the first place. It seemed absurd. It was all absurd but she realised, also, that some of these things did need to be said.

The man that Alice had become looked equally silly when he coloured up to her usual tomato shade but as Ollie spoke about the people in the office, embarrassment lapped up her face and slid down underneath the collar of her top. She wanted to shake her head and tell him ‘no’ but when he said about Mark, a laugh lifted from her chest. She wiggled her brows as the cheekiness leapt up once more and she couldn’t help but shake her head, imagining Ollie with this ‘list’ and adding Mark on with a bracketed additional comment that this only applied when Alice was male. She brought her hand to her mouth to try and stifle her giggles and she shook her head brightly, her eyes, alight with mirth, flicked to his.

“I’d have to be top if Mark and I were an item,” she commented wryly, sliding along the bench to drop her arms loosely around Ollie’s middle. “This is so weird,” she knitted her eyebrows together. She leaned forward and lowered her head onto Ollie’s shoulder, snuggling into him. “I’d say you’re particularly sought after,” she commented, lifting her head again to look at him. “I mean, normal me fancies the pants off of you and … manly me fancies you quite a bit too so even if it’s just by me, you’re pretty sought after,” she smiled and leaned round to kiss his cheek. “Yep,” she decided, pulling away. “Weird,” she wriggled her nose in bemused dismay and laughed again. “I love you,” she murmured, again. “I am completely in love with you, you wonderful, wonderful man. You are too good for me.”

A skittering of nails on floorboards saw Alice turn her head and in through the kitchen door scampered Lemon. She gave a little yip of excitement and bounced happily before scrambling over to Ollice. Alice beamed at her puppy and scooped her up into her arms, her fingers scratching at her Lemon-lop’s fluffy belly. Alice got a lick for her trouble and Lemon offered another to Ollie before wiggling down to sit on the bench between them. Alice laughed and rubbed at her puppy’s neck and scratched her behind her ears.

“We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” Her eyes flicked up to Ollie’s. “We really are going to be okay?”

Oliver felt the sudden and rather stupid urge to cry. She was explaining to him that all of his fears were ungrounded, and yet he had never felt better, and never been happier to be told he was dead wrong. It felt brilliant, really, and instead of allowing the tears to form - reminding himself that he was a man - he just grinned at her. He would've given anything to have his Alice sitting in front of him, because all he wanted right then was permission to love on her. Despite the fact that it hadn't been taken from him, technically, Oliver wasn't about to consider it at that point. Probably not until she was back to rights, honestly. But that was a different barrel of fish entirely.

"I'm glad we're on the same page then," he offered lightly, the words almost hard to get out for smiling so much. "I don't want a dull thing, star-struck or no. I want extraordinary. I want you."

Oliver let out an embarrassingly loud laugh at her comment about Mark, quite unsure if he was allowed to join in on the amusement or not. He couldn't really bring himself to care, though, considering the very idea of it was so insane that he just had to laugh at it. Part of him was surprised that she had been the one to say it, but Oliver couldn't claim that she didn't continually surprise him as time went on. It was one of the many things he loved about her; no two days would ever be the same. Even if they included arguments or a bit of uncertainty here and there, he would never be bored around her. If they had nothing but time on their hands, he didn't doubt that all he would want to do was talk to her, even if it was about basically nothing at all. The idea that he might be allowed to do that for the rest of his life made him all the more desperate to have Alice back to herself again, if only so he could properly wrap himself around her while doing that talking.

His ears colored up a bit at her reassurances, and although he wasn't sure it was a good idea, he let himself say what came to mind next: "Some part of me is tempted to go up to the office tomorrow while you aren't there and just snub any of them that try it on with me. Just for all of the internal smirking I would be able to do."

"So weird," he agreed with a shake of his head, amusement shining in his eyes. Something in his chest expanded at her words, and Oliver wished he hadn't done so, but he really did pout a bit. "I wish I could kiss you," he admitted quietly.

But that dilemma was tossed away when Ariel returned with Lemon, and Oliver chuckled a bit at the dog's antics. "See? Lemon likes you either way, too. As long as it's you and me, love, we're always gonna be okay. More than that, we're gonna be fine."

Oliver realized belatedly that Ariel had left them to cook, and they had done no such thing. He looked up, his smile a bit sheepish, and gave a nod in the direction of the kitchen counter. Hopefully Ariel would understand that Ollice had really needed their chat, and forgive them for failing to finish making his snack of choice. Turning back to Alice, he sighed and reached a hand out to squeeze hers, ignoring how different it felt. He needed to explain things to Greg, and he needed to start poking around to see if they couldn't fix Alice's problem. But to do that, he needed her to feel comfortable enough to stay around and to not worry after it too badly. The last thing he wanted was to pop off while she was still so upset. He felt that he had helped somewhat, but it was new and different, to be sure, so he didn't want to assume anything.

"Alice, should I go talk to dad? I can just tell him you're unwell. I'm not sure what to do about the rest of the day, honestly. Maybe it would be better to just try and get used to this so you won't have to worry about work stuff during. And maybe you and Ariel can finish up the shortbread, yeah?"

Although Oliver had ensured Alice a day off to get used to her new self, and they had come up with a sort of alias for her, she still had work to be done, so in the end, there had been little choice but to tell Oliver’s father. He had gone in early to explain, and to ensure that Greg would help cover for her. There was, indeed, a bit of laughter to be had by the older man, but when he caught Oliver’s frustrated expression that died away. Oliver didn’t doubt that it might return when he actually saw Alice walk in and look not quite like herself. Hopefully she wouldn’t appear too uncomfortable, despite her situation being what it was.

So he sent Alice a text on her mobile, grateful that he wouldn’t have to send an owl to deliver the message. Greg had picked the office’s location primarily because it was in Muggle London, and he could deal with clients on both sides. Thus far, it had proved quite successful. At any rate, Greg understood and she was good to head upstairs.

Oliver left his father’s office, shutting the door behind him at the older Connolly’s request, and was too busy tucking away his phone to realize that one of the women a few desks down had stood up. She was pretending to be engrossed in her paperwork by the time he looked up, and Oliver stepped to the side to let her pass. She stopped, though, and looked up at him, her eyes conveying a feigned innocence that he didn’t pick up on at first.

“Oliver!” She beamed up at him. “You look well.”

The author shifted his weight, a wave of discomfort washing over him. “Sorry, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I haven’t been around the office often enough to learn everyone’s names.” His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck, and he glanced around the office, wishing Alice was there for him to turn to.

The brunette in front of him explained that her name was Kaela, and made some joke about how everyone knew his name even if he didn’t know all of theirs. Her fingers reached for her hair, twirling a section about. It wasn’t as though Oliver hadn’t seen that move before. And, frankly, he didn’t care to see it. It made him even more anxious to walk away, and he started blocking her out without truly meaning to. It wasn’t until she commented on Alice being away again that he started paying attention.

“She’s not been well,” he filled in, hoping she would just drop it. Or, preferably, just leave before he had to come up with something else to say. If he had to explain what the illness was, Oliver wasn’t sure he could manage it. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, and now he was regretting it.

“That’s a shame,” she replied, her voice too saccharine for his tastes. “It’s nearly noon,” she added, gesturing towards a clock on the wall. Her hand reached out and settled on his upper arm, and Oliver stiffened, his gaze hardening. “If you need someone to do lunch with or something-“

“I don’t,” he interrupted quickly, backing away. “Alice will be expecting me back home,” he added, emphasizing the last word. Although that wasn’t strictly true, he couldn’t help but shove it in the girl’s face all the same. She was getting on his nerves, and Oliver had had quite enough. He made a point of looking around before adding, “you should probably get back to work if it’s nearly lunch. Wouldn’t want people to think you’re kissing up to the boss’s son.”

The photocopier would always be a menace. There was something inherently technophobic about wizards and it didn’t matter how open-minded and how Muggle-infused a wizard’s upbringing was, some of it was just mind-boggling. The photocopier was Alice’s kryptonite. She didn’t think she’d ever understand it with all of its buttons and its beeping and its bright lights. Even as a man, the whole process was still unclear. Totally unclear. And staring at it didn’t do much good, either – though she felt she was a little bit more intimidating as a man. She wasn’t. The photocopier didn’t care.

“Do you want some help there?” A pleasant voice asked. Alice turned, a grateful expression alighting over her features. Her gaze found Mark and she smiled. She’d always liked Mark. “It’s a bugger, this thing, isn’t it?” Alice nodded, stepping back for him to stand in front of it. She reached up and rubbed absently at her neck, feeling her fingers across the short hair at the back. “Are you new here?”

“Sort of,” Alice conceded, unsure about the look Mark was giving her. “I won’t be here long, though. Hopefully. I um,” she paused, deciding to press on her French drawl. “I will be going home soon.”

“That’s a shame,” Mark replied, pressing the button. “I’d be happy to show you the city, though. There are some nice wine bars not too far from here if you want to get a feel for the night life.”

Alice felt his tone had lingered too long over ‘feel’ and somehow ‘night life’ didn’t sound altogether very platonic. She blanched and realised with a start that it was this Mark that Ollie had mentioned. Ironically, this Mark was also hitting on her … him. Alice was a him – and the ladies’ loos were out of bounds.

“What, sorry?” She blinked, colouring. He repeated his question. “Alaric,” she held out her hand and Mark clasped his around it, introducing himself. “Wine would be nice,” Alice conceded, not really thinking through the implications and only really focusing on that moment. She would’ve given anything to be drunk – it would’ve made the day more tolerable.

Mark grinned before sliding out the master copy and taking her copies out of the tray. He handed them over and Alice took them gratefully.

“Are you free this weekend, then?” Mark asked gently. “Or, well, Friday?” He amended. Alice looked up from her papers, realising with a start she’d gotten a date. Alice nodded, too star-struck to really make sense of what was happening.

Mark offered to walk her back to her desk and Alice found herself staring down at her absurdly shiny shoes while she wandered through the office. She was officially filling in for herself. She’d taken the liberty of getting rid of the lilies – and she found that, as she’d sarcastically quipped, the women actually liked her better. Mark, bless his soul, said he rather missed Alice-Alice. Alaric could only smile and nod sympathetically, raising a smile when the other man said he’d look forward to Friday.

“Did you want lunch?” Mark asked after turning away. He’d turned back as an afterthought just as Alice dropped into her chair, one hand reaching to pop open her blazer. The man’s eyes fell to the creamy shirt that was opening up a bit at the buttons where it was slightly too big and allowed for a peep at her stomach. She coloured and drew a hand through her hair, sitting up a little more fully to look at him.

“Some people are going to get some Chinese and, well, we need orders so…” Mark trailed off shyly, unconsciously reaching up to straighten his tie. Alice’s eyes flicked over to Ollie, narrowing at the state of Kaela. Alice wanted to hurl her stapler at the woman. “Alaric?” Mark prompted, making her turn her head back to him. “Are you hungry?”

“Always,” Alice replied without thinking, watching as it was Mark’s turn to darken in the cheeks. He shuffled his feet and Alice got to hers, sliding off her jacket, leaving her in her blue pinstriped shirt. “Have you asked them?” Alice pointed in the direction of Ollie and Kaela and Mark shook his head. “You should,” Alice suggested, stepping around her desk. “C’mon.”

So, despite her better nature, she decided to impose herself on the conversation between her wizard and the B****.

“Hi,” Alice exclaimed, sliding between them and smiling half-snidely at Kaela. “Mark,” she reached to pull him into the conversation, “is getting lunch for everyone,” she stepped back, flashing a smile at Ollie before clearing her throat. “He was wondering whether you’d want any, right Mark?”

“Right,” he smiled, though his face betrayed all of his confusion.

Alice couldn’t blame him really. “You’ve got a girlfriend right?” Alice asked, fixing Ollie with her gaze, glancing at Kaela pointedly out of the corner of her eye. “I heard it was pretty serious. Or, so Mark said.”

Mark now couldn’t really keep a straight face but he agreed all the same, averting his eyes.

“We should really go and order soon,” Mark pointed out, reaching to touch at Alice’s arm.

“Right. So, what was it you wanted?” Alice asked plainly, half-glaring at the woman.