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Author's Chapter Notes:
If you're looking for crazy squirtastic...keep looking. This isn't that story, but I still like it. It's sweet.
Addressed
December 31, 2005-January 1, 2006

"Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned
By those that are not entirely beautiful"

--William Butler Yeats, "A Prayer for My Daughter"

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1

◘ ◘ ◘


Jill wasn't sure about this. And that bothered her.

Maybe she should wait. It had only been a month—she'd barely begun to consider the possible ways she could make this happen.

She held the packet in her hand, trying to decide whether to go through with it, when the doorbell rang.

Sighing, she pocketed the small pouch and headed to answer.

"Can you get that?" her husband called from upstairs.

"I've got it," she replied, undoing the latch. Then, "Hey, Will!"

The man limped in reasonably gracefully; the leg was healing up nicely, and was really the only thing still bothering him. "Hey, Jill, happy New Year. Steve's bringing the bubbly in."

"Dateless?" asked Jill, innocently.

Will rolled his eyes, just enough to elicit a giggle. "Yes, dear, I am indeed dateless as per usual. Stop poking me! I'll find someone soon enough."

"Oh, William, if I can't mock you, who can I mock?"

Will smiled; that was true enough, of course. His very presence in the mortal plane was due to his hostess' good graces; she was allowed to remind him of that once in a while.

Steve entered presently with cheap champagne; Jill greeted him and helped him bring it to the kitchen. Soon enough, Dan came down, and more guests arrived. Through it all, Jill fretted more than she'd let on.
◘ ◘ ◘

She had walked out of her father's house one month and one week before, head spinning.

Her sister had confided in her a heartbreaking story of love lost, one with a twist that had only become possible in the preceding few years. Her heart ached for her sibling, of course; but that was not why her mind raced.

She knew someone who'd lived through twists not dissimilar to the ones her sister had. And she knew he might be interested in her sister.

She wasn't sure how many birds that one stone would kill; at least three. Maybe more. But she had no idea how to go about making it happen.

She'd asked Dan, of course; he was Will's best friend.

"Do you think," she said, as they both settled into sleep, "that Will would be interested in dating Wendy?"

"Matchmaking, are we?"

"Just pondering. Wendy needs someone pretty badly, and Will needs someone of his own—I just think they'd be a nice fit."

"Well," said Dan, rolling over to face his wife, "that may well be. Wendy looks a lot like you, my dear, and you know what I think of you."

"You like me, eh?"

"You're okay," teased Dan. "Anyhow, I can't imagine Will wouldn't find her attractive."

"Oh, I think there's a chance he would," said Jill, irony buried sufficiently that her husband missed it.

"But you know how Will feels about blind dates, hon. He'd never go for it. I could bring in a naked Kirsten Dunst and he'd pass—he'd rather be tragically alone than admit he had to have someone help him along."

"Yeah, that's true. And Wendy—well, I know she hates getting set up."

"I'm not saying it's a bad idea," said Dan. "Heck, Will needs someone, and assuming Wendy would be interested—he'd be seriously outkicking his coverage. But if it's going to be done, you're going to have to make it subtle."

"Yeah," said Jill. "Subtle."

◘ ◘ ◘

Jill's reverie was broken by the doorbell; she opened the door to her sister, shivering in the cold.

"Hey, Jilly Bean. Hope I'm not late."

"It's only ten," said Jill, glad to see Wendy was in a good enough mood to pull out annoying nicknames.

"Good," said Wendy, smiling. "Where can a girl get a beer?"

"Kitchen," said Jill, motioning over to the general vicinity. "Remind me to tell you something later."

"Will do," said Wendy, sailing into the crowd.

◘ ◘ ◘

She'd gone over every possible scenario.

At first, she figured that she'd invite them both over for the same function—a Christmas party, maybe, or New Year's. Try to push them into each other's orbit, try to get them talking. But she gave up on that quickly; Will and Wendy were both smart. They'd see through it.

Then Jill thought maybe she'd drop hints to one that the other had expressed some interest in them. But which one? Wendy was still healing up, and Will—well, Jill knew first hand how much he was able to repress if he really wanted to.

No, that wouldn't work either. Now, if she could get those two to discuss a mutual interest….

But how would she do that? Bring it up casually? "Hey, Will, do you know that Wendy had a torrid one-night stand with an unusual twist? Hey, Wendy, do you know where I once found Will?"

No way would that work.

No, she had to find a way to push them together in such a way that their mutual interest in macrophilia would bubble up to the surface—without making it obvious that she was behind it.

◘ ◘ ◘

The party was a success by any measure. The group had partied together enough over the years to make that unsurprising; while the sheer level of hedonism had dropped, the level of conviviality had not dipped one iota. As the clock counted toward midnight, Jill arranged champagne flutes for pouring.

"Five…four…three…" the group counted.

"Two…one…" said Jill to herself, as she emptied the packet into Will's glass.

The champagne corks flew, and 2005 was put to rest. And Jill's plan swung into action.

She poured the champagne, and made damn sure that the first order of business—after kissing her husband, of course—was to make sure the flute got into Will's hands.

He smiled and nodded, and downed the champagne in one shot. Jill smiled conspiratorially. Phase one was complete.

◘ ◘ ◘

It had first occurred to her by early December. She put it aside, of course. It was reckless. Stupid. Heck, beyond stupid. Whether he'd brought fate crashing down on himself or not, Will's injuries from his previous adventure were no laughing matter. Indeed, the severity of his injury had done a great deal to temper her initial anger; he'd clearly paid dearly for his own stupidity.

So who was she to thrust him back into the fray—especially when he still limped?

But it was not an idea that would go away. It was perfect. If she could pull it off, it would force the two of them together right smack dab in the middle of their "mutual interest."

Or it might kill Will and further traumatize Wendy. It was a gamble.

The Society had been helpful, sort of. They'd told her not to even think about it, of course, but the woman on the line had mentioned, quite out of nowhere, "You know, what really steams us is that there are hobbyists experimenting with this stuff—quite outside of our control. I mean, all you have to do is google 'giantess,' 'powder,' and 'Winnipeg' and you get the website of some aspiring actor who makes shrinking powder in his spare time. It's a real problem for us. You know what I'm saying?"

Jill did, of course, know what she was saying. The gentleman in Canada had been very helpful—"Don't slip someone a mickey or anything, and don't just down this. Smallagaine™ will knock you out, and you're going to come to disoriented. There, I've now effectively read the disclaimer; anything you do is your own damn fault."

Two weeks later, the parcel from Manitoba arrived. She'd done enough searching in the interim to know that DS Distributing was legit, if a bit unpredictable. The powder she'd received would shrink a six-foot-tall man to four inches tall, plus or minus fifty percent—and would take effect in thirty minutes to an hour.

Well, two to six inches seemed like a reasonable range. Will had made do with less, she reminded herself.

Still, until she'd emptied the powder into his glass, she was unsure about it. It seemed an awful risk to take. But frankly, Will owed her; he'd taken an awful risk without her consent. She was just returning the favor.

◘ ◘ ◘

Will downed the champagne and partied on; Steve was going to sleep over, but Will was taking a cab home. He knew better than to sleep over in this house; last time he'd been unconscious here he'd been in a position he'd have been better to avoid. Jill was amazing, he had to admit; the worst she did to him was to tease him occasionally, gently, and subtly. He felt guilty as he always did; he wasn't suicidal, but he knew that if she'd asked him that day in the hospital if she could kill him, he'd have said yes.

Sometimes, he almost wished she had.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear the cobwebs out of his head. He was becoming a lightweight in his old age; barely over half a bottle of champagne and he was losing it.

He knew enough not to stay standing; his leg was good for telling changes in the weather, and he was told within six months it might even support light running, but at the moment it was functional enough that it sort of moved him from here to there, most of the time. Being drunk on his feet was not a good idea.

He sat down in a chair, and closed his eyes. He felt a familiar feeling clawing its way through him. Not unpleasant—but not drunk, either. He knew this feeling, remembered it clearly. Remember exactly where he was when he'd last felt it. Wait a minute. God—no….

That was the last thing he thought before his central processor winked out.

◘ ◘ ◘

They were tidying up from the party. Steve was in the guest bedroom, as was Jessica (they would never marry; they would never even date. Their relationship was…unusual. But they both liked sex, and their friends didn't really care). Wendy had headed out about half an hour earlier. Jill had handed her purse to her with a smile. "Have a good weekend, sis," she'd said.

"Did you see Will leave?" asked Dan, sighing as he looked over the damage.

"Yeah, he left at the same time Wendy did."

"Oh, did he catch a cab?"

"You know, I'm not sure," said Jill, innocently. "I think maybe Wendy gave him a ride."

◘ ◘ ◘

2

◘ ◘ ◘

Wendy woke up with a headache; that wasn't surprising. She'd drunk a fair amount the night before. Not enough to get rip-roaring drunk, but enough to give her a beast of a hangover.

"Champagne," she muttered bitterly, remembering why it was that every January since 2002 she'd vowed never to drink the stuff again. She stretched, got out of bed; arched her back and cracked her spine, and threw a T-shirt on over the panties she'd worn as her only sleeping attire.

She stumbled her way to the bathroom, downed a glass of water quickly, peed, and downed another glass. She'd learned through her time in college that if you drink enough water and take six Excedrin or so, you might be able to get through a hangover okay—or at the very least be functional a couple hours later.

She walked back into the bedroom, and heard the chirp of her cell phone. She looked around for half a second, before spying her purse, tipped over by her nightstand. She wandered over to it, dug around for the phone, retrieved it and flipped it open.

"'Lo," she murmured. "Oh, hey Jill."

"Hey, Wen. How are you?" came the voice of her sister.

"Fine, fine. Hungover as hell. Otherwise fine. You?"

"Good," the voice said. Was there a note of concern? Wendy couldn't quite tell, and her neurons hurt too much to be sure. Still, she asked.

"Everything okay, Jill?"

"What? Oh, yeah, fine. Hey, Wendy, anything going on in particular?"

"No, why?"

"Oh. Uh, no reason. Anyhow, just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. Have a good day," Jill stammered.

"Yeah, sure sis," Wendy yawned, closing the phone. Jill was in a state, she thought, as she idly stripped her t-shirt and panties off and tossed them by the bed with the rest of her clothes from the previous night. A shower, she thought, might get her up and running. At the very least, it would feel nice

◘ ◘ ◘

Will paused at the foot of the nightstand, pulse racing. He was staring at the immense feet of Wendy, which supported her bare white legs stretching skyward into a pair of panties and immodest t-shirt.

He put his height at about three inches; it was not all that bad, really. Compared to last time, he was a giant. But of course, last time he had been ready for it, planning it, expecting it. This time—well, he was as surprised as anyone.

He had awoken when the world tipped sideways—well, fully awoken, anyhow. He'd been dimly aware of the swaying and pitching of the world in the time leading up to the crash, but he woke up with a start and found himself fighting through coarse, rough paper which he realized, belatedly, was a Kleenex.

He slowly backed up and tripped over a metal bar at shin level, falling on his butt with a curse. It was a key, damn it. Where was he?

Dim light filtered into the chamber, and he was able to make out a black cylinder about his height and a white cylinder somewhat longer than he; as he strained, he picked out the "Kotex" on the white object, then the "Shishedo" on the black; tampon and lipstick. He knew where he was—a giant purse.

Well, a giantess' purse, he thought with a dim chuckle. He was naked, too—though that seemed the less remarkable of the two. He had crawled to the entryway of the purse, intent on getting its owner's attention. He had lived through stealth once—that was enough. He saw in the light from above a pair of jeans that were bunched up around feet, and then off of the feet. The legs twirled around, dropped, and immense hands pulled off socks.

Well, he thought, now was not an ideal time. It wouldn't do for him to present himself while she was changing. Jill was the exception, he reminded himself.

He peeked upward at his captress and gasped. Jill! It was her! She'd help him. But—wait, how could he explain this to her so that she didn't think he was spying again?

The woman swayed, and suddenly she dropped her head, and the dark hair that rained down was too dark for Jill. It was almost black; Jill's hair was a sandy blonde. A hand unsteadily pushed the hair back, and he saw the immense face again, and…it looked like Jill again. But it wasn't. It was…

…Oh, God, Wendy. He'd seen her at the party, and he had to admit for half a second, he'd considered approaching her. But he knew he was on a short leash with Jill; as much as she'd forgiven him, he didn't know as she'd want him dating her sister.

At any rate, given the amount of swaying Wendy was doing, it wasn't an ideal time for him to approach her, either. He did gape as she undid her bra and tossed it onto the pile, displaying perfect (if smallish) breasts briefly before she swung herself up onto the bed and switched out the light.

Several minutes later, he'd walked out of the purse, and attempted the old counterspell that he'd never gotten the chance to try; it didn't work. So he'd made his way under the nightstand and he'd fallen asleep himself, until the phone rang, shaking his world violently. He quickly scrambled to his feet, as the titaness came in and retrieved it. She'd put the phone back in her purse, he bet—if he could just be by it, she'd find him!

"Hey, Jill," Wendy had boomed, and Will stopped halfway out of the dresser.

Jill. Oh, no. What would she think if he appeared in her little sister's apartment? Nothing good, that's for sure. He couldn't chance it—not yet, anyhow.

He hid under the nightstand, shaking his head as she removed the remainder of her clothes and headed back to the bathroom. He'd have to sneak out of the apartment, maybe when she went to work.

Son of a—it was New Year's Day! She wouldn't go anywhere for a couple days.

Well, he thought, he'd just have to hide for that long. At least until he got the chance to go.

◘ ◘ ◘

Of all major holidays, New Year's Day is probably the dullest. Unless you're a huge college football fan, it just doesn't offer much—and 2006 was starting inauspiciously there, given that the bowl games were pushed back to the second. Not that Wendy particularly minded; she puttered around, did some light cleaning, washed some clothes in the community washer, read Anansi Boys—and tried to ignore the conversation she kept replaying in her head.

"So, Jill, what did you want to tell me?" she had asked, half in the bag already.

"All right," her sister had said, at about quarter to midnight, "I'm going to make this quick, and you can say no, but—"

"Not a chance. You aren't fixing me up."

"What? What makes you think—"

"Jill. Please."

Jill rolled her eyes. "Look, let me say what I'm going to say before you say no."

"All right. Go."

"What do you think of Will?"

That had given Wendy a brief pause. She'd seen him a couple times, of course—not a bunch. He was one of Dan's friends, seemed nice enough and all, but she didn't know him well. Not really, anyhow.

That said, she had first met him when she was fifteen and he twenty. He had been polite, she had been smitten. It was a crush, she knew; they were both seven years older now, and she was sure he barely remembered her, but the moment she'd seen him exiting the pool….

Well, we grow up, but that doesn't mean old fantasies die. And Wendy had enjoyed some old fantasies through the years.

But—she was damned if she was going to let her sister fix her up.

"What's with the limp?"

"He had a…fall. He should be good as new soon. Anyhow—"

"No. But thanks, Jill."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Wendy said.

"All right, all right. But I just have a feeling that you two might end up together at some point. But I'll lay off. 'K?"

Wendy closed her eyes, remembered back to being a naďve fifteen-year-old with a good imagination—and a not-very-naďve twenty year old with a very vivid imagination.

She should have taken her sister up on the offer.

Then, out of nowhere, she saw Josh in her mind's eye, tiny and naked and scared.

And she sighed, and knew she was not ready for that right now.

◘ ◘ ◘

For Will's part, he was wondering just how he was going to get up and onto the kitchen counter.

He had lit out for it as soon as Wendy left the room; it was fortunately a small one-bedroom apartment (ha!), and he was able to navigate it pretty well. Still, he was halfway to the kitchen when Wendy had entered the living room wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, bare feet plodding. He had ducked under a couch seconds before she herself flopped down on it, springs groaning.

He peered out under the fringe at her enormous feet, which flexed and shifted often. He thought back to Jill and Dan's wedding, to just how jaw-droppingly beautiful Wendy had been in her bridesmaid's dress.

Of course, he had spent too much time pining for the bride to do more than note Wendy's beauty and move on.

And now, of course, the more he thought the more he was sure Jill wouldn't stand for it. He was at the limit, he thought, of her good graces. Oh, she acted nice, and he was sure she'd forgiven him for his transgression against her. But he was not at all sure she would forgive him for imagined transgressions against her sister.

So he cowered under the couch, stomach rumbling, until Wendy got up and disappeared. He started out, only to retreat when she returned with a basket of laundry and exited the apartment. "My ticket out!" he'd exclaimed, swearing a blue streak as the door shut behind her. He spent so much time cursing his luck that he'd barely passed the fringe of the couch by the time she returned, this time to munch on a granola bar and putter around the living room putting things away, forcing him to hide again. And then she flopped down again, and the couch groaned again, and so did Will. He was hungry, and he couldn't hold out forever.

It was not until she finally left the apartment again to retrieve her laundry that he finally raced full-tilt for the kitchen, figuring with his luck she'd head straight there.

And of course, she did, but just to grab a pop from the refrigerator as he hid out by the table; as she disappeared back into the living room, he snuck out to the base of the counter, and stared up in despair.

His leg throbbed; it was supporting him better than it did at full-size, but he still didn't trust it completely. (He knew that shrinking sped healing—heck, everyone did. Hospitals were trying it on an experimental basis, and he'd been offered the option himself. He'd declined—he'd been shrunk enough.) He looked up toward the counter grimly, trying to figure out how he'd get there.

It was a few minutes of staring before he shook his head in disdain at his own stupidity. There were cabinets all over—there was bound to be some sort of food in them. The doors stood about ten feet high to him, but that was doable, he thought. He just had to find something he could use to climb four feet.

He scanned the kitchen, hoping to find something that would do. After wandering a bit, ever-aware that Wendy could return presently, he spied it between refrigerator and cabinets—a fork that had fallen between the cracks. One longer than he was tall. He swallowed hard, and grasping the tines, began to pull.

The sudden scraping of metal on linoleum—amplified to Brobdignagian proportions—brought him up short; though he knew it would not be that loud to Wendy, the cacophony he created could not be dismissed.

He sighed. He was hungry, but he could live without food, he supposed.

It was then he espied the broom.

Wendy kept her broom and dustpan in the slim space between refrigerator and countertop; if you asked her why, she wouldn't be able to tell you. Her mom had done so when she was growing up, and she couldn't have told you why either—it was because her mom had done so when she was a kid. If Louella Frottingham had been alive to ask, she would have told you she began putting the broom there to discourage mice from camping out under the icebox, but Louella was gone twenty years now.

As for Will, he was unconcerned with why Wendy chose to store her broom where she did; he was simply glad she had. It rose up into the heavens, leaning against the backsplash of the countertop simply. It was perfect.

He began to climb.

◘ ◘ ◘

It was mid-afternoon when Wendy finished the book; not quite American Gods, she thought, but few novels were.

Wendy stretched out, and set the novel down, and pondered what she should do next. She had no real desire to go see a movie, and while she'd sit through a football game if someone else was watching, she really only cared for Michigan Wolverines basketball (men's and women's—she was egalitarian). She knew there would be some weepy Lifetime movie on—Oh My God—The Baby!, or something similar—but she thought she'd prefer football.

She looked back to the kitchen. When was the last time she'd swept in there? Let's see, she'd moved in on July 15th, and she'd swept in August, and then…uh….

Well, that would never do. Okay, it would do fine, but still, she was just bored enough that she thought she may as well sweep anyhow.

She padded into the kitchen, and walked toward the fridge.

◘ ◘ ◘

Will was about a third of the way up the broomstick, and he was feeling the burn, primarily in his bad left leg, which was currently transmitting a constant, urgent message that could be summarized with the word "ouch." He shifted his weight as much rightward as he could, trying to ease the burden on the screws holding his femur together. Whatever healing his diminished size had afforded his leg was rapidly being undone, but he kept on. After all, he thought, once he reached the countertop, he could find a hiding place and rest his leg. A night of sleep and he might just be fully healed. But it would be a night with enough food and drink to sate him.

Suddenly, a shadow further darkened the canyon he was in. He looked over his shoulder, and cursed—he was looking at the well-turned calf of Wendy, and she was, he saw, reaching for the broom.

Her hand grasped the top of the broomstick, and it was all Will could do to avoid falling. The stick moved a few dozen feet, and suddenly stopped.

◘ ◘ ◘

Wendy heard her cell phone ring, and rolled her eyes. "Great," she said, dropping the broom and jogging into her room to answer before the call rolled over to voicemail.

"Hey, Jill," she said, answering. "Going to save me from sweeping?"

"Sweeping?" Wendy's sister said, dubiously.

"Yeah, I'm bored enough that I've actually contemplated sweeping my kitchen. You aren't going out for pizza or anything, are you?"

"No, no. Uh—so, nothing interesting happening there?" Jill said, with a note of concern.

"Well, I finished Anansi Boys, and I've done some laundry, and…well, no, why should there be?"

"Just, uh…no reason. Anyhow, Dan and I are spending the evening in. Just wanted to see how you were…doing."

"Must be nice," said Wendy. "You know," she started to add, but thought better of it. "Anyhow, Jill, I've got sweeping to attend to, and after that, if I'm lucky, mopping. I can't believe I'm looking forward to work on Tuesday."

"Right. Right. Uh, okay, Wen. I tell you what, would you mind giving me a call in the morning?"

"Not at all, why?"

"No reason. Have a good day."

"Bye. She's in a state," Wendy muttered, as she hung up. She didn't know what Jill was concerned about, but it was something. Maybe she and Dan were fighting or something.

Suddenly, she heard a clatter from the kitchen, but didn't think much of it. The broom had slipped, obviously. Well, she'd leaned it up kind of haphazardly; it was bound to happen. She'd go collect it and pick it up in a second or two.

◘ ◘ ◘

Jill hung up the phone, a knot starting to twist its way through her stomach.

Was Will hurt? He hadn't been when she'd stowed him in Wendy's purse. Oh, he was unconscious then, but they'd said that would last a few hours. Heck, she was counting on it.

Maybe he was still unconscious. Oh, God, what if she'd put him in a coma?

No, no, get a hold of yourself. He's not injured. He's fine. Just scared of approaching Wendy.

Jill wasn't sure as to why she had this insight, and she was less sure why he'd be afraid of approaching Wendy. After all, Wendy was cute and nice, she was Jill's little sister….

And Jill paused, and groaned audibly.

◘ ◘ ◘

Will had decided to push on when she let go of the broom. He heard the phone ringing, and he knew he'd made decent progress. He just had to get another third of the way up the broomstick and he could jump over to the counter. No problem.

He moved quickly, more quickly than his leg wanted him to, but he was driven. He moved up the edifice hurriedly, and he knew he was going to make it. He could feel it.

And then the broomstick began to slide.

It was Wendy's fault; she'd pulled it out enough that it was tipping just slightly away from the wall. It wouldn't have been a big deal, but the tiny mass climbing along it tipped the balance just enough that it began to move of its own accord.

Will had no options. He was halfway up the broomstick, too far for his mind to let him jump, not far enough to reach up to the counter. He could only hold on helplessly, and hope the broom would right itself, find another point of stasis.

It didn't.

He rode the stick as it fell to a twenty-degree angle, then thirty, accelerating through as he lost his grip, and fell down, landing hard on the linoleum, just as the broom finally gave way and fell at top speed, the broomstick falling right for him. All he could do is watch, and throw up his hands futilely as it landed smack upon him.

◘ ◘ ◘

Wendy entered the kitchen about twenty seconds later. She reached down and picked up the broom as naturally as someone would reach down and pick up a broom. She started to put it back, when her mind registered the form on the ground.

She didn't shriek, and she didn't panic, and she didn't think mouse, because she'd been here before, back in the winter in Ann Arbor. Instead, she flung the broom around and away from the crumpled form, and without thinking dropped to her right knee to get a closer look.

He was out cold, and she was afraid to move him. For a second, she feared that he was dead, but she saw his tiny chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths, and she carefully moved his arms away from his face, and placed them at his side.

It was then she gasped. "Will!" she said, frowning. Will? What on Earth was he doing….

"Oh, Jill, what the Hell were you up to?" she said, angrily, to nobody in particular. She felt like crying, she was so furious at her sister. How dare she! She hadn't asked Jill to meddle, and she certainly didn't want Jill reenacting past embarrassing events in her life, especially since said reenactment had obviously hurt Will pretty badly.

She turned back to Will. Was he in on it? Wendy doubted it. He would've approached her if he was. Poor little guy, he must've been scared to death. She looked down at him, and couldn't help replaying her own past. He was even naked. Jill really had thought of everything.

It was at this moment that Will made his first movements, and Wendy held her breath as his eyes winked open, fixed hers, and widened.

"Oh, crap," he said, gazing at the giantess. Great, I'm dead.

"You okay?" came the booming reply from Wendy.

"Yeah," he said, straining to get to his elbows. "I've had worse."

"Don't get up too quickly. You took a hard fall. Just rest, I'll get in touch with my sister and we'll get this straightened out."

"What? No, you don't need to call Jill. I'm okay. Just, uh, just get me back to my apartment, I know a guy who can fix this. I think."

Wendy looked down at Will, and clucked. "It's Jill's fault you're in this mess, I'll bet. She can get it straightened out."

Will looked up at Wendy, thinking perhaps he'd taken a more severe blow to his head than he'd thought. "What?"

"I think she spiked your food or your drink, she was trying to get us set up. She mentioned to me that she thought we'd be a good match; I think she wanted to have us…meet cute, or something."

Will gazed up at Wendy, and then, quite unexpectedly, he began to laugh. It was an uproarious, joyous laugh, one at his own expense, and he had to admit, at Wendy's, too.

"You okay?" Wendy asked, a bit perplexed.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Will said finally, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh, my goodness, yeah, I can see Jill deciding to pull this on me. That magnificent bitch. I'm sorry to have made you a part of her revenge on me, though."

"What?"

"Nothing, Wendy. So Jill was trying to fix us up, you think?"

Wendy smiled a bit. "Yeah. I…well, I'd mentioned something about…God, this is embarrassing."

Will looked down at himself. "Oh, man, I'm naked. I'm sorry about that—I woke up that way."

"It's not like you wandered in her and waggled it," said Wendy, pausing and chewing on her words after the sentence concluded. "It's my idiot sister's idea of a joke on me. Long story. Embarassing story. Long, embarrassing story."

"Can't be any more embarrassing than mine," Will said, sighing.

Wendy arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Well, Will," she said, finally, "I was so bored I was actually contemplating sweeping the kitchen, so I tell you what. You hungry?"

"Yes?" Will asked.

"Me too. I'm going to order a pizza, and we'll eat it, and then we'll go over to my sister's house and give her what-for. Sound like a plan?"

"You can give her what-for. I'll just take the pizza and the company of a pretty girl; that's enough for me."

Wendy's other eyebrow arched at that, and a small smile played over her face. It was a nice complement, but more than that, she couldn't help but notice that he was really cute.

And his being tiny was part of the charm, wasn't it?

◘ ◘ ◘

They had their pizza, they had some wine, they both found themselves flirting in spite of themselves. They talked about life, about how neither of them envisioned being a corporate drone, how they both liked similar music, how they both loved literature, how they both were frankly tired of television.

Left unsaid was how they both found their relative scale to be fascinating; that fact was obvious.

Wendy giggled as he fought off the massive strings of cheese; Will alleviated her concerns that her chewing would disgust him. He drank a bit of the wine from a bottlecap, and looked up at her and smiled broadly. "You really think your sister was trying to set us up?" he asked.

"Yeah," Wendy said, sighing.

"You think it's working?"

Wendy looked at him, and said, "What do you think?"

"I think," said Will, quietly, "that I wish I'd been awake enough to chat you up at your sister's wedding."

"Why?"

"Because I think we'd have been dating two years already."

Wendy leaned in for a kiss, and Will did his best to return it.

There was a knock at the door.

They parted, and Wendy said, "Should I ignore it?"

"Better see who it is…and tell them to go away."

Wendy smiled widely. She got up and went to the door, peeked through the peephole, and laughed.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, opening the door to reveal her sister.

"Sorry to bug you, Wendy, but it's important. I did something really stupid, and I need to make sure that I fix it."

"Oh?" said Wendy.

"Yeah, you see, I wanted to set you and Will up, and I thought I could sneak him into your apartment shrunk, and that you might meet and hit it off, but I've been calling to check and you haven't seen him, and I think he might be afraid to approach you because he's afraid I'll be mad if he's shrunk around my little sister—long story—and anyhow I just wanted to come in and see if he's okay, and get him restored to normal—I brought the antidote—and I'm really sorry, and—is that pizza? And wine? And—Will?"

"Hey, Jill," Will called, waving, using a napkin to cover up partially. "You say you're behind this? I'm shocked. Aren't you shocked, Wendy?"

"Shocked," said Wendy, smiling.

Jill looked from her sister to Will and back to her sister. "Uh…"

"You said you brought the antidote, Jilly Bean?"

"Yeah. It's this atomizer," said Jill, fumbling in her purse.

"Great. I'll take that—we'll need that. Later."

Jill looked back at her sister, and over at Will. And slowly, she smiled.

"Here you go," said Jill, handing the atomizer to Wendy. She looked over at Will. "So my crazy, stupid plan worked?"

Wendy looked at her sister, and said, "We'll know soon enough, Jill. For now—will you get out of here? Will and I were in the middle of something."

Jill Belisle mumbled her goodbyes, and pulled the door shut. She pumped her right arm once, and picked up the cell phone.

"Dan? Hey, hon—yeah, Wendy had my cell. Looks just like hers. Anyhow, tomorrow night, I think we should have Wendy and Will over. Well, let's just say I had an illuminating chat with both of them. Yes, both of them. Yeah, I know, I am a genius."

◘ ◘ ◘

"So it tickles?"

"Don't take it personally. It tickles in a wonderful way."

"As long as it's wonderful; that's the goal."

"And you don't mind exploring someone the size of a house?"

"Mind? I mind it the same way that I mind eating pie."

"Good…oh…uh, where are you going? Spelunking, are you…ooooh."

They pushed dinner with Dan and Jill back to Wednesday night, and they both called in sick on Tuesday. Will had a lot of exploring to do, and Wendy had plenty of territory to explore. And even when Will had made a thorough survey, he felt like there were several areas he wanted to know more—and Wendy was more than willing to oblige him.

They were engaged six month later, married on New Year's Day of 2007. It was appropriate; they had both found in each other a new beginning from an old sorrow. They had both found the future, and they were determined to make it a grand one.
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