A/N: Hello! I always felt like this collection needed some kind of an ending, so after almost three (!) years, here it is. Thank you for everyone who has read these (embarrassing & old) stories, your feedback makes me so happy! This story is just basically fluffy babbling (from Howl's POV) without a proper plot, but I hope you like it anyway!

Impossible Things

Howl can't seem to figure her out. Not a day goes by without them bickering about the most useless things, they annoy each other in ways no one else can, and sometimes Sophie is just impossible. She's true and fair to a fault, her fondness for cleaning is insufferable, she can be extremely proper and down-to-earth, and he can't quite fathom what the heck is up with that one hell of a woman.

And yet when he says a few words that make her frown, cross her arms and fire right back at him, he can't help but enjoy this verbal challenge. She's like a little soldier, one head shorter than him, standing there, too stubborn to move, reddish hair matching the colour of her cheeks as they gain heat - and suddenly he's lost in her and forgets all about the fight and just stares at her, mouth hanging slightly open.

Despite their constant bickering, they don't actually fight in a serious manner all that often - in fact, way less than anyone else would think. But when they do, it's loud and it's heated. Then, some time after the dust has settled down, it's either Howl who sneaks up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, making her startle a bit; or Sophie who just walks in front of him, presses her cheek against his chest and hugs him in the most simple yet warm way only Sophie can.

If it's Sophie who accepts the apology, she covers his hands with hers, maybe leans a little against him; whereas Howl, while accepting her hug (does he have any other choise than to accept, really?) puts a hand on her back and the other behind her head, closes his eyes and smells the familiar scent of nothing else than Sophie herself (and maybe a faint amount of the floral shampoo he bought from Wales); and wonders what ever in this world or another did he do to deserve this fierce but loving woman in his arms. Sometimes a few words are spoken in both occasions, but most of the time their conciliations are just quiet moments, when the only thing they hear is the other's slow breathing.

x x x

"Cariad, there's something about you I just can't figure out."

"What is it this time?"

Silence.

Then, "What on earth made you marry me?"

She snorts. "I figured there had to be someone to give you a headache and keep this place decent."

He feels her soft hand against his skin, giving his hand a small squeeze. He can't see her face but he knows she's smiling.

x x x

She arranges flowers with a very concentrated look on her face, she hums quietly as she cleans, she wakes up in the morning, eyes full of sleep, hair tangled, and he stops to wonder if she's even real at all (even though she might just as well be the realest person he has ever come across).

She's tired and cranky after spending the whole day in the flower shop with difficult customers; she's soft and warm when she snuggles against him in her sleep late at night. Her magic is raw and bold, the life just pours out of her and reaches everything nearby, it makes her glow and he is sure he hasn't ever seen anything quite like it. Her laughter is sunshine, he feels the lump in his throat and is left breathless by the sight of her wide smile - especially if it's directed at him and even more so if he's the one causing it.

And she's just being Sophie all day long, because that's what she does best of course, and sometimes that includes her looking up at him, eyes shimmering, and his heart aches strangely under the weight of the love that radiates out of her. Howl wonders if he's ever going to get his pounding, shuddering, squirming heart under control (wretched old thing, sometimes he wishes she hadn't ever given it back to him - he doesn't know what he expected, but it definitely didn't involve a heart acting like a schoolboy with a crush every time a girl smiles at him). It's not like Sophie is much different though; he can hear the rapid beating of her heart while kissing her; he can feel her slight trembling when he touches her bare skin, sometimes.

x x x

It's a terrible injustice he's expected not to have a heart attack of some sort when she's standing there, with the new blue dress flattering her figure, making her eyes shine even more with their blue and green tones, strawberry blonde hair not yet tied up, flowing down her shoulders in glowing curls.

"What?" she asks, with suspicion and no clue (how can one be so damn clueless?) of what her appearances do to him. "Stop staring at me, you vain man."

It does take no more than a couple of steps for him to stand in front of her, no more than the strength of his arms to lift her up from her waist and spin her around in the air. A small cry escapes her throat and her hands grasp his arms so tightly that it almost hurts, as if he'd let her fall. When he puts her back on the ground, her laughter is breathless and her hands are still tightly holding on to his arms. She's just about to say something when another voice speaks.

"You two should watch out before you start breaking places around here," Calcifer states from the fireplace.

Sophie breaks free from the wizard's grip and huffs. "Don't blame it on me, I was fairly innocent to that." As it seems from her unsteady steps, she's still a little dizzy from all that spinning. She attempts to put her hair back in its place, failing miserably as the unruly curls end up dancing all over her face.

"Of course, I am to blame for everything! Just as always with the two of you," Howl complains ruefully. His sigh is loud and exaggerated. Both Sophie and Calcifer roll their eyes, but Howl is almost certain he can see a glimmering amusement in her eyes. Although she turns quickly away, he can still catch her hidden smile. After she's left the room, Howl turns to Calcifer. "Is that woman even real?"

Calcifer snorts. "Haven't you heard, she's just a hallucination Michael and I created to keep you from courting every pretty girl in sight."

But Howl knows she's not a hallucination, because he can still feel the firm grip of her terrified hands and the butterflies that her shaky, breathless laughter woke up in his stomach. No hallucination can cause such things, he's the Royal Wizard of Ingary and he knows.