A/N: Why, yes, that is awesome cover art. Done by a dear friend of mine: ScriptorSapiens on DeviantArt. For my birthday, by the way. Check him out! Own nothing! :)
Chapter One: Eyes Like Starlight
The neighbors might think… (Baby, it's bad out there.)
Say! What's in this drink? (No cabs to be had out there.)
I wish I knew how (Your eyes are like starlight now.)
To break the spell. (I'll take your hat. Your hair looks swell.)
- "Baby, It's Cold Outside" Frank Loesser
"Jack."
Just a name. A short, one syllable, unremarkable scrap of a name that stood for a more elaborate designation. James. John. Each small, simple in their own rights, and yet somehow bearing a more elegant ring than a humble 'Jack.'
"Jack, can you hear me?"
Never before had he thought of his name as something extraordinary, noteworthy, even remotely pleasant to hear. It was cacophonous in its entirety, a sharp 'j' in the beginning and a harsh 'ck' at the end. It matched him perfectly, reflected his mischievous nature. It wasn't beautiful, poetic, praiseworthy or precious. It was biting. Quick. Like a cold gust of wind on a frosty January morning.
"Ja-aaack…"
And yet, in her musical voice, he could've sworn up and down he'd never heard a lovelier sound. Not even in the tinkling of ice-covered branches stirred by a chilly breeze. The scraping of a skate across a frozen pond. The gentle taps of tiny snowflakes pattering against a frost-covered window.
Nothing was more beautiful than his name on her tongue.
"Jackson Overland Frost, you had better not be ignoring me."
He hid a grin against his shoulder, and batted away an elf attempting to help itself to the hot chocolate he was preparing. "Hmm? What? Did you say something, Tooth?"
"Don't you play innocent with me, Jack Frost, I can see right through you."
Wearing the lopsided grin he knew she secretly loved, he left North's small private kitchen and entered the adjoining living room, ringed with four wooden doorways connecting to the Guardian's private quarters. On several occasions in the past, the Man in the Moon's visits had called for longer than a half-hour meeting, and on those instances the Guardians had found it tiresome to return late at night to their own individual dwellings, sleep very little if at all, only to wake extremely early the next morning in order to make the journey back to the Pole. Thus, North had deemed it necessary to add a new special wing to the palace containing all the necessary sleeping, bathing, and cooking facilities required by each individual Guardian, complete with themed rooms and connected by a common living area, the centerpiece of which was an enormous, roaring fireplace surrounded by plush armchairs and an extensive sofa.
It was upon this sofa that the Guardian of Memories presently sat, her wings folded sedately at her back, her small pink hands gathered in her lap, and her fuchsia eyes glimmering at him like a pair of amethysts beneath her crown of iridescent feathers. Her plumage scattered the firelight in rainbow flecks across the room and over his gnarled, crooked staff resting on the arm of the sofa beside her, and the sight was so breathtaking that Jack momentarily lost his ability to move. Clutching a mug of hot chocolate in each fist, he froze solid in the doorway, stopped breathing, and briefly forgot his own name. He couldn't tell if he was trying to do something poetic like appreciate the moment, or if he was simply trying to gather his wits, scattered like the firelight across Tooth's feathers.
You see, ever since the Battle of Belief, maybe half a year or so ago by now, Jack had steadily grown aware of the fact that the Tooth Fairy had quite comfortably built a home in the back of his mind, and had simply refused to leave. Before he'd met her, he'd always heard tales of how beautiful she was. He'd seen glimpses of her mini-fairies flitting about children's bedrooms on wintry nights when he'd watched, unseen, from a nearby lamppost or tree limb, between Sandman's golden ribbons of dreams. The little Guardians shimmered like tiny emeralds as they collected teeth and rewarded with coins before streaking away into the night. Curious one evening, he'd tried to follow. He tailed a fairy south, across the ocean from a sleepy Seattle suburb, further and further towards the equator to the misty mountains on the coast of Asia, thick with steamy rainforests and the sounds of exotic birds, until the heat had forced him to retreat. It was the height of summer, and the forest was blazing. Calling the wind, he'd whisked himself back to the frosty safety of the upper atmosphere, but not before catching one last glimpse of the mini-fairy's green back vanishing like a bejeweled pinprick up the side of the tallest mountain in sight, the peak hidden by mist. Thus had the mystery of seeing the Tooth Fairy vanished for Jack Frost. It was simply physically impossible for him to reach her. Even the tiniest amount of heat could spell disaster for a winter spirit.
Following that instance, every chance to be officially staggered by the legendary beauty of Toothiana, Queen of the Fairies, had been taken from him by the whirlwind of what would become known as the Battle of Belief. He'd been overwhelmed when thrust, headfirst and bewildered, into the Workshop by North's yetis, and taken aback by Tooth's insistent first dental checkup. Her mini-fairies' infatuation with him was amusing and flattering, but before he could ponder more on what that might mean in regards to their mistress, there had come the attack on the Tooth Palace. Never in his 300-year-long play session with winter and the children had he ever felt recognizable sympathy for anyone. But there, when she sank to the ground, the power draining her wings to a standstill, her fairies captured, and her palace crumbling where it stood, something moved inside Jack that he'd never felt before. He wanted to help her. For the sake of helping her. Even before the offer of the teeth, of his memories.
Sandman's death. He remembered watching from a distance, horrified, as Pitch's nightmares closed in on the Guardian whose golden dolphins, soccer-players, and unicorns had helped him through so many lonely nights in a world where nobody could see him, where nobody seemed to care. Secretly, he thought of Sandy as his oldest friend, his only friend. He remembered nothing but red after that, red and black and flying at Pitch with the intent to destroy him and his army with one wave of his crooked staff—
An explosion of black sand and snow, falling, and then arms. Warm, soft, loving arms that tickled his cheek as they carried him to safety, to North's sleigh…
And then the memories. Pitch's labyrinth. Easter…that had been awful. Her eyes wide, glistening, her fingers on her mouth as she whispered, "Oh, Jack. What have you done?..."
That hurt more than anything he'd ever felt before. Most likely more than anything he'd ever feel again. Not even Bunny's words, harsh and unforgiving and broken, had pierced him more than her eyes, driving a hot poker through the very center of his chest.
Ultimately, it's why he'd given up his staff. His power. It's why he'd saved Baby Tooth, even though he knew in the deepest part of his soul that he'd just doomed himself and perhaps every child in the world to a future without Guardians. Because the little fairy meant so much to Tooth, because she was a part of Tooth, and some previously untouched bit of his frozen heart grasped desperately at the last bit of Tooth that he'd probably ever see.
And then, after the battle, after the Guardians won, after Pitch was chased back into his hole beneath the bed by his own nightmares and fear, when she'd hugged him…!
Physical touch was something Jack had rarely experienced in all 300 years of his lonely existence. He was used to being walked through, ignored, bypassed like so much wind through bare tree branches. The touches he must have felt as a human boy had vanished with his memories, and even now were spotty and scattered like reflections in a broken mirror. But then, high on victory after Pitch's defeat and feeling believed in for the first time in his life, on top of that…!
He was vaguely aware of the buzzing sound darting towards him, a happy giggle, being scooped up into a pair of arms, spun like a top, and overwhelmed by the scent of flowers and rain and soft feathers. And then she pulled away, grinning, blinded him with her smile, and then had the audacity to look surprised when he could do nothing but gaze goofily back in return, feeling his heart gallop in his chest like the North Wind on the mountains at night, and wondering vaguely if she could feel it, too…
That hug was probably the first moment Jack Frost had fully appreciated the Tooth Fairy's beauty. Life had never been the same since.
"Jack? Are you alright? You look…bluer than usual."
Pulled back to the present, Jack quickly shook himself, and resisted the urge to snort contemptuously. He was the Guardian of Fun. He was lighthearted and mischievous. He would not be conquered by whatever these feelings were, rising slowly and steadily inside like a cup filling with hot cider. He simply refused. He had befriended the North Wind, mastered the art of snowball fights, and considered himself the guru of sledding and skating. He would wrestle this into submission, too. He promised himself.
Wearing that same lopsided grin, he padded to the sofa, and offered one steaming mug. "'Course I'm alright, princess. I'm Jack Frost. Cocoa?"
Had he been wearing any socks, her answering smile would have knocked them clean off. And he most definitely didn't tremble when their fingers brushed as she accepted the drink. He plopped down on the sofa next to her quickly, grinning insanely, and promptly choked when he gulped his hot chocolate a little too soon. Tooth's tittering giggle made the internal burns instantly worth it.
It was going to be a long night.
A/N: Ringing in the new year with some Frostbite/Rainbow Snowcone/Fairyfrost HECK YES! Which I have become obsessed with. Instead of finishing my Star Wars multichaps. Heheh...*shot*
