Bunnymund has Easter. North has Christmas. Tooth and Sandy have every single night. What does Jack have? Well, Jack. Jack has winter...and a fondness for the Fourth of July.
Me no own ROTG nor the things I will reference...blegh.
There was a rush of cold air that blasted throughout North's office, scattering papers from his desk and inciting a hoard of Russian curses to fall from the big man's mouth.
The window snapped open, nearly tearing itself off it's hinges, in the wind's excitement, it bounced and pranced about the room in a childish glee that could only have been brought about by one person in North's contact.
Jack Frost.
Grumbling to himself he fumbled around the room trying to shut the stuck window that was now blowing in seemingly pointless amounts of cool air from the pole's stream, the 'jolly' old man grabbed one of his swords from his belt and tried to fiddle with the latching until one of two things happened; the window shut, or the window broke.
Easy compromise, yes?
Well, no.
"Gah!" The big Russian gaped and struggled as the winds wrapped and whipped around him, lifting him slightly off the ground, as if testing his weight.
He breathed a hefty sigh of relief as both feet were on the ground again. He may like flying in a sleigh and teleporting through his snow-globes, but both involved his feet remaining firmly on the ground without the nasty air sickness.
Even during the transportation in the globes.
What? He's gotta use the elves for something right?
Before he had a chance to bend down in an attempt to gather his blueprints a gust swept in across the room and threw North over it's metaphorical shoulder, carried him out the window and into the skies.
Some elves later discovered it was snowing cookies at one point during the day in a very singular trail and promptly scarfed them down for later deliberation.
–
The Warren was in a time of rest this time of year.
The eggs were napping about and the totems were sitting with there happy faces forward as they tried to wake the little googies and play tag. Stomping about proudly, shaking the ground peaceably in a game.
Never seemed to worked out well for the eggs though...hm, I wonder why.
Bunnymund, the egg master, was laying calmly amongst his sleeping eggs, staring up at the ceiling of the den. Eyes making bored patterns in the moss covered roof, and tracking the growth of the flowers perched up along the the riverbed and down the now shaking passageways.
"Knock it off, ya crazy t-!" Bunny sat up in exasperation, expecting to see his ton and half totems prancing around in the belly of the warren.
How many times was he going to have to tell those totems not to harass his new eggs?
This was the tenth time this hour they've made a muck of the place.
Bunny's ears stood apprehensively on his head, tall and twitching in all directions. Nose sniffing every couple of seconds, hands posed over his boomerangs ready to let loose at any given moment.
The totems were no where to be seen.
A chilled breeze passed through the tunnels of the Warren, carrying with them an odd scent of pine trees and...
...Cookies?
Bunny stood to his full height ears drawn back defensively.
North?
He flinched at the increasing decibels of a scream as it worked its way down his tunnels and into the clearing.
Deep voice, strong Adams apple.
Cookies.
Screaming foreign curses into the winds...
Yep, had to be North. Then, as if for no other reason than to prove him right, the Russian was dumped in from the north tunnel and circled around the middle of his Warren haphazardly.
Bunny chuckled lightly, still confused at the entrance, but amused by the reaction. "Careful there, North. Don't want yah teaching me googies to talk like you do. Talk about Easter surprise."
The spinning Santa glared as well as he could at the overgrown rabbit while still keeping the rest of his dinner down, Bunny laughed again at his fellow Guardians sorry state. He knew that if there had been a problem he would've said something by now.
So, he was free to laugh.
"Crikey, North. Yah look down ri-" He froze, both in his sentence and a little bit physically too. The icy wind nipped under his fur as it licked at the grass under his feet.
"Oh," the Pooka gasped. "Oh, no yah don't."
He dug his claws into the ground in a last ditch attempt to stay connected with his nice, warm, grassy plains, but as the saying goes...
'Resistance is futile.'
And so the two were juggled up and away through the tunnels to catch the jet stream up to the mid west USA.
The totems and eggs were left with one last message before running about and knocking themselves over in their fun –Jack had been a great influence, excellent way to distract the eggs from work- before their master and his friend had been allowed to be carried beyond their reach-
"Frooost!"
–
Well, hi! That was my first ROTG fanfic...It's gonna be a two-shot, maybe three depending...
This idea just kind of popped in my head and I had to get at least this much down before knocking out for the night.
Hope you like it! Review, follow, favorite-whatever! Let me know if you like it, how to improve, constructive criticism is always welcome.
So, I plan to see you soon, byeeee-!
I-V