I suck at these.
... Yes, for once my idea was original.
I own nothing but the plot.
(In which Bunny's painting skills were only worthwhile on eggs.)
"Seriously? How does one person end up drawing 15 stripes, 12 zigzags, 7 apples, and 11 petunias in a drawing competion? And in five drawings!?"
North never really did have the best ideas, did he?
Bunny stared in frustration at the drawing. And Jack, too. (Maybe not so much in frustration at him, though.)
Four crumpled papers lay on the ground, only just missing the trash can at the corner of the room.
"Quite specific, Frostbite. Have ya been watching me?"
And silence.
Jack heard a poem once that said blushes screamed. Odd choice of words. Seems that his, though, hung dry in the air. It didn't take the frustrated Pooka's attention, though, so he guessed his was quiet. He was always kind of special.
It had been North's oh so brilliant idea to have a drawing contest.
Turns out, Bunnymund cannot draw on paper. At all.
"Cottontail, I think that the paper doesn't need that kind of stress." Spoke Jack, seeing Bunny struggling to cope with a pencil instead of a paintbrush.
His furry hands were twitching in agitation, itching to take the piece of innocent paper and crumple it.
Speaking in specifics, the pencil had been pressed way too hard on the paper, creating thick marks of unequal proportions and wavy lines with extra little edges that just couldn't be erased.
It looked like an Easter egg gone wrong.
Very wrong.
Looking around the table, Jack could clearly see the other Guardians struggling.
North's hands were not holding the pencil right. He didn't actually draw the blueprints for toys, that job was left to the yetis centuries ago. His tongue was sticking out just barely, and the tattooed arms were moving back and forth.
Sandy was doing okay, but he was also having a little bout of frustration.
Sand was puffing out of his ears in a strange makeshift sigh. He was sketching a figure slightly resembling a disfigured lion.
Small golden tendrils of sand swirled around the small man, and he huffed again.
Tooth was drawing teeth. Bloody teeth. With gums and all. It was not very detailed, just a diagram like the one you would see in a dentist's office.
Jack himself was drawing a little fox, it's features crouching and speaking of playful intents.
Greens swirled and bent around the tiny 2D fox, a mischievous sparkle lighting up the fox's aquamarine eyes.
Realistic, but lines that spoke of innocence and down-right childish behavior with their hasty yet perfect curves and dips. Jack's hand hurt.
He stopped drawing with his pre-dominant right hand, instead using his left. The lines were the same. Texture, shading, quality, technique.
Perfect.
By now the Guardians were staring at his artwork, the switch not going unnoticed. Ambidextrous? Eh.
"Jack, you are very good at artwork, da?" The Guardian of Wonder blurted out after around ten minutes of watching. The others were so mesmerized that they didn't pay heed to the question.
"Uh... Thanks, North." It was not a bitter ending to the sentence, just a rather curt and hurried answer.
By this point, Jack was half-hiding his head under the collar of the hoodie. The Guardians couldn't see his face, but if they could, his violet blush would scream.
"..." All the other Guardians did was watch as the boy sketched and colored a wide-eyed fox.
If Jack was being honest, he would say that the staring was getting kind of creepy.
But if this was the love he had been hoping for for 300 years, then it was the love he was going to get.