AN: Well, first of all I would like to mention that none of the characters appearing here (well, except the old man) are mine. Cole is an OC belonging to fanfic writer DREAMCOLE, and Will and the rest of the guys appearing here are… hmm, I actually don't know who holds the right to them. Elisabetta Gnone, Disney, Jetix…? Hmmm, oh well. They are someone else's characters.

Anyway, been a while since I've wrote a fic. Hope you like it, lol. Without further ado:

Ice-Cream

"Say, Cole, do you like ice cream?"

He turned to her then. The girl was standing a couple of feet away; she'd stopped in mid-walk to peer at something to her right. He raised an eyebrow, idly, and followed her gaze to watch whatever that it was. On notice, he rolled his eyes.

The day was warm, blithe, and the sun had yet to reach its peak. Few strolled around at this time, most were the early joggers he'd seen in days past. The wind blew, blades of grass danced softly to the slight, lazy breeze. It was a perfect day to amble carelessly, enjoying what life could offer in its simplicity.

Up ahead, upon the sidewalk, a small stand went on pushed solely by a hunched man. The cart had a faded-over visage from years of use. It was white… No, something more like bleached. An umbrella rested on top—colorful, yet worn—loosely tied to a small post sprouting out from somewhere within. The image on the side was equally exhausted: Some balloons and a couple of ice-cream cones blurred over each among the others.

"Come on."

Not waiting for a response, the girl trotted in lead. A flicker of annoyance struck him then, and yet, he followed, calmly. He went to his own pace, not bothering to keep up. He knew she wouldn't mind.

"Excuse me?" He listened as she tried to get the attention of the man—old as he was and half deaf. He took a moment to study the outline of her face, how the tips of her red hairs stroked lightly the low part of her cheeks, just above her jawbone. She was slightly flushed, perhaps from heat, perhaps simply from the easy pleasure.

"Sir?" He observed how gentle her smile became as she addressed him, and how the old one in turn shone similar kindness through missing teeth. His skin was bronze and wrinkled, and sported all over some liver spots.

"Oy, what can I do today for a young, pretty lady like you, Miss?" He could hear the raspy voice say evenly in reply.

He frowned. Frail and thin as he was, Cole could still not help but feel slight contempt toward him. He did not deserve to see her smile. No one did, really.

And yet he remained silent.

"Do you still have ice cream, Sir?" Of course it was still early in the day for it to finish, but it was only polite to ask.

"Of course, M'lady! Why don't you take a look?" he said, unbolting the container.

The girl leaned over, burnt umber eyes traveled from treat to treat. She noted curiously that there were not only the big ice-cream containers for scooping, as one would expect from a traveling ice-cream stand, but there were also some of those "take-out" ice-cream packages that were often sold at supermarkets for eating at home. Traveling merchants did not usually bother with such merchandise.

Pondering over it, she voiced her choice.

"I'd like one of those, please," she said, pointing to one of the blue containers. The man nodded and proceeded to scoop the dainty unto a cone. When he finished, he handed it over.

"Will the young man over there take a look as well?" The frail man winked at her and grinned, his eyes flickering briefly toward the long-haired, young man. "Or perhaps you will both share?"

The young man in question merely kept his watch, unfazed. The girl, in turn, blushed a deep red and smiled a cute smile. "Oh, no, Sir, err… thanks. We'll take one each." This was when the equally brown-eyed man looked mildly surprised.

"It is not necessary," he replied with a rather monotone voice, "I am not hungry."

Of course, like any other good female, she ignored him.

"He'll have the same." His eye twitched. "Will--," he started, but then she grabbed one of those "take-out" packages from earlier and said, "Oh, and we'll take one of these too."

The old man nodded; his laugh full-throated and deep.

"You'll grow to it, Sonny. Don't you doubt it," he whispered not-so-quietly to Cole, scooping up a second cone. Will simply chuckled softly and looked upwards.

Eyes closed, Cole thought to himself:

I'm afraid of it.

When the old man finished, he held the treat out to the young man, who, in turn, just stood there watching it. The red-head rolled her eyes and picked it up for him with the same hand she took her own.

"Don't be ridiculous, Cole. Now pay." And so, she went ahead, but not before muttering a soft thank you to the man, whose grin never left his face and replied with something along the lines of "of course, Miss, it was my pleasure," or something or the other.

Of course. With a huff of distaste, Cole paid for everything and went after the girl. The old man watched them leave, chuckled and then continued his own way.

"Youngsters these days."

He found her sitting on the earthy patch aside a root of a huge tree. She was leaning against it, a neutral look on her face. She was holding both cones, waiting, watching. He approached slowly, even though knowing full well that she was not angry with him. When he reached her, he simply stood by her side.

A few minutes passed but he did not take a seat. Will, used to his mannerisms, looked back evenly.

"Aren't you going to sit?"

He took that as permission to take his place beside her, settling somewhat clumsily, as though there was something unseen on his back. The umber-eyed girl just rolled her eyes playfully at him and handed over his own cone, which he took this time.

"Seriously, Cole…" she chastised him lightly.

The long-haired man did not bother to reply.

Both then took their time to enjoy their meals. She was eating slower than him, having eaten half of her cone by the time he took his. Still, his was not a fast pace at all.

When she finished, she cleaned her hand with a napkin, and then tipped her head against the tree. She took to watch the sky, bare of clouds and so decided that it was best to close her eyes, but a small oomph from her side prevented it. She glanced over with a small, lazy smirk.

"Didn't your mom ever tell you that you shouldn't bite more than you can handle?"

He grunted in retort.

"I'll take that as a yes." Even so her smile softened and her arm reached out to touch his head with the tips of her fingers. She began to caress his temple, just above his eye, where one commonly gets a headache after quickly eating something cold. He looked slightly uncomfortable at her action, blushing faintly, but did not move at all.

Her fingers then headed upwards, to his scalp. She traced thin lines through it, currying down his long tresses. His hair was soft, the color of copper, she had always loved touching it.

They sat like that for a couple of minutes, simply enjoying the shade of the tree. She caressing his head, he eating his treat.

Unfortunately, like all good things in life, it had to end sometime.

"Well, if it isn't Wilma and her girlfriend?"

The girl's head snapped so suddenly, Cole had a mild thought it might break. Some feet away from the couple stood three boys with smug smiles on their faces. Two of them resembled those animals he saw the other day on television… how were they called? Oh yes, pigs. The last one stood out considerably, though, as his hair resembled a bin of carrots.

"Uriah!"

Will stood to her feet, a scowl upon her face; ice-cream cone and bottle all but forgotten, shoved into the hands of the young man besides her. It was then when he realized that he had heard his names before, somewhere among the several talks that the guardians had. From what he could recall, those were the "bumbling jerks that have nothing better to do than to make other people's lives miserable."

"Well, Wilma, how ya doin'?" the boy mocked the girl, "I always knew ya fancied wimps, never thought ye fancied kissing 'em under the trees tho!" The pigs at his sides laughed uproariously, as though it had been the best joke in the world.

Indeed, idiots.

In truth, Cole could care less about them and what they said, but for some reason Will did. She got angry at his words, and while she didn't truly show it, he knew it was there.

And, because of that, carrot-boy and his pigs went immediately to his black list.

Before the red-head had a chance to respond, she was interrupted by a yelp of surprise.

"Agh! What the hell?"

A bird poop had fallen on the carrot-boy's face. All but the young man sitting boringly under the tree, mowing slowly at his treat, looked upwards to the sky, but there was not a single bird on sight. Out of nowhere, though, more sticky drops fell solely on the vicinity of the troubling teens; some were satiny white, while others took that unmistakable russet tone.

Will grinned.

"Well, look at that, Uriah. It seems the sky's decided to wish you luck. And look! It even sent an Angel to give you their blessings!"

And so Uriah and his cronies (who had been busily occupied with trying to cover their heads while attempting the tiresome task of cleaning their clothes… and failing miserably, by the way) looked upwards to the sky a second time.

Their visages as they took in whatever it held would be something the red-head would probably have the pleasure of remembering for a very long time after that. The shadow of what eerily took resemblance of a man, obscured by the glaring sight of the sun to his back, became forefront on the thoughts of the increasingly horrified youths.

It had wings.

"Ahhh! A ghost! A ghost!" pig #1 yelled.

"He's attacking us! He's attacking us with weirdly brownie poops from hell!" pig #2 retorted.

"I'm going to die!"

"Take them, off, mommy! Take them off!"

"Come back here, you fools! It's a trick! They won't harm you!" carrot-boy finally intervened.

"Mommy!"

Uriah's cronies did not heed to his commands, instead, they promptly ran off and out of sight. Carrot-boy, as Cole fondly labeled, crooked his head, infuriated, right straight to the girl.

"I don't know how you did it, Vandom, but I know it was you! You'll pay for this!"

And thus another fair one fell to his face, upon the outline of his eyes. This time it took a slightly pinkish hue, as though it had been mixed with blood.

He screamed.

…

Mind you, it was a very girlish scream.

"Auughh! Mommy! Mommy! It's killed me! Mommy! Help me!" he drawled out pathetically, curiously sounding as weird mix between a dying cat and the irritable squeal of a bad-tempered crone. Clawing at the "brownie poops from hell" with all his worth, he ran after his buddies; russet drops hot in pursuit on top.

Will followed the spectacle until it was no more, (not-so-well) hidden mirth showing in her eyes.

A few moments later the last of the yells faded into the distance and she turned to watch Cole, who was casually elsewhere from where he initially sat. Though, he was still sitting calmly under the tree, even then enjoying the small delight of his treat, as though seeing people attacked singularly by the feces of none-existent birds were a common sight everyday. She then smiled an adoring smile and took her place besides him.

It was a good day.

"We'll have to buy another bottle of ice cream you know?"

A lazy smirk made way to his face.

"Neapolitan is enjoyable."

She dipped her head slightly, glancing briefly toward him. A conspiratorial smile danced on her lips.

"Yeah, it has always been my favorite."

And some feet away, a couple of birds bathed in a small, old fountain of stone.

Fin.

AN: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. For those who did not understand the "blessing" joke, in Japan it is actually considered lucky that a bird poops on you. Of course, the story took place in Heatherfield, which is in the US, so I thought it might be funny to mix ideas a bit. Anyway, thanks for reading!