A/N: Woot woot! Another chapter. A big thank you to my anonymous reviewers from Chappie One, you guys rock. ^^ And everyone who's followed/faved. Love you all!

Chapter Two: Walking In The Air

We're walking in the air.
We're floating in the moonlit sky.
The people far below
Are sleeping as we fly.

- "Walking in the Air" Howard Blake

Tooth wasn't a vain creature. She didn't pride herself on her beauty, intelligence, wit, or charm, despite being repeatedly told by multiple Legendaries on numerous occasions that she possessed all the above qualities in abundance. When such compliments arose, she would smile, express her thanks most sincerely and humbly, and tactfully switch the topic of conversation. In fact, she found herself not quite believing them. Truthfully, she was rather embarrassed by her vividly avian appearance, all bright and showy with barely any of her father's human features, and she might have given anything to be just a little less bubbly and talkative. She wouldn't consider herself quite self-conscious, but she definitely wouldn't say she was proud.

Except for one small ability.

Flight.

More than anything, the Tooth Fairy loved to fly. It had been the best part of her nightly rounds in the field some 440 years ago, apart from seeing the children of course, and since picking up personally collecting again, Tooth found it was better than she remembered. She loved it! The feeling of the wind ripping through her feathers was like the caress of an old friend, and the rush of soaring through the sky was unparalleled. She'd been cooped up in her Palace for so long that she'd almost forgotten. Her wings felt used again, humming with life and energy, and oh! how could she ever have given it up in the first place?

She prided herself on the ability to take off into the air without assistance, without North's sleigh, without Sandy's golden cloud, and she could outstrip any being with wings or without. She was queen of the air. She wasn't afraid to fly. Needless to say, Tooth and flight went together hand in hand.

All these thoughts and more flew through her head in the split second between Jack tugging her gently into the sky and the madness that happened next.

You see, the Tooth Fairy, in all her reassurances, had forgotten one very important detail. Jack Frost didn't fly. He rocketed. Shot. Pelted through the night like an out of control snowflake, carried on violent gusts of the Northern Wind that had become his friend and companion through all 300 years of his existence, a Wind which—much to its frosty delight—didn't recognize Jack's new friend, and decided to have a little bit of fun.

With a mischievous whistle as her only warning, Tooth barely found time to breathe before she was swept terrifically ungracefully into a violent swell, a blistering wind that buffeted her feathers and almost bent her backwards, and she was in emptiness, cold emptiness, and she'd left her stomach behind. Eyes streaming with tears at the sharp sting of the rushing air, Tooth tumbled through the night, head over heels, the world spinning in her vision like a top, up down leftrightupsidedownrightside up—

Instinctively, her wings kicked into high gear, humming at warp speed in vain attempts to right their mistress, and only causing her to spiral further out of control on the crest of the wind.

"Don't fight it, Tooth! Let it carry you. Fly!"

Jack's voice sounded incredibly far away over the howling. Vaguely, she realized the boy's hand had changed positions, moving from a tremulous hold on her fingers to a vice-like grip on her wrist. It was a wonder in itself that her arm hadn't twisted out of socket. And with another infuriating blush, she realized that she probably looked a mess.

Humiliated and impossibly ruffled, she screeched, "This isn't flying, Jack Frost! This is being tossed!"

Definite laughter. "Relax, Tooth! Just relax. I've got you, I promise. I won't let go."

Easy for him to say. He'd had years to master this ridiculous impromptu sport of wind-riding, and he'd never flown with wings before, he didn't know how calm it was, how utterly soothing and beautiful and in control it was—

Concentrating intently, fighting every instinct that screamed for flight inside her head, Tooth grit her teeth and folded her wings tightly into her back. To her immediate surprise, there was instantly less pull, less helpless flailing. The streamlined shape of her body turned her into an arrow that the wind shot past smoothly and efficiently, only managing to ruffle a few feathers.

"That's it, that's it. Good job, princess, you got it! Now, just tilt a little bit upwards, towards the sky, and angle your arm a little…"

But Tooth was a fast learner. Or rather, the North Wind was feeling particularly forgiving tonight. She could feel it now, feel the whisper of the air, the power of the wind, feel it speaking to her in ways she'd never heard before, and she could feel her muscles automatically adjusting, tensing and relaxing in all the right places, and before she knew it, she was almost there, almost perfectly balanced…

"That's it, Tooth! That's it! Now, give me a sec, and I'll just adjust—"

Jack's remaining words were physically torn from her ear in less than a second. She'd fallen into the perfect position, her arms and legs and torso at precisely the right angle for optimum windspeed, and the North Wind was never one to pass up an opportunity. With a gust of air that sent even an unsuspecting Jack spiraling out over the Arctic snow, it shot the Tooth Fairy straight up in a spectacular updraft like a cap from a popgun. And Tooth was helpless in its wake.

A lesser being might have screamed its head off. Poor Tooth felt like screaming her head off. But she was fairly certain that at this speed, opening her mouth was an impossibility, and a scream would have been ripped from her throat before even forming. So instead, she concentrated on every image of Jack in flight that she'd studied—blushed again when she realized just how many images of Jack she'd committed to memory—and focused on the angles of his body. How they changed with his flight patterns. Every minute curve and bend that served a purpose, angled the wind…

She was suddenly aware of something cold and wet soaking her face and feathers, and she realized, stunned, that she hadn't opened her eyes once since being swept off the Pole's stone balcony. Clouds. She must be passing through clouds.

I wonder if the wind will blow me into space.

She quickly erased the thought before it could conjure any unpleasant images, and focused on concentrating. Carefully adjusting first one limb and then the other, she felt the wind's force on her body begin decreasing. It seemed when she angled her body just so, the pressure on her back softened. Delicately, she twisted, extended a hand, and then, before she had a chance to think twice, she balled her fists and threw herself bodily from the updraft.

Silence.

Stillness.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, the roaring of the wind ceased. She hovered, every muscle tensed and curled into a ball of feathers, her wings working furiously as though making up for lost flying time, before she finally opened one wide eye.

She couldn't help it. When her brain finally managed to catch up with a body that had been speeding through the troposphere, it could do nothing but stare, dumbfounded, at the sights before its eyes.

Above her was nothing but black. Black, black as far as the eye could see, and yet dotted with so many bright, beautiful stars that it could have been daytime. They twinkled like diamonds in the darkness, so far away and at the same time so close that Tooth felt like she could stretch up and touch one if she wanted to. The moon was enormous, as big as the sky itself, white and silver and smiling, and she had to fight the irrational instinct to wave. Surely, Manny would be able to count her feathers from this distance. She could count the craters in his home's face.

Below, the clouds stretched to the horizon like a sea of chocolate ice cream, black and fluffy and magic with moonlight. Like a she had stumbled quite accidentally into a giant's garden. Her heart thundered in her chest, her eyes stinging from staring for so long.

It was beautiful. So incredibly beautiful that Tooth could hardly believe it. She must be dreaming.

"Nice, huh?"

This time, she did yelp. Whirling, she found herself face to face with Jack Frost himself, hovering with his arms outstretched in the North Wind's considerably gentler updraft. He wore a smile the size of North's belt on his lips, and his blue eyes sparkled with obvious pride. The wind plucked at his clothes and mussed his unruly hair, made him a white figure against the black sky, and between him and the scenery around her, Tooth was having difficulty deciding where to stare.

Blinking, she managed, "J-Jack, this…this is beautiful."

He didn't answer, but his mouth broadened into a pleased grin. He drifted closer, floating on air, and said, "Congratulations on your maiden voyage back there, princess. You're a natural."

She flushed—again!—and smoothed her head feathers. "It's not so hard when you get used to it."

"Still, for not being born with it, you're good." He smirked. "Almost as good as my first time."

She shot him a playful grin. "Oh, really? I'd like to think I was better. Considering it's not even my power."

"Glad to see you've recovered enough to argue with me." His smile was villainous. Honestly, how did he keep those teeth so white? Her lips twitched upwards into an annoyingly shy smile, and she lowered her eyes to keep it hidden, absently smoothing some ruffled feathers on her wrists. They lapsed into a short companionable silence in which Tooth pondered her newfound ability. True, she'd taken to it well enough. But she still infinitely preferred using wings and her own volition to fly, rather than relying on the mercy of a considerably capricious wind. It was much easier. And less…exhilarating. Ever since that one Halloween when Bunny and North had locked her inside a supposedly haunted house for a prank—which resulted in a week-long stay in the Pole's hospital wing recovering from a near cardiac arrest—Tooth made conscious efforts to participate in activities that wouldn't overexcite her already rapid hummingbird heartbeat. Results could be disastrous.

Wind-riding definitely qualified as one of these off-limits activities. So did thinking about Jack Frost, come to think of it, but she couldn't really help that, could she?

"Oh, Tooth, look!" Apparently without thinking, said Spirit of Winter took Tooth's hand in his and held it tightly. His skin was cold, smooth, a few small callouses marking the places where his palm gripped his staff, but nevertheless it felt beautiful. So achingly beautiful. Was skin allowed to feel this beautiful?

Shaking herself, Tooth attempted to come back to Earth. What did he say? What is he pointing at?

She blinked a few times, trying to focus on the black night in front of her rather than the feeling of her fingers engulfed in his. It was proving alarmingly difficult. "I don't see anything, Jack."

"Sure you do. Right there. That big tall cloud."

She squinted as hard as she could and finally managed to see it. It looked like a spire of marshmallows, climbing into the air as though it was the tip top of a candy palace, but from so far away it seemed laughably miniscule. "What about it?"

With only a laugh as an answer, Jack winked at her, waved his staff, and shot them forward into the night. Her stomach swooped uncontrollably, and without even meaning to, she instinctively grabbed his arm, latching hold of it as if for dear life itself. She didn't try to focus too much on the implications this action might entail, and she was infinitely proud of her ability to restrain a shudder when he chuckled low in his chest and she could feel it through her forearm. She put all her energy into watching the cloud approach, looming and enormous like a grinning sentinel.

After a moment or two, Jack slowed them to a standstill. Tooth opened her eyes to find him smiling, and when she followed his gaze upwards she found they were floating in front of the giant cloud.

"Now, watch this," he said.

Without another word, he took off, leaving Tooth hovering at the base of the monster. Frowning, she crossed her arms and looked skyward. The cloud was simply huge, as tall as a mountain and bigger than the moon. Jack was a pale blue dot against it, topped with a shock of white hair. She could barely keep track of him as he swooped through the moisture, in and out, around and around, trailing bits of fog after him as he worked his way up the tower. Squinting, she tilted her head to the side. It was as though he was sculpting something, the way he was shaping the cloud. What was he—

He had only just finished when she saw it finally, and without further ado, she burst into the loudest and longest round of giggles she had experienced in a while.

He grinned happily, returning to her side and admiring his own handiwork. "You like it?"

A perfect enormous replica of Bunnymund, drunk and balancing precariously on one foot, stood before her, complete with a misty flask of eggnog clutched in one fist.

"It's wonderful!" she wheezed. "How did you—"

"When I wasn't spreading fun across the globe, I did this," he said smugly, buffing his fingernails on his sweatshirt. "Well, this and trying to bust in the Pole. I figured I'd give Phil a break, though, and so ta-da! I call it cloud-sculpting. I'm a master."

"That you are." Tooth grinned and hovered higher into the air to admire the minute details in cloud-Bunny's expression. She chuckled. His eyes were crossed. "It's perfect!"

"Now you try."

She blinked. "What?"

Jack leaned his staff across his shoulders like a yoke, his hands draped casually over the sides, and smiled. "You try. It's easy!"

Tooth cocked one feathered eyebrow, glancing from the winter spirit to the cloud sculpture and back again.

"Really! C'mon, I'll teach you."

A few minutes later, Tooth's first cloud sculpture revealed itself—a very lopsided North. Jack laughed off her indignant huffs, and proclaimed that he almost preferred her rather pathetic art piece over the original. As much as she appreciated his jokes, her next sculpture was less challenging. Smiling, she presented him with a tall, perfectly whipped ice cream cone, complete with a spiral at the point.

"Impressive," he grinned, thumbing the sculpture like a pro. "Almost symmetrical, a little cirrus with the cumulus, I see. Rebellious."

"I'm avant-garde," she answered with her best snobbish sniff and a secret smile. She much preferred it this way. A witty repartee rather than being simply stunned by every move this boy made. It was safer. Distant. She could remind herself that they were Guardians. Their job was to protect the children. They didn't have time for…feelings.

"How many can you 'avant-garde' in five minutes?" he smirked.

Reading the challenge in his voice, she answered his question with a wicked grin, speeding off into the night and calling over her shoulder, "More than you!"

His answering laugh was heart-stopping.

Together, like a ballet in the sky, they swooped in perfect synchronization, in and out of the clouds, around and over the stars, sweeping ribbons of moisture and trails of ice in their wakes. They could have been underwater. They could have been in outer space. Their eyes locked once in a graceful downward spiral in which Jack cast her a boyish, beautiful smile so handsome that it should have been outlawed. No one was allowed to have such a handsome smile.

What might have been an eternity later, they stopped, gasping and panting and laughing like hooligans, admiring their work. The clouds were smooth and round, perfectly shaped and twirled expertly, and the wind whipped at the topmost peaks of the ice cream cones, turning them into sheets of moisture on the air.

Tooth could only smile giddily, eyes wide and drinking in the scene with every heartbeat, and silently thank the stars that she had put her hand in Jack's.

She felt the chill radiating off his fingers before she felt his actual flesh. Gently, almost hesitatingly, he ghosted his palm across the back of her hand, making all sorts of prickling feelings shoot like static through her arm, and her eyes snapped to his, her face slack jawed and stunned.

He had taken her hand. Again. For the second time that night.

And his eyes were so low, so warm and deep and swallowing, that she couldn't have looked away if she wanted to. Something else burned inside, something sparkling like mischief and yet not, and she was a little afraid to know what it was.

"Wanna see something else?" he asked softly.

Was she mistaking the blush on his cheeks? Slowly, her muscles having issues responding to her brain's demands, she nodded.

Jack Frost gave a dazzling smile, and she could have counted the stars reflected in his eyes. He waved his staff—this time, she braced herself—and the wind swirled around them, catching his clothes as though they were on fire, ruffling every one of her feathers, and plunged them back below the cloud line.

A/N: Poor Tooth. She doesn't stand a chance. XD I blame it on the teeth. What girl can resist those teeth? Well, and the rest of him, I suppose. :) Reviews = love!