MagicWarriorDragon, I remember you mentioning Phil the Yeti oh so long ago… I finally got around to give our favorite furry, exasperated helper some screen time. Sorry it took so looooong!

Reviews are love, but reading is love too. 3 :)

Enjoy!

Small Acts of Kindness

It wasn't that the Guardians were incompetent or ignorant, or downright inept or inadequate.

They just didn't know how to properly care for the young Spirit of Winter, that was all.

Or that was what Phil repeatedly told himself as he once again pulled the sofa a little ways away from the burning fire roaring in the grand hearth in the Guardians of Childhood's designated meeting room.

Shaking his head in both fondness and exasperation, he set out to reassure himself that he had not missed any other misdirected, good-intended but seriously misplaced deeds.

He stoked the fire and opened the window, Jack's unexplained need to always have an exit always at the forefront of his mind when it came to the small, enigmatic frost spirit.

Phil was a cautious yeti, a heedful and attentive yeti that preferred being in control, preferred to prevent unnecessary, unpredictable incidents. There was a reason he was head of security after all. Therefore, he saw it as his job to protect the Guardians' youngest member, not only from his new, well-meaning friends but also from himself. The frostling was way too reckless for his own good. Being well over three hundred years one should think the boy knew not to play with chemicals, magical spells or indulge in the elves' hare-brained schemes for Bigfoot's sake.

Despite all the troubling incidents and near disasters, having a child running (or flying) down the corridors and through the difference production sectors, bothering yetis with unrelenting questions of what, how, who and can I try it once more was kind of nice. Jack Frost was like a breath of fresh air that brought wide, warm grins to all their faces despite the inevitable trouble that constantly followed the young frost spirit. Though, few would ever admit it, Jack's childish antics, playful, carefree attitude and spark for all things mischievous was something they all had begun to cherish and adore, even if the boy left nothing but destruction in his wake, leaving his snow and frost everywhere. The boy's elated laughter and ridiculously happy grin warmed everyone's hearts.

Ever since Jack had begun frequenting the Pole, Phil had noticed small quirks about the boy he hadn't noticed prior to his induction into Guardianship. Jack, for all his bravado and spunky personality, was really a shy and insecure boy who expertly hid behind fake smiles and boisterous laughter. A boy who, in the presence of those who cared about him, forgot all about self-preservation and did everything not to draw unwanted attention to certain things about himself that were not linked to pranks and mischief. At first, the boy had withdrawn into himself, isolating himself from the others by favoring the window seat instead of the couch and shying away from every touch placed upon his small frame. But once settled in, the boy quickly became the most selfless thing Phil had ever seen. Now more secure and less doubtful and wary, Jack no longer felt the need to isolate himself and thus sat with the other Guardians on the couch by the fire, making no complaints about the effects the searing heat had on him. Phil had let it pass at first but after witnessing the boy dressing his own burn wounds by himself with a fever raging through his tiny frame, blue eyes dull and weary, pale fingers trembling as they applied bandages, he'd set his furry foot down. After that incident the couch was never again seen anywhere near the burning hearth, and Jack no longer looked like he was melting during the Guardians many meetings. And after a terrifying panic attack, which left Phil melting ice both inside and outside the Workshop for days, at least one of the windows in every room was always left open for the troubled, little frost child.

Grabbing a plate stacked high with freshly baked cinnamon cookies from the kitchen, he quickly made his way back to the meeting room, knowing too well how cranky Nicholas St. North would be if he didn't get his cookies on time. He placed the plate on the side-table right by Jack's preferred seat. Another thing the Guardians seemed to constantly forget or never having picked up on, was that Jack Frost, contrary to popular belief (at least among his fellow Guardians and the hoard of North's workforce), was a very polite, diffident spirit that did not simply take to eating other people's food, despite having been explicitly told numerous times that the kitchen was his to use whenever his heart so desired. Therefore, it became Phil's self-appointed job to make sure the skinny boy got some food into his starveling lean body. And so, wherever Jack's fancy and short attention span brought him to the Pole, there would always be a plate or two of cookies or a bowl of quickly cooling stew awaiting pale, thin fingers.

It wasn't like he expected gratitude or recognition of any kind. He didn't do it for attention nor was it an obligation. Sometimes he even found himself wondering why he went out of his way to make the mischievous boy as comfortable as possible. He stumbled over the answer one day when watching a certain frost spirit frolicking in the snow outside the Workshop, playing by himself, but still whooping in unmitigated joy, a huge grin splitting his face as he danced through the sky with the wind at his back and rolled in snow he conjured up himself. He'd never seen the frost child so at peace, so untroubled and happy.

Before becoming a Guardian, the Jack Frost Phil constantly busted trying to break in, had eyes shadowed by an anguish and a despair so painfully deep-seated it made Phil uncomfortable. The boy had hid it well, by a frivolous, mischievous attitude and pranks that rubbed Phil the wrong way. The boy's cheeky, easy grin had overshadowed the desolation and hopelessness flaring in his bright, blue eyes and the despondent set of his small shoulders.

The boy that had been playing in the snow and singing to the wind was a completely different Jack Frost and Phil had suddenly wanted nothing more than to make sure Jack stayed that way.

The Guardians would arrive any second now, and Phil took one last look around the room. Finding nothing out of place, he strode over to the door. Reaching for the handle he stopped short, arm outstretched as the door was flung open. He let out a garble of expletives as he staggered a couple of feet backward, arm falling back to his side.

Right on time, one Guardian after the other entered the temperate room, North being the first to grab a cookie and call for some eggnog as he seated himself at the edge of the oversized sofa. Bunnymund, who hopped in at his heels, went straight to the burning fire, not even eyeing the cookies, too preoccupied with rubbing his undoubtedly freezing paws, if his complaints about the cold were anything to go by. Toothiana fluttered in a few moments later, talking mile a minute to her fairies, instructing them to pick up an incisor here, a molar there. Sanderson announced his present as quietly as always not long after the animated Tooth Fairy, gliding easily through the open window. With a grateful smile, the Dreamweaver accepted the proffered cup of freshly made eggnog – but not before eying the two grinning elves holding the cup suspiciously – before taking his place beside North, his small feet dangling from the edge with no hope whatsoever of ever touching the carpeted floor.

Then the minutes began to tick by, one after another, and when the first ten minutes had come and gone Phil couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"If tha' good for nothin' popsicle doesn't get his frozen arse inside this room this very minute I'll—"

Just then a stiff, arctic breeze swirled around the room, cutting the shivering Pooka off, Jack Frost's calling card, signaling his imminent arrival.

And as Jack gracefully flipped through the window, lightly and gracefully landing on the balls of his feet, Phil struggled to hide his growing smile. No need to give the boy the idea that he liked him or anything. He quickly scolded his face into his usual stern and gruff expression when he felt the child's eyes on him.

"Oh, hi Phil!" The boy, ever so full of inexhaustible energy, bounded over to him, trademark waggish grin already plastered on his happy face.

Phil grumped, giving the kid a quick once-over just in case, not that he was worried or anything, it was just a precaution. That's what he told himself anyway.

Satisfied, he gave the slight boy a couple of rough pats on the back, sending him stumbling forwards rather clumsily, staff flailing wildly. As the kid turned to protest, Phil could practically see the words form on his lips, then die just as fast as the immortal teen spotted the plate of cookies, and to Phil's great pleasure, Jack reached out and without hesitation, grabbed one and nibbled at it as he turned to the large couch. Before plumping down, the teen looked over his shoulder at him and gave him a shy smile, bright blue eyes filled with a tentative gratitude.

Then Jack's smile changed, a knowing look briefly passing over his face and he gave a small nod of thanks, gesturing to the couch, then the fireplace, then the plate full of cookies, cerulean eyes reflecting so many emotions it took Phil a whole second to remember how to breathe properly. It was like the child never had been on the receiving end of small acts of affections before. Inwardly, Phil swore loudly and vowed to himself that the brave, lonely Jack Frost would go without care no more. He would see to that himself, even if the little brat was insufferable and a constant thorn in his side.

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