Disclaimer: The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause and all its characters, creations, and such belong to Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, John J. Strauss, and all others who helped create The Santa Clause trilogy. I own nothing except Clarabella Bloom, Bridgette Burns, Doyle Stark, and any other character not of Michael Lembeck, Ed Decker, and John J. Strauss's creation that are original characters of my own creation. My plot idea for this fanfiction comes from my imagination. Credit for the portrayal of the characters of The Santa Clause trilogy go completely to the actors and actresses behind them, especially Tim Allen and Martin Short, who portrayed Santa Claus/Scott Calvin and Jack Frost, respectively. I have not written this fanfiction to benefit me in any way, shape, or form; I am merely using my imagination in addition to Michael Lembeck's, Ed Decker's, and John J. Strauss's characters, creations, and such to produce this fanfiction for my entertainment and enjoyment, nothing more. The quotations from the chapter titles belong to William Shakespeare unless otherwise noted.

Author's Note: And at last the long awaited chapter. There is much more Jack Frost in this chapter than the last one, never fear, readers! Please, please, please tell me what you think of everything that happens in this chapter! Enjoy!

Trivia Question Winners: Giana (Thanks for reading and reviewing!), Madame Jinxie (Welcome to this fanfic! I'm so happy to hear you're glad you gave this fanfic a chance; I try my best when creating characters and plots, and it seems to be going well so far, based on the reviews I've gotten. I'm so glad you like my OCs; they were a joy to create, and are so much fun to write and explore! Thanks for your feedback on Jack's IC-ness. I try really hard to keep him and all canon characters IC [and I do this by watching the movie more than I probably should. LOL]. Thanks so much for your wonderful review. I hope to hear your thoughts on this chapter! P.S. Would you mind letting me know in your next review whether you [honestly] do/don't like Clara and Jack as a potential couple and why/why not? I'd greatly appreciate it. :D), and Sexii-chan (The trivia question is for anyone who gets it right, not just the first reviewer to respond correctly. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!).

Question to the Characters Winner: This chapter, it is… Madame Jinxie!

"Well, Madame Jinxie—do you mind if I call you Jinxie? I mean, since we're friends now and all—I would first like to welcome you aboard the most epic tale you will ever encounter—mine!" Jack's dimples deepened as he chuckled. He crossed his legs casually and leaned forward. "Now, then, for your question: are my powers all in the mind, emotion-based, or both? For me, they're all in the mind since, as you know, I am highly skilled and experienced in the art of winter.

"There are times, however," Jack shifted in his seat, "when very strong emotions may come into play and cause my powers to run away from me. For instance, that little incident with Clara when the snow melted off the roof," he said through gritted teeth. "But, it was merely a slip-up, nothing more, never fear.

"However, as for younger, inexperienced sprites, they encounter quite a bit of emotion-based power discharge because they are not yet trained or skilled enough to handle their powers like moi. So, as you can see, Jinxie, powers can be emotion- and mind-based. Thanks for the question."

Publish Date: Friday, October 28, 2011.

Why it Snows in Spring

Chapter Seven: This Keen Encounter of Our Wits

Clarabella pulled a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she placed the last of the ornaments on the pine tree. Smiling at her reflection in the sapphire orb, she fluffed her hair and stepped down from the stool, nudging it gently behind the tree with her foot.

She smoothed out the front of her dress, surveying the living room she'd decorated for this occasion. The pine tree—one she had grown herself in a massive ceramic pot—was dressed in festive ornaments and tinsel. A fire snapped and popped in the fireplace, made even more enchanting with color-changing crystals.

Clarabella crossed the room to the radio, where she turned down the instrumental holiday music playing until it was a low hum in the background.

Wringing her fingers nervously, she glanced up at the silver garland, snowflakes dangling at the ends of the strands. Candles placed throughout Clarabella's suite illuminated the room with soft orbs of golden light.

She approached her peridot green couch and plumped each of the pastel pink pillows in turn. As she was smoothing down the lovingly worn afghan folded neatly over the back, the doorbell rang to the tune of Build Me Up Buttercup.

Clarabella bolted upright immediately, hands instinctively smoothing down the front of her dress as she approached the mirror in quick, long strides. She stepped before the mirror, framed with gold rose vines, and combed through her hair with her fingers, feathering back on her own personal spring breeze. Her peekaboo highlights couldn't settle between pink or orange in excited anticipation, and so became a blend of the two, a creamy sherbet color.

The doorbell rang again, and Clarabella called over her shoulder, "Just a raindrop!" She quickly turned before the mirror, the mandatory 360 before inviting company inside, making sure the dress she wore hugged her flatteringly.

With a secret giggle, she skipped to the door, high heels clicking along the way, and threw it open with no hesitation.

"Jack!" Clarabella excitedly greeted the winter sprite, throwing herself into him for a hug. "Thank you so much for coming! Especially after your first few days of work!"

Jack stumbled backward with the force of the embrace and chuckled. He rubbed a hand up along her bare spine, his fingers—frozen solid from the almost constant use of his magic to begin wintertime—prickling pleasantly from the warmth of her back.

This was infinitely better than looking at all the Christmas decorations humans had put up in honor of the Red Man and his holiday, as he had been doing for the last few days in the human realm. Lawn lights. Dancing Santa figures. Christmas trees. If Jack saw just one more Christmas tree, he swore to himself he was going to send it crashing down.

And Jack was a sprite of his word.

"Well, hello yourself, Clara." His grip tightened on the blonde, and Clarabella felt something cool and hard in Jack's grip press into the small of her back. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world."

Clarabella pulled back to step outside her door and gesture him in.

"I would never dream of entering before a nymph, my dear." Jack bowed low, raising an arm to the door.

Clarabella bounced once in place. "Well, if you insist." She trounced into the entryway. Please, let me have your jacket." Without waiting for him to offer it to her, she stepped behind him and slid it down his arms.

Jack's gaze followed her and, in the light of the entryway, he could see her dress clearly. Instantly, his eyes caught on the color of the dress.

Rich blue.

The way his color looked on the spring nymph made Jack grateful he had been pleasantly diverted while he had been away, otherwise all the snow on Clarabella's roof would have slid off in a miniature avalanche…

The winter sprite smirked clandestinely to himself. His travels during winter were certainly never boring, especially with the bountiful number of minor winter nymphs he had working for him, working the typical odds-and-ends jobs that minor sprites were often called on to do for a major sprite like him—freeze rivers, inspire flocks of birds to migrate, create patches of ice on sidewalks…

And of course, with bountiful nymphs came bountiful opportunities for Jack to… let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

And he'd let it snow plenty since the last time he saw Clarabella.

The way that dress was cut, however, would have completely undone all his hard work over the past few days. Her entire back was exposed to his gaze, and the skirt of her dress didn't twirl and float airily with her as she moved; it looked as if she had been sewn into it.

Clarabella turned from the closet, and Jack's eyes adhered themselves to the halter straps of the dress, sliding down the rouching over the plane of her stomach, and ending at the ruffled hem.

Thank hail he'd been so pleasantly diverted…

"May I just say, you are a vision in blue. May I ask what inspired you to wear my color?"

Clarabella rolled her eyes and corrected him. "It's not blue, silly; I don't wear the colors of the other seasons. It's African violet tourquois."

Same thing. "Well, you are exquisite in it." Jack winked.

"What do you have there, Jack?" Clarabella pointed to the bottle in his hand, and he held it up to show her with a dimple-filled grin.

"A little peppermint champagne, of course. 'Tis the holiday season, after all. And, of course, I remember very well that you said you enjoy the taste of peppermint." He presented the bottle to her, and she blushed.

"Oh, Jack, I can't believe you'd remember that!" She gushed, producing a bucket from a drawer and filling it with ice.

She turned to the stove when her kettle began screeching. "We'll save it for later. May I interest you in some home-made tea?" She stared at him over her shoulder, surveying the lackluster glint in his eyes. "You look exhausted from work. A little of my tea would perk you right up."

One look at that dress perks me right up. "That sounds delicious, Clara."

Clarabella plucked her satchel from within a fold in her dress, and began opening it up on the countertop.

"Let's see here, lemon to feel well-rested, cinnamon for energy… Jack, pick a flavor you like."

"Peppermint," he replied easily, gesturing to the champagne.

Clarabella giggled. "Right." She plucked out the selected ingredients and combined them all in a tea bag, dropping it into a tea cup. She reached around Jack to pour some of the kettle's steaming water, telling him, "There's already cream and sugar in the living room. Speaking of which…"

She handed the cup and saucer to Jack before moving behind him to cover his eyes with one hand. "I have a surprise for you!" She singsonged, pulling the ice bucket containing the champagne into her free arm.

"A surprise?" Jack inquired as she led him down a short hallway. "For me? Why, Clara, you shouldn't have!"

"Oh, but I wanted to do a little something for you." She guided him around the corner and through the doorway into her living room. "I just know you'll love it. I-I mean," she stepped in front of Jack, whose eyes were still closed, to set down the champagne on her coffee table and survey the magnificently decorated tree once more, "I hope you'll like it."

Her hair momentarily flickered to a nervous lavender and she raised her hands, fingers separating like petals on a blooming flower. "Open your eyes."

Jack's blue eyes opened, and he gasped instantly, ready to put on a show of joy and praise the nymph, but the speech he had been preparing as he walked blindly down the corridor dissolved on his tongue as he took in the blue-and-silver décor; the pine tree had obviously been specially grown for the occasion, as azure branches jutted from the trunk to display an array of elegant ornaments shaped as orbs, icicles, and snowflakes. The fire sparked an array of blue tones: sapphire, cerulean, azure, aquamarine. Garland and hand-made paper snowflakes were strung from the ceiling, sparkling dully in the candlelight.

There wasn't a hint of red in the room, and the only green was Clarabella's furniture. This wasn't a Christmas celebration, this was…

"Merry Frostmas, Jack," Clarabella offered in an atypically quiet voice, cheeks ablaze and hands clasped nervously behind her back.

"You did all this… for me?" Jack inquired, walking toward the Frostmas tree and ghosting a hand over its pines.

Clarabella's eyes followed the winter sprite, anxiously watching for his reaction. Her hair shimmered light pink, complementing the blush that stained her face. "Of course. When you spoke about having your own holiday before, you seemed so…" Jack stopped and set his tea down on the mantle, gazing at the photographs there. "Well… I thought you deserved one for all your hard work, so…" She bounced lightly on her toes.

Jack silently observed the decorations, all in his colors, adorning the suite of the spring sprite. It must've taken her hours to decorate. A devious smirk split his face; even he hadn't realized how much he'd had her.

The smirk melted back into a smile, one that Jack knew appeared modest and overcome with joy.

"Clara," he crooned, placing his hands to his heart before stretching his arms to her. "I am speechless." Her hair already began flickering between colors as he approached her. He gathered her into his cold embrace, pressed his lips chastely to her cheek, and murmured into her ear, "Thank you."

Clarabella shivered, and her hair firmly settled on orange as she folded her arms around him. "You're welcome! I'm honored to be spending the very first Frostmas with the mascot himself!" She chirped in his ear, goosebumps galloping down her arms.

Jack grinned broadly over her shoulder and plucked up one of her highlights between his fingers. Twirling it before him, his dimples deepened at the citrus hue before it faded away into sherbet once more.

Clarabella rubbed his back. "Oh, Jack!" She straightened and approached the mantle, retrieving the sprite's tea. "Please let me know what you think of my tea. I know I can't use my magic in it like usual because our powers don't work on each other, so it may not help you quite as much…"

"Clara," Jack drawled, waving a flippant hand at her. "You are too modest." He locked eyes with her and tipped the teacup to his lips and paused, eyes unblinking. He smiled up at Clarabella and nodded, and the nymph giggled and clapped her hands.

"Oh, I just knew you'd like it!" She spun around to pick up her tea from the coffee table, and Jack instantly spat the tea back into the cup, sucking air through pursed lips as steam emanated from his tongue.

Clarabella continued twittering as she added a couple more spices to her drink, and Jack darted frantically back and forth behind her back to find the cream and sugar. He found some on a corner of the mantle, and hastily dumped all the cream into his drink, raising its level dangerously high in the cup. He slurped some, but then winced and dropped the liquid from his mouth once more; even though it was no longer scalding, it just didn't have that strong flavor that agreed with his cocoa-loving taste buds.

Jack froze when Clarabella stopped speaking, chancing a glance in her direction. She tipped her head back as she polished off half her tea, savored the last mouthful on her tongue, and swallowed. When she resumed her monologue once more, his hand darted to the other dish, grabbing handfuls of sugar cubes and dumping them into his drink.

Squinting, he slowly lowered the tip of his tongue to barely skim the surface of the sugary-creamy concoction, like a human dipping a toe into a pool to test it, and winced, immediately abandoning the contents of his teacup in the blue Frostmas tree.

"You know," Jack began in a voice three octaves higher than normal, cutting Clarabella off mid-thought and tugging on her arm to guide her to the beverage he brought, "I think it's about time we enjoy some of that champagne, yes? Allow me." He pulled the bottle from the bucket and unscrewed the cork. He retrieved two glasses hanging on the tree as ornaments and they frosted from his touch.

After pouring a glass for each of them, Jack raised his drink and declared, "A toast: to the start of a new holiday, to all the hard work you put into making it special," he swept his arm around the room, "and," his voice lowered, he stepped closer, "to enthralling company."

Clarabella's eyebrow arched at the flattery as she clinked her glass to his. "Here, here." She swallowed a sip of the bubbly drink, delighting in the way it tickled her nose. "Mmm! Jack, this is delicious!" The nymph tipped the glass to her lips again and polished off the rest of the drink. The winter sprite smirked through his glass at her obvious delight. Such beverages were quicker to affect sprites than humans.

"I've never had peppermint champagne before, not that I usually drink, anyway." Clarabella reached for the bottle and poured herself another glass. Jack lowered his drink, not even halfway through with it.

She began to sip at her second drink when the music changed to Jingle Bell Rock.

Forcing down her mouthful of champagne, she squealed, "I love this song! Oh, Jack, dance with me!" She threw her hands in the air and bopped to the beat, humming along with the tune.

Jack approached her, spun her around, and then dipped her in quick succession. He held her so low that her hair swept the floor as she giggled and slid a knee up to his hip.

The winter sprite smirked at her antics and kept her arched back as his free hand cupped her hip. "Luckily for you, I have been praised as a marvelous dancer. Tango." He sharply righted Clarabella and guided her backward before lacing his fingers through hers and following their joined hands. "Waltz." Jack turned them both slowly around the nymph's living room. "Belly dancing." He released her and clapped his hands over his head, gyrating his hips in quick thrusts that made Clarabella blush and giggle simultaneously.

He extended a hand, turning the spotlight on her. Clarabella held his gaze with an almost-chaste grin and began shimmying her hips, drawing out the undulations as she turned. His eyes trailed down her spine to her bottom, wriggling and weaving.

His eyes caught hers, and her lip wriggled between her teeth. Tease.

"And my current favorite, inspired by the youth of the human realm, of course…" Jack pulled her back to his front and his hips surged to the beat, pressed against the small of her back. Hooking his chin over her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Grinding."

Clarabella giggled again, softer this time, and he watched her hair warm to marigold tones, felt her hips move to the rhythm he set.

"So, Miss Bloom," he purred smoothly in her other ear, a grin in his voice, "what will it be?"

Miss Bloom. Soon she wouldn't be Miss Bloom anymore, she would be Mrs. Stark. For the rest of her immortal life.

For forever.

She stopped dancing, stepping idly away from Jack. "I guess I won't be hearing that name for much longer…" She finally murmured, resting a hand on the mantle of the fireplace and gazing unseeingly at the pictures there.

Jack's jaw ticked. He had been so close. Though Curtis's recent slip-up had provided him with the knowledge that he didn't need to charm Clarabella in this timeline, it provided him with the opportunity to beguile her with no consequences.

After all, if he had his way—and he always did—tomorrow was the last day the world would exist on this timeline. No repercussions. No regrets.

Jack wouldn't lose this chance.

"Ah, yes. Mrs. Clarabella Stark does have a… unique ring to it." He stood by her shoulder, slipping words into her ear. "And with a husband like Doyle, well, you'll be sure to lead quite an interesting life."

Clarabella released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I…" The words died in her throat. She licked her lips, building her momentum. "I don't want to marry Doyle."

He caught her lilac eyes over her shoulder. "Who do you want to marry, then?"

Clarabella's gaze didn't falter, and she craned her neck to look at him more fully. "Not Doyle."

Jack's frosted eyebrow arched, and he reached toward her but Clarabella turned to the mantle. "What do you think of my friends?" She asked quickly, gesturing to the framed photographs.

Jack blinked at the sudden turn of conversation, then lifted his eyes to the pictures of nymphs and sprites smiling and waving at the camera, performing magic in candid shots, and carrying pots of plants with signs pasted on the ceramic.

"Well… It certainly looks like they're all very close. Where are you in these pictures?"

Clarabella paused, her eyes focused on one picture in particular. "I was the one holding the camera."

Her fingers traced down the frame surrounding a picture of a solitary nymph smiling brightly into the camera with a potted plant in her hands. The nymph wore glasses with bulky, large frames that hid most of the upper half of her face. Her hair was wilted brown and obviously hadn't been cut in a long while. She had a gaunt and willowy frame, too thin to fill out the dirtied frock she wore.

Jack's eyes followed her line of sight. "Who is this?" He practically exclaimed, pulling the picture down from the mantle and gawking at it. "Sprites are supposed to be very attractive, but her… Well, she's a far cry from you, Clara."

"She…" Clarabella began forcefully before twirling to meet Jack's gaze, whose face was still puzzled at the oddity photographed in his hands. "She was my friend," she finished quietly, eyes falling from his.

Jack's smile widened. "How generous of you to befriend such a homely nymph." His arm slipped over her shoulder as he replaced the picture on the mantle. "Then again, I'm sure being around her made you look all the more lovely."

Clarabella swallowed and turned away from him. Jack didn't notice.

"What's this?" He asked, drawing the nymph's attention to a photograph of many sprites carrying potted plants with small posters on them that read, "Give love, give life."

"This… is a campaign that is very near to my heart thanks to my former and current jobs. I, along with other sprites, believe that flowers should be given in pots so that they can live and grow, not in cut bouquets." Passion swelling, she turned to face Jack, "I find it against the point that people give the ones they love dying flowers as symbols of their feelings; why not give someone a living thing to demonstrate all that love embodies? Nurturing, trust, support, patience, respect; these are all things that love and my flowers need to survive. If humans want to use my work to demonstrate their affection, I'm very flattered, but they ought to do it correctly. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course." Jack's face solidified into a sober, thoughtful expression. "All your hard work should be cherished, Clara. Cherished and rewarded. In fact," he gathered her hands into his and pulled her away from the mantle onto a blank space of floor as the music slowed, "I'd like to thank you for all you've done for me tonight."

"Jack, it was nothing really." A white speck danced between them, and her eyes chased it down. When she looked back up, more were tumbling down, and more still. She raised her gaze to the ceiling, where an invisible cloud was snowing in the middle of her living room.

She laughed jovially, turning a hand palm-up to the cloud, she felt tiny pinpricks of cold touch her skin and fade.

"Oh, no," she fretted, retreating beyond the cloud's reach, gripping the snow-melting culprit by the wrist. "I'm sorry… I'll have to enjoy it from out here; I'm too warm."

Jack shook his head and moved to her, embracing her loosely in his arms; the snowfall followed. "No, my work is different. Your flowers are meant to grow and thrive until the cold months. My snowflakes were never alive to begin with. My work is meant to be only temporary—humans use it for snowball fights, catching snowflakes on their tongues, making snow cream, creating snow angels. My work was meant to be undone for the joy of humans. Please, Clara," he brushed back her hair behind her ear, "enjoy."

The radio sang out, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…"

Clarabella swallowed, feeling her throat close. Jack loved humans, too! His words sharply contrasted with Doyle's behavior toward Laura, Neil, and Lucy.

She closed the distance between them, butterfly tattoos congregating low on her stomach. "I don't want to marry Doyle."

Before she even finished her sentence, Clarabella caught the back of Jack's head and pulled him down to her, lips fusing with his in a chaste kiss.

She pulled back too soon for Jack's liking. Grin firmly in place and quip ready on his tongue, he drew in a breath to speak when he realized the eyes he was looking into, which he thought would be citrus-hued, were dahlia pink, as deep as the blush spreading across her cheeks.

Jack faltered for the briefest of moments, surveying her pink eyes, hair, and nails, giving Clarabella the chance to speak first. "Not Doyle." Her hands gripped into Jack's vest and she leaned heavily against him, drunk with longing. She planted her chin on his chest, gazing up at him. "Oh, Jack."

"Pink," Jack muttered to himself, fingers in her hair, dissecting blonde and pink curls, searching for any hint of brighter golden tones. "Why are you pink?"

"It's okay, right?" Clarabella's eyes widened. "I mean, I know we're both betrothed and all, and not to each other, but I definitely don't like Doyle, and you and Bridgette…" The nymph smirked and drawled mischievously, "Well, I get the feeling that you're not Bridgette's type." The side of her lip quirked up. "But you're my type, Jack."

Suddenly the color of her hair didn't matter to Jack. He quirked his head, dimples deepening as his glittering gaze locked on hers. "Oh, really? And just what would make 'Old Man Winter' your type, Clara?" He stepped into her, pulling her wrist to his mouth.

"I'm sure you can guess," Clarabella murmured dismissively, leaning in once more, but Jack pressed a finger to her lips.

He faked a gasp. "Now, Clara, what kind of sprite do you think I am? I need to know your intentions before this goes any further." His voice was too innocent to be genuine, and the glint in his eye told her he was getting her back for all the times she teased him.

"You just want your already-engorged ego stroked!" She accused, bringing her face closer to his so she could gaze directly up at him.

"Stroke away, oh spring nymph." A silent challenge for her to rebel hung between the two.

She backed him up the last few paces into the wall, grabbing his face and asking in mock frustration, "Do you ever stop talking?" She tried to pull him down again, but he spun them around so she was pressed into the wall.

Clasping her wrists at her sides, he told her with a teasing lift to his voice, "I told you: stroke away, nymph." His lips scarcely brushed the sensitive pointed tip of her ear as he spoke, and Clarabella felt her knees buckle, heat pooling in her cheeks.

Breathless, she relented, "You're my type because you know exactly what you want and you go after it, you're passionate about your work, you're clever and funny… and most importantly, you love humans—kiss me!"

If there was one thing Jack couldn't resist, it was a nymph that begged. He instantly released her wrists and cupped her chin, adhering his lips to hers. Clarabella moaned and folded one arm around his neck, the fingers of her other hand clutching the soft velvet of his vest.

He drew her lower lip into his mouth and nipped tenderly. So that's what frost bite felt like! Clarabella whimpered and turned her face out of the kiss just enough to catch her breath.

Jack didn't let up; he planted open-mouthed kisses down her throat, pausing once to pull at a particularly sensitive spot.

Clarabella felt her temperature rise dangerously high, enough to rival Bridgette's season. "Oh, Jack."

"You know, Clara," Jack spoke between kisses, tugging her away from the wall and maneuvering them both onto the couch. "I would love to get acquainted with that ever-so-elusive green March butterfly of yours." Once they were situated on the cushions, he swept her long hair off the back of her neck and allowed his mouth to roam there.

Clarabella groaned, then giggled, gently pushing at Jack's shoulders. "Now, Jack, what kind of nymph do you think I am?" She echoed his earlier sentiments. He was moving to close the gap between them, so she quickly wedged a pink, overstuffed pillow between their bodies, scrunching her nose impishly.

He made short work of discarding the pillow and gripping her waist to his. As he curled kisses along the curve of her jaw, she chuckled and traced her hands up the lean muscles of his back. "Am I gonna have to make you sit on your hands?"

"Not if you do it for me." His deadpanned response was muffled against the curve of her throat, but it reached her ears and drew out a burst of laughter, nonetheless.

"Settle down, now, Jack," Clarabella said in a serious voice, guiding him away from her neck so she could look him in the eye. "We really don't need to rush things. Let's just…" She leaned toward him again, "take it slow.

"Like this." She entwined her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her. Her lips melded with his, fluttering along them gently. His arms folded around her bare back, gripping into the heated silk of her flesh as he kissed her with surprising tenderness in return.

She broke off the kiss with a smacking sound. Pressing her forehead to his affectionately, she said quietly, "I'm talking to Doyle tomorrow; I'm telling him that I won't marry him."

Jack buried his fingers in Clarabella's hair. "And in the meantime?" To his credit, there was only a whisper of playfulness in his voice.

Clarabella smirked and rose silently from her seat. She strutted to the doorway, taking her time to make sure her hips swayed smoothly. Jack's eyes tracked Clarabella's every move, darting between each hip as it rolled.

Pausing in the doorway, Clarabella posed momentarily, wrapping a long leg around one side of the doorframe, before dashing down the hallway.

Jack immediately burst into a sprint, spurred by sprite instinct, jumping over the back of the couch to pursue her down the hallway. He caught the door just as she slipped through it, not even bothering to kick it shut behind him.

Clarabella's bedroom was dimly lit, with only faint flickering candlelight illuminating his pathway to her.

The nymph pressed herself back against the wall, arms behind her back, gazing up at Jack through her eyelashes. The only expression betraying her innocent façade was the slight quirk of her lip.

Jack gazed at the nymph across the room. He mimed sweeping his hand over his hair dashingly, making Clarabella giggle. He took a step toward her, his leg wriggling. The vibration caught his hips and torso, and he concocted a silly dance across the floor to her, knees together, body writhing like a length of gummy Christmas candy.

"What are you doing?" Even in the dark, Jack could tell she was grinning from the bouncy lilt of her voice.

Jack twirled once on tiptoe before crossing the small space left between himself and the nymph, hands pressing firmly against the wall on either side of her head.

"Sprite mating dance." Jack purred into her ear. A low rumble of giggles escaped her throat.

He blew a fine dust of frost against the exposed curve of her neck where it joined with her shoulder. She whimpered and gripped tightly into the collar of his button-down shirt, a couple fingers slipping beneath to his chilled flesh. He felt prickles of warmth exude from her fingertips, sending a minute thrill through the center of his body. He lowered his lips to the frosted patch on Clarabella's throat, nipping tenderly as she breathed his name to him.

In the poorly-lit room, Clarabella could've been any one of the number of nymphs he'd been with. Her reactions were even the same as all the rest: flirting, playing hard to get, and then finally succumbing. Nymphs were nymphs; they were teases (which Jack, admittedly, loved for the challenge), but at the end of the day, the winter sprite always had his way.

The one thing that would make winning Clarabella even sweeter all those other nymphs, Jack knew as his mouth latched onto the freckle on her throat and his chilly fingers trailed up her legs, was that she was almost—almost—as clever as he. That she had put on a show of grinning, flirtatious eyes just as he had done with dimpled smirks. That she had turned the tables on him, made him forget himself, and then giggled when she got him to warm up just a little too much. That she had had just as sharp and quick a wit and tongue as he—the latter of which was currently displaying even further skill as it traced patterns so delectable down his neck it made his face turn blue.

Oh, yes, conquering Clarabella would be one of Jack's greatest achievements, second only, of course, to conquering Santa Claus.

Jack's hands had just smoothed over the ruffled silk of her skirt when he heard, "Unfortunately for you, Jack, mating season isn't until spring." Clarabella used a clear, sober voice as she spoke.

Jack's lips retracted from her throat, but he didn't move otherwise, scarcely believing his ears. This was a—highly unpleasant—first. "What did you say?"

Clarabella removed the winter sprite's prying fingers from her hips. "I already told you, Jack; I want to take things slowly." She paused for a moment, gazing solemnly up at him, candlelight reflecting in her eyes. Her hands slowly reached up to cradle his cheeks before gingerly brushing her lips against his. Her kiss was innocent and sweet, doing nothing to lower Jack's temperature.

It wasn't long before he tried to deepen the kiss, prompting Clarabella to gently push him away. "I mean it, Jack; I want to take this slow. I..." The spring nymph smiled bashfully and pulled a pink highlight behind her ear. "I like you. I don't want to ruin this."

Jack's jaw dropped. That was the exact line he'd used on nymphs after they'd yielded to his charms. And now she was using it on him?

She held his gaze firmly for a long moment before drumming her fingertips on his chest and stating, "I think you should go; we can talk more tomorrow." She reached over and opened the door that led to her back porch. "I can tell you how it goes with Doyle, and…" she guided an astonished Jack through the doorway. Behind her, plants rustled in their pots along the walls of the corridor and on the floor. She leaned against the doorframe, looking up at him through thick eyelashes, still shy. "And… maybe we can spend the holiday together, if that's okay."

Oh, they'd be spending the holiday together, alright—in another time, in another place, as different people. But he didn't care about that right now.

"But… But Clara," he spread his arms wide, floundering, "you can't just stop this now; I'm blue!" He gestured to his face, which she could see in the porch light had deepened to an arctic hue. He tried to say something more, but every muscle in his body was so tense, so on edge with anticipation that he simply sputtered, and where he stood a multitude of snowflakes puffed once from the sky, landing on his mussed hair and shoulders.

Clarabella giggled. "You are a vision in blue," she echoed his earlier sentiment, reaching behind her. A rosebush standing in the corner of the room passed Jack's jacket to her; the multitude of plants in her suite had maneuvered it from the closet to her bedroom as the two sprites spoke. The roses puckered their petals at Jack and blew kisses with their leaves before returning to their stationary state.

Stunned, Jack remained motionless as Clarabella draped his coat over his outstretched arm and pressed a final kiss to his cheek.

"Good night, Jack," she whispered to him with a broad smile before shutting the door.

Jack could hear a squeal from behind it, and the click-clack of her heels as they disappeared down the corridor of her suite.

That tease! That merciless, insufferable little tease! No one said no to Jack Frost, no one! He'd make sure he got what he was after—what he deserved—when he went back in time. He would triumph over Santa and Clarabella, and he would finally have his way. Forever.

Releasing a long trail of fog on an exhale, Jack shook his head quickly in a futile attempt to rid himself of this unsuccessful night. Turning sharply on his heel, he walked a few paces and then disappeared in a twirl of snowy wind, determined to find another diversion to make him forget his failure.

Author's Note: Well? What did you all think of this long-awaited chapter? I would love to hear everyone's thoughts in their next review!

Trivia Question: What holiday does Clarabella decorate for and celebrate with Jack?

NEW! Fanart Contest: I would love to open up a fanart "contest" of sorts. Now, I use the term "contest" very loosely; there will be no actual judging. All I mean by this is for my readers to pick their favorite scene from the fanfic so far or one they would like to see occur and create some sort of fanart for it. PM me on my account if you're interested in taking part, and give me an idea of what you'd like to do. My DeviantArt username is on my profile; please feel free to friend me there! When you post your fanart on DeviantArt, message me so I know to favorite it so other readers see it. I would love to see a lot of participation with this! Rated mild T or lower only, please. :D Happy Fanart-ing!