This wasn't where I planned on going with this. Oh well. Piper Halliwell, Jack Frost, and cookies, right?

What could possibly go wrong?

...Don't answer that.

Thanks for the reviews and the reads! Muchas gracias. So here we go, the second part!

Charmed Season - After fourth season

Character - Piper

Rise of the Guardians - Post-Movie

Character - Jack

Previously...

"Would you like to see a white Christmas?"

"It's two weeks till Christmas."

"Fine, a snowy two-weeks-till Christmas, then."

After a moment of deep thought, punctuated by each tap on her chin, Piper laughed and opened her mouth.

...

"Nah." She said, and walked away.

Piper Halliwell didn't look back until in the safety of her think curtains, and when she did saw a very confused magical being.

What, did he think that just because they shared a conversation she could trust him? Whatever magical beings wanted, it usually never ended well. For her. For anyone, really.

If she had learned any three things with her time as a witch it was: never start a sentence with 'wish'; never use magic for personal gain; and never, ever agree to anything a magic-empowered person you just met asks you.

They were maybe a few exceptions to those three rules, but hey, better safe than sorry, right? She wasn't going to take that risk.

She had things to do. First, though, she couldn't resist a second peek to see what he might do.

Pulling back purple, thick curtains from her parlor window, she smirked as she saw him gesture and scratch his head in clear confusion.

He opened his mouth and either spoke to more invisible people (those she couldn't see?) or to himself, seemingly ranting about his recent encounter.

Finally, his head rolled back in an epic sigh. He began to trudge around her yard. Interestingly, he didn't appear to be leaving – only walking around the side of her house.

Huh, she thought as she chewed a thumbnail. That's odd.

And so it was that Piper strode from the manor parlor to the side of the house, a distracted whirlwind of thoughts flying about her head on this weird magical being, some of which were concerned with her manner around him.

Just as she was admitting to herself that she had maybe been a tad rude, she reached the window and saw...nothing.

Jack was...well, not doing anything.

He sat outside, swinging his legs against her air-conditioning unit (brand new, bought last year and still unused), and watched her. Like he was supposed to be there. Like he was waiting for her to apologize, or waiting for something to happen. Maybe he was, maybe he was waiting for his snow to fall, or whatever.
Nonetheless, he managed to make chilling on her AC unit look natural. Stubborn little frost-spirit, wasn't he?

Ignoring the heat in her cheeks at being caught in her curiosity, she rebelliously left the curtains open and even shoved them farther apart – as though that had been her purpose all along.

Nose in the air and perhaps especially intend on her tasks, Piper continued on with her day.

She told herself she was used to magical creatures always interrupting her attempts of normality – and it was true – and accustomed to working around a titan or gremlin or two and besides, this one wasn't doing anything.

Alright, so he was spying on her, which was a tad strange. Possibly creepy. But it wasn't harmful.

It was annoying more than anything – and after a minute, he appeared bored of swinging his legs anyway. But it seemed he still awaited something, refusing to leave.

Instead, the spirit made frost shapes in the air, twirling, spiraling, mostly snow-flake based things, and bringing to life the animal-looking ones, laughed.

He got so entranced by his work and how quickly the shapes dissolve once they touch the ground that he soon forgot completely his watch over the woman. That made it difficult to see the child as anything more sinister or plotting as just that: a child.

Soon, she found herself abandoning a basket of laundry to see this different kind of magic.

They were beautiful, surreal, shimmering creations, like a mirage in summer heat, and they always danced and leapt around their creator, joyful to be made.

When a particularly affectionate snow-fox planted a kiss on the boy's nose, a giggle escaped the witch.

Suddenly the fox dissolved and his maker's head jerked up.

Piper dived behind lacy curtains, not entirely sure why. Her heart thumped, she was biting down an unusually childish grin, and maybe there was something like glee filling her chest.

Silly, right?

She was a mature woman, owner of a night club, the responsible sibling of the family, and a witch who regularly saved San Francisco (and occasionally the whole world, though that was mostly a Friday's-only thing now) – and what was she doing right now? Trying not to laugh as she hid in curtains, cowering from a boy made of frost.

Piper waited until the urge to chuckle died, then waited a few more minutes for good measure, and finally, calmly put the dirty clothes in the washer and walked out of the room. The casual, witch-may-care attitude lasted ten seconds, max, before her head poked back around the door.

She peeked over her shoulder (through her lashes) and was disappointed by the sight – her air conditioning unit was vacant and slightly melted over.

No more frost creations, no more frost-boy. Looks like he hadn't been waiting for anything at all. Just bothering her until it bored him.

"Okay, Piper, come on. You've got a hundred things to do today." She muttered to herself, slinking reluctantly off to the kitchen.

Grudgingly, she put thoughts of ice and magic and a spirit boy out of her head, and tried to focus on reality.

The dishes were second on her list, after laundry, and they towered ominously before her, telling of frequent midnight snacks and impromptu meals and emotional show eating (ahem Phoebe ahem cake ahem movies) and all sorts.

Piper missed the days when Phoebe had been just a college student with plenty of time at home or when Paige had been a new enough house-mate to politely offer to help with the chores.

Now, Phoebe cited her important advice columnist job for having no time for dishes, and Paige had fully embraced the little sister role by shouting 'Not it!' and orbing to one of her temp jobs, if asked. Of course Leo always pretended to hear a charge calling at all the conveniently wrong moments, so he was no good either.

Unfortunately, that left little ole' Piper.

The care and upkeep of her (their) childhood home fell to her, the eldest, not to mention the side business of P3 and the full-time job of demon hunting.

And she wanted to be a mother, as well? She must be crazy.

With a sigh, she rolled up her sleeves and began to scrub at a plate – and by now she had forgotten about the spirit Jack Frost.

The upstairs sink was no longer clogged, her and Leo's bathroom shower was now mold-free, and she'd even had time to get the demon blood out of the front carpet.

She grinned, wiping at her sweating forehead, and walked through the manor to inspect her work:

A kitchen so clean it sparkled, a living room she could invite normal people into, and bathrooms that humans could actually use.

Exhausted, she plopped herself down on the couch and leaned her head back, thoughts all about how useful the day had been and how much she'd gotten done – not a single one spared for her earlier magical encounter.

"All this probably would've gone a lot faster with some help." She grumbled pointedly, not exactly sure whether that remark was aimed for Leo or Paige or simply her family in general.

But oh well, it was done now.

Suddenly she jerked up painfully (muscles sore from cleaning) and sprinted towards the kitchen, only just remembering her cookies in the oven.

Just in care, she flicked her hand at the stove/timer, hoping to save her tasty creations from a crunchy, burnt demise.

She opened the oven door with apprehension.

They were perfectly fine, and she sighed in relief.

Another flick of her hands had the timer ringing shrilling at her – she turned it and the fires off and reached oven-mit-clad hands in to rescue them.

A loud noise, suspiciously like a yelp, startled her out of her concentration. Not enough to drop a hour's hard work of backing, but definitely enough that her hands shook and jumped as the tray fell to the counter.

The witch turned to inspect the spot the noise had come from – behind her, by the window maybe – and was met again with the bluest of eyes. There were the kind of eyes poets write about and artists dream about, she thought, almost hypnotized by the sheer beauty of the color.

Then she remembered earlier, and way earlier, her face flushing, and she tried not to meet blue anymore.

Instead, a smirk crept onto her lips as she realized his position – he was in a tangled heap on the cold grass as though he'd been on her roof and had slipped. What could he have been doing on her roof...

She narrowed his eyes, though no explanation could been seen.

Yet it was soon clear what could've stolen his attention, or at least was stealing it right then – a line of drool was forming in the corner of Frost's mouth, and his gaze was constantly drawn back to the pan.

Piper wondered if spirits could even digest baked goods. She then wondered if he'd ever had a chocolate chip cookie before, and that thought was soon followed by a a mix of horror, sympathy and an unexpected pang of compassion.

Her family wouldn't mind losing one or two, she reasoned. They would understand. It'd been like a sorry-I-was-rude present.

Besides, she thought, not even demons deserved to never taste a cookie.

They had to cool for awhile – partly because she got distracted and partly because she knew he was pretty much made out of ice and probably couldn't eat anything hot – but a half an hour later she was striding out the door with three perfectly round cookies on a plate, feeling even sillier than before (though no less determined).

She hoped he hadn't left her neighborhood yet. She also hoped he had, because really, Piper Halliwell offering cookies to random spirits she just met that may or may not be plotting to kill her?
That simply wasn't her. Demons would think she'd gone soft.

The voice in her head that sounded annoyingly like Phoebe whispered smugly that this was an extremely Piper Halliwell-like thing to do, but she never listened to that, and only sort-of frowned as she peered around the side of her house.

"Um...Jack Frost?" She called, feeling stupid. Well, the neighbors already thought the Halliwells were insane, right? How much worse could calling for the spirit of winter around her yard further damage her reputation?

"Jack? Er, Frosty?"

A disappointed sigh escaped her, since dammit she knew she was being ridiculous, why would he want cookies anyway?

Suddenly she let out a yelp. Well, it was technically a scream, but she was going with 'yelp'.

The boy had seemingly appeared from nowhere, or dropped from her roof again at best, and was staring curiously at her and the plate.

"Uh. Hi."

She attempted a warm smile, knowing, at best, not-completely-crooked was pushing her skills, and wondered what she'd thought she would say.

"Um." Piper began intelligently. "I...baked cookies. I mean, I suppose I sort of threatened you before, that was kind of uncalled for...And I was just making these for my sisters, and I thought, since you're still here, and I was rude, and...you..don't seem so bad so..."

Trailing off was probably the best thing that could be done for that paragraph, she reasoned, wanting to bury her head in her hands.

Still, she was Piper and she was stubborn, so she plastered on a grin, held out the plate and stated, helpfully,

"Cookies."

"Cookies?" He asked doubtfully. The child (because that's clearly what he was, the silly thing) meandered a step or two closer, within arms' reach now, unable to resist the smell.

"Cookies." Piper assured him. "But it's alright if you don't want them."

He stared at the baked circles thoughtfully as though wondering himself if he wanted them, and, after much consideration, he reached out a slender, pale hand.

The Charmed One stifled a chuckle, feeling like some animal trainer coaxing a wild beast to eat from her hand.

Nevertheless, she was sorta super proud when he accepted the treat and bit into it.

In the same way that he examined the food, he appeared to muse over her creation, every crunch a differing opinion.

Finally, he smiled at her – and at least he succeeded at the 'warm' part. Kinda ironic, really.

"It's good."

Piper grinned back, wide and excited.

This was the beginning of something strange and awkward and maybe even beautiful, she thought.

She had no idea that the boy was thinking something of the same.

A/N: So...how did y'all like that one? I don't know if I like it myself, but this is what came out when I sat down to type. And either way, it was a fun first writing attempt into the RotG fandom.

Hoped you guys enjoyed.

Please tell me what you think! What show/movie should I do next? Does anyone care for the last Smallville one?

Thanks again for reading!

Kokoro