RotG fic - You remember how to build a snowman, right?

Saturday, February 16, 2013

RotG fic - You remember how to build a snowman, right?

Title: You remember how to build a snowman, right?

Rating: G

Notes: Based on hurtanminttu’s sweet angstmuffin, Icicle Jack. I couldn’t help myself. Mostly based on the stuff from ask-pitchs-wardrobe which is kind of an AU of the AU… ICECEPTION. *ducks*

Summary: It’s always a shock for Jack to see his other self.

It’s not the colouring. It’s not even the icicles that are both protection and prison. It’s the eyes, endlessly lonely and lost.

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It’s always a shock for Jack to see his other self.

It’s not the colouring. It’s not even the icicles that are both protection and prison. It’s the eyes, endlessly lonely and lost.

Jack reaches under the icicles that coat the other’s hair and touches his cheek. His eyes widen and he gives a smile that is warm and bright and real. It’s beautiful, and it’s the first time that Jack has seen something of himself in there.

“You’re cute when you smile,” he says, stroking his thumb against the cold cheek. “You should do it more often.”

When the smile grows wider, it feels like a victory.

Encouraged, Jack looks up at the cages hanging from the ceiling and walks over to one, hitting it with his staff so that it rings out with a surprisingly pleasant tone. He looks over his shoulder and grins. “You know what this place needs?”

The other looks at him with wide eyes and he shakes his head.

“A little fun.”

Jack throws a snowball that explodes against the other’s icicle-laden coat. For a moment the only reaction is a blink, then he gives a soft noise that sounds like the shadow of laughter. Instantly his hands go over his mouth and he looks around guiltily, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Relax; he’s not here.”

“But – I- he-“

“Come on,” Jack says, quickly changing the subject. He wants to distract the other from thoughts of Pitch, not invoke them. “You remember how to make a snowman, right?”

“I – think so?”

“Let me help you out.”

It starts to snow, thick flakes that quickly coat the floor. The snow gives a brightness to the cavern that combats the gloom, and the other seems lighter for it. He straightens a little, and another fleeting smile passes over his face.

“C’mon,” Jack says, scooping up a handful of snow and forming it into a ball. “Do what I do.”

He rolls it along the floor and the other watches him carefully, as though he’s not sure what he’s doing, and his uncertainty makes Jack’s chest ache. How could he have forgotten something so simple, so fun, so intrinsic to being Jack Frost?

Eventually the other follows Jack’s lead and a few times Jack spies that sweet, hesitant smile.

Jack makes a second ball of snow and puts it in place, and the other puts the third on top ever-so-carefully, as if he’s afraid of hurting it. He glances at Jack as if seeking approval, and Jack gives him his warmest smile.

“That’s great! Now we need to find him some eyes and a nose, and something for his arms.”

“Oh!” The other breaks a pair of icicles from his staff and puts them in either side of the snowman for arms, then scurries towards one of the tunnels that lead from the cavern. “Just- just a minute,” he calls, before disappearing into the shadows.

Jack shifts his weight, wondering if he should follow. He doesn’t want to let the other out of his sight – a fierce urge to look after him burns through Jack but he knows overprotectiveness won’t help here. Sighing, he touches one of the icicle arms with a finger and makes it grow and branch so that it looks more like a twig.

When the other returns, his arms are full. Jack gives a startled laugh when he sees what he’s found. There’s a top hat, a scarf and a handful of buttons – all pitch black, of course.

“You did great,” Jack says, and his chest tightens again at the relief and happiness that fills the other’s face.

Together they decorate the snowman, with another icicle for his nose. By the time they’re done he’s very dapper indeed.

They perch on the globe, side by side, looking down at their creation and the snow-covered lair. Jack glances the other as he smiles, a fluttering, nervous thing that slowly gains confidence until it’s almost the smile that Jack recognises.

“That was fun,” the other says, still quiet but less hesitant. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Jack says, and touches the other’s cheek again; and he smiles when the other leans into his touch. Jack strokes his thumb over the other’s lips, so soft and cold. The other closes his eyes, and his smile becomes full of longing.

Jack wants to say come away with me or you don’t need him; but for all their differences the two of them are still the same person, and Jack knows how he would react to so obvious an intervention.

The best thing he can do is just be here, to stay by his side, to give him what he needs.

To do whatever he can to save him.