Last Winter [JackFrostxReader] Pt.15

When you were younger, you remembered having been doused in ice cold water by some idiots from school after a sports event one January night, which you would always regret going to. Not once had you felt that same cold feeling after that night, until Jack had jumped under the covers and held you tightly against him.

The human body was an amazing thing, and you would forever be curious as to how it worked; you had gone buzzed to sober in a blink of an eye. Jack’s entire body was covering yours and making your brain think you had been covered in snow. One of his hands had been covering your mouth, preventing you from yelling in surprise the moment he had join you on the bed.

“W-what the . . . hell,” you stuttered, your body shivering uncontrollably, “A-a-are you doing?!”

“Hiding.”

“You’re invisible!” you hissed through chattering teeth, hands balling up into Jack’s sweater as footsteps came closer. “He c-can’t see . . .y-you.”

“Well,” you could hear the grin in his voice, “Look at the bright side. If he decides to take a peek under the covers, he won’t find you snuggled up next to a guy.”

“J-Jack—”

“Should I hug you more? You’re shivering.”

He shifted, bring you closer and your mind could easily register where it was you were touching; your head was resting on one of his arms, the one most likely used to cover your mouth, lying near his chest. His other arm was wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer to him until he could rest his chin on your head. The staff, much to your discomfort, was pressed against your back, the hook of it hooking over your shoulder.

“You’re really warm. Really, really, really warm.”

You were about to snap at him when Ruben’s footsteps came closer and closer, the sound now nearing the bed and causing your breath to momentarily catch. Eyes instantly shut tightly, your heart beating wildly inside your ribcage; it would only be a matter of seconds before that damned Ruben pulled the covers.

Jack would not be seen, he absolutely couldn’t be seen by Ruben, but the thought of him catching the scent of alcohol was not something that you wanted to be caught with. For all that was scientific, you had left the evidence of someone other than yourself being in the house in the living room!

That was the reason why he was there! How could you be so stupid?!

“Joykill?” Jack whispered into your cheek, your arm having snaked its way under him so you could hug him while the hurt one rested in between you both. “You’re shaking way more than normal.”

“N-normal?” you asked in a hushed, soft voice, the footsteps causing your blood to boil, but Jack’s freezing temperature was not allowing your body to respond to your brain. And even if it could, your brain was still dozed up on beer bread. “It’s below z-zero.”

Ruben must have heard a mumble; because it wasn’t soon after that he was calling your name. By the sound of it, he was standing on the side you were on, his body leaning on the bed by how it shifted to one side. Like any reasonable adult, which by that you meant, like any reasonable, doubtful, always-watching-like-vultures, he and your mother probably thought the owner of the other cup was still with you.

And he was; he was in the same bed as you, snuggling closer to you, most likely freezing your body to his on purpose. Why that little—

“Hold the end of the cover.” Jack whispered into your ear, making you shiver even more than you were. He didn’t give you time to ask before he repeated himself. “Take hold of the cover. Trust me.”

You felt Jack’s hands behind you taking hold of the covers from that end, with your fingers digging into his sweater, you grudgingly let go and held the other end of the cover. Ruben’s hand, you felt, was already touching the edge of it when Jack whispered something that sounded like a command. Not soon after, the window to the room bust open; the strong cold winds throwing everything in the room to the floor or the other side of the room.

Ruben cursed, lifting his weight from the bed and heading over to close the window as your mother ran into the room. By the sound of her voice, everything had been disorganized, and she was blaming Ruben for opening the window; because there was no Earthly way that window could open by itself and cause major chaos in a matter of seconds.

Jack’s chuckling at their bickering as they exited room hinted that what they had thought was not true.

“There.” His arms tighten around you; the staff he was holding sticking into your ankle and causing you to wince slightly, but you were far too preoccupied with Jack’s closeness to care. “Time to go to sleep.”

“S-sleep!” You stuttered, pulling your arm from under him and using it to push yourself up.  The covers didn’t fall from you; still covering your head like a veil as you looked down at the grinning Jack whose face was lit by the moon. Your vision blurred, “Sleep on the floor, if you’re going to stay!”

“So, I can stay?”

“N-no,” you slurred, your face unbelievably hot as you looked away from Jack. “Are those m-my curtains—my notes!”

You jumped from the bed and onto the messy floor filled with notes, your head spinning and your vision glazing over before you fell back onto the bed. Or at least you had thought you had fallen back, but it turned out Jack had pulled you down, wrapping your body with the covers. This, you thought, wouldn’t matter if he was bent on staying so close to you.

“Jack,” his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest, his cheek to yours. His legs began to tangle themselves with yours, and without meaning to, his foot grazed your calf for the briefest of moment before you let out a shriek. “You’re cold!”

“Did you forget,” he said softly into your ear, “Winter Spirit.”

“Listen, frosty, I don’t believe in spirits.” You hissed back, pulling at his arms with your good hand, but he held on tighter. “You’re just a weather phenomenon.”

“What did you just call me, snowflake?” His tone was sharper, his hand colder when he took hold of your chin and pushed it to the side until you were looking back at him; looking at those beautiful blue eyes that resemble crystalized water with the light of the moon. “I’m not a phenomenon!”

You didn’t say anything, entranced with the clarity of his eyes, his closeness, and the scent of freshly fallen snow on a winter day. If anyone, anyone, had ever looked at their newly made snow angel and thought of it as perfect, that would be the exact same feeling you held towards Jack at the moment; he was a perfect snow angel.

But that didn’t mean you were going to keep your body in the cold snow after that angel was finished.

“I—I can’t,” you couldn’t process the words anymore. Your body was too cold, your brain, though sobering up by the minute, was now being distracted by Jack’s closeness and the reflection of yourself in his eyes. The only word that formed from your mouth, and which was directed towards how you felt and not describing Jack, was, “Phenomenon.”

“I’m not a phenomenon.” You could feel his breath on your lips, frosting them like the cold breeze of a snowless winter day. It’s something you had felt before, way back before that time in your study. Your thoughts were working slowly, sluggishly and fuzzy, but you were sure you had felt this before; the cold breeze kissing your lips.

A school day about a year back, walking in the harsh cold winds of winter that had come out of nowhere, and the soft sound of laughing you shrugged off as the wind playing tricks. “You’ve done this before.” You said more to yourself than Jack, “Back then when I had momentarily given up on my research . . .”

“You’re turning red again.” Was all he said, turning you around until you were lying towards him on your side. He hugged you, nuzzling into your neck, wrapping his arms tightly around you when you jumped at the coldness of his skin. “So warm.”

You groaned inwardly, pushing Jack’s head back and away from your shoulder to lie on the pillow. His eyes were closed, and was breathing evenly, arms now holding on to you loosely, which only meant this winter spirit had fallen asleep with you trapped between him and his staff. And though the sight of a sleeping Jack Frost was exquisite, and it made you think of more than one experiment, you didn’t have the strength to do anything else but study his sleeping face.

Messy white hair over pale white skin and long white lashes that turned to crescents on his cheeks. With trembling fingers, you reached up slowly, running the tip of them over his lashes before moving up to take his bangs. If only you had your scissors, then you would be able to take a DNA sample without him questioning your motives or causing you unnecessary trouble before giving you what you wanted.

Very careful not to wake him, you moved your hand threw his hair, letting your fingers run through it slowly. There was no difference between his hair and yours, except the color and the fact that his was pure white, but other than that it felt like human hair should. His skin, as you were now caressing his face, was the same texture as any human’s except cold; very cold, almost as cold as your skin would be if you stayed the night in his arms.

Your fingertips, still shaking, moved from his jaw line towards his lips; throwing all caution to the wind as you traced them. They were thin, a pale blue, chapped, as if he had stood in the cold weather for far too long, yet strangely alluring.

Jack stirred, causing you to snap your hand back as his pulled you closer to him. It was unbelievable how he was able to sleep in this type of situation. Wasn’t he a healthy boy, and he was pressed against you like this, by data collected, you were sure any other guy his age would have tried something. Then again, Jack wasn’t like any other guy, he was a spirit and much older than you were.

“Name something you’ve wanted to do since you were a little girl.”

Jack’s words echoed in your mind of when he had wanted to show you how much fun you could have during a snow day. You had never told him what it was you were thinking of, what it was you had been imagining that had flared up your cheeks, how it was causing them to burn now. And, technically, it was now Christmas and you were wrapped in a single blanket with him after having had hot chocolate and coffee and beer bread, which was most likely what was cheering you on at the moment.

There was no tree or fire place and you and Jack were surely not a couple, but . . . what if there was no snow for another eight years, or worse, another century?! He wouldn’t mind. He couldn’t mind what you were planning really; after all he had done so twice now. Maybe even more times than your mind could register or even remember.

You pushed yourself on your good arm, resting on the elbow as much as Jack’s arms would allow. Your face was burning red, though, you could no longer feel your body because Jack had completely frozen it over. He didn’t stir; eyes remained closed as you leaned forward, your hand resting on his cheek. You closed your eyes and closed the remaining gap between your lips and his.

The kiss was cold, soft, and felt like the many times the winter winds had caressed them not so very long ago.

The difference between this moment and the moments in your memories was a steady force that pushed the back of your head forward, deeply pressing your lips in place as they frosted over by the coldness Jack offered as he kissed back.