OKAY; so first of all, my deepest and sincerest apologies for the fact I'm an asshole who takes way too long to update sometimes lol. SECOND of all; this 'two shot' has just become a 'three shot' because I'm STILL an asshole who takes too long to update in complete, contributions.
*Sigh* I suppose it can't be helped.
This middle part moves sort of randomly and fast, but I guess I was just taking into account that they're all drunk and supposed to be over thinking everything while at the same time not thinking at all; thus, backing them into conflicting corners of thought and inaction. blahblahblah.
Part of me still isn't sure I should be posting it, and the other half is so sick and tired of re-reading and re-arranging the same set of scenes that I can't stand to look at it anymore lol; but all in all, I think it turned out okay. Oh yeah, and please ignore the fact that the time-frames in which all this stuff happens is so ridiculously unrealistic haha; but so are dead kids and giant rabbits potentially wanting to fuck each others brains out. So, fair enough, I suppose.
Speaking of which, seeing as though this was somewhat a 'plot-developing' portion, I tried to include as much rewarding material as possible before the third, and final installment delivers the real 'climax'...teehee, such a shamelessly, terrible play on words.
ANWAYS; I need to shut up, as I so frequently do.
SO ON TO COMMENT REVIEWS!
Every1's Beta: First and foremost, thank you so much for being the first person to leave a review on this fic! As I mentioned, it's a pairing I usually only entertain in my head, and not in writing; so the support, as well as the HELLYEAH moment when I saw the number '1' under my review column, were RIDICULOUSLY appreciated. Hopefully you enjoy the second installment, and don't hate me too much for making you wait for a third!
TheGodlessAngelOfDarkness: Oh, yes, I am known to be quite the tease-okay, bad, terrible joke, but I am definitely a sucker for cliff-hangers and drawing things out tortuously. So, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for putting up with that COUGH and taking the bait COUGH. Also, again, apologies for the long ass wait, and the fact it's not over, but I hope this update is to your satisfaction lol and that you stick around for the grand finale.
storygirl99210:Short and sweet-you must teach me how to write things in this fashion XD I find myself constantly over-explaining-as you've probably noticed from this failure of a one-shot turned three-part-trilogy-shot. *Sigh* ANYWAYS, thank you for the review, and the all-caps 'awesome' you gave the first part-always a definite plus! I hope you wind up checking back in to read the rest, and that it earns just as 'awesome' as a review as last time.
9aza: Lol interesting has the potential to be good, and or bad, buuuut I'm going to take it as a compliment XD seeing as I'm too goddamn bipolar to do anything in a normal fashion. Ahh, YESSS, so glad you pointed out the dancing scene/slash children's rhymes, because they were like my favorite parts. Something about Jack standing on Bunny's feet to dance just melted my heart haha, and then I spontaneously dove into rhyme scenes because I do, so very much, love to rhyme nonsensically. ANYWHO; glad the build up was effective, sorry that this is a little more of development now, but I tried to make it worth everyone's time. Hope you enjoy, and thanks so much for the review!
Pooka Spirit: HANDS DOWN; best thing anyone's ever said, just the whole 'boyfriend would never let me live this down' thing, because my friends would NEVER speak to me again if they knew; and currently, my mother has discovered my sister and I's love for this...erm...unconventional pairing...and insists on bringing in the most AWKWARD ways. Like I came downstairs, totally unknowingly, and she's just like, "So, Morgan-do you think Jack and Bunny are gay together?" Causing me to spontaneously die a little inside as I my sister looks at me like 'yup, did the same thing to me ten seconds ago.' Bahah, also, if the 'rereading and editing did wonders' thing refers to the fact that you could tell how many times i resubmitted the document within the span of half an hour, that's ridiculously embarrassing haha, I am quite terrible at catching my own mistakes half the time slash looking over anything before I turn it in. And yeah, thanks lol, I figured it would be called a 'two shot', and NOW it's a 'three-shot' (hopefully that's right lol). ANYWHO; thank you for the review, and also sorry that I flip-flop tenses like crazy (definitely just realized I do that after you pointed it out), but hopefully it doesn't take away from the story itself too much. ENJOY!
Kira the cat: Lol, DUH, because cliffhangers are secretly the best literary device known to man! Not only do they draw out all that deliciously addictive tension, BUT they always imply that there's even more on the way! At least that's how I try to think about it lol; although I know if I read my own fic I'd probably hate myself for doing it so much. Which makes me even MORE sorry that I'll be doing it again once more. *hides* please don't hold it against me! MOVING ON; thank you so much for your review and for taking an interest in this little-work-in-progress, I hope you end up reading the second half and liking it as much as the first...as well as sticking around for the third, and YES, final. lol
CheshireCatGrin3421: Ahhhhhhhh! There was no way I couldn't start my review to your review in that same exact fashion lol; because I swear re-reading it just made me excited all over again for the fact I'm finally posting the damn thing! Hopefully you're still excited to read it! lol, sorry for the long wait, and the fact it may take a tad bit of time to post the last part as well. REGARDLESS, thank you so much for the review slash support, and I really hope this next part is to your liking! ps: thank you again for the 'AHHH' haha it has given me the energy to finish up my review-reviews!
aquodox: GOD SAVE THE QUEEN; I have finally found someone who appreciates my unnecessary lengthiness! lol hopefully you like it three times over, since this part is about as long as the first part, and the third part will most likely match them in length as well. This part is a little less 'fun' I suppose, and a little more 'emotionally conflicting' but I'm hoping you'll find it every bit as enjoyable in it's own, contrasting sort of way as I delve into the deeper side of things slash set everything up for the good feels. I'm also flattered you thought it was well-written because I'm kiiiinddd of an over-analyzing tweak when I write, and I always worry it's an overbearing style; but again, glad you liked it. Thank you again, and enjoy!
Sora Moto: OH MY GOD, YES; second person to leave a review that comments about the conflict of age slash this unconventional, but equally addicting, pairing. I don't know why it makes me so happy, but I love how everyone involved in this pairing has such a sense of solidarity bahah we're all in this together, and TRUST ME, we've all questioned, requestioned, and then questioned ourselves again. And, after the scenes I will be writing soon, I feel especially dirty; baha, seeing as though I've abandoned actual sex for engaging vicariously through rabbits and dead kids. The world of a fan fiction is a fucked up place *sigh* but it's just as well; I wouldn't have it any other way. ANYWHO, continuing, thanks for the review, thanks for enjoying the fic, and thanks for hopefully sticking around to read the rest!
Cat871: Yes, I am feeling all the love! And also, I'm glad you thought it was funny, because sometimes when I write stuff, I just sit there wondering, "how weird is this gonna sound to someone else?" Mostly because I write dialogue the way I actually talk, and can't imagine its half as amusing to my readers as it is to me lol. So, hell yeah. And oh god yes do I agree about the angsty combination-twenty one years old and I've never been able to get over my obsession with sassy-angst-filled-banter. ALSO; glad you like my writing style, because I know it's longwinded and over-explanatory, but it's another thing I always hope people will love as much I love writing that way. So thank you kindly, and enjoy part two! Annnd eventually part three if the wait doesn't make you hate it too much XD
oh wow: jdaljgagaljfg, damn it, the reviews with the 'pleases' always make me feel ten times as shitty for not being able to update faster :( lol but I really, REALLY, did try to post this update a hundred times before, but the writers block was absolutely killing me. HOWEVER, better late than never, right? I just hope I'M not too late to keep furthering your interest in the fic with my lack of punctuality! lol. And god damn it, reading your review is just making me feel so bad I didn't update sooner because it's so gosh darn nice, and there are so many pleases, and just ldknvlsfbsd! Why must you do this to me!? okay, deep breath. THANK YOU; for the ridiculously flattering review, and for reviewing at all, andddd I hope you love part two just as well!
guiltyshipper: -aren't we all? teehee. WELL, good heavens, in that case I hope you have not died yet with all the waiting I've put you through to finally see it! If anything, perhaps I can use it to resuscitate you! lol because the world would be a sad place with one less guilty, jackrabbit shipper like myself to exploit this dirty habit of dead kids and giant rabbits with! AHHH; and oh god, genius? You're really, REALLY, too kind to say such things-I'm merely an over analytical tweak of a writer with too many overlapping thoughts and ideas fighting for representation. bahaha; but hey; I suppose insanity and genius dance on either side of the same line, so thank you so much, that made my day.
...AHHHH. you commented twice. DAMN YOU. 'super-genius!?' The flattery just keeps making me smile more and more; you're AWESOME. haha. and HELLYEAH, that someone commented on the use of 'cumulonimbus' because when I used that i was like "wow morgan, way to put something really weird and stupid in your fic and hoping its original," haha, so, thank you, for the THOUSANDTH time, and I really hope I don't fail to live up to these high expectations you've set for me! *i'm growing increasingly nervous about the delivery of part two now bahah, it's not quite as clever*
Night-Fury1: SO, after reading your reaction to the end of part one-I'm about 99% sure I just felt your fist come flying through my computer screen to punch me in the face for my cruel and unusually placed little cliffhanger. And at least 100% sure that if you read part two that it will come back again, but to STRANGLE me this time XD. However, in my defense, I am offering a lot more guilty indulgences in part two than part one-buuut still not as many as will be in part three. SO; hopefully you can put up with me for that long, and that I've evilly drawn you into sticking with the fic! mwahaha! ANYWHO; enjoy part two, or hate me for it; whichever seems fitting lol and thank you again for reviewing!
Lady Minuialwen: Yourrrrr wish is my...slightly delayed and untimely...COMMAND! lol after way too long, I am happy to say that I've been able to live up to this request! Now, counter wise, I hope that the update can live up to the expectations that have been set! I suppose maybeeee...the fact that it will now be three parts is a...bonus? Or perhaps, just cruel and unusual punishment. *Sigh* I haven't quite decided myself. HOWEVER; thank you for being the final review so on this fic, and for taking an active interest in my one-shot turned three-shot! Definitely hope it continued to capture your interest!
AND WITH THAT BEING SAID;
PART TWO, ladies and gents and guilty jackrabbit shippers alike.
Please read and review try not to kill me for drawing this out...
I'm hoping I didn't make the mistake of posting it in thirds :/
-.-.-.-.-
A One Shot Turned Three | Part II of III
|12:10 AM|
She was tall, thin, and as graceful as any bird Jack had ever seen, even if her wings had grown disproportionate to the rest of her body, it couldn't possibly take away from her natural aesthetic—appearing smaller and more delicate as they folded motionlessly against her shoulders.
Defining her slender figure, the formfitting fabric was accentuating every curve, clinging tastefully to her hips, and revealing just the slightest amount of cleavage where the neckline plunged. It wasn't slinky, or short, or anything else he thought of when it came to the opposite sex—but it was so simple, that there was something elegant about it.
Something classy.
"Holy crap, Tooth!" Jack exclaimed as she approached—too awestruck to be disappointed. "You're beautiful!"
He could hardly believe it was really her—not that he was shallow or insensitive, but when he thought of Tooth, he thought of feathers and little bits of blood and gums—not centerfold-material.
The Tooth standing across from him, however, was quite a different story.
With light blonde hair, almost as light as Jack's, she wore it simply and swept to one side. Cascading down around her neck in a tumble of colors—it must have been at least fifteen inches long—blonde bangs eventually giving way to electric green, streaking into the midsection that framed her face, and then fading gently into iridescent, aqua.
Having already noticed his gawking, the Guardian of Memories simply grinned, shaking her head modestly at the dropped jaw, and making her way across the room to the assortment of liquors.
"Tooth is always beautiful, Jack!" North scoffed, swatting the smaller boy on the head for his unintentional discourteousness.
Rubbing the space, Jack looked up startled, "No, that isn't what I…"
"Seriously, mate—where are your manners?"
|12:17 AM|
Instantly, Jack's whole body stiffened—like someone just held a gun to his back and told him to freeze—stomach muscles churning uncertainly as the focus of the room shifted—illuminative auras extinguishing against the pounding of his heart—too afraid to move as the familiar cadence held him at gunpoint.
"Try'n go easy on me this time, will yah?" Bunny asked humorously, receiving no answer. "MiM only knows what'll come outta that mouth's yours next," he chided, partially in good fun, and partially out of nervousness now, "And honestly, mate, I'm a little scared to find out."
Yet, for some reason, the younger boy just couldn't bring himself to face the other way; unnerving the other guardian as he continued to stare, silently, in the opposite direction.
"That is if you ever decide to turn around," Aster finished, or added on, he wasn't sure which anymore—couldn't tell where one thought was ending and another was forming— fidgeting with the unfamiliar articles of clothing as he cleared his throat tentatively.
But Jack remained unmoving.
"You've definitely still got it," Tooth interjected, releasing a sharp whistle, "A couple hundred years later, and you still don't look a day over twenty-five."
"Trus' me," the Australian insisted, "I'm all washed up compared to you, love. As always T, you are truly a sight for sore eyes."
"Why thank you," she did a little curtsy, "but I'll not have you spreading your lies," her eyes narrowed playfully, "You, Bunnymund, look positively dashing, and it's high time you started accepting that."
Sandy nodded enthusiastically, pretending to hold up a scorecard that formed a perfect ten over, and over again in messy doodles, pointing back and forth between them.
"I don't know," Bunny's voice dropped and extended doubtfully, "Either I'm losing my touch then, or you need your eyes checked," he proposed, "Cause it's gotta be pretty bad if frostbite won't even look."
"Yes, what is this second rudeness?" North nodded, somewhere in the sprite's peripherals. "Stop treating the silence Jack, you are hurting Bunnymund's feelings."
"Sorry, I spaced," Jack muttered apologetically, trying to muster his courage, but growing unconfident as the alcohol began to to blur his emotions—shifting them indiscernibly in his stomach as he began to pivot, "I was just thinking…"
"Thinking what?" Bunny asked.
Jack met the eyes he'd been avoiding, only to have the realty of it escape him in return—unable to conceive any situational awareness when sight and sound refused each other—the usually spellbinding vocals beginning to distort and fall away in syllables, lost to the features forming them.
"Frostbite?"
Jack opened his mouth a fraction of the way, but didn't make a sound—closing it momentarily after realizing it was agape, and then biting down gently on his bottom lip—pulling it between his teeth with these wide, vacant eyes—innocent, indecipherable, and driving Aster crazy when he couldn't read anything transpiring behind them.
"Thirty second delay…" Bunny trailed off, after the boy gave him nothing but awkward silence, "…thirty one...thirty two…" he began to count, tapering away in a laugh, and trying to appear casual—but it was this unsure, forced sort of sound that Jack had never heard before.
Such a curious sound...so hesitant and unconfident...so human, Jack realized, cataloguing the unfamiliar mannerisms, and finding himself unsure of how he felt at that moment—continuing to freeze his features into a perfectly sculpted poker face as he watched Bunny's give themselves away; so easily, that it almost seemed accidental. Noticing the way he still went to rest against his heals, even though he no longer could, and understanding for the first time how vulnerable the Pooka must have felt without his fur—how exposed and unable to hide.
"Well, say something," Aster stumbled, beginning to twiddle his fingers and pick at his cuticles, shifting his weight uncomfortably, desperate to draw the other out.
But still, there was nothing.
Only silence.
It wasn't his fault though. Jack wanted to say something. He really did. But Bunny had stolen all of his words, and left him speechless instead—forcing him to stand there stupidly, in this drunken sort of daze, while a million different emotions fought for representation—too overwhelmed to process any of them.
Shock faded into awe—interchanging with a desire that transformed into fear—which blurred into confusion before melting into reticence—and then back to fear once more—exchanging it endlessly with desire, disbelief, and eventually insanity. Too unsure of this simultaneous sensation—this strange biological division between them that erased—the attraction that had long since altered, but never made any sense.
Never translated.
His mind was about ready to explode, wanting nothing more than to erase the lot of it from memory—rubbing his eyes raw rather than having to believe them—and before long, it was starting to show.
The elder took an uneasy step forward. "What's wrong?"
"You're not a kangaroo anymore," Jack exhaled disappointedly, dropping his shoulders in unison, and substituting the drawn out silence with reference points in an attempt to distract from the surfacing irregularities—from how deeply he'd begun to gaze—how soft and focused and far from innocent this was becoming.
A nervous excitement was swelling in the pit of his stomach, and the sight of the other was strangely stirring—watching fixedly as a pair of muscular arms folded across the impressive build of his chest—tan and smooth and tattooed in all the right places…
"And you're certainly not ordinary," Jack added softly.
Glancing up, Bunny returned the boy's gaze, but said nothing—almost as if he'd chosen not to hear—or just had no idea how to respond to something so seemingly misplaced.
Continuing to breathe the man in, in great detail, Jack followed the inward curve between deep, viridian eyes until they met at the bridge of his nose—flesh colored instead of pink—with a few scattered freckles in place of whiskers, so faint you could barely see them...the kind I wouldn't mind nipping at...he shivered, possessed with the sudden urge to do just that, sliding down the perfectly centered slope, and stopping when he reached the vertical groove that melted into the most tempting pair of lips.
It should be illegal to look that good, Jack groaned inwardly—conflicted, offset, and completely unable to stop staring at Bunny's alternate form. Standing just as tall, his arms were still crossed, exposing tan forearms beneath the short sleeve fabric of a simple, grey button up—top two undone and no tie—tucked into the waistband of dark set denim that pooled around his bare feet.
A detail that drew a smile to the sprite's face.
His hair—what so little of it remained—was a soft, steely-shade—almost molten-silver where it tousled around his ears; still long, floppy, and folding backwards when baby-blue orbs did a double-take, tracing the sculpture of a well built, and more than able, body—from his abdomen all the way up to where his neck met the strong, defined jaw-line with just enough to stubble to be sexy.
"Fro—"
"How could you possibly think you were ordinary?" Jack demanded—an innocent, soft sort of frustration in his voice when the other's embarrassment began to infuriate him.
The elder opened his mouth, but closed it again.
"I've never seen anything like you," Jack confessed as he reached out; slowly uncurling his fingers as they hesitated forward, savoring the fleeting sensation of skin beneath his fingertips. "Not in three hundred years."
Rounding in a pained sort of refrain, Bunny's eyes were dilating and constricting in attempts to refocus around anything recognizable rather than pulling away from it—trying so very, very hard to draw some parallel between the soft, unexpected caress, and the bold, unhindered boy he'd never known to do such things.
Not like this. Not to him.
"That's because there aren't any left," the elder said quietly, offering the only response he could think to give, too painfully aware of how alcohol-induced the other's opinion had grown, "It's just me, frostbite."
Taking his hand back slowly, Jack met Bunny's eyes with a smile so honest and shy, and so unforgivably beautiful that the man couldn't help but swallow the soft-spoken inaccuracies shifting in their wake.
"I guess they really do save the best for last then," he grinned, watching it provoke the color in the other's face as his smile grew wider and the word's lingered sweetly.
"You don't really mean that," the Australian dismissed gently, feeling the full extent of emotion misplace in his chest when Jack stepped forward to assure him that he did—accelerating Aster's once steady pulse into a conflicting interest of fear and longing—ears flattening farther, and farther as the sentiment became too much to stomach.
|12:45 AM|
"Should we…. leave you two alone?" North scratched his head, proceeding confusedly.
Bunny's head snapped to the side, "What?"
"Your eyes are in the bedroom," the larger man shrugged, too drunk to realize how god awfully he was embarrassing them, "I was meaning to be polite.
"You mean bedroom-eyes?" Aster corrected with a sigh, shaking his head dismissively. "What was that you were tellin' me 'bout too much vodka, and no such thing?"
"I said," North began to pour, "That there is no…" the other cut him off.
"It was rhetorical, mate, now, please."
North threw his arms in the air, "What!"
"You know what," Bunny glared, somehow less intimidating without his usual raising to full height, "Now quit it."
"Yeah," Jack agreed, equally mortified, but trying not to draw anymore unnecessary attention to the fact by redirecting it elsewhere, "Can't you see he's embawased?"
Aster threw his hands down, "Alright, that's it! I really hope you had your fun," he snatched up his scotch, growing increasingly and unnecessarily livid, "but next time do me a favor and leave me the hell out of it."
And with that, he was gone.
"Now look what you did," Tooth walked forward, almost as furious as Bunny, "Why did you have to go and tease him? Both of you," she snapped, glancing harshly at one in particular, "I told you how sensitive he is about this, Jack."
But Jack's eyes were already lost in the direction the other had stormed off in, feeling the pit of his stomach drop guiltily, never having intended for such a simple thing to set him off like that. Bipolar much? Jack thought exasperatedly, blocking out the sound of Tooth's reprimands to stare at the distance he'd just forced Bunny, so thoughtlessly, into.
"Oh, Bunnymund has stick up the you know where," North shook his head, taking a drink. "It was just joke, Tooth."
"Clearly not a very funny one," she gestured harshly at the exit route. "Do you even remember how long it took us to calm him down the last time?"
"I'll do it," Jack spoke up softly—causing the other two guardians to stop in mid-argument.
Tooth looked somewhat confused, as if the statement was misplaced coming from him of all people, even considering. "Pardon?"
"I said I'll do it," he repeated, eyes drawn to the ground, dragging one foot. "I'll go talk to him."
"Perfect!" North clapped both hands together, "See, Tooth? Closed case."
The look on her face wavered between doubt and consideration, "I don't know if that's the best idea..."
|1:00 AM|
Jack was already halfway out the door though, having a pretty good idea where the other had gone, and hoping desperately that he hadn't just ruined everything. See? He thought, shaking his head in despair, New Years is cursed.
Feeling suddenly stupid, so very, very stupid for his staring and caressing and hoping and wishing and what it had done to him—absolutely furious that he had fallen so impulsively into such an irrational desire and lost all personal security in the process.
He couldn't help it. He wanted it. He wanted him.
And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it anymore.
How did it come down to this? Jack wondered—kicking along a stray pebble—submerged in the calm, tranquil scenes of Bunnymund's warren outstretching, immeasurably, in every direction. He'd never felt like this before—so easily subject to feelings beyond his control. Ever since this whole idea had taken root in his subconscious, it had been nothing but a constant disruption—a needle hidden in the haystack of emotion piling up inside him—so carefully hidden, that it had taken half a year for him to find.
For him to realize what this was.
What this had always been.
Jack felt his stomach spoil—misplacing the moments that transpired over the past couple hours—forcibly disregarding how much he'd enjoyed them, and how electrifyingly they'd jumpstarted in his chest. Sighing heavily, he felt the alcohol starting to play tricks on him, displacing the balance of rationale and logic, and diluting the truth into a watered down drink that was too hard to swallow.
|1:15 AM|
Aster looked up long before Jack had the chance to approach, "Not now, frostbite, this isn't a good time."
"You'd better make it one then," Jack replied with alcohol-induced confidence. "Because I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you, E. Aster. I can't keep my promises," the boy concluded with a caustic remark.
Sighing deeply, the other got to his feet, sliding a paintbrush into his back pocket, and offering Jack a sincere look of disquietude, "I really don't wanna talk about it, mate."
"Then let's not talk," the teen took a step forward.
Aster eyed him strangely, "And just what exactly are you suggesting?"
Focusing in on the object, Jack felt the inebriating toxin cause his brain to digress desirably, emboldening him with the audacity to step over the boundaries he was already constantly crossing—hormones winning out to flawed logic—and curiosity threatening to kill him like a catlike-reflex. That awkward moment right before his mouth opened and the alcohol spilled out in sentence form…
"Wanna paint me instead?" he grinned devilishly.
"Paint? You?" Bunny repeated confused, taking a second to process as the suggestive tone cocked his ears to the side. "Are—are you trying to make a pass at me, Frost?"
"That depends," Jack offered, leaning adorably into the side of his staff, "Did it work?"
"Did it work?" Bunnymund asked, ears lowering involuntarily, just ever so flustered. "I'm not even sure what you were trying to insinuate yet."
"Because I wasn't," the reincarnate countered, falling playfully back into nursery rhyme rhythm. "I said what I meant, and I meant what I said."
"You mean like—literally? Why on earth would I wanna paint you?" Aster questioned, still failing to find any sense in the other's words, knitting his eyebrows to frame further confusion, "And why in MiM's name would'ya want me to?"
Blue eyes sparkled mischievously, "I just figured you must be pretty good with your hands..."
"Oh, I am so done with this conversation," Aster announced; sidestepping the sprite when Jack caught him by the arm, forcing his focus back to what he was trying both desperately, and in vain, to ignore. "What?" he demanded, his voice growing brisk. "Don't you have anything better to do than bother me all the time?"
"Better?" Jack asked, cocking his head to the side, continuing to lay the puns on thick. "What's better than naked-skin?"
Aster shrugged his arm out of the boy's grasp, roughly enough to be effective, "Are you drunk, Frost?"
"No, I'm immune to alcohol, that's why I drink it," the sprite rolled his eyes sarcastically; stepping back between Bunny and the path he tried to weave around him.
"What do you want from me?" Aster's arms rose and fell in rapid gestures, losing natural instinct to the hypersensitivity of human nature, "You've been acting like this all night. And it's weird," he glared skeptically, "Even for you."
"I like to think of myself as unique," Jack answered uncooperatively
Emerald eyes were unreceptive, "Don't avoid the subject, Frost."
Jack sighed, realizing he wasn't getting playful Bunny back anytime soon; causing his voice to drop indecipherably when he realized he may have broken this beyond fixing.
"Well?" Bunny tapped his foot impatiently.
The younger boy glanced up, his offense evident. "Why is wanting to spend time with you weird?"
The reverse psychology caught Aster off guard, causing the elder to open his mouth, and then close it again. Sighing as his posture lost defensiveness, and his eyes rounded disappointedly.
Jack held his hips, impersonating the impatience, "Well?" he demanded, "I'm waiting."
"It's not. You're right. I'm sorry," the elder exhaled—with what seemed to be great effort and a lack of discernible emotion—turning back towards the large, flat boulder he'd previously been sitting on, and signaling for Jack to follow.
Staring blankly for a moment, the gesture took a second to register, and the ghost-haired boy remained still, watching the other ease himself onto the surface, and pull the brush from his pocket.
"C'mere," Aster said gently, patting the empty space beside him.
Reluctant and unsure of what to expect, Jack approached gingerly, pausing nervously at the foot of the large, moss covered mass, and then glancing up undecidedly—too offset by the pre-menstrual-like mood swings they'd undergone to feel sure of anything anymore.
Sighing, Aster reached down. "C'mon," he began to lift the other gently, "Up you go, Frost."
Limp as a rag doll, Jack didn't even put up a fight when he felt the strong hands gather him up in their grasp—not even when Bunny turned him around, inched backwards, and sat Jack down between his legs—gently pushing up one the boy's sleeves, and opening a small, rectangular wooden case in the process."Now hold still," Bunny instructed quietly, the gentle curve of his stomach folding along the teen's back as he leaned over his shoulder, paintbrush in hand.
Drawing the utensil between his lips to wet the bristles, he proceeded to swirl them in the soft colored palette resting against his knee, and then across the boy's skin in steady strides. The strokes were soft, delicate, and sending shivers down Jack's spine—pulled into the other so closely that he could smell his cologne—the scent intoxicating him as he became increasingly aware of Aster's every outline engulfing, and enveloping his body...the warmth of his thighs...the rise and fall of his chest...even the fleeting sensation of his breathing...sweet, shallow, and colliding with his neck in gentle spurts...
...Jack was losing his shit, and Bunny was just…just painting. As if they did this every day. Silent as he hovered over the smaller boy, balancing his forearm against his leg, and drawing the brush back and forth in intricate, wintry designs; humming softly somewhere in Jack's peripherals.
...Why isn't he saying anything?...Why won't he say anything?...Is he EVER going to SAY ANYTHING!?...
Jack felt his heart beat accelerate.
...I just don't understand why he's so calm...How the HELL is he SO CALM...STOP BEING SO FUCKING CALM...
His thoughts raced and outpaced the palpitating.
...And quiet. And composed. AndJesus-CHRIST don't you dare come any closer you overgrown...cross-polymerizing...kangaroo...man...THING...godDAMNIT why don't you listen!?
He demanded ineffectually, all but hyperventilating as he sat their holding his breath, making up words, and trying to fathom how this frantic upheaval wasn't mutual upsetting, or even seemingly something that the other noticed.
Jack face was so frozen by that point that he looked as if he'd been carved straight from the side of a glacier—finally exhausting his ability to form thoughts—and looking helplessly to the aesthetics of the warren to distract him from this cruel and unusual contact instead. Gradually losing his eyes to the symmetries that morphed in and out of the shadows as the moonlight sifted through the clouds—strings of paper lanterns swinging back and forth in the breeze.
The air was warm and sweet—filling his lungs with calmness and ease as breathing became involuntary and set his heart back in steady motion. Heavily sedated and no longer concerned with the frost on his cheeks that had begun to melt as he allowed his back to sink into the body behind it—slowly, but surely drawing Aster out of focus.
|1:30 AM|
Jack was looking up at the stars. "This is nice," he said all of a sudden, almost as surprised at the sound of his own voice as he was with the words that fell so effortlessly into place, "I really like it here."
"Between my legs?" Bunny mused, glancing up before he returned to his brushstrokes.
"In your warren, stupid," his arm shot back, elbowing Aster between the ribs.
A strong hand steadied the fit, pressing into the boy's stomach, "Hold still," he reiterated, having smudged one of the snowflakes, "I'm almost done." Then a pause. "I didn't expect that though," Aster admitted, hiding the smudge in swirls of crystallized windfall, "It's the exact opposite of wintertime here."
"That's why I like it," Jack breathed in and out slowly, "It's different."
His answer, however, only seemed to upset the pattern in Bunny's shallow breathing, the other guardian growing silent and steady, setting his brush to the side. "You wouldn't like it all the time though," he said quietly, blowing against the paint to help it dry.
"How do you know?" Jack frowned, pulling his arm away.
Aster sighed, "Because I just know."
"Please," he angled himself, "Elaborate."
"It doesn't say the same," the elder simplified. "And eventually, you'd hate it."
Pale features failed to understand. "Nothing stays the same," he rationalized, "that doesn't mean I hate it though."
"Maybe not at first," green eyes became downcast, "but you'd learn to."
Jack met the presumptuous tone with contest, "How can you hate something that you already like?"
"Easily," Bunny moved away. "Too easily, actually."
The boy's eyebrow rose skeptically in response, "Speaking from experience, cottontail?"
"No," the other shook his head, "Just realistically."
"So, realistically," Jack inquired, "your point is?"
"Well," Bunny glanced away, "it wouldn't always look the way you wanted it to…"
"I don't care how it looks," the boy argued absurdly.
"No," Aster offered, switching tenses, "But you're going to."
And, suddenly, Jack wasn't so sure that Bunny was talking about the warren anymore...
|1:55 AM|
The conversation didn't seem to finish; in fact, it just seemed to end. This fleeting, transitory lapse in accuracy that couldn't be expanded upon—couldn't be trusted in the hands of the person who hadn't seen it until now. Jack supposed, on the surface level at least, that him and Bunny had grown to be friends over time.
And that was the problem.
Friendship was a dangerous concept, both an invitation and a denunciation, a boundary that could be bent and broken—a boundary between them that had always been unclear. Opening the doorway to deeper, personal connections—it provided the keys; however, intimacy was a debatable and interchangeable motion, and often changed its locks without warning.
Therefore, closeness was somewhat hazardous, unlocking entryways that weren't clearly labeled, and allowing feelings to morph in and out of certainty as they blurred and broke the platonic borderline. However, it was a line that must be crossed by both sides to maintain balance—and more often times than not, it seemed that there were really two lines instead—one thick, and solid—and the other broken—allowing one person to intersect, while the other remained stationary.
In all his selfishness, Jack had never stopped to consider that he was the one standing still before. That Bunny had changed lanes, and he'd become a blind spot. That evasive area that was always lingering—was always waiting somewhere off to the side—life threatening, but so easily forgotten.
Jack was no child though; and he knew that object permanence was merely a misconception of the mind—a stage we overcome with age—and although he had ceased to breath just shy of his nineteenth birthday, he had never forgotten how to see.
Being invisible made attention to detail an imperative attribute; so he had long since learned to see through other's as they so unfailingly saw through him. And Jack knew, without a doubt, that you didn't just pretend things weren't there because the view had been obstructed—that you didn't avoid the obvious, unless you were hiding it.
And the other was, if nothing else, infamous for hiding.
It makes sense, doesn't it? He asked himself, glancing to the elder who walked next to him in unchallenged silence—it made too much sense actually. Why Sandy had let it slip that Bunny was afraid of what Jack would think of him—why Bunny, had in turn, stormed away when the boy had exposed nothing but admiration….
He'd changed lanes.
Just like Jack said. He'd left the signal flashing, visibly for everyone to see. He'd shown every sign of slowing down, and switching speeds. But he'd always been faster, and Jack had let the opportunity pass him by a hundred different times. Too concerned with his recklessness to take the rules seriously.
The laws of attraction he'd violated—because he'd never noticed.
Never acknowledged this.
That the other had brought him back to life; and the strange cardiac calisthenics had corroded in a cacophony of collisions, swallowing the steady beat that skipped between them—throwing off the platonic palpitations until his head and his heart had gone to war with each other and Bunny had been paralyzed in the crossfire—trapped between a faulty trigger finger and a bullet he couldn't bite.
Like a game of Russian Roulette—one bullet, six spaces—unexpected, but lethal—and Jack was the hand that spun the revolver around as if this were all just a game—until the gun retracted heatedly, and shot him straight in the face.
He's always known, Jack realized sadly, and suddenly so disappointed in himself for such blatant unwillingness to look down the barrel that had been staring him in the face this whole time; for never seeing it, because he never wanted to. Never wanted to believe that the jesting and the teasing were like an adolescent cry for help—the opposition that was meant to distract from the fact that the polarity had reversed, and begun to attract.
And what better way to play off something so serious, than by pretending it was nothing?
After all, they were both so good at it, weren't they?
"It wouldn't always look the way you wanted it to…" Aster's words looped in his head like madness; the worst kind of cliffhanger—inconclusive and intoxicating—leaving Jack's overactive imagination to shade in all the foreshadowing as it lodged in his brain. There's just no way he was still talking about the warren, he concluded, it was too well-timed, too specific—the train of thought unfolded with increasing conviction—and I highly doubt he's put that much thought and consideration into my preference of living standards…
However, there was a small, prevailing chance that he had, in fact, put as much thought into Jack. He'd never said anything about it before, but why would he? Bunny was the most 'to himself' person Jack knew. His thoughts were calm, calculated, and catalogued in alphabetical order; nothing was ever out of place, and sometimes even his spontaneity felt censored.
Rehearsed.
Like someone had handed him a script, and he'd been playing the part for years. Leaving Jack as the not-so-subtle plot twist that threw off routine and characterization—entering Bunny's life as a cameo that should never have lasted, episodically reappearing until he'd become a part of the cast. Tooth had insinuated as much when she'd challenged him earlier—"does he though?" she asked, forcing Jack to reflect—did Aster really know that all his teasing, and all his aloofness was all just an act?
The answer, however offsetting, was no.
How could he have possibly known when I'd only been pretending to by myself? He wondered, suddenly glaring at the other who hardly seemed to notice—the real question is how could you not know, Jack re-directed his thoughts telepathically, scoffing internally at the notion of 'acting naturally'—it's the biggest oxymoron since jumbo-shrimp, and you of all people should know the difference.
Or did he?
Jack shook his head, the alcohol was convoluting his brain, and his drunken thoughts were altering the ability to process coherent, sober words—unable to conclude if he was even making any sense—all his fancy, poetic metaphors becoming nothing more than a well-dressed distraction from the fact he couldn't bring himself deal with this directly. The elephant in the room that neither of them would admit was there—object permanence once again becoming one of Piaget's stages that they had yet to overcome.
|2:05 AM|
Upon reentering, Aster observed Jack's silence knowingly. "Are you thinking too much about what I said?" he asked, but not unkindly. "Because I can tell when you do—your mouth starts to move a little, and you fixate on focal points."
Jack's eyes snapped back into focus, and he felt like there really wasn't anything he could hide anymore—no blind spot big enough to swallow him—and Bunny caught that just as quickly.
"Don't be embarrassed, and stop thinking everything I say always has a double-meaning behind it," he observed effortlessly, "I was just telling you that what you said wasn't spot-on, that's all."
Stopping, blue eyes narrowed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to think before you speak?" he asked accusatorially.
The other paused, finally turning to establish some sort of contact, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means, that maybe you shouldn't just assume that you know everything," Jack spat venomously.
Bunny sighed, "Where is this coming from? If you think I was out of line, then I apologize, but—"
"If I think?" Jack repeated furiously. "I don't think you were out of line, you were out of line. Just do me a favor, and stop pretending like you know me so well, okay?"
The notion seemed saddening. "This can't possibly still be about the warren, mate," the elder stated, and the irony was so accurate that it hurt.
"Was it ever really about the warren?" Jack challenged, redirecting with questions to keep forcing answers, "Or was that just another one of those double-meanings that you claim don't exist?"
"C'mon, Jack," Aster began seriously, he never called him by his first name unless it was serious, "What is this really about?"
"You tell me."
The other sighed, "I wouldn't be asking if I could now, would I?"
"How should I know?"
"Well, it wouldn't make much sense," Aster concluded.
Jack's voice rose incredulously, "Half the things you do, don't make sense," he rationalized, "You're always saying things, but they never mean a goddamn thing."
"Half the things I do?" the other questioned disbelievingly, losing the calm, composure of his mask when the inconsistencies became too fluid to frame. "Look who's talking!"
"Don't turn this on me," Jack shook his head unreceptively. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you."
"Yeah?" Aster asked. "Well it's a two way street, and this goes both ways, Frost."
The conversation was growing too satirical to stomach, and it felt as if Bunny had once again read every one of Jack's thoughts, and then used them against him—taking his comparative diversions and disposing of them one by one to draw this out into the open.
"What goes both ways, Bunny, do be specific," Jack sneered, feeling small and childish, and furious with the other for making him.
His features twisted into an unreceptive frown, "That's not fair."
"This isn't fair," the sprite folded his arms tightly across his chest.
"What is this?" Bunny smiled sweetly, redirecting the evasive tactics.
Jack glared, "Like you don't already know."
"Hello pot, I'm kettle," the other extended his hand sarcastically, "Have we met?"
"See!" Jack threw his arms up. "You never take me seriously."
Aster stared blatantly, "Says the person who never takes anything seriously."
"That isn't true," his cheeks frosted heatedly, "I take a lot of things seriously."
"You don't even know what that word means," Bunny shook his head, "you toss it around like an egg, too stupid to realize how fragile it is."
"I wasn't aware this was an egg-toss," Jack rolled his eyes, "I'll be sure to remember that next time so I can take five steps back instead of wasting them all on you."
"You know what, that's your problem, Frost. You don't give a damn about anyone but yourself," he finished, voice catching on every syllable.
"Wrong again." Jack stated coldly, "It was being stupid enough to give a damn about you."
|2:15 AM|
The night had all but collapsed on itself, and Aster found himself wishing that he could simply take back every single thing he'd said—harsh words all hanging in the air—wondering if he was wrong to leave them there like that. If perhaps he was wrong to let Jack choke on all these liquid lies, and preemptive smiles, while he himself clung to the skirts of his excuses—too over protective to do anything but the smother the poor boy.
How could he possibly let something so beautiful breathe? If this started, he wouldn't be able to stop himself; he knew that already. It's not like he could honestly stand there and deny that he'd been so very tempted to submit to it; after all, he wasn't blind, he could see full well how the boy looked at him... all the ways Jack never knew that Bunny had been looking at him.
How he had always looked at him.
It was so terribly hard not to, to be honest, and the soft, disorienting sort of seduction was making it all the more impossible to look anywhere else; but he couldn't let the knots in his stomach pull him anywhere near the boy they were already wrapping around, because he just couldn't. It couldn't happen, not now, not ever, not for a hundred good reasons.
But it wasn't supposed to hurt this much...knowing the difference it made...but it did, and it hurt like hell...hurt him so badly to know that he'd only now become interesting...after everything about him had changed
|2:20 AM|
"And it's hard to learn, and it's hard to love, when you're giving me such sweet nothing…"
The lyrics broke against his ears like an auditory slight; as if New Years had personally taken the single, most heartbreaking moment, and then set it to a soundtrack; looping endlessly in his head. Could the selection have possibly come at a worse time? Mocking Jack with the sweet intonations that narrated his feelings as if they were nothing more than lyrics to a song—empty words that never belonged to him.
"Sweet nothing, sweet nothing. You're giving me such sweet nothing…"
Jack rubbed his eyes furiously when they began to prickle, not wanting the other guardians to notice his features as they fell; as Aster entered the room only seconds behind, and the words sank heavily like a weight in his chest. Coining the phrase that pays—the sweet-nothings that formed an unfeasible debt—the price Jack would never be able to pay…
"It isn't easy for me to let it go—cause I swallowed every single world. And every whisper, every sigh—eats away at this heart of mine. And there is a hollow in me now..."
…because they didn't mean anything; because the truth of it was, they were exactly what they claimed to be—soft-spoken exchanges that held no emotional value. Bunny had built a bridge between them and then burnt down; tricking him into thinking he was crossing over, when he was merely falling through.
Saddening him irreconcilably when Jack realized that he'd lost sight of how to share himself with anyone...
"So I put my faith in something unknown—I'm living on such sweet nothing—but I'm tired of hope with nothing to hold...
|2:25 AM|
North was well in his cups by the time they'd gotten back, and Tooth was scolding them for worrying her half to death, but Jack couldn't muster up the strength to deal with any of it. Too exhausted and defeated and terribly aware that New Years had played him like a puppet wearing strings—offering only the false impression that he had any control. Over himself, or the night, or the hand falling hesitantly across his shoulder.
"Sorry T," Aster exchanged formalities, "but I need to borrow Jack for a second."
"Sorry, Bunny," Jack pulled away, "but I'm busy right now."
Tooth blinked.
"Well you should'a thought about that earlier."
"What happened earlier?" she asked, glancing back and forth between hostility and avoidance. "What's going on?"
Blue eyes pierced, "There's nothing to talk about."
"There's a lot to talk about," the other stepped forward.
"Not anymore, you saw fit to that."
"Saw fit to what?" Tooth interjected once more.
"Please," Aster's head snapped in her direction, unable to mask his irritation, "Just stay out of it."
She drew back, slightly shocked and a little hurt by Bunny's dissmisal.
"Don't yell at her," Jack snapped.
"Who is yelling?" North boomed drunkenly, "Bunnymund, is that you?"
The Australian sighed, drawing his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "Yes, North, it's me," he confirmed, losing patience fast.
"You are troubled," the older man swayed, setting a hand on the guardian's shoulder, "What is wrong? Where is Jack!?"
The sprite flicked his wrist, "Right here, big guy."
"Oh!" North jumped back, "Then who is that?"
Jack stepped back perplexedly, staring at Bunny as they both glanced towards the empty space, losing their tempers somewhere in the confusion.
"Oh, North!" Tooth rushed forward, "I told you only one more glass!"
"One more glass!?" The other's eyes lit up hopefully.
The Guardian of Memories smacked her forehead, "Oh, brother."
"Who's brother?" thick eyebrows furrowed. "Is that who that is?"
"North," Jack interrupted, "There's nobody there."
"Exactly how much have you had to drink?" Aster steadied the swaying strides.
The other didn't seem to hear him though, "And why does Jack look like easter-egg?"
Jack yanked down his sleeve, quick to hide the evidence.
"Why are you full of paint?" Tooth cocked her head to the side, trying to get a better look when the sleeve obstructed her view.
Wobbling over in a disoriented hover, Sandy began to form something that looked like two people before North lunged forward.
"Sandy!" he cried, quickly censoring the array of imagery that Jack could only guess had been explicit, "Not in front of the small one!"
Aster rubbed his temples, "This isn't happening."
|2:37 AM|
But it was. And Bunny was quickly losing the ability to ignore it.
|2:46 AM|
Jack felt the soft pressure of hands folding over his shoulders, knuckles furrowing in an almost massage like motion that both eased, and heightened the tension. "C'mon," Aster prompted, even though all Jack had given him in response was an impervious scowl, "Let's go for a walk."
The smaller boy hadn't moved a muscle though, and all he could feel were the strong, tempting pair of hands that refused to play fair—easing one of his palms along the back of Jack's neck, with his thumb on one side, and the rest of his fingers on the other, all simultaneously simultaneously in a pressured rotation.
The winter sprite shuddered involuntarily, a reaction that was both inaccurate and misleading in comparison to what was convulsing in his chest at that point; pulling forward uncooperatively, but only to feel the other's grip grow firmer, and almost demanding. Applying just enough force to ease the boy back into the fact that it had not been a request—and just enough that it was turning Jack on way more than it should be.
He hated him for that. For having such inexplicable control over him without demonstrating any discernible intent, or even applicable effort; instead, every motion became accidentally sexual, overriding the boy's capacity to endure the overwhelming excitement of flesh-on-flesh. How easily Bunny seduced him out of infuriation, and into the clutches of a not-so-innocent frustration when Jack wanted nothing more than to be furious with him.
There was surely nothing worse than folding beneath another's touch when you wished to curdle at the mere sight of it; and the combination of alcohol and raw masculinity were making the unintentionally arousing impressions swell from his brain down to his loins.
The deadly combination of factors that made this hard to ignore and even harder to resist, even when they brokered no real incentive; however, that couldn't seem to stop Jack from melting like a marionette in the palm of Bunny's hand—just waiting for his strings to be pulled.
Craning his neck backwards, Jack provoked a sharp, upward range of contact—what had once started out as a self-fashioned 'go fuck yourself' glare quickly transforming into a come-hither 'fuck me instead' stare. He probably should have been more embarrassed than he was; but then again, it was such an involuntary reflex—and one that he had not willed into place.
Besides, the contact was stimulating, even if it delivered about as much as a thirty-second Internet clip, only enough to successfully achieve a heightened state of desire, but never the decency to take responsibility for the action. However, being left unable to seek relief directly from the source is what made it so needlessly exhilarating to uphold the pending frustration through the exchange of their eyes.
And Jack could feel his own becoming electrically charged against the opposing, yet similar, frequency that sapphire eyes began swallowing the reflections of—Bunny's emerald green auras dying out when the contrasting intensity overwhelmed their expectancy. Staring up unflinchingly as the other began to shift uneasily; the grip of Aster's fingers became less persuasive as the strength of their conviction weakened on contact—and Jack's provided all the inference they would ever need.
"Hey," he released softly, only addressing the man above him, in hopes to draw contact and conversation out for as long as possible before the Kangaroo usurped all authority over them; which really isn't something I'd mind come to think of it...
Swallowing, Bunny, admittedly, met the look with moderate surprise, and not nearly enough immunity as he would have liked, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it was rude to stare, mate?"
"Then look away," the smaller boy challenged, the ambiguous angle in his smile narrowing into the kind of smirk that could drive a grown man wild.
And the elder seemed to fall victim to the assertion, temporarily forgetting himself, unable to resist how quickly the gaze tangled him back into those conflicting knots again—winding through the one's that were still trying to unravel under the ever-changing contexts.
"Never said I wanted'tah," Aster redirected indiscernibly, but with all the confidence of someone with more experience.
It was a sound that couldn't easily be swayed, a sound that Jack would love to swallow whole until he could feel it writhe deep inside him somewhere—anywhere—everywhere his thoughts tacked on systematically, taking his once well in-tended comparison and turning it into exactly what it sounded like.
"Ohhh, I see," Jack expressed suggestively, purposely moving his lips in the shape of the sound, "You like the angle, huh?"
"Depending on who's in it," the other guardian shrugged, predominantly unfazed, and unaffected; except for the over articulated and shapely mouth that was causing his fingers to curl, just noticeably, into a tighter grip.
A grip that did not go unnoticed to the muscles it was teasing and tensing with its soft, almost empty, pressure; a force that quickly transferred, and extended its range of contact as Jack detected the hypersensitive sensation of Bunny's hands sliding down the lengths of his arms.
"So, about that walk," Aster tried again, gathering the other's hands in his own, and forcing his fingers between the spaces; still devoid of any sexual implication, but far too brash and unprecedented to be contrived as normalcy—an inconsistency open for interpretation.
An interpretation that Jack had been adapting in his mind for quite awhile now, and one that transfixed him regardless of any discernible conclusion—and although there was a rather prominent part of the boy that preferred to dismiss it, in its entirety, he'd already succumbed to the allure—deciding that he'd rather get lost within his favorite fantasy than spend the night infuriated in the face of it's illogical existence.
That even though he was still partially furious with Bunny, that he'd rather trade anger for shameless pleasures of provoked contact instead—allowing Aster's fingers to slip between the empty spaces, and lift him from the couch in one, easy motion—neither of them paying the slightest attention to whether or not they were being watched, the fact of the matter never even occurring to them.
Still slightly nervous, in that fearful pit of his stomach, Jack readied himself for the possibility that Bunny's fingertips would become fleeting; but to his pleasant, and unforseen, surprise they were steadfast, and unexpectedly reassuring. A sort of vicarious strength that he felt transferring from the strong, stoic man he'd never gotten this close to before, whose own hands held onto his with an unfaltering grip as they pulled him towards the uncertainty awaiting this 'walk' of sorts he'd proposed.
Even in his fit of scatterbrained elation though, Jack wasn't stupid enough to believe that the gesture was without consequence—or that Aster hadn't intended to turn this into some talk of deeper unpleasantries that they'd not yet hashed out prior—however, he decided then and there that he'd do just about anything if it meant the other would keep touching him...
|3:00 AM|
"You know you really don't have to do this…"
"Sure I do," he shrugged.
Jack turned to face him. "Bunny, I'm serious…"
Smiling warmly, he took both of the boy's hands. "So am I."
Jack sighed, but not before focusing in on a distinct pattern of shivers pulsing through him—they were becoming so hard to ignore lately—recently—always, Jack supposed was a better way the phrase it. They came in different waves and motions, but they all crashed and broke against the image of the one, and only, E. Aster.
And no one else. Not for a very long time.
The dimensions of Bunny's warren seemed to bend in misleading directions though as Jack developed the increasing awareness of paint on his skin, and the circumstances of the last moment they'd shared out here. A moment that wasn't exactly helping to quell the yearning sensation that his stomach seemed content to savor; continuously teasing him with the incomplete idea of what it truly felt like to be between the other's legs.
However, their previous conversation had left Jack completely unprepared for this, and he would have never guessed that Bunny had something up his sleeve.
It wasn't grandiose or material. It was just nice. A nice gesture. And that's what made it all the more tempting. Bunny explained that it was to make up for earlier, and Jack explained that it wasn't necessary.
But Aster insisted—so he didn't argue.
Following his footfalls in a pattern towards the shallow stream of iridescent egg-dye, he watched Bunny bend over to shuffle a stray egglet back into its group. Jack paused, cocking his head to the side, and allowing himself to trace the curve of Aster's backside—deep denim fabric stretching taut and well-defining around his thighs and lower region until almost all false modesty had been forgotten as he continued to stare.
Another key piece of imagery that did nothing but provoke the endless train of thought and fantasy spiraling simultaneously through both chambers of his heart as it began accelerating—the imagery adorning the walls of his brain completely clad in various motions of their bodies tangling in an x-rated swirl. But with the combination of Aster and alcohol, he'd already known it wouldn't be long before these sorts of ideas overwhelmed him. Jack couldn't say they were the most accurate, or the most innocent of images, but as long as they entailed Bunny, then they were perfect for producing certain side-effects.
He'd never been attracted to another man before. In truth, he'd only ever really been with one other person, and she was a girl. Someone he'd known growing up, and didn't like to talk about.
Ever.
Frowning suddenly to himself for forcing her memory indirectly back into mind by telling himself not to think about it. It wasn't that he still loved her; well, not romantically, or that he'd never gotten over her—he just didn't like to think about life before this.
Because it was all gone. All dead.
Wasn't that ironic? In its own twisted, little way? He'd died a young man of eighteen years—before any of them—and yet he'd outlived them all, at least a hundred years over. Although he supposed, perhaps, that was another thing Bunny and he had in common—they'd outlasted everyone they'd ever known. Sure, if you wanted to split hairs, his situation lacked in comparison to the Pookah's more tragic tale—but Jack didn't like divvying up people's personal lives incrementally, and awarding merits of better or worse. No, he just liked to find the little similarities between them—those little bridges that the world had built.
He liked those little things they had in common, and often times wondered if they weren't the real reason this little attraction had grown and flourished in the first place—the foundation upon which Jack had erected this idea of them together. It wasn't always this intense, not by a long shot; in fact if you'd tried to sing him such a song a year ago—Jack would have laughed wholeheartedly in your face.
Not because it was insulting or 'ludicrous to assume' or that he was even judgmental, but the concept hadn't existed in the puritanistic era he'd grown young in. Well, he was sure it had existed, somewhere, behind some closed doors, between some people at some point; but it had never been something he'd ever thought to consider until he'd found that someone.
|3:10 AM|
"I feel bad about what I said earlier," Aster admitted, releasing the rest with slight difficulty, "And I can't stand to see you so upset."
"But I thought…"
"That I don't ever think about you?" Bunny finished for him.
"Yeah," Jack sank back; even more bewildered with verbalization of the fact than the implications of the gesture itself.
"Well you thought wrong," he sat down next to him, left thigh pressed against the boy's right, not too much, but just enough to feel the heat.
Without meaning to, Jack's eyes reached out into Bunny's again, and the words slipped out helplessly, "It seems there's a lot I've been wrong about lately."
"Oh yea?" Aster asked, but had to turn away, his cheeks were pink.
"Yeah." Jack pulled the edge of his bottom lip in thoughtfully with his teeth, watching deep, viridian eyes as they followed the motion.
When Bunny looked back up, his pupils dialted and constricted against his attempts to readjust and refocus around something recognizable again, but Jack knew he wasn't going to see anything, because there was nothing about them that was the same anymore. Sometimes it was less noticeable and sometimes it was obvious, but Aster always caught it, and it left him looking scared again.
Just like earlier in the night—before and after he'd swapped forms—the cautious looks and glances that turned so utterly terrified upon meeting his crystallized gaze—as if he feared Jack as some mortal weakness.
Some unexplainable threat.
Nervously repositioning, Aster's hands retracted to his sides, and Jack noticed the uneasy sway set into motion. "Well, to err is human," he laughed that painfully fake laugh, "Right?"
"Is that a confession?" Jack leaned slightly forward, making sure to fill even more, but not all of the space left between them. It wasn't an advance, not truly, but Bunny shrunk away from it. And there was something both exciting and empowering about how easily he was controlling the ebb and flow of their bodies, something setting him into motion.
Temporarily joining the power trip, Aster's face closed another fraction of space. "Did you want one?" he asked, his breath misting and dissolving against Jack's.
For half a second he could taste it—the fleeting brush of a kiss he'd never gotten floating over his lips and retracing the proximity he longed to close, breathing in the tasteless atmosphere, and thinking how it should have tasted like springtime and the occasional cigarette Bunny claimed he never had—pulling forward and thinking how it was as good a time as any to find out if that were true...
"Not as much as I was this," he mumbled.
|3:17 AM|
Groaning vexedly, there was nothing Bunny could do about it, pulling Jack into his chest when he realized this accident was no longer preventable—sinking into his mouth with a deep, yet delicate, urgency—lips parting slowly, but starting to press harder—fingers furrowing through ghost-white strands, and angling their heads to gain access.
Out of breath and out of focus, words were lost and consequences temporarily forgotten.
Jack held on tightly to his wrists, then his waist, then the back of his neck; returning the faster, stronger pace and trying to remember not to open his mouth too wide—hands clutching Aster's back when his steady fingertips collided with the boy's skin—sliding up the length of his stomach, and securing a firm grip that drew them closer. Pressing his lips into Jacks so softly, and so sweetly that it felt unforgivable somehow, clenching his fists, and holding the boy's entire body like he was terrified to let go.
It only lasted for a moment, before something forced them apart, and they were reversed back into an anatomic position; the lack of continuity they upheld refusing consistency like two opposing magnets.
Bunny disengaged and his body language became distant. An aurora borealis of amaranth, fire-brick, and crimson cascaded across his cheekbones and bent over the bridge of his nose in a furious burning. His face twisted in pained confusion, green eyes began to cloud with scattered frequencies of thought, and then he left Jack sitting there dumbfounded and speechless.
He just turned around and left without saying so much as a single word.
|3:25 AM|
Captivated, aggravated, perplexed, and amazed—Jack sank back into the grass, completely overwhelmed, and suddenly beginning to pour tears that he couldn't match any emotion to—unable to breathe as the oxygen tore through his lungs, and all seven letters smacked him in the face.
Friends.
Exhaustion swept over him, and the darkness was swallowing Jack faster than he could form symbolism for. The dilapidated cairns spread throughout the warren were whispering calm yet chilling riffs as the wind poured through the cracks in their consistancies; and the opposing force of gravity was aching under the phantom pressure of past words, "you don't even know what that word means," and suddenly Jack felt fourteen more hit him even harder.
Nothing. Serious.
|3:40 AM|
"North!" Bunnymund yelled, after the rather inebriated guardian had wandered off towards his tunnels, "Sleighs over there," he pointed in the other direction "That's Africa, mate."
The man's face flushed with increasing confusion as they found this to be true, Tooth scurrying around behind him to usher him towards the preprogrammed coordinates of his massive, rickety hunk of machinery—Jack hiccuping in laughter when the Guardian of Wonder demanded what Africa was doing in the middle of Australia.
Aster shook his head, "I'll tell you later," he assured, knowing it would give North an incentive to leave so that he'd be that much closer to unraveling the mystery that was simply made such by all the alcohol going straight to his brain, and that all would soon be forgotten.
"YES," he over-emphasized, climbing into the sleigh with Tooth's assistance, "we must be getting to the bottom of this—until next time old, friend!"
"Until next time," Bunny agreed, wondering if it wasn't smarter to take the man home himself when North began to holler at one of his Sentinels, insisting it was Jack.
"Say goodbye to your brother for me," he instructed, swaying with the reigns in one hand, while the other rose in a 'peace' like veer, "And remember, EYES IN HEAD, Jack!" North shouted over the sound of actual Jack, stubby fingers pointing from his own towards what he thought to be the boy's, in a forewarning gesture. "You are finally off naughty list, so be looking twice," the larger man shook his finger continuously, and quite frankly to the sprite's relief at this point, towards the inanimate object, "or else maybe you will be making list of your own! Alcohol does this, I know," North nodded.
"Ohhhkay!" Tooth shoved the drooping, tethered cable back into his hands, "I think that's enough, North—Bunny's more than capable of keeping Jack off any lists," she shot the humanoid an equally speculative and unconvinced glance.
North slapped his knee, finding this hilarious. "Bunnymund keep Jack off list!?" he belted out with laugher; as if the combination were the punch line to some brilliant, ongoing joke. "Bunnymund will be what is putting him at TOP of list!"
Jack glanced knowingly to Aster, looking unappreciative as ever, but too human to hide how red in the face he was; especially when North roared onward, Sandy appearing beside him in a similar burst; rolling around his cloud with what looked like a yogurt cup above his head.
"Oh no sandman, too much, too much!" the larger man wiped away involuntary tears of drunken amusement, turning in whichever direction seemed right, "Did you hear that silly rabbit!?" he asked, shouting at a group of terrified egglets, "Tricks are for Kids!"
"Anddd you really just said that," Bunnymund sighed, eyes turning upward, distractingly towards the sky as he shook his head. "All of that," he murmured conclusively under his breath; certain now, more than before, that he would never again be able to meet the other boy's eyes for as long as they both lived.
Which, how conveniently, was forever.
Quickly, Tooth pressed the buttons on North's sleigh in the right order, sending the vessel off in a trail of echoing laughter, until it faded into complete, and utterly awkward silence; after which the remaining three guardians shuffled back inside for lack of better ideas—Tooth having already bid her goodbyes shortly after North's abrupt departure, excusing herself due to both the time, and a certain other Holiday that she traditionally rang the New Year in with.
Which, according to Sandy, looked as if she'd intended to take a tumble with some medieval rendition of what Aster assured him was supped to be Cupid's bow-and-arrow, and not at all what it looked like; Jack finding himself much and more relieved, seeing as there were some things about his fellow guardians he'd rather not know. The pre-battery-era-operating-looking device Sandy insisted on forming, being one of them.
|3:59 AM|
That is, until the little, golden ball of drunken dream sand too seemed to have disappeared; and it was just the two.
The two of them.
All alone, and with so much to talk about...
-.-.-.-
to be continued.
*peeks one eye out*
hoping not to see readers raising pitchforks.
is it cruel and unusual to still ask for reviews after cliffhanger no.2..?