Frost

Days of Black and Gold

Mari wasn’t ready for a crash-course in the Turner side of her family for the holiday, so she and Jack stayed in her apartment, slept in late, snuggled with Benedict, and tried their hand at making homemade eggnog. They failed miserably, of course, and settled for drinking a good portion of the only bottle of wine in her fridge – something on the drier side – and raiding the freezer for something to eat for Christmas dinner.

Pizza wasn’t traditional and Mari didn’t give a damn. They ate in the middle of the afternoon, and she then popped in the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jack hadn’t ever seen it, there wasn’t a mention of Jack Frost anywhere in it, and he found it highly entertaining.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas transitioned to The Polar Express on one of the family-centered TV channels, and shortly after hot chocolate was served to train cars of children Jack reached between the couch cushions and brought up a package wrapped in newspaper.

“Here,” he said, not looking away from the television screen as he waved it in her direction. “Happy Christmas.”

She took it hesitantly. “Thank you. I thought we were giving presents.”

“We weren’t. But I saw this and thought of…happier times.” He shrugged.

Mari unwrapped it slowly, eyes flickering from the package, the TV, and Jack’s studiously neutral expression. She turned it over in her hands and momentarily forgot how to breathe.

A DVD of Labyrinth rested in her lap.

“Ya see it?”

Drew leaned forward and chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

“No. No. I’m the Winter Prince and that – that is a damn goblin!” Jack’s indignation was palpable.

She giggled; Drew tipped his head back and laughed.

She smiled, pressing the backs of her fingers against her lips. This wasn’t one of her favorite movies but it now had a whole new meaning. It was special.

“You, uh, you wanna watch it?” she asked.

He nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. “Yes. I think it would be…it would be fitting.” He drew his legs up and settled further into the couch. “Even if I do look a little like Jareth, pixies are still better than goblins.”

Mari hit play and settled on the opposite end. “He’s a king. You’re just a prince.”

“Just a prince, she says,” he said. He rolled his head across the back cushion to look at her. “You of all people should know someone is never just anyone. Ogres are like onions.”

“You mean people?” She stifled a snort; his animated phase must have been bigger than she’d originally thought.

“Yes. Them too.” Jack stretched his legs out along the couch and nudged her thigh with his toes.

With the smile playing at the edge of his lips and his hair in disarray from where he’d been running his fingers through it all day, Mari regretted she hadn’t put any mistletoe anywhere in the apartment.

It was a good thing she hadn’t changed her address with the post office after moving out of her mother’s as she would have had to put another label on the back of her driver’s license. Monday morning during her lunch break she’d change it from 364 Main Street, Apartment 1 to 21 Ridgeline Road. Jack wouldn’t bother with his papers as there wasn’t any depth to them.

Questions about a man who didn’t exist weren’t something she needed.

The boxes containing everything they had between the two of them were in a small pile in the spacious living room. Most of them were hers, and even then the majority of it were clothes, shoes, and the few assorted pots and pans Hannah had grudgingly let her have.