AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yallo, everybody! Sorry for the long note, but I need your OPINIONS on things (regarding commissions for IA art/comics, P8treon, original fiction work, etc.)! HERE WE GO.

Regarding IA FANART/COMICS: Quite a few of you have recently contacted me to suggest collaborations for art and/or comics about Ice Alliance. While super flattering, here's a quick summary of my feelings on the subject:

Me: It appears that a number of artists are wanting me to commission them to do illustrations and comics for Ice Alliance.

Me to Me: That's a completely reasonable thing to ask. It's important that artists feel they can get paid for their work.

Me: …

Me: You realize that *I'M* not being paid anything to do this, right?

SO. While I totally respect the Hustle (being an artist is hard!), I'm just going to respond En Masse to clarify that—while I'm more than happy to continue writing and posting IA for free (because that is what I *literally* signed up for when I made a fanfiction account)—I kind of draw the line at being asked to additionally pay for the production of what is essentially fanart of my OWN work. (Like any other healthily self-loathing young mother, I already feel guilty enough for letting myself spend time on writing this, when I *could* be using that precious fifteen-minutes-once-every-six-weeks writing time to be doing More Endless Chores instead, you know?) (GUILT! GUILT GUILT GUILT!)

That being said: if any of YOU GUYS wanted to see some commissioned "official" art for IA and were willing to either A) foot the bill, or B) join with other people to do so, I am TOTALLY open to trying to figure out how to organize something like that! ALSO: For anybody who still wants to make or post fanart/comics for free (you know, because I kinda thought we were ALL here for free), while I request that you credit me by linking/crediting Ice Alliance as your source, I am always thrilled to see fanart and/or comics, and I will do my best to remember to post links to your work in my Author's Notes!

Regarding P8treon (apparently, I cannot type the actual word here): On that note, I should probably bring this up, because it's been brought up to me on several occasions by readers. While really flattering, I'm going to clarify that I'm not planning on starting one for IA for two main reasons. The first is that (from what I understand), I'd be required to offer "perks" for my top patrons, such as

Example: "You can read my stuff EARLIER than everybody else! …Because I'm now actively withholding my finished work from everybody else, unless they pay up, I guess!"

Another Example: "We're going to hold a lottery for who gets to *sPeNd [a very small amount of] TiMe WiTh MeEeEeEeE!*"

(Seriously. I understand that creators don't have the time to personally meet with every single person, but the idea of charging people to be friends with me feels every kind of ick.)

The other reason is that I do NOT have to know how much people think IA is actually *worth*. It means a lot to me, and therefore, that is… NOT a question I need to have answered?

Example: "Let's see, so I worked for months and months perfecting and drafting this chapter, poured my heart and soul and let's not bring up how many HOURS OF MY LIFE into it, and I have made… *calculator button sounds*… TWENTY-FIVE CENTS!"

SO. Um. Largely due to the fact that I don't really need more money at the moment (my husband's job is fine), Ice Alliance is free, and will always be free. Let's repeat that, just to be clear.

ICE ALLIANCE IS FREE, AND WILL ALWAYS BE FREE.

Regarding my ORIGINAL FICTION work: That being said, seeing some money for my work at some point would be nice. Despite the fact that I've always planned on doing Traditional Publishing (and still am, for my nonfiction stuff), I've recently begun seriously considering the option of self-publishing my original fiction piece on Amazon in installments, because it could work way better for my family's current schedule and financial situation. The original piece I'm working on is designed to be a trilogy (I think), and I'm currently projecting about 35 chapters for the first book, which would most likely be released one by one. Does anyone here think they'd be interested in that? (Modern fantasy, more adventure-focused rather than a romance, but still Highly Snarky.) To clarify, nothing is set in stone (and I have a LOT of work to do!), but I just wanted to fling the idea out there, because a lot of people have asked about my original stuff over the years, and self-published installments would allow me to get it out there much faster. *idea is now flung* Please let me know your thoughts in the reviews!

PHEW, that was a lot. Thank you everybody who read it, you are all AMAZING, I'm sorry that it's taking me so long to update, and I hope you have a fantabulous day! ~NNT:)

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103: MISTLETOE

Elsa woke up feeling… happy.

No. Not simply happy, the Fifth Spirit realized, the world coming into view as her eyelids fluttered open. She felt hopeful. Excited, in fact, for what the day ahead of her might bring.

And also her future in general.

Seeing the ice mistletoe still flowering out from the ceiling above her, Elsa beamed, her heart leaping. It had happened. That had all actually happened, and now…!

She covered her face with her hands, wanting to squeal with joy. Happy days were not a thing that Elsa took for granted. There had been a time in her life (a depressingly long period of time) where simply waking up itself felt exhausting, if not actively terrifying. Just day after day of fear, and then more fear. Happiness was precious, and she made an effort to note when she was feeling it, especially now that she had her sister, and the Spirits, and a full knowledge of exactly how precious these days actually were. She was not about to let them slip away.

Elsa pulled her hands down from her eyes, peering between her fingertips to stare up to the ceiling, and the icy mistletoe hanging over her bed.

This was better.

Elsa's face was stuck in an uncontrollable smile. She had a boyfriend. A BOYFRIEND.

Jack. Frost. Was. Her. BOYFRIEND.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Biting her lip against the desire to scream with joy, Elsa shoved her fingers back into her hair, her feet shifting against her legs under the covers like they were tensing to jump up and down in delight. Was this actually happening? It felt too good to be true. Was it too good to be true?

Taking her arms down, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared across the room towards her art gallery to see that the Guardian had erected a fresh half-wall of ice across the doorway, true to his word. Through it, Elsa could see a shape, but no movement. Silently—on the chance that Jack Frost (EEEEEE!) was still asleep—she sat up, shifting out of her covers and swinging her feet down to the floor to get up. Still making no noise, the Snow Queen crept across her room, going to her dresser. She already knew how she wanted to do her hair and makeup today for Christmas (as she'd planned out at least a month earlier), but she quickly wanted to check herself before going to see Jack and GOODNESS.

Elsa's eyes bulged at she saw her own reflection, her makeup impressively smudged and hair a tangled mess. A shock of embarrassment hit her in the throat, and she blushed furiously, swirling a snowball from the air and starting to scrub. Oh, dear. THAT was humiliating…

We've been having fun.

His words from the night before echoed in her mind, and her muscles started to automatically relax a bit. Elsa was still blushing, but—her messed up hair and makeup weren't the end of the world. Jack seemed to still like her, regardless of what she looked like, or what a mess she was. In fact, he was fine with it. Her boyfriend was fine with it.

In fact—from how he'd been acting, on the night before—she had reason to believe that Jack was a little proud of the mess they'd made. And, maybe she was too.

But now it was morning—CHRISTMAS morning—and Elsa needed to clean herself up. As she scrubbed off her old, destroyed makeup, the Snow Queen's mind wandered back to her dreams. She didn't tend to remember her regular dreams much, but at some point during the previous night, she had had a nightmare—the part that she always remembered, when the morning finally came. It was the same standard one where she was alone, and in the center of the castle's courtyard, surrounded by an angry mob screaming for her death. She'd had that recurring nightmare about a thousand times all growing up, then very nearly living it, back right after her coronation. But this time, she hadn't ended up startling awake in a freezing sweat, like she usually did. This time—Jack had been there. And somehow, the mob, and the castle, and all of her fear were just—gone.

And she wasn't alone anymore.

Feeling the now-familiar sensation of reassurance, Elsa let out her breath, checking herself in the mirror to make sure that her face was completely clean before reaching for her top drawer to apply a fresh layer of makeup for the day. She'd had her fair share of dreams about Jack Frost over the years. When Elsa had been about fifteen years old, she'd actually woken up one morning from a dream so lovely, and so real, that she'd nearly burst into tears upon realizing that it wasn't her actual life. Within her dream, Jack Frost—a sweet little old man with a walking stick, as she'd imagined him to be at the time—had come to the castle, specifically seeking to help her. After taking him into a room close to the private library (where the young princess had, in real life, practiced public speaking), he'd shown her how to draw lines on the floor out of frost. And she had been able to do it. With perfect control. While Elsa was obviously skilled far beyond those simple frosted lines by this point, at the time, the entire idea that someone would care so much about her well-being, and think that her powers were important and worth developing, had had such a profound impact on her teenage heart that she'd often found herself going back to the experience over and over again in her mind, just trying to remember how it felt. She had felt so much joy, and excitement, and hope from that particular Jack Frost dream. It was overall just a feeling of anticipation—an eagerness for life, like someone had told her that it was time to see what she could do, now that she had gained some mystical permission she'd never imagined would be granted to her.

Satisfied with her hastily-applied eye liner, shadow, and mascara, Elsa was just starting to reach for her lipstick (red for Christmas, of course), when she paused. Perhaps… perhaps she shouldn't add lipstick to the look, just yet. Visually, she felt that she needed it to balance her eye makeup and sculpted eyebrows, but for purely practical reasons…

The Fifth Spirit looked longingly towards the ice wall.

Unconsciously wetting her lips, she pulled in a careful breath. Not wanting to disturb him (just in case her sweet boyfriend was still sleeping), Elsa then quietly walked over to the doorframe, creeping up to the half-wall of ice and peering over its top ledge.

Her eyes bulged. The Guardian of Fun was currently turned away from her, sitting on the edge of his bed and hunching over something in deep concentration. His shirt had been tossed onto her desk, revealing an expanse of pale skin across his back that seemed to have the slightest sheen on it, almost like a fine layer of frost. The muscles in Jack's back were working as he did, shifting and flexing and relaxing with each movement he made.

Elsa was frozen in her place.

Oh.

Wow.

Paralyzed, the young queen couldn't move, her eyes wide as saucers as her heart hammered in her chest. Her hands flying to cover her mouth, the Fifth Spirit then silently crumbled, jumping back from the ice wall and spinning around to run a few paces into her room. Nearly tripping over her feet, she rushed back to the nearest wall and pressed herself against the crocus-covered wallpaper, her quick hiding place only an arm's length away from the ice wall but thankfully out of his line of sight. Blushing from the top of her head to her chest, she looked back towards the door while trying to catch her breath through silent gasps. Jack Frost wasn't wearing a shirt.

Trying to force herself to breath again, Elsa let her hands slowly sink down from her face to rest on her chest, right over her pounding heart.

Her boyfriend wasn't wearing a shirt.

Her eyes wide, Elsa longingly looked back towards the door. It wasn't like she hadn't seen a shirtless man before. Goodness, she'd even seen JACK shirtless before, back when she'd made him pull off his hooded one to check to weapons, but—her mind had been slightly more focused on the "trying not to be assassinated" aspect of the encounter at the time. As for catching glimpse of a strapping young man without a shirt on, however, she had accidentally done so once with passing by some training soldiers doing exercises in the castle's front courtyard. She, a sixteen-year-old princess at the time, had been silently trailing behind her father on some official royal business, and the handsome young soldier had been off to the side, having his shoulder bandaged up somehow by a medic. Upon noticing her gawking at him, to Elsa's horror, the young man had then—flirtatiously looking back up into her eyes from across the courtyard, with a knowing little grin—flexed. Princess Elsa had never been so mortified in her life.

But now…

Her heart was still pounding, and Elsa tried to focus on making herself breathe. In this case, the impossibly cute and clever and charming young man was Jack Frost, and Jack Frost was her boyfriend. Her BOYFRIEND. She had a right to admire her literal boyfriend. Didn't she?

She leaned her head back against the wall, with its crocus-covered wallpaper, and closed her eyes. Sucking her lips in between her teeth, the Snow Queen took another deep breath. Silently, she then crept back up to the ice-wall, peering over the top.

The Guardian of Fun was still facing away from her, sitting on the edge of his snowy bed and hunched over the small whatever-it-was that he was working on. Jack Frost wasn't exactly built like a boulderous rock spirit, or a towering mountain man. No—he had a different body type altogether. The Spirit of Winter was sleek, like a hawk, or some sort of mountain cat or cheetah she'd read about in the books of her youth. Strong, light on his feet, and fast. The kind to quietly sit in the shadows, unheard and underestimated, and then suddenly BURST out into a virtual explosion of power and blow everyone away…

She silently peeked back over the wall again, watching him. Still not yet noticing her, the Spirit of Winter looked focused. Elsa liked focus. The sign of a strong mind, that. And as for his body…

Swallowing hard, the Fifth Spirit gazed over the ice wall, staring at her boyfriend with an intense and unbridled longing.

Hi, she thought, watching him dreamily. You're a boy. Please hold me and kiss me and pull my body close to yours and whisper sweet things into my ear and let me feel how strong you are.

She swallowed with effort, looking down in shame. The sting of self-awareness in her throat, the Snow Queen could practically feel herself blushing at the thought. Now that he apparently actually WANTED her, now that it felt safe to like him—she could no longer hold back the humiliating truth of how she actually saw him. On a surface level—admitting to herself that she wanted the love of a man sounded so pathetic. It sounded SO pathetic.

But was it?

She stared at him over the wall, shifting on her feet and letting her right one rub onto her left ankle. Considering her new situation, Elsa closed her eyes. A few months before, when Anna had been starting to really feel her pregnant stomach, she had complained about how harder it was to get a good night's sleep, inspiring Elsa to spend a good half a day frantically trying to come up with all kinds of solutions to help her poor exhausted sister. It was only after that that she discovered Anna's complaints had much less to do with her physical discomfort than with emotional frustration. Apparently, when Anna was lying on her side, her husband Kristoff could hug her from the back, but if she wanted to snuggle him, then the pregnant stomach got in the way, thus blocking Queen Anna from—in her words—her "sexy man-pillow." It had been such a funny way to phrase it that Queen Elsa had been stifling laughter just thinking about it for the next several days.

Her heart pounding, the Fifth Spirit pulled in a long, careful breath. She opened her eyes again, gazing through the snow flurries now falling all around her to stare longingly in the Spirit of Winter's direction.

Do I get to have one?

Elsa chewed on her lip. She definitely wanted one. THAT one. It sounded SO nice…

Her vision growing hazy, Elsa sank down onto the ice wall as she watched him, folding her arms across its top ledge and then resting her chin on her wrists as she settled in to watch her icy boyfriend's movements. She was allowed to like things. After all, it wasn't like this had any effect on her work, nor negative implications about her intelligence. She was just as effective of a queen, and just as powerful of a Nature Spirit as before, but was now free to acknowledge that she had something INCREDIBLY nice to look at. And oh… it was a very, VERY nice view. The muscles in Jack's back and shoulders were working as he did, his body then narrowing down into his low, masculine waist. He still was wearing his new trousers, their silvery fabric shining in the moonlight, with a surprisingly thick belt threaded through the loops. And he looked… amazing. ABSOLUTELY amazing. Queen Elsa knew what she wanted for Christmas. Just the desire to fling caution to the wind, get married, and then find the nearest snowdrift and jump in together, just for the sake of getting to snuggle. And… other things.

Elsa began unconsciously chewing on the edge of her lip, watching his muscles shifting as the Guardian started to turn around, moving to hold up the tiny object up to the light. Now that she knew he was honorable, now that she had the reassurance that he wasn't just wanting to use her and then dump her forever, if Mr. Jack Frost was maybe interested in quietly eloping and then… you know… if he wanted to take her body, and such, that would actually be quite—

"GAUGH!" Jack startled.

"EEP!"

CRACK!

Ice had blasted out of both of Elsa's palms, sealing her hands to the half-wall between the two rooms. Blushing furiously, she swallowed, instinctually yanking on them despite the fact that it wouldn't actually free her. Having sprung up from his bed, the Spirit of Winter whipped around to face her.

"Snowflake!" he laughed, gasping for breath, "How—h-how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long!" Elsa continued to weakly yank on her hands. "Only—only a few seconds."

With her hands still stuck to the top of the ice wall, the Fifth Spirit fell quiet, drowning in his brilliant, snowflake-marked eyes. After taking a moment to process her statement, she could see the Guardian's expression start to shift, a suspicious yet sheepish grin began tugging at the edges of his mouth. Jack's snow-white hair gleamed in the early morning moonlight, and his lean muscles cast slender shadows over his pale skin.

Wow.

After another long pause of openly gawking at her boyfriend's form, Elsa slowly came to the realization that her hands were still stuck to the top of the ice wall. She let out an unintelligible little mutter of a noise, giving them another useless pull and blushing.

"Oh—uh," Jack offered, his eyebrows lifting as he gestured to her, "Can I get that for you?"

The Snow Queen gave herself a little shake, her blush deepening as she let out a nervous laugh. She forced a shrug, then attempting to form words, or even simply—

Brain.

"Heh," Elsa squeaked.

Jack's sheepish smile turned into a full-on grin, and he bounced into the air on the balls of his feet, landing onto the snow-covered bedframe between them with a crunch. Still being very handsome and extremely shirtless, Elsa watched as the immortal Spirit of Winter walked the two steps across the bed's width to her, placing one of his large, masculine hands on top of hers on the ice.

It took every ounce of willpower and semblance of dignity that Elsa possessed to not actually melt down against the ice wall and beg for more.

Mortified with herself, the Fifth Spirit looked up to realize that the ice was leaping off of her hands and swirling into the air, dancing around Jack in a half-dozen lines of beautiful, sparkling streamers of frost. He was beaming, his eyes alight, as he then held up his hand and pressed the pad of his middle finger against that of his thumb.

SNAP!

And the streamers all burst apart, exploding around him in a hundred tiny fireworks of frost, a laugh on his lips as they did so. A rush of joy going through her, Elsa sighed happily, just staring at him. She realized that his left hand was still clutched into a fist, now more relaxed than clenched, like it had been before.

"What's that?" she asked, the curiosity temporarily restarting her brain.

"What?"

"That," she tried again. "In your hand."

Jack jolted, his fingers clenching on the tiny object again. He then smiled, shaking his head and wagging his pointer finger at her as he hid his fist behind his back.

"Ah-ah!" he teased. "That's for later. And it's not—a Christmas thing. But your present for this morning," he went on, turning and jogging the two steps to her secret desk, "Is in here."

Elsa's mouth fell slightly open as he turned around, holding up a palm-sized frosted box. There was a little bow on top—also formed from ice—and a snowflake. Like everything he did, it was simple and beautiful and perfectly frozen over. As Jack Frost stepped back up onto the bedframe, offering it to her, it simply took her breath away.

Or maybe that was just the fact that the little ice box was being held out to her by an unbelievably handsome young man with ice-white hair, a glistening smile, and snowflakes in his brilliant, loving eyes.

Elsa closed her mouth, restraining from actually chewing on her bottom lip at the sight of him. "Oh!" she gasped, blushing with delight, "I—thank you, Jack! Can I save this for under the tree? Or is it—am I supposed to open it now?"

"Either is fine."

She smiled, setting it down. "Tree, then," Elsa decided. She shrugged. "I really love traditions. Even though my present for you isn't really… an object."

Jack's eyebrows lifted, like he wasn't entirely certain that he'd heard her correctly. "Present… for me?" he said quietly.

"Of course!"

He stared at her for a long moment, his grin faltering like he was trying to decide on whether or not he'd heard her correctly. Slowly, a sheepish grin crept across his features.

"Thanks," he whispered. "Elsa."

She just beamed, and he grinned, as they stared into each other's eyes in the silence. Finally letting out a breathy heh, Elsa then turned and bent down, placing the beautiful little box on the floor. She could still see the outline of Jack's form through the icy wall.

The irony was, Jack didn't really need to get her anything, even though it meant a lot to her that he had. Elsa already knew what her favorite Christmas present was this year. And his eyes had SNOWFLAKES IN THEM.

THANK YOU, SANTA CLAUS!

The Snow Queen made a mental note that she would need to write the Guardian of Wonder a sincere thank you letter. Her heart light, the Fifth Spirit then straightened back up.

"Oh," Jack added, "And there's also this."

Elsa watched in interest as he suddenly leaned to the side, grabbing his staff from where it was leaning beside his bedframe. Springing back up, Jack Frost then held up between them, its curved hook aloft over their little ice wall.

And hanging from the hook was a crystalline sprig of icy mistletoe.

Elsa's smile was instant and uncontrollable. In spite of herself, she laughed, barely able to keep herself from bursting into a full-on fit of giggles and fidgeting with her fingers.

"You like holiday traditions, too?" she asked.

He nodded. "The fun ones."

Jack gave the staff a slow spin, the ice-mistletoe gleaming and sparkling as it turned.

"But you kind of need somebody to share them with," he added quietly.

The Guardian looked back to her, their eyes meeting. Letting her hands relax, Elsa nodded.

"Then let's share them," she said.

Jack's eyes lit up, his face breaking into a full, eager smile. Beaming right back at him, a jolt of excitement shot through Elsa's body as she stepped up to the ice wall, placing her hands onto its edge as Jack stepped up as well, shoving the tiny mystery object that he was working on into his pocket. As he reached for her, his freezing hands firmly taking her waist, the Fifth Spirit's breath caught, suddenly realizing that she had never actually changed out of her nightgown. And that her boyfriend was shirtless.

And that this was all AMAZING.

Her heart leaping as she threw her arms around his neck, she moved towards him at the same time that he moved towards her, her mouth meeting his in a fervent, almost frantic kiss. It was like they were both so excited, and so desperately RELIEVED…!

Breaking for a quick breath before bending her head in the other direction and kissing him again, she leaned into his embrace, letting her hands pull down from Jack's neck onto his freezing shoulders, and then upper arms. The strong, ice-cold arms holding her close to him as he kissed her over the wall, her knees feeling weak as she grasped him. In fact… actually…!

She was done with the wall.

On a surge of mischievous confidence, taking one of her hands off of his bicep and placing it onto the ledge, Elsa drew her fingers back. Without breaking away from the kiss, she willed the ice to begin to disintegrate, the snowy barrier sweeping away from between them with a whoosh just as—

"OH!"

"Augh!"

The wall suddenly gone long before she had anticipated, Elsa squeaked in shock as she and Jack Frost mutually lost their balance, tumbling backwards over each other and landing in his snowy bed with a crunch.

Instinctually scrambling to push herself up, Elsa's eyes bulged, her breaths more like gasps as she realized she was suddenly lying on the Guardian's bare chest. Blushing furiously, she started to get off of him, only for Jack's hand to shoot out and grab her arm.

"—No!"

Elsa looked back to him in surprise. Jack's eyes were wide, his expression pleading and desperate. He opened his mouth, but had nothing to say.

Shutting it, he then swallowed, clearly fumbling as he pulled in a shaky breath to try again.

"Nice—weather. We've been having," he stammered.

A wave of confusion crossed Elsa's face. After a beat—realizing what his awkward slap of an attempt at conversation actually was—her heart melted.

He—wants me to stay?

The Fifth Spirit bit the edge of her lip in excitement. Unable to contain her smile, she then relaxed back a bit, nodding her head.

"Yes," Elsa agreed. "It's been—really cold."

For a moment, Jack Frost simply stared into her eyes. Then, his face flushed, and a sheepish smile overtook his features as his grip slackened on her arm.

"Freezing," he agreed breathily.

Settling onto her hip in the snowy bed, sitting right next to him as he lay beside her, Elsa's heart leapt. Moving to prop himself up onto his opposite elbow, the Spirit of Winter trailed his hand down her arm, taking her hand in his and interlacing their fingers. Feeling his ice-cold touch—a few flurries of snow bursting from their clasped hands—she then looked back into her boyfriend's incredible, intelligent, brilliant blue eyes.

Hardly even considering her actions, Elsa suddenly found herself leaning over and and starting to kiss him again, her body against his in the snow as she gave his freezing hand a squeeze. Jack was amazing. He was amazing, and she was kissing him, and she was kissing him because she WANTED to. He was everything, and he DESERVED everything, and the idea that what he really wanted was her, and that she could maybe make him happy…!

Scooting herself up a little in the snow, Elsa pulled her hand out of his to reach to the back of his head, pulling him more into the kiss as she pushed her fingers in his thick white hair. Jack deserved all the love in the world. And she intended to do everything in her power to make him feel it.

Eventually, Elsa felt him starting to pull away, and she reluctantly let him go. Her eyelashes fluttering open, she looked down into his face, suddenly feeling strangely shy again as she realized that Jack was watching her. With a reverence, her childhood hero silently reached up and pushed back her hair from where it was falling into her eyes, his gaze awestruck and fascinated.

She pulled back a bit, sitting onto her hip again and smiling nervously. Elsa cleared her throat, and reached up to tuck another falling clump of hair back behind her ear.

"Um…" she started. "Good… morning."

Jack's expression melted into a smile.

"'Morning, Snowflake," he whispered.

Elsa let out her breath, her anxiety evaporating away. Scooting up in the snow, she then carefully lay back next to him, leaning her head onto his lean, athletic chest. Wordlessly, Jack held out one of his hands, as if offering it to her, and she took it, interlacing their fingers.

Jack's hands were very large—a bit too large for his body, to be completely honest—and she could feel that his grip was extremely strong. And freezing cold. As she felt his hand, running her thumb gently down his and then to his palm and back, Elsa could still feel the soft, human give of his skin, a little burst of snowflakes and tendrils of frost twisting out from their fingers in the strange intimacy of the touch. Her boyfriend's touch. It was exciting and reassuring and thrilling and calming all at the same time.

Feeling like she was going to explode with happiness, Elsa snuggled into him, her entire body relaxing as she felt his freezing breath by her cheek. Jack seemed to be having a bit of a moment himself, as well, silently playing with her fingers and sending absent-minded flurries of frost spiraling out into the air as he did so.

"Um…" he whispered at length. "Snowflake?"

"Hmm?"

She looked back into his face, smiling dreamily. Elsa realized to her confusion that Jack suddenly looked more worried than content.

"We probably shouldn't be—um," he admitted, his voice an awkward mutter. "Lying down—together—?"

Her face flushed. "Oh! Right. Right…"

Elsa pushed herself up and scrambled off of him in embarrassment, her heart protesting at the realization that her skin was no longer touching his. Jack sat up as well, swinging his legs over the side of his snow-covered bedframe and looking back towards her. Elsa's heart sank, and Jack said nothing as she followed suit and scooted herself over to the edge as well, moving her feet to the floor and starting to stand.

Before she could straighten completely, her boyfriend's freezing hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, yanking her back. Elsa gasped, jerked off balance and falling backwards to collapse into Jack Frost's lap.

"Oh!"

The Spirit of Winter waggled his eyebrows, grinning from ear to ear. "We didn't say anything about sitting," he said.

Her mouth fell open in a giggle. "Jack!"

Before Elsa knew what was happening, the Spirit of Winter caught her into a kiss, his mouth taking hers and making the Fifth Spirit's heart leap once again.

Elsa put her arms around his neck, scooting up on his lap a little as she kissed him back, wanting to be as close as possible. The skin of Jack's face, neck, and upper back was absolutely freezing, just like his breath, even colder than the icy fabric of her nightgown on her arms as she embraced him. The Guardian's hands moved to her hips, and she took a little gasp as he took them, pulling her up again as she started to slip and firmly anchoring her against him. Having broken from the kiss for just a moment, Elsa went back for more, her mind racing as she moved her right hand up into her boyfriend's thick, snowy hair.

She could hardly keep herself from melting into a helpless, pathetic fit of delighted giggling as the Guardian wrapped his arms around her middle, securing her again into their shared freezing embrace. He was so strong. And wonderful. And amazing. Oh, she loved his hands. She LOVED them. Because of his age at death, Jack clearly hadn't quite finished growing, leaving him physically looking more like a young adult, rather than a fully "adult" adult, defined as being someone who was in their mid- to late twenties. But, that was alright—especially as Elsa wasn't entirely certain that she'd one hundred percent crossed over that threshold of physical maturity yet, herself. Her boyfriend's lean, athletic body might have been a bit on the small side, but his hands and feet had clearly missed the memo, as they were as large and strong as she could ever hope to ask for. Oh—and freezing. Jack had puppy paws, and it was adorable. In fact, if he wanted to keep those adorable freezing puppy paws on her body for the rest of her life, she would actually be completely fine with it. More than fine.

Her heart still racing on the adrenaline, Elsa grabbed the Spirit of Winter to her, twisting her fingers in his hair and kissing him as hard as she could.

WILL YOU JUST LET ME LOVE YOU, ALREADY!

At length, Elsa pulled away from the kiss, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. Goodness—was she forgetting to breathe? Breathing felt annoying…

Suddenly feeling a bit shy again, she glanced up into her boyfriend's face, and realized to her surprise that his cheeks were flushed with exhilaration, his eyes bright with a puppy-dog-like excitement. His adoring gaze was fixed upon her, like he didn't want to miss a single second of their time together.

Elsa sucked her lips in between her teeth, barely able to keep herself from giggling with delight. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she admitted, "I was—earlier—um, I was melting the wall."

To this, Jack paused. The edges of his mouth twitched upwards, his eyes right next to hers as his face cracked into a little smile.

"I was… also melting the wall," he muttered, a little guiltily.

"Ah…"

"We should probably tell each other when we're doing that."

"Probably."

The soft, comfortable silence falling, Elsa and Jack stared into each others' eyes for a long moment. Biting her lip, Elsa moved her fingers on his shoulder, tracing over his skin and inwardly debating if she could get away with feeling her boyfriend's bicep without him noticing.

She closed her eyes.

"I hate the wall," Elsa breathed.

"Yeah."

They moved to each other at exactly the same time, their lips meeting into another long, deep kiss. She slid her hands down towards his neck for his shirt collar, only then remembering that he wasn't wearing one. A moment later she was feeling Jack's shoulders, her childhood hero's freezing skin under hers.

After a time, Elsa felt Jack start to withdraw, his passion seeming to falter. She pulled back from him, her lips breaking from his with a tiny smack of a sound. Looking into his face, she realized with confusion that the Guardian's previously excited expression was now tight with worry, an anxious unease written across his features.

A wave of fear rushed through her. Elsa reached for him, gingerly pushing his hair back.

"Um—Jack?" she quavered, "Are—is everything okay?"

His distant stare suddenly snapped back into focus. Jack Frost gave his head a quick shake, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Oh—yeah. I mean, yes," he stammered, "Definitely! Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "Super sure. Sorry." He let out another forced, tight chuckle. "It's unrelated to anything."

Elsa stared at him, trying to discern his expression as his gaze flicked away from her again, clearly hiding—something. Gathering her courage, she leaned forward, placing her lips onto his again and gently pulling him towards her again.

She could feel him relax as they kissed, his muscles untensing beneath her fingers as she felt his freezing shoulders. After a few more moments, they broke apart again, leaning their foreheads together in silence.

All of a sudden, Jack moved his face up for a moment, gently nipping the end of her nose before looking back down and letting their foreheads rest together once again. Her eyes flew open, and Elsa suppressed a giggle, smiling at the unusual action that already felt so normal, and so sweet. And so—

Jack.

Elsa felt a swell of affection for the Guardian of Fun at the realization. His hands pulled back a bit on her waist, and Elsa's eyebrows lifted, wondering what he was doing. Wordlessly, the Spirit of Winter then let out a sigh, his freezing breath sending a welcome little gust of cold air over her skin.

"Thanks," he whispered.

She smiled.

"Thank you," Elsa whispered back.

His face melted into a sheepish grin, and he finally looked up, his eyes dreamy and adoring as he met her gaze. Reluctantly, Elsa pulled her arms down, clasping her hands together in front of her skirt and sitting back a bit on her boyfriend's lap.

"We should—probably be getting up," she admitted. "I mean, actually getting up."

He nodded. Pulling his hands away from her, Jack let her go to get up onto her feet. As she straightened her skirt, he got onto his feet as well, looking a tiny bit crestfallen that their short morning kissing session was already over. Elsa looked back to his bed, right next to where they had been sitting. Jack's half of the snowflake blanket was crumpled at the bottom of his bedframe, sitting in the snow like he had tossed and turned before finally throwing it off in frustration at some point during the night.

They were quiet as Jack reached over and pulled the blanket onto the floor, looking at the bedframe, and the snowy mattress on top of it. Looking to each other, they nodded again, both unable to restrain their dazed, dreamy smiles as they simultaneously lifted their arms into the air.

Thinking about love was going to be SO easy right now.

The crystalline bedframe and the snowy mattress on top of it were gone in a matter of seconds, sparkling, glistening frost and snow sweeping around them in a combined, freezing wind as Elsa and Jack made it melt, glancing to each other and with their gazes meeting over and over again as they did so in the shared tension of excitement and awe and relief. Whooshing and popping and sounds like that of splintering glass filled the air as their ice swept away, until the bedframe had completely disappeared, leaving the doorframe open and empty like nothing had ever happened there at all.

As the silence fell again, the wind dying down around them, Elsa and Jack were left standing together at the edge of Elsa's art gallery, simply gazing at each other with dreamy, dazed, and dumbly adoring matching grins.

After an embarrassingly long amount of time, the Snow Queen started to feel her memories creeping back in, the strange darkness and fear that were always there in the back of her mind. Giving herself a little shake, she looked back to Jack, and the familiar feeling of peace and joy washed over her again at his presence.

Still…

"There's someone I think we need to see," Elsa blurted.

A wave of confusion swept Jack's face. "What? Who?"

Elsa didn't respond, but took his hand. As she started to pull him away from the desk, he resisted for a moment, his eyes wide. She paused as the Guardian then leaned away from her, and realized the he was reaching out his foot to edge his toes under the staff that lay next to her desk on the floor. He kicked it up into the air and caught it with his free hand, letting it fall back onto his shoulder as he straighten back up. Turning to face her, Jack Frost then nodded, giving her a weak smile, and altogether looking infinitely more comfortable with his weapon close at hand. All in all, it was rather strange. What dangers could possibly be lurking in her room, that would make Jack look so… on-edge?

Deciding that it was surely just her own nerves, Elsa silently led her boyfriend past her icy shelves, turning around the corner of her glistening art gallery. Coming into the next room, she dropped his hand, feeling strangely reverent as the enormous old portrait came into view.

The Snow Queen gathered her courage, pulling in a deep breath.

"Hello, Father," Elsa whispered.

Drawing herself up, she faced the portrait, pulling in a deep breath and gesturing back towards where Jack Frost was standing behind her as she stared into her father's painted eyes.

"The Spirit of Winter followed me home; can I keep him?"

Jack snorted out loud. Queen Elsa turned around to see that her boyfriend's head was hanging forward towards his chest as he clapped his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he tried to suppress a laugh. She could hardly contain her own giggles as he blushed, looking back up to her.

"I did NOT. Follow. You. Home," Jack sputter-enunciated, grinning as he rolled his eyes.

"Right." Elsa drew herself up again, turning back to the portrait and pretending to be solemn as she began to count on her fingers. "The Spirit of Winter broke into my bedroom, silently crept over to where I was sleeping, and—"

"—Actually, let's go back to me following you home."

They both started laughing, all the remaining tension in the room shattered as they stared at each other in disbelief, Elsa's heart so light that she felt it could at any moment break from her chest and soar into the sky. The way Jack's face crinkled when he laughed, the embarrassed flush of his cheeks, the laughing sparkle in his eyes—!

"Sooooo," Jack mumbled, his face still red as he stepped up beside her and slung his arm around her shoulders, "Now that we have THAT out of the way…"

She giggled into her hand, her heart leaping as Jack turned her away from the portrait, gently steering her to walk back towards the main part of her art gallery.

"Christmas!" Elsa laughed, reaching up and taking his hand where it was hanging over her opposite shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "I think we're going to start by having breakfast and opening presents with the family, and then we'll all change and get ready for the children's party."

As they came into her art gallery once again, passing into the room of gleaming shelves, Elsa shrugged out from underneath his arm, taking a step back. She clasped her hands together in front of her nightgown.

"Which does mean—um," she admitted, glancing down at him and pulling in her breath, "As—as handsome as your naked torso is—I do believe that I would recommend putting on—a shirt."

"As handsome as—!"

Feeling a rush of awkwardness grip her in the throat, Elsa winced internally at her own words as her childhood hero glanced down at himself, and then looked back up. Then—after a pause—Jack's smile twitched into a smirk.

"You think I'm handsome," he teased.

Elsa blushed, feeling strangely exposed as the Spirit of Winter flirtatiously gazed at her through through his eyelashes. Then—her shyness melting away again—she beamed.

"You know that I do," she said. "And that I'm right."

Before he could respond, Elsa bounced up on her tiptoes and leaned over, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. She then took a step back again, restraining from more giggling as the Guardian took a moment to register what had just happened.

His flirty little smirk melted into a sheepish grin, his expression going a bit dreamy as he looked at her. Seeing it, Elsa's heart swelled, her smile uncontainable.

"I—uh," Jack stammered, awkwardly starting again, "I—was thinking I would put on a shirt again. Just for the record."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Which one?"

"I just wasn't sure—earlier. I was going to change out of the fancy shirt, because it felt weird to try and sleep in it, but then I gave up on trying to get any sleep, and—got distracted," he admitted, his voice falling to a self-conscious mutter,"I—I don't know."

The Guardian's voice trailed off. Suddenly looking unsure of himself, Jack glanced towards her desk, where he had apparently tossed his new white shirt the night before. As he looked downwards, Elsa followed his gaze to see a wadded-up (or at least, very hastily "folded") clump of navy blue fabric sticking out of a gift box on the ground beside the desk's bottom drawers. With some hesitance, the Spirit of Winter gingerly picked up the white shirt, glancing in her direction almost like he was asking for her approval.

Queen Elsa's eyebrows lifted.

"There are just so many choices," she deadpanned.

Jack snapped his head up in surprise, his eyes wide. Shaking his head, he then laughed, tossing the white shirt onto her desk. "Okay, okay," he chuckled, bending down to reach for the box on the ground, "You've made your point—"

"—I think the white looks better on you."

Having almost taken up his hoodie again, the Guardian paused. His eyebrows lifting, he then slowly straightened back up, reaching forward and picking up the new white shirt from off of her desk.

"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, grinning flirtatiously.

That excited, fluttery feeling rushed through her body again, and Elsa clasped her hands together in front of her skirt, watching him as he pulled it on, the crisp-yet-soft fabric falling perfectly around his body. Jack Frost really did clean up well. He had always been handsome, but in Elsa's royal opinion, when you put a young man into something just a little bit more formal then usual…

Oh, my.

"I know that clothes are a real big deal to you," Jack said, his hands fumbling a bit as he struggled with the buttons and bringing a small smile to Elsa's face.

"They're not that big a deal," she shrugged. "I just really like design."

To this, Jack raised his eyebrows, coming up to the last button. "You think it's fun?"

"I do."

She nodded, watching as he yanked the shirt down around his hips again, then flicking out his wrists and beginning to fasten the cuffs. Saying nothing, she stepped forward to help him the the last buttons, and she could feel him looking up at her and smiling in the peaceful, happy silence. Clothes weren't that big a deal—but Elsa adored the way that they could be used for self-expression. She craved the feeling of control that it gave her to be able to make her own apparel, and of course, she did legitimately love the artistry and engineering that clothing construction required. But if all that someone could afford was something old or unfashionable, then she wasn't about to judge them for it. Heaven knows, her own dresses were outlandish enough, given the standards of dress in Arendelle at the time, and she was very passionate that people should be able to present themselves as they liked.

Finishing up with his second cuff (the buttons had SNOWFLAKES on them!), Elsa stepped back, taking a long moment to admire the Spirit of Winter's sleek, athletic form. The loose dress shirt was slightly tapered in to Jack's low, slim waist, and she thought looked much better when tucked in, billowing slightly around that large belt buckle of his. Until the new outfit, Elsa hadn't even realized that Jack was wearing a belt, but it made sense, given how slender he was. She was about to suggest that he tuck in his shirt, but then quickly realized that such an action would probably require him to undo the top of his pants, and that she was NOT ready to be in the room for that.

Suddenly feeling extremely flustered, the Snow Queen pressed her hands together in front her stomach, forcing herself to try and think logically over the giggly screeching sounds that were now echoing through her brain.

"Where did you get the new clothes from?" she asked.

"The Man in the Moon." Jack shrugged, shaking out his arms in the sleeves to adjust them. "I just hadn't worn them yet."

"They're very dashing on you."

"Thanks."

"How about you, Snowflake?" he asked, "Have you got a special something you're planning on wearing this Christmas?"

Oh, goodness. She was still in a nightgown.

Elsa's cheeks heated at the realization, and she let out a self-conscious laugh. "I probably should," she admitted, "But I didn't actually have anything planned for breakfast, or for opening presents. I mean, we're just with family. But I was just planning on changing into my Spirit dress before the children's party."

"That's the white one, right?"

Elsa nodded, walking around the dresser to where she kept her two favorite dresses—her lucky aqua-colored dress, and then her glistening Spirit dress—hanging up at all times. As it happened, the white dress was currently tucked behind her aqua one, so she reached for it, pulling it forward and re-hanging it on top. Its soft, snow-like fabric sparkled softly in the morning moonlight, the long split-cape neatly draped over the icy hanger.

"I really do think it's beautiful," Elsa said wistfully, trailing her fingers down its length. She sighed. "I haven't been able to perfectly replicate the snow-fabric yet with my ice. And the Forest… I miss it. This dress was made for movement."

"How so?"

"The way the skirt was constructed," she explained, gesturing. "I can ride in it."

Jack nodded, approving. With interest, the Spirit of Winter then stepped forward, thoughtfully picking up the edge of the skirt and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. Glancing upward (presumably to examine the construction she was talking about), he—

Jack froze. His eyes bulged, and his admiring expression turned into worried, anxious confusion.

"Wait," he stammered, "You—this doesn't—?"

He pulled the skirt of the hanging dress apart, his eyes bulging with horror as he suddenly realized that the slit went all the way up to the waist. Elsa's breath caught in her throat.

Blushing furiously, she reached behind the dress on the hanger, practically lunging for it as she then pulled out her slender, aqua-colored riding pants and held them up.

His gaze falling onto the pair of shimmery leggings, Jack's eyes suddenly lit with comprehension. Her boyfriend then let out his breath in a whoosh, his muscles visibly untensing.

"Okay," Jack laughed, his cheeks a bit red, "That… that makes more sense…"

"Leggings."

"Right."

"LEGGINGS."

By now they were both laughing, faces red and eyes crinkled at the awkwardness of the moment. Pushing his hand through his hair, Jack rolled his eyes, shaking his head and looking back to her again.

"I know I'm not supposed to criticize what you wear and stuff, but," he grimaced, "But—uh—"

"—Leggings!"

"Yeah."

He let out another uncomfortable laugh, and Elsa looked down, her cheeks hurting from smiling as she walked over and carefully placed the riding leggings onto her desk. "For what it's worth," she chuckled, "If that much were showing, I would want you to tell me."

"Noted."

He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. With a shy little smile of his own—like he was a little embarrassed to admit it—he then leaned in towards her, glancing back towards the long white gown on the hanger before gazing into her eyes.

"I still think it looks like a wedding dress," Jack whispered.

Feeling a swell of affection for him, Elsa giggled into her hand. "The not-wedding dress."

"Ah… right."

They fell quiet for a moment, staring dreamily into each other's eyes as they remembered the way they first met. At least, that's what Elsa was thinking about. Jack Frost's questions had seemed so strange at the time…

"Um… Jack?" she said at length.

His eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

He shrugged. "Go ahead, Snowflake."

She turned and started walking back towards her room, fidgeting with her fingers. Jack followed, picking up his staff from off of the floor where it had dropped as they passed by.

"So… we're boyfriend and girlfriend now," Elsa started. "In a relationship."

To this, he nodded, with a small smile. "Last time I checked," Jack replied.

She looked down to her feet, seeing the icy sheen on his trousers right next to the glistening fabric of her skirt as they walked, both barefoot on the rich castle carpet. Gathering her courage, Elsa then pulled in a deep breath, coming to a stop.

"Would you say that this is a serious relationship?" she asked quietly.

With hesitance, Elsa looked up to Jack once again, almost afraid to see his expression. To her surprise (and a bit of relief), he didn't look anxious or displeased, but—simply thoughtful.

Contemplative.

Jack Frost pulled in a deep breath of his own. "Well… given the circumstances," he said carefully, "And everything we've already talked about… and how much we clearly like each other, and everything…?"

He let the end of his staff fall into the carpet. Considering his words, Jack started to lazily spin it, its hook turning in the air.

"Yeah," he decided with a smile, catching it and looking back to her. "I think this is pretty serious."

He gave her a sheepish smile.

Elsa's face flushed with delight as she saw it, his beautiful, brilliant eyes practically sparkling. Without responding—how was she supposed to respond?—Elsa then turned away from him, picking up the crumpled snowflake blanket half from where they'd dropped it to melt his bedframe earlier.

She said nothing as she walked back to him, holding out the blanket. Understanding, Jack took two of the corners, backing up and then walking forward to help her fold it, until Elsa took it back, carrying the precious ice cloth over to her secret desk.

"How about you?" he asked suddenly. "What do you think?"

Bending down, Elsa placed the blanket onto a shelf beneath the desk. "Hmm?"

As she straightened up, the Fifth Spirit's breath hitched as she felt something catch her around her waist. Looking down, she realized that the hook of the Guardian's staff was now around her middle, pulling back on her with a little tug.

She twisted around. Jack's expression had changed, his gaze no longer soft and dreamy, but filled with flirty mischief as he started to reach one hand over the other on his staff to unhurriedly pull her towards him. Hardly able to keep herself from giggling like an infatuated schoolgirl, she let him, eagerly stumbling along with his lead as her heart hammered in her chest. Biting her lip in anticipation as she came up to him, the Spirit of Winter offered her his hand, and she took it, smiling at him. He guided her out of the hook, and she followed, but instead of dropping her hand or even using it to pull her close, the Guardian then calmly twisted it around in his and intertwined their fingers. Giving her hand a squeeze, Jack then unexpectedly started using it to push her backwards.

Nearly tripping over her own feet in shock, the Snow Queen found herself stumbling back another four steps as the Spirit of Winter turned her around and carefully—but firmly—shoved her up against the nearest wall.

Elsa's jaw dropped, her eyes bulging and mouth hanging open in a breathless gasp as her childhood hero pressed their intertwined hands up onto the surface beside her and then leaned against the wall with his elbow, pinning her in place as he bent in very close to her, staring deep into her eyes.

"I said… your majesty," Jack murmured, his eyebrow twitching. "What do you think?"

His gaze flicked down, and then back up again, meeting hers with a little smirk. Her heart pounding, Elsa stood, frozen, unable to form words, but excessively aware of the feeling in her heart that was silently informing her of what she desperately wanted to say:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!

Her head was spinning as she practically gasped for breath, her chest rising up and down as she struggled to think straight. From somewhere above them, Elsa was distantly aware of the fact that it was starting to snow, and that there were ice crystals bursting out from between their palms, his strong, freezing hand on top of hers. If she collapsed right now, her legs suddenly feeling shaky and weak beneath her, Jack would just catch her and pull her back up. She just knew it. She knew that he would. With that look in his eyes… which that made it all the more tempting. Jack was amazing. He was AMAZING. His brilliant eyes, his incredible spirit, his—!

"THINK ABOUT WHAT," blurted a voice.

"WHAT TH—!" Jack startled and leapt away from her.

Elsa jolted, breaking out of the moment and looking down to find the source of the sound. Standing right next to them, a wide, goofy grin on his face, Olaf the snowman was staring up at them expectantly.

"Olaf!" Elsa gasped, hardly able to believe her eyes, "You—when did you come in here?"

"Oh, just now," he bubbled, "Or so. Maybe a minute ago. Are we going to have Christmas?"

Elsa and Jack, still both in shock, looked at each other, their eyes wide. Finally, Elsa looked back down to the snowman.

"Um…" she choked out, "We were… just about to go to the private dining room?"

Jack nodded, wetting his lips. "Right," he muttered, "Just—just about to leave."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Olaf beamed cluelessly, "Christmas is ALWAYS better with family! Family is my FAVORITE tradition. Granted, I've never had Christmas without one. Although, this IS my first Christmas with a Frosty Father Figure! I greatly look forward to all the bonding we're going to accomplish today."

Olaf chortled and laughed incoherently, his sections happily spinning independently from one another and making Elsa and Jack glance to each other once again. Elsa was still reeling from her tense little moment less than a minute before, looking between her boyfriend, and the snowman, and then back to her boyfriend. hardly believing what was happening. Clearing his throat, Jack stepped forward.

"Uh—yeah," he stammered, not even having the energy to correct him. "Tell everybody we'll be right there. Please."

"Okay!"

As the little snowman spun around again, excitedly bouncing from the room, Jack let out his breath, shaking his head by the tiniest bit. Elsa smiled weakly, leaning back against the wall and still feeling unnaturally flustered as the door was flung open, then closing again behind Olaf with a Ch-chunk.

Why is it so warm in here?

She could feel the heat in her cheeks, her knees wobbly as she sank down against the wall a bit, her heart still pounding. If she tried to speak, she just knew that she was going to break out into a desperate eruption of giggles, and then probably collapse onto the floor.

Seeing movement in her peripheral vision, Elsa suddenly noticed that she had started weakly fanning herself with her hand, almost as if by instinct. She quickly clapped it hand down onto her thigh, blushing furiously and hoping that Jack hadn't noticed.

Of course he had.

The Spirit of Winter was watching her, one eyebrow raised and grinning from ear to ear. Visibly relaxing, he shifted on his feet, dropping the end of his staff into the carpet and starting to absent-mindedly spin it as he moved his other hand to his stomach, bringing his thumb to rest on his belt buckle. Still feeling mortifyingly warm, Elsa folded her arms very tightly over her chest, staring into them and wishing she could hide her face.

"You really don't need to look quite so proud of yourself right now," the Fifth Spirit muttered in embarrassment.

Jack laughed, looking down and kicking a little at the carpet. He tried to hide his grin, unsuccessfully.

"Well… maybe I am a little proud of myself," he whispered back.

She huffed, feeling herself smiling in embarrassment. Maybe Jack was right, about the moment. Her natural instinct was to conceal, but—but that had been—!

WOW!

Her arms still crossed over her chest, Elsa shyly looked up, wanting to take in and savor the reality of her amazing boyfriend's presence again. She straightened, and Jack smiled, watching her with affection.

"You're cute," he chuckled.

Her heart leapt, her spirit soaring. Ready to sink down against the wall again, Elsa dreamily stared back at him.

"You're gorgeous," she whispered.

A sheepish laugh escaped his lips, and Jack rolled his eyes, blushing a bit as he beamed, basking in the praise. Giving his head a little shake, Elsa watched as he picked up his staff, letting it fall back onto his shoulder and offering her his free hand.

"Come on, Snowflake," Jack said softly. "Let's go have Christmas."

YES!

She practically lurched into his arms, barely stopping herself before knocking a startled Jack Frost off-balance. Struggling to regain her composure, the Snow Queen then regally drew herself up, clearing her throat and attempting to think straight.

With a good-natured smile, her boyfriend stepped forward to meet her, slinging his free arm around her shoulders and gently guiding her in the direction of the door. She followed, eagerly snuggling in close to him as they walked, going towards the hallway where Olaf had disappeared.

I think this is a serious relationship, Jack's voice echoed in her mind. What do you think?

A slow, peaceful smile crept across her features.

Just so you know, Elsa thought, leaning her head onto Jack Frost's shoulder as she reached up to his hand and interlaced her fingers with his, I think so too.