Disclaimer: Darker Than Black is not mine!

Summary: One-shot. The MI-6 trio attempts to build a snowman.
Pairings: None.
Rating: K+ for one instance of mild swearing.

Notes: Happy Nov. 11th!


Snow in Summer

"Let's build a snowman," he said, one lazy summer day.

April stared at him, then threw her head back, laughing in a most unladylike manner. Between the snorts and guffaws, she finally managed to wheeze out, "What are you? A five-year-old?"

He gave her what she recognized as his most charming smile, acting for all the world as if he had just offered to take her out to the classiest restaurant in London. Then he turned to July, who was leaning against the railing of the balcony, watching the pigeons gathered on the pavement below. "What do you think, July?"

The boy turned and gave them a blank look before transferring his attention back to the pigeons.

"That would be a yes, I believe," said November.

"Uh-huh."

He smirked, tilting his head as if in challenge.

April never backed down from a challenge.

She grinned and gulped down the last of her beer. "Well, what are we waiting for, then?"

o-o-o

"Hey, just because I can make it rain doesn't mean I can make it snow."

"Now, that is a problem, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh. So, what bright idea do you have now?"

"Hmm." He tapped playfully at his chin.

"Why don't you just freeze a bucket of water and smash it up?"

"Crushed ice is not snow."

"Isn't it?" She snickered at his mock indignation. "Now, now, Mr. Simon. That look doesn't suit you at all."

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose you're right. I wonder how many buckets it'll take..."

She felt a tug at the bottom of her shorts and paused midstride. "What's up, kid?"

July was pointing over at one of the many vendors that had set up stall in the park, and she burst out laughing as she realized what the boy was thinking.

"I think," she said, clutching at her sides, "we're gonna need to buy out the whole stand."

o-o-o

Some time later, they sat sprawled on the grass in the shade of a tree, cart of snow cones at their side.

"Ooh, raspberry," she said, not bothering to hide her obvious glee. "Let's use this one for his head."

"You just want to make it look like someone cracked the poor bugger's skull, don't you?"

"More interesting this way, don't you think?"

"Hm. A zombie snowman?"

"Now you're getting it!"

July said nothing, but sat quietly to the side, munching contentedly on his lime-flavored cone.

She had just finished perfecting the look of blood spurting forth from a deep gash after a few minutes of muttered cursing when November said, "Uh-oh, it's melting."

"Damn, already? What a waste." She leaned back, sucking on the plastic spoon she had been using as she watched her efforts turn into a sticky red slush. With a sigh, she snapped open a can of beer and began guzzling.

"Here, try the grape. It's quite good."

"Hmph."

"Disappointed?"

"Not at all."

He was right; the grape was good.

"So," she said after a while, licking the last remnants of grape syrup from her fingertips. "Why?"

"Why not?"

She raised an eyebrow.

But he only flashed her his trademark grin in response. "Last night I dreamed it was winter, and I was a boy again."

She knew he was lying then, for Contractors did not dream.

"Well, it was fun," she said, shrugging. "Let's try again next year."

A few months later, they were sent to Tokyo.

The End