Jack sighed. It wasn't a defeated sigh, and it was in no way an amused sigh - those were usually directed at him and his antics. It wasn't a sigh that weighed him down with the burdens of the world seemingly on his shoulders. Not this time, at least. This sigh, this uncharacteristic sigh, was one that everyone in the vicinity of Jack hoped would not become a common thing to be heard.

Jack was bored. Unbelievably, inexplicably bored.

And, because there was no other proper way to fully express his boredom, Jack sighed again.

"Jack," Tooth called from the back of the shop, "Are you alright?" Jack didn't have to turn around to know that her face was adorned with a worried frown and a slight furrow of her dark brows.

"M'alright," Jack sighed again. "Just unreasonably bored. Why is it that this place is so exciting during the lunch rush and now," He motioned to the empty seats with a flick of his wrist. "It's dead. Deader than dead. If I had to be honest I think we're the dead, too."

He stopped for a moment and looked up with wide eyes. With shakiness to his voice, he said,"Tooth I think we're zombies."

They locked eyes for a moment, trying to see who could go the longest without laughing.

"Jack you say you miss the lunch rush," She forced the laughter out of her voice. "But you snapped at someone during the lunch rush."

"Hey! I had a good reason," Jack was indignant, but undeniably amused. "That guy was a total creep," Jack lowered his voice into a mock imitation of the customer that blatantly (and horribly) hit on him.

"May I file a complaint? I am simply curious as to why you're not on this menu - you look absolutely scrumptious."

"Jack you called him a cannibal." Tooth covered her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle her laughter. Jack turned around, looked her straight in the eye, and grinned. "It's your first day on the job too! Oh you're going to have a reputation."

"A reputation will do nothing but good things for my ego. Anyways," He leaned heavily on the counter-top, "I wasn't entirely wrong. He definitely wanted to eat something."

They stared at each other.

Waiting, waiting, and waiting just a little more.

And then they broke. Both of them laughing, forgetting that they were working and oblivious to a customer making way to open the door.

God, Jack thought, I love my job.

Aster hated his job. It was not so much the actual job that he hated, though he was far from fond of working the nine to five, it was the people he hated. Or person. His boss, Pitch Black, (no one knew if that was his real name and no one was exactly sure if they wanted to know) was a socially inept asshole who tended to worsen the workload of paperwork whenever something went wrong in his social life.

Which was every single day.

Judging from the snippets of conversations he heard around the office, the catalyst of the rush of paperwork this time around was caused by a new barista down at the local coffee shop down the street.

Pitch hit on him.

It didn't end well.

And so, Aster was stuck with headache inducing work for a better part of the day. His cubicle was covered in a flurry of papers, all waiting to be signed.

Maybe Aster downplayed it a bit. He did hate the entirety of his job - how he had ended up here instead of an art studio he would never know. And, if there was any way to escape his fate of becoming just another tired face that melted into the backdrop of the gray office scenery, he would. He wasn't fond of the idea of being bound to a soul sucking job forever.

A glance to the clock told him it was time for lunch, and all too happy to be gone if just for a little under an hour, he decided to visit that coffee shop with the new barista who, even if he had been the reason for additional work, deserved at least a "thank ya' for hatin' my boss as much as I do."

It was unbelievably easy to hate Pitch, but Aster figured it was the thought that counted in the end.

And so, with a mess of papers strewn about, his cubicle was left behind.

Aster was greeted with a combination of familiar and unfamiliar laughter. As a regular to the shop he often saw Tooth during her shift. As her friend, he often saw her outside of her shift as well.

What was unfamiliar though, was the presumably teenage boy that was clutching his stomach with one arm and using the other to wipe a single laughter induced tear from his face.


He looked on for just a moment longer before clearing his throat.

"Oh!" Tooth looked at Aster and waved, "Sorry about that, did we keep you waiting?"

"Nah, jus' got 'ere a second ago." He looks at Jack who was still struggling to stop laughing. "An' this is the kid who got Pitch riled up?"

"If you mean the cannibal," Jack finally says after gaining his bearings, "Then yes that was me." Jack subconsciously straightens up and gives Aster a once over. He was tall, fit, and - oh my god are those tattoos? Jack quirked an eyebrow and gave a small nod of approval.

"Anyways, the name is Jack Frost," He motions to his name tag. "And how do you know the cannibalistic man?"

"Unfortunately he's my boss." Aster feigned a look of anger and raised a finger in accusation, "An' YOU are the reason I have extra work today."

Jack gave him a look that was a mixture of pity (having that man for a boss must have be terrible) and amusement.

"Well then," Jack was practically purring and in the back of the shop Tooth rolled her eyes. "Because this is so obviously my fault why don't I get you your drink. On the house." He smiled and leaned on the counter, a hand under his chin as he looked up at Aster.

And Aster looked back at him - and oh god were they really looking into each other's eyes this is so weird. Jack's eyes were blue, blue, blue, blue, and Aster was mesmerized for just a moment. Or two.

Breaking eye contact, Aster coughed and looked to the side. "One large mocha on ice," And as an afterthought, "please."

Jack nods asks for his name, not caring that it was completely unnecessary due to the fact that he was the only current customer in the shop.

Aster didn't mention it.

It was only when he was halfway back to the office that Aster noticed the note and phone number scrawled on the side his cup,

"I'm sorry about the extra work! Maybe a date will fully make it up to you? It'll be fuuuun.

Insincerely yours,

Jack Frost."

And it was only after calling the number that Aster realized that he didn't even know if Jack was legal. (please be eighteen, please, please, please be eighteen.)

He was.