These Characters and locations belong to DreamWorks animation and/or Mr. William Joyce. I lay no legal claim to them. I'm just borrowing them for a moment. :)
Sandy was the first one to realize that giving Jack free reign over the kitchen was probably not a good idea.
There was barely a week before Christmas, and North and the Yetis were too busy with the frenzy of ribbon tying and rushed painting that came with the ‘last minute panic’ phase of the year to deal with the winter spirit. Instead, they offhandedly passed the boy into the care of the elves- probably another decision that, at any other time, they would have realized was a horrible, horrible idea. However, there were way too many Yetis accidently getting mummified in wrapping paper at the time for anyone to notice the catastrophe that was bound to happen.
The elves were only competent enough to stay with Jack until they got to the kitchens, at which point they got distracted by the abundance of uneaten cookie dough, and thus left the the silverette to his own devices.
Which lead to the third and final mistake of the day.
Someone had left a gingerbread house kit on the table.
The frosting container completely out in the open.
Jack Frost had never had frosting before.
Sandy had stopped by the North pole to make sure everything was running smoothly before the big day- and when he walked by the work floor to see a few of the furry snowmen stumbling around with paint pails on their heads, with a disgruntled North running after them, double swords in hand, he knew that everything was business as usual.
That is, until he walked by the kitchen.
The sandman knew that Jack Frost was known to hang around North’s home during this time of year. Whether the boy liked the hustle and bustle of the busy season, or if he was just there to cause as much trouble in the chaos as he could, Sandy wasn’t quite sure. However, he did notice the absence of said mischief.
It concerned him.
A clang came from the door ahead of him.
Sandy peaked around the corner, out of innocent curiosity.
Then quickly scrambled back the way he came.
He tried to relay the importance of the situation, he really did. However, one perfunctory look from North, who was now also covered in random patches of red and blue paint, told him that he was on his own.
So he slowly glided his way back down the hall, cautiously avoiding the elves, who seemed to be spinning around a bit faster than usual. Eventually, he made it back to the offending door, and debated with himself whether or not it was really worth it to try and see what the winter spirit was doing.
When another loud BANG! came from within, he realized it was.
Carefully, Sandy stuck his head around the doorway-
Only to be knocked back by a snowball.
Well, a frosting ball.
“Hey! Sandy! Didn’t see you there!”
Said spirit seriously doubted that.
Sandy shook the white powder out of his hair, sending little grains of irritated sand from his ears. When he finally got his bearings, he was looking up straight into icy blue eyes. Or, at least, what he could see of him.
The boy was covered head to toe in those blue and white sugary... things. He had a disturbingly large smile on his face.
Sandy sat there for a few moments, blinking up at the boy. He leaned to right, peeking around the spirit in front of him. He looked back to the boy. Back to the room. Back to the boy. Rubbing his eyes, just to make sure what he saw wasn’t just from doozing off again, he looked once more.
Nope. Still there.
Sandy raised a question mark from the sand, pointing at the room and then back at Jack.
Jack had a confused look for a moment, before looking back. The smile made an instant return.
“Oh, that?” Jack stuck his thumb back, twirling his staff lazily in his other hand, flinging more of the sugar monstrosity towards him. Sandy grimaced, “You know gingerbread houses? Well, apparently people cover them in this thing called frosting. Ha!”
Sandy found himself steadily leaning away from the other as the smile grew more and more manic. In his growing concern, a plate of... something was suddenly pushed into his arms.
“You should try some cookies. I put frosting on them.” Jack smiled, but the tone left no room for argument.
The sandman looked down at the plate in his hands. He poked the atrocity Jack called “cookies”, while said spirit proceeded to run a hand across his hoodie’s shoulder, smiling at how the frosting stuck to his finger.
Sandy frowned. Circular objects appeared above his head, along with more question marks. He pointed forcefully at the plate. Jack furrowed his eyebrows.
“Well, yeah. They don’t look like cookies. But... I... I had trouble with the oven, alright?”
Sandy could see that. It looked like Jack had sent a miniature blizzard specifically to terrorize the kitchen. There were sugar crystals hanging from the ceiling. The ground of blanketed in a torrent of the mess. No surface was safe, no crevice was spared from the sugary nightmare that was Jack... Frosting.
Not even the poor oven had been shown mercy. That oven could recall many winters spent churning out cookies by the hundreds around this time of year- but this, it seemed, was just too much. It sat in silent agony in the corner, splatters of cookie dough seeming to sputter from it’s open door every few seconds.
Then, of course, there was the boy himself.
Despite the constant snacking, Jack was still covered with a heap of the stuff that just screamed with the potential to stop a reindeer’s heart. Or twenty. Yes. quite probably twenty. But what disturbed him even more than that, if it were possible, were the ruffles that he could spot from under it.
Hesitantly, Sandy raised an eyebrow, and brought up an image of an apron above his head.
“Well I wouldn’t want to get my clothes dirty, would I?” Jack sat on his heels, looking much too proud of himself.
He decided that that was a good time to take a step back and really think about what was going on.
1) Jack had discovered frosting, and by extension, sugar.
2) Jack apparently really really liked frosting.
3) Jack apparently liked frosting so much, he tried to bake a gingerbread house.
4) To try cooking, Jack was wearing an apron.
5) Jack did NOT know how to work the oven.
6) Jack was wearing an apron.
7) The spirit of winter was currently high on sugar, balancing worryingly close to the edge of full blown hysteria.
He was also
wearing an apron.
Now, Sandy prided himself in his observational skills. It was how he knew what kinds of dreams to send kids, afterall. But if there were a few things he knew about Jack Frost. He was that the boy was a ball of mischievous, boyish energy. Jack Frost was the spirit of winter, the epitome of cold fun.
Jack Frost did not wear aprons.
“Vhat is this?” A booming voice came from down the hall.
Both Jack and the stupefied sandman looked over at the lumbering russian hobbling towards them, six drunken elves clutched in his hands.
One of the yetis came up behind him, muttering something that definitely wasn’t “Jack made cookies.” under his, her... it’s breath.
“Vell? What happened here?” As North approached the pair, he caught just a glimpse of the once-kitchen and turned sharply back to them, “Jack-”
Jack shrunk back a little, but still offered up a shaky grin.
As much as Sandy didn’t enjoy the other’s schemes, he also really did not want to be the one who had to explain to the Man in the Moon as to why Jack was ‘suspiciously absent’ for the rest of the winter. He did the first thing he thought of- he stuck the plate of gloop above his head, right under North’s nose.
North eyed the sweetened death paste in much the same way Sandy did, but he did stop glaring at Jack for only a moment. North set the cross eyed elves down on the floor, where they immediately fell over each other in nausea. With a distrusting glance at the winter spirit, North attempted to pick one of the “cookies” up.
It melted through his fingers.
“And eh..” He began, shaking his hand out to the side, “What, exactly was that?”
“I made the best cookies in the world?” Jack grinned up hopefully.
“You can’t make cookies out of only frosting, Jack.”
The boy blinked, “.. Oh.”
They all just stood there for a moment. Sandy looking at North, hoping to the moon that the other wouldn’t toss the boy out through a window. North was looking at Jack, who looked very much like he was expecting to get thrown out a window, by the way he hugged his staff. Jack himself was watching the yetis wearily. The yetis were looking at the elves. The elves couldn’t really look at anything, considering that most of them were once again burying themselves in the faux-snow.
Slowly, North began to chuckle. It blossomed into a laugh, and then into a full blown bellow that threatened to shake the whole hall. Jack and Sandy looked wearily towards each other, before Jack began to laugh a bit as well. Though if it was out of real joy, (probably over the realization that he was not, indeed, going to be murdered that night) or out of nerves, he wasn’t quite sure.
Everything seemed good. North clapped Jack on the back, which made him stumble forward a bit, but no one commented on it. Sandy let out a sigh of relief as North and Jack started walking away together, North joking about something about cooking lessons. Sandy smiled as they walked off.
Until a yeti nudged his arm.
Sandy looked up, only to have a mop dropped into his hands. He looked down at it, looking back up with an abominable expression adorning his face.
The yeti seemed to shrug, muttering something in yetish that sounded vaguely like “toys” and stauntered off.
Sandy shook his head. He began pushing the rolling elves out of the kitchen with the mop.
“Boy? Are you wearing an apron?!”
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