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[personal profile] medomai
Title: Unimaginatively titled after the prompt wherein Bunnymund and Jack Frost first encounter each other on Easter Sunday in '68.
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Characters: Jack Frost, Bunnymund
Rating: G
Word Count: 652

Everything was going according to plan. Bunnymund was just wrapping up operations on the west coast of North America when he saw it: the stormfront. His stomach dropped, ears drooped, and eyes narrowed.

He quickly checked with his Egg Clockwork workers some timezones east, but their weather was perfectly clear. This was without warning, and far too large to have natural beginnings.

North had talked a lot about all the trouble a certain winter spirit had caused him, but Bunnymund didn’t think he was capable of something like this. As the wind started picking up, on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, Bunnymund roared.

“Jack Frost!”

He stood there, shoulders heaving in growing fury, for a minute. Then there was a human-looking boy hovering cross-legged in front of him, a crooked staff slung over his shoulders. The boy squinted at him. “Man, I knew Santa hung out with some weirdos, but - a giant rabbit?”

At first, Bunnymund was just taken aback. “Excuse me, mate? Do you know who I - ”

“Are you from Australia?” interrupted Frost, suddenly grinning. “You have a boomerang and everything.”

“I am commonly known as the Easter Bunny,” said Bunnymund with gritted teeth, “and today is Easter.”

“So?” said Frost, reclining against nothing.

“This is my day,” said Bunnymund, attempting to stay civil. “There are eggs and chocolate for children to find that will now stay lost forever.”

“I’m sure they’ll live,” sniffed Frost. “Seriously, are you seeing this?” He gestured at the blizzard that was now all around them. “My best work yet! I don’t think I’ve made one this big myself before.”

“It’s not winter anymore,” snapped Bunnymund.

“Which is why it’s so impressive! Right?” Frost sighed with a wistful air. “It might even make it over the ocean.”

“It’s out of season!”

“Like I was saying...” said Frost.

“Why today?! Of all days!”

“I was just in a blizzard-y mood,” said Frost blithely. “You know the feeling?”

“This is utterly inappropriate!” Bunnymund didn’t even care about the snarl evident in his voice. “You absolutely cannot throw snowstorms around whenever you want! Especially not today!”

“Oh, why does it matter?” Frost waved his hand dismissively. “You can plant your eggs another day.”

“No, I can’t, because today is Easter Sunday,” said Bunnymund, fighting the urge to stamp his feet. “Children don’t go finding eggs and eating extra chocolate on the day after Easter!”

“Not even on Easter Monday?” asked Frost, but he was trying far too hard to look innocent.

“I had several new types of chocolates out today, all wasted! You’ve ruined Easter for a whole year! An entire year!” Frost was still looking completely unapologetic, so he had to take extreme measures. “You get none of it,” declared Bunnymund, pointing at him, nearly shaking with his contained anger. “None of my chocolate. Not this year’s batch, not next year, not ever. Never ever chocolate for you!”

“I can just get it somewhere else.” Frost inspected his fingernails. “You’re not the only one who makes chocolate, if I am correct. Which I am.”

I invented chocolate.”

“Says the big talking rabbit who can’t even eat it.” Frost glanced at him slyly. “That’s what Santa says, anyway.”

Which wasn’t even true, but the fact that Frost wasn’t the least bit sorry about this whole ridiculous storm made Bunnymund snap. “You...” His boomerang was out of his paw before he even thought about it.

Frost whirled around in the air faster than Bunnymund blinked, dodging. When Frost turned back around, dozens of meters away, his smirk hadn’t even budged.

“You’ve robbed millions of children of their Easter!” howled Bunnymund, catching the boomerang on its return journey.

“Can’t please everyone!” Frost called back. With a laugh that echoed in the storm around Bunnymund, he disappeared into the wind.

He gave into the urge to stomp, then made a path to North; he had a complaint to make.
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August 2012

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