Chapter Text
"Who do you really think's gonna win here, Bro? Who's absolute destruction are we gonna witness? I mean, just look at these arms." He points one mitten at his big puff sleeves. "Look at them, Dirk. Admire them. Envy them. Picture the amount of snow I could pack into tiny balls of ice. Can you even lift, Bro? I think you should forfeit while you can, after all the only thing you have going for you is camouflage, you pasty-"
Gobs of snow fall from John's face after the initial burst across his glasses. Cue the jaw drop in three. Two. One. There it is. All pearly white bottom teeth accounted for. Something flashes across his features as the frost starts to melt on him. Looks like anger? Gotta be anger, yep. Definitely anger. He's lunging towards you like a fucking gargoyle right now. Yeah shit he is PISSED, time to skedaddle, Bro.
You nearly trip over yourself scrambling away from John as he scoops up mounds of snow and crushes it against his jacket. The way the loose stuff just collapses into a gigantic ball has you already scared shitless. Looks like he's going for sudden death to start like some Ryu smash player. Last year you'd deemed this particular special move of his the "Even Goku Would Shit His Pants 9000," which is a little ironic since you just compared him to Ryu and as you know Goku would kick Ryu's ass. He is a god now after all.
But fuck right, the nickname. Not discussion forums you used to pour yourself over in highschool at 5:54am on school nights. John had approved it with a big thumbs up and a toothy grin while you laid in the aftermath of the massive blow. Which, fuckin hurt if you're remembering right. You'd rather not have to deal with that again, especially not right at the start of what you expected to rival the original Cold War.
He's almost got the thing formed; it's stupidly huge like, holy shit. He earned the bragging rights on those arms just by carrying that thing around. Not that you're gonna admit it in the middle of a war zone. Maybe later, amidst cocoa. Hey John you look swole have you been working out? Yes. That'll score you some brownie points.
Hopefully literal brownie points, you could seriously go for some right now and living your life ordering takeout you never learned how to bake too well. Sure John tries to teach you, but god damn it's hard to focus when the coated mixing spoons call for you. So if you could get him to bake those tonight, and later with cocoa? How could you NOT have brownies with that shit. He'll have to agree with you there. What kind of absolute madman could go without yeah okay that's John looming over you from where you're crouched behind a tree, yep. Fuck. This is what you get, Bro. This what you get for daydreaming about hot chocolate and everything that just has to be with it while running through the park. Even Dave could've warned you about this.
You decide to blame Dave, actually. If he had been here you wouldn't of been sidetracked, for some reason or another you already can't remember what was so important it could pull you from your battle-ready mindset. You curse him and his boyfriend that he's with for Hanukkah under your breath.
Internally your body is screaming DODGE as John heaves the ball over his head about to crack down on you, but your prankster's gambit is yelling TRIP HIM EVEN IF YOU GOTTA TAKE THE BLOW. Both instincts win out in the end.
You drop to the ground, somersaulting out of the way as he attempts to drop it onto you. The spirit bomb crashes into the snow your boots had already hard packed and splits in half. Before John can figure out why it didn't hit you, you're kicking his feet out from underneath him. He drops like a sack of smuppets on top of you. Fuck. Probably shouldn't of tripped him from behind.
You can FEEL your hair sticking spikes into the snow. Gotta stop using so much product. On top of that it's fuckin cold as shit out here. Who could expect the aftermath of a blizzard to be this cold? Not a born and bred Texan, that's for sure. Or anyone. It's not like a weather app exists.
You'd seen snow maybe four times in your entire thirty-two years but these inches have taken the cake. Metaphorically. Or, kind of literally? John and you did make a snowman family earlier, and John baked them a fresh cake out of the ice with some of your chisels. It's "SO CUTE!!!!!! :D" as that Harley girl texted John when he sent her a pic. Dave's glasses you gave him as a kid are atop the biggest snowman's forehead (inside a form-fitted plastic bag of course, you can't just let that snow all over Dave's childhood). Then John's got an old broken pair of his own glasses jammed into the other one's face, and a post-it with buckteeth somehow strapped to the thing. It suits the two of them, you think.
Later you'll sneak out and add on some rad as shit hair for yourself, maybe laser eyes too, but that's just a dream at this point. Laser pointers, however, stuck into where the eyes should be? That'll work. And give them some of the extra smuppet scarves that didn't sell this season, too. Dave will love that when he gets back. You can see his boyfriend covering his eyes now.
Payback is a virtue.
Speaking of payback, isn't there roughly two hundred and forty pounds of beef sprawled across you? Why yes, you do believe there is.
"Hey like so are you gonna move my dude? Pretty sure I won via knocking the absolute shit out of you," you choke out triumphantly. Or just, choke really. So badly you don't know if he even heard you.
"Nah, comfy," John replies dreamily. He looks a bit over his shoulder, just enough you can see the side of his sly fuckin grin. Well at least he can hear after that blow you delivered him.
Suddenly gravity is increasing on you, and you realize John has now gone full dead weight like some serious Lilo and Stitch shit.
"You disney fuck get off of me, Nani," you say, getting one arm out from under him and trying to push him off.
"Awww thank you! You know Nani means beautiful, right? I'm honestly touched you've taken up my mom's native language, Dirkleton." John throws you a wink.
He's trying to hide his own laughter, but clearly this huki 'ino (yeah, it means jerk, so what if you were actually trying to learn Hawaiin for him and your disney joke ruined the reveal) doesn't understand you can FEEL his upper body shaking atop yours.
"Hey John..." You start.
"Yeah, Bro?" He sighs happily.
"Is Dirkleton supposed to be a mix of Urkle and Carlton from Fresh Prince?"
"Yes Dirkleton, it is."
Tread carefully. Don't just blurt "I love you" like last time. You're supposed to insult him here, not tell him you think he's adorable when he's an asshole in a roundabout kinda way. Fuck. Bring back the cool. It's already chill as fuck out just reign in some of that power for your own use. Go Elsa, no, Ice King? Nah he went bananas. Jack Frost. Go Jack Frost all over this shit. Calm, cold, and collected, but not the Santa Clause 3 Jack Frost that tries to destroy Santa's life. The nice, fun Jack Frost from that Dreamworks movie that has the gay subtext with the villain. Just slide an icy insult right on over to John and have fun with it. This is your time to one him up. Bring the pain of a loveable, teasing nickname.
"Alright... Hey it's me again also I love you."
You had one job, Bro.
John starts seriously guffawing, rolling off of you and holding his stomach. You take advantage of the opportunity and finally sit up, even though your legs are pretty numb already. Some of the loose snow is on your sneakers and jeans, so you wipe it off with your mittens that're custom made to look like fingerless gloves. Was that a dog bark? Kind of hard to hear over John's laughing. You hope the dog's ears are okay since yours already aren't at this point. Not sure if that's because of the sound or how red they feel. You sift your gloved hands through the soft part of the snow beside you. A snowball may make John shut the fuck up, but you don't want a new revenge tactic to coin him a term for. Aaand yes, it's snowing again. Alright. John still laughing? You sneak a glance over at where's he's laying on the ground shaking. That's a ten four alpha ranger he's still going at it.
You're pretty sure the snow within a ten foot radius of you is melting with how hot your face feels.
"Ahaha oh my god dude," he wheezes, somehow actually calming down and sitting up next to you. "You're so gay." He's got a hand up under his glasses now, wiping a tear from his eye, and his other arm's around your shoulder.
"I could say the same to you," you deadpan and look in the other direction.
"Dude, Bro, I was just kidding, I didn't laugh THAT long." He stops himself when you don't look back and brings his mittens up to cup your cheeks. "It was just out of the blue again like that time I was sorting the mail, and I thought it was cute, okay?"
You weren't mad at him, just embarrassed, but you take one look in those bright blue eyes of his and it's like all your emotions shoot up ten fold. How are his gloves warm? Regardless of how awesomely cool yours look, that's all they are. Cool. Not warm. They're way thinner than these industrial fuckin boxing gloves John seems to be sporting. Without thinking, you start to take your mittens off.
"Bro uh, are you mad? Or overwhelmed?" John asks nervously, dropping his gloves from where they rested and planting just one on your shoulder. "Do you want to go inside?"
"Hey are my hands cold?" You plomp your bare hands onto his cheeks, immediately feeling the contrast in temperature. How is his face warm too, exactly?
He bolts up right away, slipping backwards as soon as he's standing, falling down onto the snow.
"That's a yes, right?" A big smile plasters itself across your face.
You stand, dusting your knees off and pocketing your mittens.
Now it's your turn to do the looming.
"Need a hand there, Egderp?" You hold one out.
John gasps in horror. "Nobody's called me that since...the accident."
Your brows furrow, confused. "Wait, what?"
He grabs your hand and yanks you down with him, a la romance movie cliché.
Except this is real life, and in this real life your forehead smashes into his brick of a head instead of your lips meeting fervently amidst the snowfall. You groan into his shoulder where your head landed after the collision. "What part of you thought that was a good idea?"
"Um, my romantic part?" He laughs awkwardly, wrapping his arms around you. "Sorry!"
If you opened your eyes you're sure you'd see his face as the perfect example of a frowney face emote from his grand romantic gesture being thwarted. But alas, you think the sun will blind you and add onto the migraine you can feel forming.
"Oh and um... I forgot to say... I love you too, Bro."
John kisses your cheek, and the snowflakes keep falling around you.