TW: Christmas fic, fluff, snow

It was one of those days when you can see the bright, white layers of snow reflecting in the window before you even open the curtains. Despite the light spilling into his room, Trott was still curled up in thick fur blankets, twitching and snoring in light sleep. Elsewhere in the house, Smith and Ross went about their morning business of making coffee and tapping away at a laptop, dressed and ready by 9am. As usual, Trott was the exception.

"You'd think he'd have realised by now," Ross muttered as Smith placed a hot mug on the table beside him.

"After last night? I don't blame him." Raising an eyebrow, Ross didn't need to look up at Smith to confirm the playful smirk on his mouth. He ignored the comment and took a sip of coffee.

"I hope you didn't plan on doing anything productive today," Smith glanced at Ross's laptop, "Trott'll dig up the boots and gloves before you can say 'spreadsheet'."

"Businesses are supposed to go at turbo speed in the run up to Christmas, he'll understand," Ross avoided eye contact, focussed on the screen.

"Uhuh," Smith sat up on the desks edge, "But don't you love it too? The Ross I knew was a champion at snowball fights. When did you get all business-y?"

"Since we started a business."

Smith pouted. Hopping off the table, he stepped into the corridor, in front of the mirror. In his green reflection, he started to pull at the pliable, putty-like material of his skin, shaping it down into plaits on his shoulders. With a wink to himself, he slid back into to the office room.

"Ross?" He batted his eyelashes and the other man looked up.

"What, Smith? Oh, for God's—,"

"Do you want to build a snowman? Come on, let's go and play~!" Smith sang in a deeper impression of the Frozen song. He twirled round the desk, draping his arms around Ross's shoulders and making him crack a smile and laugh.

"These spreadsheets aren't gonna write themselves," He tried to reason, untangling Smith from him.

THUD

A loud noise from upstairs startled them both. It was followed by an incoherent shout, and then more thudding. Smith had an expression of horror, whereas Ross's mouth was a thin, grave line. A pyjama'd man came bounding down the stairs, wearing fluffy brown slippers and a huge grin.

"Smith! Ross, we have to go outside! We have to..." Trott paused when he stood in the doorway, glancing at his two fully-dressed friends, "Your hair is a mess, Smith."

Smith shook his head, which made the green shape of his 'hair' meld back into its usual untidy style, and Ross stood up with his coffee mug in hand.

"One hour. Does that sound okay? You know, profits go up at Christmas, so we can't afford to lose momentum now," He took a long swig and closed his laptop lid. Trott and Smith glanced between each other, their smiles growing.

Smith put his arms around both of them casually, "We've done so well this year. Don't we deserve a break?"

Before Ross could mutter something about the amount of breaks they already took, Trott was pulling on his rubber boots and Smith was wrapping a scarf on his neck. He grabbed the door keys in resignation.

"I'll get the sleds."

From snow days in previous years, they knew the perfect open space to stage snowball fights. There was a steep hill close by, and was usually untouched by other people. The three Hats arrived, tugging sleds, wrapped in coats, gloves, scarves and hats to defend against the December chill. Trott dropped down into the snowy layers, waving his arms to make an angel.

"I think we should make a snow-walrus," Smith announced, piling the sleds by Trott. In response, a heavy snowball launched into his head, causing the green goo to wobble and misshape. Several feet away, Ross cackled.

"Haha! Eat—," An equally packed snowball almost knocked him over, and Trott laughed even more.

A great snowball fight ensued after that. Smith built a barricade to roll ammunition behind shelter, fending off Ross who was trying to knock it down. Trott rolled huge snowballs bigger than his head, and the others avoided him at first, until they realised that he couldn't lift it to throw it. Ross spent a lot of time dodging Smith, aiming small but powerful snowballs at their groins.

"Check this out!" Trott waved his arms from between two trees. He had tied his scarf from one end to the other in a makeshift catapult.

"Nah, that's never gonna work mate," Smith called from behind his defense wall. Ross dashed towards it, collecting ammo on his way.

Trott loaded up a ball in the catapult, "Watch it, Ross!" The snow flung out of the scarf, breaking apart in the air. Even without the impact, Ross still managed to take most of the snow to the face. With an unrelenting battle cry, he threw the balls in his hands in Trott's direction, aiming perfectly to hit him right back.

Deciding he was too content, Ross and Trott made a temporary peace treaty so they could gang up on Smith. A plan of attack was formed.

Trott grabbed a reasonably-sized snowball, sneaking towards Smith's barricade.

"Oi, Smith," He said, flinging the lump at his green friend. He dodged it easily and grinned.

"That was rubbish."

At that moment, Ross charged in with a giant snowball, and Trott deftly jumped out of the way. He jumped up on the snow wall, using it as leverage to gain height over Smith, then smashed the ball down on top of him. Smith let out a shriek. Trott couldn't decide whether it was because of the defeating attack, or because of the damage done to his saviour barricade.

"Look what you've done!" Smith exclaimed as the other two just laughed in victory, "My beautiful wall, and there's definitely snow down the back of my shirt!"

"All is fair in love and war, Smith," Trott stood up and gave the wall an extra kick.

"You know what?" Smith held his hands up, "Let's turn this into the snow-walrus of our dreams."

They all agreed on that. Brushing the snow out of his coat, Ross went to collect more snow, and Smith and Trott started shaping the walrus tail. Soon it had a big blobby body, and Ross came back to dump a pile of snow on its head.

"We need sticks, and stones and stuff," Trott said, gesturing for Ross to take over his sculpting job.

"Get some really nice logs for the tusks," Smith called after him, getting thumbs up in response.

Ross and Smith finished the walrus show shape by the time Trott returned, beaming. He arranged the eyes and tusks while Smith carved a mouth with his finger. The three stood back, admiring their work. It was fairly ugly.

Ross snorted. "Looks like you, Trott."

"Do you think?" He leaned down beside it, scrutinising its appearance, which made Smith laugh.

"Good thing I brought my camera," Smith pulled a small camera from his pocket, pointing it at Trott and the walrus, "Say 'walrus'!"

A shot was snapped of a pink-cheeked Trott grinning widely at a drooping white walrus with bark for tusks. He demanded to see it, especially after Ross had commented that it was "one for the Christmas cards".

The sun was now high in the sky, but the air was still cold, and the snow was still solid. It only served to blaze harsh winter light into their eyes.

"It's been a great day, guys, but we have work to do. Let's go back home. Where it's warm," Ross shivered, and Smith suspected that he didn't care as much about the work as he did the warmth. Trott frowned.

"But then we brought the sleds out for nothing," He reasoned, nodding at the hill, "I want to go down it once, at least."

"Me too," Smith grabbed the reins of his sled quickly and Ross sighed.

"If I get hypothermia and die, you're not allowed to go to my funeral."

With Trott bounding on ahead, they approached the hill. Ross had made it clear that he wasn't going to go down it, but was fine with waiting on them to finish. Smith turned to Ross before following Trott.

"Do you, uh, want to borrow my scarf? I mean, we won't take long, but you'll just be standing around and freezing up," He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, Ross smiled.

"No, then you'll freeze up there, and Trott'll have to roll you down. Make it quick," He replied, hands firmly tucked into his pockets. As he was about to mention how unusual it was for Smith to do something generous, a camera was shoved towards him, and a green figure was running half way up the hill already. Ross rolled his eyes and switched the camera on.

Up on top of the hill, Trott was readying himself to slide down the steep side. Smith cheered and whooped, giving him an extra push as he went. The sled created fresh tracks in the snow, a scream following him down. Smith went shortly and recklessly after. There was a string of curses from Trott at the collision site, and laughter from Smith.

"Just 'cause you've got no bones, jelly man!" Trott dragged his sled out of the wreckage.

Smith pulled himself up, still grinning. "Let's go one more time, but Ross needs to take a picture of us on our way down."

"I am not going to purposely crash again—," Trott started, but Smith waved him off as they found Ross a few feet away.

"We'll just go in the same sled. Hey, Ross! Can you get a photo of me and Trott coming down? This'll be the last one, promise!"

Ross agreed to do it if it meant they could leave faster, so the other two trudged up the hill one last time.

"Let's make tea when we get home," Trott said with a shiver, making Smith frown.

"Are you really cold too?"

Trott raised his eyebrows, "Are you not?"

"No. Actually," Smith took off his right glove and plunged his bare green hand into the snow, "Check this out. Not cold at all."

They continued walking in silence until they reached the top, when Trott stopped Smith.

"When did you mention that you can't feel the cold?"

"Ah, it never came up in conversation," Smith confessed, smiling down at Trott guiltily.

"Do slime people not have nerves or something?"

Smith shook his head, rolled up his sleeve, and pulled on some of his skin material, "Adiabatic, in science words. Means 100% temperature resistant or something."

"That's..." Trott was briefly stuck for words, "...cool."

"Actually it's quite warm mate," Smith nudged Trott with his elbow, giggling at his own joke. Trott started to laugh with him, until he shivered again. Smith sighed.

"Come here then," He opened up his arms and started trying to hug Trott.

He was met with protest. "What? No, get off-, Smith!"

"It's really toasty in here," Smith hummed, winding his arms so that they wrapped around the smaller man, "Can't have you turning into a Trottsicle."

He didn't admit it, but Trott decided Smith was very warm, so being in his arms was a welcome respite. A thought dawned on him as he rested against Smith.

"If you don't get cold, then why are you wearing a coat, gloves and all that?" He asked and was met with a moment of silence.

"...Because, they make me look good. Don't you think? This scarf is my colour," Smith flipped the end of it over his shoulder and refused to meet Trott's stare. He couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

"We're probably going to accidentally kill Ross at this rate. Let's get down there," Trott broke apart from Smith and set down the sled at the edge again.

"I'll go at the back, you at the front," Smith sat precariously on the back of the sled, "You're the little guy here."

"Not my fault you're ridiculously tall," Trott grumbled, settling on the front of the sled.

Smith found himself grinning again, entertaining the idea that Trott was too embarrassed to sit any closer. Unfortunately for him, Smith called it out.

"You've gotta sit closer if this is going to work. Come here," He patted the sled between his legs.

"I should've brought the other sled up here. Look what you've done," Despite his complaints, Trott shuffled up backwards into place. Smith wrapped his arms around Trott's shoulders shamelessly.

"Off we go then!"

With one shove, the two hurtled down the slope, forgetting that Ross was taking pictures. They yelled the whole way down, landing almost right-angle to the ground at the bottom.

"Took your time," Ross walked over to them, unexpectedly smiling. It was clear to see why when they looked at the photo.

It was as bad as a spontaneous rollercoaster picture. Smith had his mouth open in a maniacal laugh, his hands waving above his head. On the other hand, Trott's face was scrunched tight, his knees pulled close into a ball.

"Beautiful," Smith decided. Trott groaned, collecting all of the sleds up again and waving at the snow walrus.

"Come on. The snow will still be here tomorrow, maybe we can come back," Ross commented, and Smith and Trott glanced at each other, "For now, I'll get the kettle on."

Credit to Sjinata on Ao3