Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even before he was aware of the cold, and the dark, he was aware of the fear. Immediately, as a sliver of his consciousness moved to the forefront, he became deeply, desperately afraid, like a child waking from a nightmare, too scared to move, too scared to even call for his parents. He could only wait for the mercy of the abyss to take him back and when it did, he was indescribably grateful.

—

He was afraid. He didn’t know who he was or where he was or why, but there was a bone deep chill seeping through him, right down to his soul. It felt like his spirit itself was made of ice, hard and unforgiving and so, so cold, and he shuddered and tried to call out, but there was no sound. Not even the ability to make sound, not even the knowledge how.

His fear spiked even further because he remembered now: this had happened before. He’d awoken another time, terrified and alone, and then he didn’t remember another thing after that. Was that going to happen again? Where was he? Why? How many times had this happened?

He tried to move and couldn’t. He tried to scream and couldn’t. He tried to beg and couldn’t, and when each of those was denied him, his mind began to sink into madness.

Please. Please somebody find me.

—

He woke with a jolt of fear, eyes flying open, looking around and seeing only darkness in every direction.

No. No, he knew this. He knew this, it had happened before, he was going to disappear again, he didn’t want to disappear.

Please, no. Please.

It hurt. He wasn’t sure what was worse, this lonely purgatory where his body was being pierced with icy needles from every angle, where there was this crushing weight on his chest, and he was completely unable to move…or the emptiness.

As he felt it creeping up on the edges of his mind already, his soul cannibalizing itself as it tried to become something more, he decided anything was better than that and he let out a ragged, broken scream. At least, he felt like he did, may have even heard his own voice for the briefest moment, but the sound barely existed before it disappeared. His lungs felt wrong. Heavy. He was drowning, but he wouldn’t just finish drowning, why wouldn’t he just die already?

He was just starting to become frantic again, chest spasming uncontrollably as he gasped for breath that wouldn’t come no matter how hard his muscles quaked, when he felt a presence behind him. He knew they were there before he even felt the hand cradling his face from behind, careful fingers warming his cheek and jaw. The angle made him feel like he was laying down as they stood behind him. Was he having a nightmare?

“You’re alright,” the voice crooned, deep and soothing, with the elegant lilt of an accent he couldn’t place and a confidence that stilled him.

“I’m scared. What’s happening? Where am I?”

He tried to speak, but couldn’t hear himself at all. Nonetheless, the person, likely a man based on his voice, hummed quietly with thought and simply replied, “Yes, I imagine you are.” A second hand moved to cradle his face now, and for the first time, he knew safety and affection. It was so different from the pain and terror that, until now, were all he knew. The tension around his ribcage released just a little bit and he made a pitiful sound. “I don’t think you’d like the answer to either of those questions. All you need to know is that right now you have to rest. You’re going to fall asleep again—“

“I don’t want to fall asleep again!” he cried, panicked, and tried to move but realized he might never have been moving at all. In such complete darkness, he didn’t know up from down, it felt like he was moving, but then where was his body? Where was—

Two thumbs began stroking his cheeks, trying to settle him down. He focused on the warm lines the pads of his finger left across his face. “I know you don’t, but you will. Nothing to be done about that.”

“Who are you?” He still couldn’t hear his own voice, but it felt smaller now.

The man stilled, seeming taken aback by the question like he hadn’t expected him to care. “Pitch. Pitch Black,” he said at last in that same mellifluous voice he was quickly becoming addicted to, even if it made such cruel jokes.

“What? That’s…that’s not funny.”

It sounded like the man was smirking as he began running the fingers of both hands alternatively through his hair, dragging the fingertips of one back over one side of his scalp, then the other, over and over again. He shivered violently, forgetting whatever he’d been unhappy about a second ago.

“I don’t know,” the man purred, “It’s a little bit funny. You don’t think so?”

He didn’t know what he thought. He didn’t think much of anything. He didn’t know anything except that the tenderness of the sensitive, gentle fingers in his hair made him feel like crying. The name Pitch Black made him feel like crying. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything.

“And what is your name, little spirit?”

“You haven’t even told me your real name, why should I tell you mine?” he bit back, though it sounded not half as venomous as he wanted it to. He could hear it now, but still like it was only in his own head.

The man growled in mirthful appreciation of his backtalk, rather than anger like Jack expected, but no, he was definitely smiling. “I’ve told you my name.”

“Seriously? Pitch Black?” He paused, considering this, then couldn’t help but smile…just a bit. It felt foreign on his face. After all, he’d never smiled before.

“…alright, that’s a little funny,” he finally admitted softly.

The voice hummed through a smile. “And yours?”

“It’s…” He’d already known he didn’t know, had even said so, but he thought they were both probably hoping it would come to him naturally if he tried to speak it. But it never came. But he tried.

“I…don’t know,” he whispered, feeling small and defeated. Feeling like he’d disappointed the man. What if he got tired of him and left? Surely there had been people that had once cared about him and he would only be here like this if they’d abandoned him to his fate. This stranger was the only one here. Did no one even care where he’d gone? So why shouldn’t Pitch leave? He owed him nothing. Didn’t even know him, had not even his name.

“I can feel your fear spiraling. As delicious as it is, I need you to settle for me, now.” He held his head in both hands and despite the feeling of being completely untethered to anything else, he still felt it keenly as the man’s sharp nails dragged harmlessly up the back of his neck before returning to the base and repeating the gesture. It was ticklish, but felt nice, and he had to choke back a small sound of satisfaction as he did it again and again, making him shiver. “Very soon, I would guess, by the next time I see you, I imagine you’ll have your name. But it’s of no consequence to me.”

“Sh-shit it’s cold…I have…I have no idea…what the hell is going on,” he breathed, wishing he could reach out and grab the hands holding him, wishing their warmth would envelop him completely.

“Then you should sleep, don’t you think?” Pitch murmured patiently just above him, hands massaging his head as long, warm fingers returned to his hair.

“I don’t want to,” he whimpered instantly, hating himself for sounding so pathetic, trying to move away, to sit up, anything, but he was motionless, his body quickly dissolving in numbness.

“Hm, interesting. I don’t remember asking you what you wanted,” the voice teased and he felt a flare of indignation, a little fire in his heart, but it was impossible to be too irritated with Pitch while he was touching him like he was someone he loved.

“You…don’t know me?”

“I do not.”

“Then…then why are you being so nice to me?” he whispered, embarrassed.

There was a pause, and for a moment he was afraid he was losing himself again, that Pitch was already gone, but then he spoke quietly. “Perhaps because I know what it is to be trapped in the dark, afraid and forgotten by the world.”

He tried to respond, ask him what he meant, but by the time he’d even decided on what to say he’d begun to fade again. It felt like his mouth was moving, but there was no sound coming back. His lips felt numb and the fear clutched onto his heart, a vice tightening around his ribcage.

“You’re alright, I have you. Rest now,” he heard the man murmur from what felt like somewhere far above him as he pulled him to his chest, and he felt like he was melting.

—

It felt like he was woken from a long sleep taken at the wrong time, the kind of nap that makes you feel like absolute garbage instead of rested, but when he at last opened his eyes he could see nothing, and he remembered all at once in a flood of emotion. He remembered what he’d left behind.

The shout was pushed out before he could stop it. “Pitch!”

He spun round in the dark, frantically searching. He could move, but it was freezing. He felt the pain of the ice, but less severely than before. The pressure in his lungs was thick and painful, but he found he was growing used to this sensation of drowning and being crushed at the same time, as much as anyone could. He supposed a person could get used to anything. He’d just thought it would have taken a little longer before he was more concerned with finding Pitch than breathing.

He didn’t have to hunt for him in the dark for long. As the weight of his fear became too much to bear, the fear that he was now completely alone, just stuck like this, that Pitch would never return, two hands took hold of his own and pulled him close. He thought he would have recognized those hands just by feel already under any circumstance.

The man didn’t speak at first. Finally, though, he murmured, “You remember me, but not your own name? …Mm. I’d be flattered if it weren’t so foolish.”

“Who are you really though?” he insisted, drifting closer in the nothingness to the warmth of Pitch’s body. “Why is your name Pitch Black and I just happen to be trapped in pitch black? Are you doing this? Why can’t I see you? Or, you know, anything. Where am I?”

“Goodness, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” the voice teased, but sounded considering at the same time, like perhaps he was actually thinking it over. Indeed, after some thought, he did answer. “The first I believe we’ve covered. I preside over darkness, it is no coincidence that’s my name of course, I wouldn’t have known you were awake otherwise. I didn’t put you here; you put you here. You can’t see me because it’s dark. And you are at the bottom of a frozen lake. I think that covers it.”

He really didn’t have the sanity to deal with being messed with right now and was quickly losing his temper, ready to rip his hands away and recoil no matter how scared he was and desperately craved the warmth, when he processed the last part of Pitch’s answer and froze, his hands going limp.

“…what?”

“Your spirit has been here in the dark with me for many years and I’ve been patiently waiting for you to wake up…and here you finally are.”

Jack really did pull away from Pitch now, clawing at his own chest as he stared, eyes wide and unseeing into the darkness. Pitch sounded relieved, as if this were a good thing, but Jack only felt dangerously off-kilter.

“Jack? Am I Jack?”

“I don’t know, are you?” the dark echoed back to him.

He couldn’t catch his breath even though, apparently, he didn’t even technically need to breathe anymore. Couldn’t breathe. His lungs couldn’t even remember how, it was like they’d been frozen solid, he realized with a wave of nausea, or rather like they were trying to squeeze around a solid mass of ice.

“I…I think so? I…yeah…Jack. Are you…so I died?”

“Correct. Every once in a great while, a spirit is stubborn enough to remain even when the body is gone and they inhabit something else, such as a lake. There’s no way to know for sure what sort of spirit you are at this point.”

“That’s…ridiculous. My body’s not gone, it’s right here. I can feel it, I can feel you.”

He imagined Pitch rolling his eyes. He felt like he was getting a handle on Pitch’s personality faster than his own. He felt completely untethered, unfamiliar with himself to the point that it scared him to even remember his own name. It was just a reminder of all he did not know. Hovering, or he supposed floating here, he’d suddenly never felt more lost and alone.

He surged forward, knocking into Pitch, making him grunt with surprise and annoyance.

“What are you-…?” he started to complain, but stopped in surprise when Jack threw his arms around him, fingers clawing at the back of Pitch’s shirt. He gathered the strange material in his fists, feeling like he was crying and realizing with horror why he couldn’t feel the dampness on his face.

“Sorry, sorry, I just…! Uh, it’s, I’m…scared. I’m really scared, can I just please…?” He shut his eyes tight even though apparently it didn’t matter if they were open or not. “If I can’t see you then it’s just like…”

Pitch seemed stunned and Jack could feel his chest move quickly as Pitch took a few deep heavy breaths. At the same time, Jack felt a weird dizzying sensation, then a steadily spreading numbness and he knew it was going to happen.

But he just got here, he thought frantically.

Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch’s torso tighter and breathed in sharply, pressing his face into his chest, cramming his cheek into the smooth material there as he choked back a whimper of terror.

“It’s happening, shit! Shit shit shit-“ he hissed.

An arm settled heavily around him, locking him into place before the fingers of the other hand ran slowly up his neck and into the hair on the back of his head, cradling it. “You’re alright,” Pitch’s voice purred from just over his head, sounding so completely different from how he sounded when he was aggravated.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered, trying to concentrate on the intense heat of Pitch’s body, his hand against his scalp as the rest of him pressed against him completely lengthwise, even their legs tangling up, and god damn it, he was mortified, but more than anything he was willing to do anything he had to do to push the encroaching emptiness away.

It didn’t work, and Pitch began to fade away.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, but was still relieved when he heard Pitch murmur gently into his ear, “I will look after you as I always have. You have my promise, Jack.”

He liked it when Pitch said his name.

—

He awoke with a jolt, gasping for air and immediately flailing his arms about. Once he was a little more aware, though, he began feeling around for something specific, with purpose, with desperation.

“Pitch! Hello? Is anyone there? Pitch!”

Weirdly he didn’t feel like Pitch was there, but he didn’t feel alone either.

It made sense when moments later, two long arms wrapped around him from behind, scaring the absolute piss out of him as they tugged him into his chest. Jack gasped for breath as Pitch let out a dark little chuckle, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.

“Boo,” he added, sounding like he was smirking. “There’s my little-“

Pitch’s teasing fell silent as Jack spun around in his arms and immediately threw his arms around him back. Now Pitch was stiff, like he was the frightened one. Jack couldn’t find it in himself to care, or be annoyed with Pitch for scaring him. He was just so relieved he was here and he wasn’t just going to be left down here forgotten like this; he’d let Pitch make fun of him all he wanted.

“I’m so glad you came back,” he breathed, trying and failing to keep his voice from shaking.

After taking a second to recover from his surprise, Pitch settled his arms back around him once more, and after another brief pause murmured, “Didn’t I tell you I would?”

“I…I know, I just, you weren’t here and–”

A hand took his chin firmly and made him look up; even though he couldn’t see a thing, Pitch could. “Make no mistake, Jack, you are mine, so keeping an eye on you is child’s play. You wander anywhere in the dark, afraid, and think I cannot find you? Please. Don’t insult me.”

Jack could move just fine now, but felt paralyzed all the same as a pleasant warmth melted through him. Still, he at least had a crumb of dignity left to at least pretend like he was bothered. “Yours? I’m not yours, what does that even mean?”

Pitch gently scoffed. “Did you not call for me? Boy, you have so much fear inside you, you don’t know what to do with it.” He stroked his thumb along his jaw and Jack shivered with heat rather than cold as Pitch added in a dangerously low purr, “But I do.”

Somewhere in Jack’s addled mind, there was room for one thought besides the desire to hear Pitch talk like that again. “S…so anytime I call for you, you’ll come?”

Pitch released him in disgust. “No. I am not a dog. I’ll come when I’m in the mood to or when your fear is appealing enough to me. I’m a busy man, Jack, I can’t simply be at your beck and call.”

“But you did come.”

“Pardon?”

Jack grinned. He couldn’t help it. “You’re sooo busy, but you still came. Does that mean you wanted to see me?”

“Are your ear canals frozen shut? Yes, because I love nothing more than to spend my downtime babysitting whiny corpses, it has nothing at all to do with the fact that you’re such an easy target all I have to do is appear and you throw yourself into my arms so I can feast on your fear.”

Jack went stiff then after a moment of shock pulled away, chest aching like he’d fallen from a good height and couldn’t catch his breath. It’d happened to him once when he’d fallen off a horse as a kid. He’d gone into it so bold and reckless, so excited, and then been terrified once he’d hit the ground, even though his dad had been right there helping him to his feet and telling him it would be okay, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Now there wasn’t anyone. Probably never would be anyone, if he was understanding this right.

“...an easy target,” he muttered, half to himself, dazed. Of course he was. Suddenly, he felt incredibly foolish for even suggesting Pitch might actually want to be here. Why would anyone want to be here, dealing with him? A corpse. He felt small and humiliated.

“Right,” Jack continued quietly, fingers of one hand fiddling idly with the fingertips of the other as he stared vacantly into the dark. “Sorry.”

It was quiet for a moment and then he heard a sigh, followed by another long pause. He wasn’t sure if he actually heard guilt in Pitch’s voice or not, but it was much gentler and contained a note of apology as he quietly reassured him, “...Jack, I am not going to leave you here. And I don’t particularly mind coming when you call either. If you call for me, I will come. I don’t need your fear, and that’s not why I come when you call my name. Satisfied?”

The admission made his head feel fuzzy, and it did make him feel somewhat better, soothing worries that Pitch was simply going to use up his fear somehow and then never bother with him again, discarding him here. He couldn’t be sure that wasn’t still what was happening, but it helped to hear those things, especially because he didn’t get the feeling Pitch was someone in the habit of casually lying just to appease people. In fact, much the opposite, it seemed more in his nature to antagonize, like Jack did. Besides, what was Jack supposed to do? Run away? Pitch could do whatever he wanted regardless. He could take him on his word that he was here because he wanted to be here, for now, until Pitch proved that he was wrong to trust him. Seemed more like Pitch just didn’t want to get caught appearing in any way vulnerable.

On top of all of that, Jack was still reeling, thinking about his parents, about whatever happened to his sister, to the sheep, his dad couldn’t take care of all of them all on his own. Not without neglecting the farm, not without letting his mom and his sister starve. Would Pepper be sleeping with his sister now? Mary liked dogs, but she was more of a cat person, or a horse person specifically. What about all of that, his entire life? How long had he been down here?

A corpse.

How long had he been down here?

He was sure Pitch could see the tears running down his face, but he hoped he couldn’t, all the same. Oddly enough, he could feel them perfectly well now, as if he’d been in some way separated from his environment.

“Do you…know what happened to my sister? She…she was with me, I think. I can’t remember.”

Pitch’s voice was shockingly soft as he replied, “I do not. My awareness is more narrow and I wasn’t there when the incident causing you to fall under the ice occurred. I can only assume, but since she is not here with us? She survived whatever the incident was.”

He was relieved, but specifically uneasy, but couldn’t pinpoint why. He let his mind wander, trying to get himself to stop crying. He was the older brother, his family was counting on him, he wasn’t supposed to cry. He was supposed to be responsible, take over the job of looking after the sheep, and marry a girl down the road, have kids. He sniffed, then hung his head and swallowed the lump in his throat before deciding to change the subject, stuffing those feelings back down.

“What…are you, exactly?”

“A spirit much like yourself, only infinitely older, wiser, and more powerful.”

Jack snorted quietly in amusement. “And humbler, apparently…hey, I feel better this time. More…like me? Do you think I might just stay awake this time?”

“I doubt it. In my opinion, you’re not quite done yet. Not hardly.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”

“You’re still weak, don’t have all your memories back, and it usually takes a bit longer than this, in my experience. It’s a lot of work for a spirit to be reborn.”

Jack nodded and sniffled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “Right…hey, so you can see me then, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do I look like? I mean, am I all gross or…hey, am I naked?”

He could have sworn Pitch laughed, maybe just the tiniest bit. “No, you aren’t naked,” he spat back, sounding like he was grinning, “I was being antagonistic, you’re not truly flesh so you simply look as you did in life.”

Jack was probably just trying to distract from his own problems and fears, but that was fine. He was a professional at procrastination. “You too?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…actually, wait, hold on. Can I…uh.” He cleared his throat. “Can I…like…hold your hand like before? Or something? I hate this…talking into nothing kind of thing. Really creepy, I feel like I’m just going to disappear. I just…wanna know you’re there, for sure. You know?”

Pitch let out a long suffering sigh, but after a long pause took one of Jack’s hands. “Better?”

He curled his fingers around his, content, if not a little embarrassed. “Thanks, yeah…so do you look like-…actually, I have an idea, stay still, okay?”

He reached out and tried to put his hand on Pitch’s face, but he was even taller than he’d thought based on where his voice was coming from, and it kind of landed on his neck.

“Woah, you’re tall,” he breathed before correcting his aim and moving his hand up to Pitch’s face. When he got there, he could feel Pitch’s mouth open in indignation and flashed him a winning grin, the innocent, guileless sort of look that usually got him out of most anything. “Sorry.”

“Are you always this obnoxious?” Pitch grumbled, but he remained still as Jack’s hand moved slowly over his face.

It was harder than he thought it would be to imagine what someone actually looked like just by feel. He’d seen a man in church do it once and thought he could too, but he wasn’t so sure now. Even so, he refused to admit he’d made a mistake and pushed on.

He felt high cheekbones and a prominent chin. His nose was impressive, a bold, curved shape like he thought he’d probably never seen before. All his features seemed angular, maybe even gaunt, and Jack was fascinated. At the same time, Jack thought he must be bad at this because there was no way Pitch looked the way he was imagining. He was positive of this until his pinky brushed the edge of Pitch’s ear and he froze, sure he was mistaken. Feeling his ear more purposefully, he froze as he felt how much it came to a point. That definitely was not a human ear.

“Uh…Pitch?”

“Yes?” he said, sounding amused.

“Are you human? Or like, were you?”

“No, but I believe you would most likely have thought me human if we had met. Being as old as I am and having the power I do, you change a bit.”

“Right,” he mumbled shyly, moving his hand back down quickly to give it one last quick try before giving up, but he didn’t want to, now that he’d found out how his ears were shaped. What if he had other stuff going on he didn’t know was even an option? He remembered the way his fingernails…claws, really, as he’d think of them now, had felt on the back of his neck. He should have shuddered with fear, but instead he just wondered how he could get Pitch to do it again without directly asking, because that was weird.

His hand came back down towards Pitch’s mouth and he nearly jerked away reflexively when his fingertips brushed down across Pitch’s parted lips. They were thin and he could feel his breath, which was surprisingly hot.

Pitch licked him and then he really did jerk his hand back with a cry of surprise, leaving Pitch chuckling wholeheartedly to himself. “Darn. Just a little more and you would have felt the rows and rows of razor sharp teeth. Do try again, I won’t bite.”

“Ha ha. No thanks. Uh…sorry, that was probably weird. I just sort of did it without thinking.”

“You don’t say. Well, what did you discover?”

“Honestly, I uh…I don’t know.” He laughed, at least having the decency to feel some level of shame. “Only that I’m pretty sure my face doesn’t look anything like yours. Which, you know, sucks for you because I’m pretty handsome.”

“And humble,” Pitch echoed back at him, and Jack grinned. He chose to imagine Pitch was grinning too.

“…can I hold your hand again or are you sick of my shit?”

Pitch took his hand again with an impressive amount of patience for one so snarky. Jack couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone so sharp and prickly, or so soft and tender, and certainly not both extremes in one person. One of the semi-feral barn cats, maybe, but no other person he could recall.

It felt a little awkward now that he wasn’t scared out of his mind, but it was infinitely preferable to being totally ungrounded and freezing, although the cold was bothering him less and less by the minute.

“Hey Pitch?”

“Yes, Jack?”

“When I start getting weird and kind of…pass out. What does it look like to you? It feels more like…I don’t exist anymore, less like passing out, but am I still here just…unconscious?”

Pitch’s thumb ran idly over the back of his hand and Jack had to school his facial expression into something neutral. He wondered how many humiliating faces he’d made in the dark that only Pitch was now privileged to.

“In a way, but it’s really more like you stop being able to respond. I see you here, your eyes are open, but interacting with you becomes completely meaningless. You are present, but essentially incorporeal.”

“That’s…” Jack grimaced. “Really creepy.” He swallowed.

After an unusually long silence, Pitch prompted gently, “Jack?”

Pitch could probably see, maybe even feel, the terror gripping him, causing his whole body to stiffen, his eyes staring into nothing as he concentrated on what he was feeling.

He didn’t want to acknowledge it, as if that would make it happen faster, but finally he whispered, “I think it’s going to happen soon.”

“I know. Your fear increased.”

Jack nodded, trying to ignore the strange static on the edges of his mind slowly blotting everything out. It was sort of more upsetting when it happened slowly. He couldn’t think about anything else once it started anyway, he just wanted to get it over with.

“You said…you knew what this was like,” he mumbled, eyes flitting cautiously back up in Pitch’s direction. He wished he could actually see him. He thought he probably looked pretty cool.

“I do,” he confirmed quietly.

Jack swallowed, moving a little closer as if that could keep the numbness at bay, like a predator at his back. “So this happened to you?”

There was a pause, and just when Jack started to freak out, Pitch answered, his voice flat. “I control the shadows. But before I controlled them, they controlled me…and I was lost to them for a long time, reliving my worst nightmares over and over, repeatedly gaining awareness and then losing myself. Truthfully, this isn’t even close, but I have a bit of a bleeding heart for those finding themselves lost in the dark in this way.”

“Holy shit,” Jack breathed, dumbfounded and putting his free hand to his neck. “That’s…I’m so sorry, that’s…”

“I don’t want your pity, nor do I need it,” Pitch cut him off brusquely, and Jack nodded, getting the hint. He was suddenly terrified that because he had asked, made Pitch talk about this traumatic thing, he wouldn’t want to deal with Jack anymore. Too much trouble. Most people decided he was too much trouble. He made a mess of everything. He couldn’t remember what his bedroom looked like, friends he might have had, or hobbies, but he knew that. Maybe some kids didn’t deserve the birch rod, but he did. He just knew it.

“I don’t think you’re too much trouble, or I wouldn’t be here. You didn’t make me do anything, Jack. You realize this, don’t you?”

Jack breathed in sharply. “...you…my fear. So you can…” He didn’t like that at all.

He at least appreciated that because of his fear, and Pitch’s ability to sense it, Pitch wasn’t totally pissed at him. That was a plus. Still, if Pitch could read his fears that acutely, he would surely know, if not now then soon, that Jack…was always afraid. And no one was supposed to know that.

“That specificity depends on the circumstances, but yes, most times I can read your fears, what they are, and although I don’t make a habit of casually chatting about the worst things that ever happened to me…this once, it is alright.”

Jack hovered there, not understanding the tears coming to his eyes seemingly out of nowhere, then hung his head and floated closer to Pitch. He bumped into him and, once he located it, rested his head on Pitch’s shoulder.

“...Pitch?” he began as Pitch’s arms settled around him.

“Yes?” he asked, resting his chin on the top of Jack’s head gently. This felt so familiar.

“Thank you. A lot. For…all of this, finding me, and helping me, putting up with me, telling me that just so that I can…understand. It’s a lot. I don’t know why you…but…I guess I get it. I just…I really…really appreciate it. If you were…” His words began to slur, but he pushed on through the numbness. This was important. Pitch must have known what was happening too because he rested his hand on his head, coaxing him closer. But he didn’t interrupt. “If you weren’t…here…if you di…didn’t come. I would have…my mind would have…”

“You’re welcome, Jack,” he whispered. “Sleep now. I’ll see you soon.”

“Kay…” Jack blinked once more before his eyes stared vacantly into nothing.

Chapter Text

This time when Jack woke he felt almost…well-rested, like it really had just been a nap, a good one, basking in the sun up in the rafters of the barn. He still couldn’t see, of course, but he was getting used to it, even if he didn’t like it. He looked around anyway, his head turning this way and that. It was strange, he couldn’t even tell he was in water. He tried swimming, but didn’t seem to go anywhere, and couldn’t feel the difference. Apparently, physics didn’t work the same anymore. He wondered if that was permanent.

That familiar panicky feeling was starting to grow in his chest and, hopefully, he raised his hands, pointing them palm out and whispered, “PItch?” He paused, feeling weirdly shy. Their strange connection was already more intimate than any other relationship he’d had in his life, platonic or otherwise. Sure, he’d done…some stuff…with a couple guys. But it hadn’t really been intimate. It had been good, but purposeful and quick, not…

Not whatever this feeling was he felt as Pitch’s larger, clawed hands came out of the darkness and pressed against his. His heart thundered in his chest. He wasn’t sure why now, all of a sudden, he felt so skittish. Maybe just because he felt more like himself, had more awareness of everything and could really start to try and wrap his head around it.

He was glad he couldn’t see his own doofy grin he was making. “Hi.”

“Hello, Jack. Did you have a good rest?” Jack was relieved that he sounded pleased to see him.

“Uh…I guess so? Yeah, I feel better than before. Do you think I’m done yet?”

“I don’t believe so.”

Jack groaned and lowered his hands as he dropped his head back. “Jeeeez, this is taking forever.”

Pitch laughed and he followed the sound as it moved around him, spinning to try and follow it, but soon realized Pitch was playing with him on purpose. He stopped, annoyed, but grinning all the same.

“Patience is a virtue, Jack.”

“Wow, how old are you, like, five thousand? Were you there when that phrase was invented?”

“Naturally,” Pitch said against Jack’s ear, making him jump a little, which only made Pitch laugh more.

“You’re in a good mood today,” Jack noticed. “Hey, do you know if there’s a way I could, you know, like, see you? Or move around, or…something? It’s a lake, right? I wanna swim around. This is lame.”

Pitch snickered. “Lame, huh? Hm…well, let’s see.”

He could very nearly sense Pitch’s presence as it moved around him before he suddenly felt the strangest sensation of being uprooted like a flower. He gasped, feeling almost like he would fall over even though really he couldn’t, and began flailing his arms to which Pitch’s droll voice threw out, “I didn’t know you were such an excellent swimmer, Jack. Do keep impressing me, I’m enchanted.”

Jack giggle-snorted and opened his mouth to make some comeback when he stopped, eyes wide as he realized that for the first time there was light. It kept getting brighter, and he realized they were moving. They were going up. His head spun with vertigo and eventually the light got so bright that he started to squint.

He swore, his stomach bubbling with relief and excitement, and from somewhere below he heard Pitch grumble, “Yes. How lovely it must feel to see the light after so long in the infernal dark. Who could ever possibly want anything to do with something so awful as darkness or fear. My sincere congratulations.”

“Oh, relax, Mr. King of Darkness.” Jack grinned, trying to swim even though Pitch had made it pretty clear he couldn’t, at least not yet. Truly it was just sort of floating about, like the ghost he essentially was. “I’m excited because I want to see you.”

There was silence, and Jack got the distinct feeling Pitch was stunned speechless, and was pleased with himself.

Once Jack found himself basking in the sunlight a few yards from the surface, he saw that the entire lake was frozen over in a thick layer of ice. He tried to see up through it at first, but quickly gave up when he realized it was impossible to see anything, then he looked at his own hands. He’d been partially afraid, despite what Pitch said, that he’d look like some corpse with ghoulish gray skin and bloody fingernails or something else equally disturbing. He wasn’t sure, he’d never actually seen a dead body before. Everything else, his clothes, were all as he expected them to be, although he was barefoot, which he thought was kind of odd.

He turned around, seeking out Pitch, and stopped dead with a small gasp when he found him. As Pitch hovered gracefully up towards him, preferring to remain a little lower than where Jack was in the sun, he saw Pitch’s extended hand and realized he was maneuvering the shadows just below his feet to get him this far. Now, however, floating a little ways away, he looked perturbed by Jack, and he was suddenly self-conscious thinking that not only was Pitch maybe able to see him better now or something and didn’t like what he saw, but also…also…

Could corpses still blush? If they could talk and move and whatever else he was willing to bet they could and his face felt like it was absolutely on fire. He tried to play it cool. He really did, but already a wicked smirk was cutting across Pitch’s stupidly handsome face.

He was a bit odd compared to the features Jack was used to seeing, with strong, jutting angles and elegant swoops where he wasn’t used to seeing them, but there was something noble about the nose, the cheeks, all of it, that made him look positively royal. He actually did look like a king. He was intimidating as hell, he gave off an aura of unending confidence and mischievousness that made Jack’s insides melt. How the hell was he supposed to react other than to hover there gawking helplessly like an idiot? He didn’t even need to read his damn fears or see him blushing.

And of course, of course, Pitch knew that Jack wanted to make a good impression. He was afraid, specifically, that Pitch was way out of his league and obviously there was no chance he’d ever, you know, be with him, like that. But he still wanted Pitch to like him. He wanted him to at least think he was cute in a goofy kind of way, but he probably just thought Jack was some childish, annoying, plain looking at best little dork. And he didn’t want that. At all. He wanted to at least seem cool.

Pitch came closer, his smirk positively devilish as he looked him up and down and purred, “What’s the matter, Jack? You look a little flustered.”

Jack put his hands up defensively, a manic grin on his face as the butterflies in his stomach got stuck up in his throat and he couldn’t catch his breath. “What? No, no, I’m good! I’m good, are you good? Cause you know, like, the light and…and…”

Pitch put his hand out, palm up, an offer, and it seemed a lot more daunting now, but they’d been doing this all along and it was totally fine and obviously Pitch didn’t mind. So, finally, Jack reached out and put his hand in his. He looked at their hands with fascination, because this wasn’t supposed to feel this good, so warm and comfortable, it wasn’t supposed to make his heart hurt. He admired Pitch’s gray skin against his own pale hand for a while, mildly entranced, then he looked up at Pitch and when Jack’s eyes met that shining gold suddenly he had a new fear. A much more painful one, only for a few seconds and almost entirely subconscious, but it scared him enough for him to take his hand back, already laughing it off as just shyness.

He’d seen what heartbreak did to people. He’d watched it take his grandmother apart piece by piece when his grandfather left her and no matter how much time went by she was never the same. The hurt hardened her, made her stronger, but distant. She didn’t talk about him for years and then when she got sick she asked for him on her deathbed. He never came, and then she died and even now, when his memories were hazy, he remembered the look on her face. Of understanding. Of acceptance, when she realized he wasn’t coming.

It was ridiculous to compare any of this to that, but those experiences formed his knowledge of what love was and he’d never wanted anything to do with it, ever since he was a kid. Being here, right now, looking at Pitch and feeling deep fondness, safety, trust, and a heady almost drunken sense of happiness at times despite everything else happening to him, that was a lot more intense than just thinking Pitch was handsome. Already the couple of guys he’d messed around with, even the one he’d wanted to run away with for a while, had nothing on Pitch. And that scared the fuck out of him. What if he really liked Pitch? What if Pitch let this weird friendship or whatever they had going on continue and eventually Jack developed stronger feelings for him? And then what if Pitch got tired of him?

He got it. Really, he did. As a person, Jack was a lot. He could be obnoxious and irritating, always messing around, pulling pranks, why wouldn’t he just grow up already? He wasn’t the smartest, or most responsible, or good looking, or bravest. What was there to like other than his sense of humor and a cute face? Regardless of this pity Pitch felt towards him because of their shared experiences, Jack already knew, didn’t just worry or assume but knew as absolute fact, that Pitch would never take him seriously, would never have feelings for him beyond him being a pleasant distraction for a while. Because that’s what he did. He made sure people had fun, and they did, and then they left.

And that was fine. Usually, that was totally fine. But with Pitch…he already liked him a lot. Liked being near him, the sound of his voice. He liked his dry sarcasm, his straightforward but compassionate honesty, his willingness to be vulnerable with Jack when he hardly knew him, the kindness he showed to hear Jack calling and even come in the first place. He wanted to spend so much more time getting to know him and he had planned on doing that when he finally got the heck out of here. He hadn’t really had a chance to think about it, but he was definitely going to follow Pitch around for a while at the very least, learning more about him and maybe helping him out in exchange for everything he was doing for him now.

It was all just going to hurt a lot more than he’d originally thought it would. But…maybe he should just be grateful and take what he could get.

Besides, Pitch had said he was his, right?

Jack averted his gaze, laughing shyly and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s all just…a lot, you know.”

“Jack.”

Jack looked back at him reluctantly and was confused to see the concern on Pitch’s face. He was so used to pretending he wasn’t afraid of whether or not anyone loved him that he no longer recognized that he was afraid at all, that Pitch might have noticed. Pitch did notice, and he knew it would come up again and have to be dealt with if they remained in close proximity to each other, but for now they could let it go because Jack was clueless.

“So do we, um…can we stay here for a minute?” Jack asked, flashing him a playful, innocent smile.

Pitch rolled his eyes and Jack was pleased to know he was right that Pitch rolled his eyes at him, probably a lot. “Yes, we can stay for a while. You don’t need to look at me like that, and it wouldn’t persuade me even if you did.”

“Woo hoo!” he cheered, floating around Pitch in circles, effortlessly swirling around, not quite touching the real world.

He swooped under Pitch’s feet and came to rest in front of him again, putting them at the same height when in reality Jack hardly came up to his chest. He grinned at Pitch, thinking that he probably thought he was acting like some dumb kid, but he didn’t care. No matter what Pitch looked like, he was still just one more person who couldn’t tell him what to do no matter how powerful or hot he was. He’d like to see him try.

“Thanks, Pitch.”

Pitch made a mild sound of acknowledgement as he watched Jack resume flying around, catching rays of sun when he could and looking up at the world through the rippled lens of the ice. It seemed like it was just all branches and sky up there. Nothing more to see from down here, and he could already feel that he wouldn’t be able to go much further than this. Even as he traced his fingertips across the smooth underside of the ice, they tingled strangely. He didn’t like it. It reminded him way too much of the numbness that overtook him.

Staring upwards, Jack let himself slowly sink, unsettled by the lack of bubbles coming out of his mouth and rushing to the surface, of the way the water didn’t acknowledge his existence. If he was going to have to feel like it was inside him, that didn’t really seem fair. He was literally breathing the stuff, he should be allowed to interact with the rest of the lake if he had to be stuck in it.

He came to rest closer to Pitch, sinking lower on his back until he was in front of him again at the level of his waist. His eyes remained focused on the surface, troubled.

“Do you think this is why you come back a little at a time? To…slowly let it all process…let the memories back in…”

“Who knows?” Pitch murmured as he moved closer to him and glanced up at the ice as well before looking back down at Jack.

“I’m sort of afraid to…finish, you know? I don’t understand anything about any of this, or what happened to me. I wanna know what happened to my family, but I feel like…I probably won’t like the answer. And if they’re…” Jack bared his teeth in a grimace. “If they…aren’t…alive anymore, I want to be with them. And I don’t know how to do that either.”

“You’ll learn,” Pitch reassured him.

“I feel like you’re supposed to be scary so how come you’re the least scary thing here?”

There was silence and Jack looked up to see Pitch glowering at him. He flinched back, laughing nervously. “Woah, ha, okay…I mean, freezing from the inside out, drowning, your whole family being dead, being dead yourself…those are all pretty scary.”

“I’m also pretty scary.”

“Yeah, but like…you know?”

After glaring at him for another few seconds, Pitch let out a short huff of laughter and looked away. “Don’t worry, I’m messing with you. I know I could be your worst nightmare if I wanted to.” He whipped around to look at him again, leaning down into his personal space with a smirk. “I just don’t want to be that at the moment.”

Jack shrank away before stubbornly moving back to where he was and crossing his arms over his chest as he moved so he was upright and they were standing face to face…face to chest. “Good, because I think I’ve just about had it with being scared.”

“Then I don’t think we’ll get along very well,” Pitch answered with a mischievous little smile.

“Nah, sure we will. Besides, you’re my only friend now, I need this to work for me,” he joked, grinning up at him.

Pitch looked down at him, eyes half-lidded in exasperation. “The Nightmare King doesn’t have friends.”

Jack snorted. “The Nightmare King? What, is that you? Did you come up with that yourself? Well, why didn’t you tell me I was in the presence of royalty?” He backed up in front of Pitch so he had enough room and with a dramatic wave of his hand took an exaggerated bow. “Oh, my liege!” He leaned back up in time to see Pitch grabbing for him and yelped, shooting backwards with a burst of laughter. Pitch zoomed after him as he cried, “Awww come on, your majesty, don’t be like that!”

Jack was having a blast until he turned and looked behind him and Pitch was gone. His stomach did a backflip and he quickly began looking all around trying to find him. “...uh…Pitch? Hey, Pitch?”

He hovered slowly over the black bottom of the lake where who knew how many dozens of feet had never seen the light of day, realizing that Pitch could be anywhere down there. He could just shoot up and grab him at any time. Now his heart was really racing and he cursed his own mind for spooking him.

“Uh…ha ha…hey, Pitch, you’re not…actually mad, are you?” he coaxed nervously, cringing into himself as he tried to brace for what he knew was coming. “...you know, ironically, I always hated Jack-in-the-boxes,” he rambled and kept moving, because he was at least going to make Pitch work for it. “They’re not even fun. It’s just a cheap jumpscare…kinda like what you’re doing. That’s the best The Nightmare King can do? Dang, what a sad state of affairs…you know, I bet if–”

Jack screamed and flailed as a mass of shadows with blazing gold eyes shot up at him from the dark and wrapped its arms around him. “Shit! Shit!” he panted, still trying to push Pitch off as Pitch howled with laughter and Jack tried to catch his breath.

“Ughhh, you are the worst,” Jack complained loudly, annoyed that Pitch was too strong for him to wriggle away, even though he wasn’t surprised in the least. Besides, he honestly kind of felt like he needed a hug now, so…this worked out pretty good, actually.

“What’s the matter, Jack?” Pitch growled, still grinning like a fiend as he loomed over him. “Can’t handle a taste of your own medicine?”

“Oh, I’m handling it. I just don’t like it,” Jack grumped, but he couldn’t help but smile a bit. Normally, anyone else would have just told him he was being immature or stupid for messing around and told him to go away, not actually have played along and caught him.

“Fascinating, because you’re not trying very hard to get away,” Pitch teased, voice low as he leaned in, leering at him. Jack’s heart raced, and he wondered if Pitch could sense that too. He hoped to god somehow that didn’t count.

“That…is because you’re as strong as a gorilla, even though you’re built like a stick. You–...what are you doing?” he asked, volume of his voice dropping dramatically with trepidation as Pitch’s hands moved to his waist.

“I’m built like a stick? Oh Jack, then what does that make you?”

Jack puffed his cheeks out in irritation then finally breathed out, “You suck.”

After harassing each other good-naturedly for a while more, Jack became so relaxed that he was confused when he realized he couldn’t feel the tips of his fingers and it was getting harder for him to understand what was going on around him. He stopped what he was saying abruptly and looked up at Pitch, wide eyed with fear.

“...Pitch?” he murmured, seeking comfort.

Pitch’s face sank once more back into something serious and cautious, but he quickly realized what was happening and moved closer to him like he had been before they continued messing around.

“Here, I’ve got you,” he whispered as he took him into his arms like he was going to carry him to bed, like this was just routine. Despite how mercilessly they’d been teasing each other, Jack felt instantly safer, latching onto the front of what he now knew was some kind of long black robe.

“I hate this,” he whispered. “It feels worse every time. Like it’s harder to…unexist once I’m…more.”

Pitch whispered soothing little nothings back to him, nuzzling into his hair as they sank back down into the dark. Jack was surprised to find he didn’t mind. The dark reminded him of Pitch, of his hands, his gentle words. It was terrifying, but up there, the surface, it reminded him of what he couldn’t have anymore. It forced him to confront reality, but down here he could almost pretend it was all a dream and that reality was just the two of them.

As his body began to melt away from him he mumbled, “How come you’re still so warm, but the lake makes me so cold? …not fair…”

Pitch didn’t answer right away, which made him nervous, but after some thought he finally said quietly above his head, “I’ve always been warmer than others.”

“Mm,” Jack hummed in acknowledgment, shivering as it quickly became harder to concentrate. “I’ll…definitely come back, right?”

“Yes. I’ll look after you while you sleep.”

Sleep, huh? Jack sighed, but felt relieved anyway to hear Pitch confirm what he hadn’t wanted to ask for. He had promised Jack he would, but that was then and this was now. Maybe it didn’t count anymore. He felt better to hear it again.

“You’re really here the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you said you were busy.”

“Not too busy for this.”

Jack winced then shut his eyes. It looked the same as when they were open now. “Do you do this for everybody that dies in a lake?” he asked, half joking.

Pitch curled around him, whispering across his forehead, “No. Only for you, Jack.”

Jack hummed as a lazy smile curled onto his face. He was slipping. He was less himself. But he could still hear.

Pitch heaved a great sigh, sounding impossibly burdened, maybe even afraid. “...every stolen moment with you is more than I deserve. If I’m lucky, maybe one day you’ll forgive me for all of this. You’ve always given me more leniency than you should.”

He must have been further gone than he’d thought because he had no idea what that meant.

“Pitch,” he slurred, and then he was gone.

—

A person should never get comfortable with something like this, Jack thought, as he opened his eyes and saw only darkness and felt only cold. His fear was then soothed away by hands holding his head, fingers combing through his hair and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Good morning, Jack,” a familiar voice murmured and Jack smiled a little.

“This is so bizarre…good morning. Is it really morning?”

“I haven’t the foggiest. Shall we go see? Or does sleeping beauty need a moment?”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful? You’re not too bad on the eyes either, your majesty.”

He was discovering he loved nothing more than teasing Pitch. It was better than seeing the sunlight because nothing made him feel more like himself again. Also, it was hilarious.

He felt arms move underneath him and then momentum suggesting Pitch was taking him upwards. “I think you’re plenty ready if you’re already giving me that kind of attitude.”

Jack grinned and just relaxed. “Guilty as charged.”

Jack closed his eyes, assuming that when he opened them again they’d be basking in sunlight, but when they stopped and he looked around it was still mostly dark. He righted himself and looked around, quickly understanding.

“It’s definitely not morning.”

“Ah. Tragic,” Pitch deadpanned.

Jack just shrugged. Oh well. He’d wanted to see the sunlight just to feel normal again, but he could see. Kind of. That was enough. It was better than…pitch black anyway. Well, at least Pitch would be happy.

He turned around and was mildly startled when he saw animal eyes glinting in the dark before he realized it was Pitch’s eyes catching the moonlight. They really looked like they glowed for a second there, and continued to depending on the angle.

“Why are you bobbing around like a chicken?” Pitch asked, clearly perplexed.

Jack let out a breath of laughter. “Your eyes, they’re all…” He opened and closed his hands a few times, miming blinking lights.

“Ah, yes. Perhaps yours will do the same. I am not sure, but I doubt it if you still cannot see in the dark very well.”

Jack half-smiled and looked down. He felt strange, but he couldn’t pinpoint why and didn’t want to worry Pitch.

A memory flickered in his mind, right on the edges of it, and he latched on, fumbling his words as he tried desperately to spit it out. “You…last time, you said something right?”

They were only a couple feet apart, and Jack thought he saw Pitch lift one slender, dark eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Yeah, you…argh.” He grumbled in frustration, ruffling his hand back and forth quickly through his hair. “Before I…passed out, or whatever, I was asking you something and you…something about the…” He shut his eyes tight as his face screwed up with concentration. “You don’t remember?”

His eyes suddenly blew wide open, bright and excited and he grabbed Pitch by his forearms. “Yes! Yes, you said…something about being forgiven? How I’m too nice or…something? Right?”

Pitch closed his eyes and took a very deep breath then after holding it a few seconds let it out all in a rush. He opened his eyes again, but was looking off to the side.

“...I wonder if I’ve been distracting you…”

That wasn’t what he’d expected Pitch to say at all. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, baffled. “What?”

“Have you remembered everything yet? How you died? …I wouldn’t be terribly surprised if you didn’t until the very last moment. It’s a lot to cope with and the rest of you needs to be ready. I can’t simply tell you.”

Jack moved back from him slowly, clawing at his stomach absently. “...are you saying you know how I died?”

Pitch nodded. “But like I said, I can’t just tell you what you haven’t remembered.”

Anger was building in him, his breath coming faster. “You lied to me,” he muttered, and soon realized he was far more hurt than angry. They had a weird kind of bond, and this was such a huge betrayal of that trust they’d forged. You didn’t cradle someone through their personal hell and not come out of the experience feeling something strong had formed there.

“I most certainly did not,” Pitch bit back, clearly offended as he stood up straighter. “What is it you imagine I’ve lied about?”

“You said you didn’t know what happened to my sister.”

“And I don’t.”

Jack faltered. “You…but…”

“I am aware of how you died. I have stayed with you ever since, Jack, I had no idea what happened to your sister, only that she did not wind up in the lake and I told you as much.”

“Oh…so…” He put his hand to the back of his head, thinking, embarrassed. “...I’m sorry.”

Pitch scoff and moved passed him, like he just didn’t want to be around him. “Good.”

Jack’s stomach jolted with fear and he spun around, watching his back begin to fade into the dark before lurching after him with a cry of alarm. “Wait! Don’t leave, please, Pitch, really I’m sorry, I just…Pitch,” he begged, his voice taking on a frantic tone. He couldn’t stand the sight of Pitch disappearing into the dark like that. Because he was never going to come back. Not really, because when he did it wouldn’t be him and then–

Pitch stopped and abruptly turned around, staring at him strangely for a moment before tutting in annoyance. “I’m not leaving, Jack. I’m just moving around, if you don’t mind.”

Jack had started to reach for Pitch’s arm, but he froze before clamping his hands under his armpits. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course, cool. You just…never mind, I’m just gonna…” he said quickly before turning back around and moving back the other way, trying to find something to make it look like he was busy. He settled with examining the ice.

He was doing it already. Already. He didn’t even technically exist yet and he was already being annoying and clingy. If he could just pretend like he didn’t care maybe Pitch would interpret that as him being less clingy and would come back. Sometimes that…didn’t work, but Pitch said he wasn’t going to leave him here. He would just have to believe him. It was fine. It was fine.

He gasped sharply as an arm slipped around his waist and pulled him close. “Jack,” Pitch whispered, and Jack swallowed nervously.

“It’s fine, seriously, you don’t have to–…oh.” He realized. Of course. “You read my fears.” He wiggled away gently, not looking at him, and bit back, more embarrassed than truly irritated, “Seriously, I’m fine, Pitch.”

“Well, you’re doing a terrible job of proving it to me,” he murmured before a hand moved to his shoulder and Pitch slowly spun Jack around to face him.

Jack couldn’t look at him. He avoided eye contact as long as he could, but when he saw Pitch lifting Jack’s hand to his mouth he couldn’t help but stare, confused and mesmerized. He watched as Pitch pressed his lips to his knuckles and held them there, burning him, for what felt like an eternity before he leaned up just slightly and met Jack’s eyes. He’d forgotten why he ever didn’t want to look at him. He couldn’t imagine looking at anything else except Pitch’s golden eyes, glinting now and then with that lustrous, feral shine.

“You’re alright. I’m not mad.”

“...really? Cause you looked mad,” Jack couldn’t help but point out anxiously.

“Really. I was annoyed. I am often annoyed. I don’t blame you for being reactionary considering the circumstances. You’ll do much worse things that will genuinely infuriate me in the future, rest assured.”

“You…I…wait, what?” He blinked rapidly, processing that, cold dead heart somehow still beating a million miles a millisecond as he realized what Pitch was really saying. Breathless, he asked, “You…are even going to give me a chance to piss you off more in the future? …I don’t know how long I’m going to be down here, but it can’t be…that much longer, so hopefully I…”

“Then perhaps once I take you with me after, then,” Pitch drawled, but nonetheless smiled a little before pressing a kiss this time to Jack’s palm before letting it go.

Dumbstruck, face burning, all Jack managed to say was a very quiet, “...oh.”

And Pitch just laughed. He laughed, and then pulled him close again, leaning down due to the height difference and brushing his lips against his forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, it wasn’t, but his skin was so much hotter than Jack’s it left little trails of heat behind. Jack closed his eyes, intoxicated by the affection. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

“...I gotta be honest,” he breathed. “Even if you’re just reading my fears and taking pity on me? I am…this is…”

He stopped as Pitch firmly took his chin and tilted his head back, making him look him in the eyes again. “You think I would do all of this only out of pity? Let me be perfectly clear, Jack: I like this. I like you.”

If Jack wasn’t already dead, he was pretty sure he’d have a heart attack in the next ten seconds because this was specifically what was never allowed to happen. He wasn’t allowed to feel like this, Pitch wasn’t allowed to actually, genuinely want anything to do with him, and he wanted to think it was a trick because that made more sense, but it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t.

Further adding insult to injury, Pitch then leaned in and kissed Jack lightly on the cheek, then the jaw, then the neck before finally releasing him, and Jack couldn’t imagine how he’d ever been cold in any part of his body ever.

His eyes had fluttered closed, and he had to pry them open to look up at Pitch, feeling pleasantly heavy.

“...okay,” he finally mumbled, making Pitch laugh, because they could both hear how he sounded. He sounded as intoxicated as he felt.

Pitch closed his eyes and rested his head against his with a pleased, rumbling hum. “Sweet little frost spirit…”

Jack felt a little more sober at that, blinking steadily a few times before staring up at him wide eyed. “Frost spirit.”

“Yes, I can’t be sure, but I’m guessing that’s what you’ll be. Initially I thought it might just be the water keeping you so cold, however I doubt your hair was always white, for starters. Were your eyes always this silvery blue?”

His eyes widened and stammered a moment before he finally spit out, “No! They weren’t! …my hair is white? That’s…that’s insane, I…” He clutched at his head breathlessly. “I must look so stupid!”

Pitch couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, absolutely. Everyone has a type; mine is people that look stupid, apparently.”

Jack could tell he was joking, but still shoved him playfully, even as his face flooded with heat because he was Pitch’s type. “Shut up!”

“No, really. Please make yourself look even more foolish if possible and I daresay I won’t be able to resist. A clown nose, perhaps. Fake teeth.”

Jack put his arm up to his mouth, bursting with laughter that was quickly heading into full-on giggle fit territory. He was usually the one making those happen to other people, not the one breathless on the floor.

“What’s my type, then? Giant, evil sock puppets?”

He was half worried Pitch would be mad, but he just cackled, and it felt absolutely amazing to make him laugh like that, especially as he added with a smirk, “Sticks, I would assume, given your prior assessment.”

Jack doubled over laughing and was sure he would have collapsed completely if physics were still working properly for him and Pitch wasn’t holding him up.

They had more time together than usual because Jack simply didn’t fade as quickly as he had been. Jack was sure the next cycle would have to be the last, but Pitch wasn’t entirely convinced, although he agreed the odds were quite good. He just clung to the hope that remembering his actual death wouldn’t be too traumatizing, and frankly, after everything else, he didn’t think it could be too much worse. And meeting Pitch? He was starting to think, if he had to die anyway, then meeting him made up for all the rest.

Jack was so comfortable and sleepy in Pitch’s lap, he didn’t know he was fading until it was nearly halfway done already. What if something went wrong and these were his last moments with Pitch? Should he tell him how he felt more directly? Was it stupid for him to feel like this? It just seemed only fair he should tell Pitch that he liked him too, a lot, and he definitely wanted to go with him.

His eyes opened reluctantly and he groaned. Pitch responded by curling around him more and softly shushing him.

“Pitch. I…”

“I know, you’re alright. You–...” Pitch went quiet abruptly, reading Jack’s fear, and Jack winced, embarrassed. Jack was afraid of so many things, not the least of which was that his feelings were incredibly one-sided. He wasn’t sure if Pitch was picking up on that or another of his many fears.

For example, the static trying to take him now. What if he just blinked out like a light? This one felt different. It felt wrong and he was so scared.

“Jack,” he breathed, brushing hair from his face. “...you needn’t be afraid of that.”

Jack rested his head on Pitch’s shoulder, wishing he could see his face again, and he tried anyway, peering up into the dark. “Anything’s possible. I just…thank you. For…being here for me. I never…I never had anyone treat me like this. Like, not even my parents.” A tremulous smile bloomed on his face. “It’s really nice. I’m really glad I got to have this. I feel…loved? I’m not saying you love me, of course, I’m just saying you’re good at making me feel that way and…Pitch, I really–”

He felt the heat of Pitch’s breath before he felt his lips pressing into his, chaste but insistent, burning. Jack’s eyes fluttered closed and for an instant he was too knocked over the head by bliss to remember he was meant to respond, and then he leaned eagerly into the kiss, lips parted as he let out a helpless little sound. The hand that gathered his face closer was familiar and comforting, but the way Pitch tilted his chin and kissed him like it really could have been both the first and the last time made Jack’s head spin. If he was a fool in a fairy tale, Pitch was too, just as much.

Any concentration he had left began to slip away from him then, and he let out a soft whine of protest because this was the only place he wanted to be and he was being dragged away by his own mind and body.

“I don’t wanna go. Please,” Jack mumbled against his mouth, suddenly certain something was wrong, and he was terrified. His hands found Pitch in the dark, weakly grabbing for him and holding on as tight as he could, but already his fingers were slipping away uselessly.

But Pitch wasn’t perturbed. He just hummed against his lips, placed several more small kisses to them, and whispered, “I’ll see you soon, Jack.”

—

He opened his eyes with no idea where he was, or why, or even who he was.

The only thing he knew was that it was dark and it was cold, and he was scared until he spotted the moon far above him, chasing away the shadows. Had the moon always been that beautiful? Huge and full and blindingly bright. It seemed to banish all the darkness, keeping it far away from him as he was lifted into the air.

He realized then he was hovering midair above a frosty landscape, and although it was cold, and he could feel just how cold, he didn’t mind it. It felt like it made him stronger. His fear faded away, leaving him feeling free and light and suddenly he didn’t mind so much that he knew nothing else because he knew one thing:

His name was Jack Frost.

Carefully, he stepped down onto the icy bough of a tree and realized he was barefoot. It felt good. The cold wind that blew straight through him felt good, and as he found the discarded shepherd’s crook just sitting there against the trunk of a large tree like it was waiting for him, he picked it up and it didn’t just feel good. It felt perfect.

He whooped with excitement, absolutely buzzing with energy, and in his excitement the winds swept him into the air. He thought at first he’d fallen and let out a yelp of alarm, but no, he was flying. Down below there was a pitch black lake covered over completely in ice that shone like the moon itself and he hated to think what might have been down there, trapped under all that ice. Troubled by the thought, he grimaced and took off as fast as he could to see what he could find out about this endless new world.

Chapter Text

Having incredibly strong supernatural powers really wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, Jack thought. It was a lot of fun, sure, and he helped other people, especially kids, have all kinds of fun, but at the end of the day, what was it all about? So what?

Jack swung his staff around idly as he watched another group of kids that couldn’t see him run back inside to get some hot coco and change out of their wet clothes. He half-smiled, watching them until they were out of sight, then his shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh. He should have just been happy he got to hang out with them at all. Clearly, this weird purgatory he was stuck in was some kind of punishment, so he should have been grateful he got to have any fun. Now he was just being greedy.

His smile disappeared and with one last forlorn look around the empty neighborhood of snow piled cars, homes, and yards, he reluctantly took off on the nearest breeze.

Still…just once he wanted to know what it would be like to bunker down with some hot coco and a group of friends. Ha. He probably wouldn’t even be able to drink it. That seemed appropriate. He just wasn’t made that way.

It was okay though. It was only a matter of time until he ran into someone who could see him, another spirit, or a kid that could see ghosts, or someone. Anyone. Or maybe he’d serve enough time and then he’d get to move onto…whatever came after this, or maybe even live again, if he’d ever been alive.

“Oh yeah? And what would you do then?” Jack grumbled to himself. “Buy a house with all the money you have…get a cool job with all your skills in getting ice all over everything. You could drive a snowplow, that would be ironic…oh, but wait! You don’t know how to drive either! Darn, well, okay, can’t cook, clean, use a computer, suck at talking to people, I’m sure starting school at like, a hundred years old would be a hoot, but I don’t think I’d fit in those tiny chairs.” He snorted in amusement as he dove through a cloud. “Jeez, I’m kind of a dick sometimes. I really should talk to myself about that.”

–

It was an accident.

The blizzard was undeniably brutal. He knew that, but that’s just how it goes sometimes, and yeah, he knew he’d lost control, but he didn’t mean it. It wasn’t like he was trying to hurt anyone. He was just letting off some steam, but this time a lot of people had gotten hurt because he’d just sort of blanked out and couldn’t stop screaming, and then everything was ice and wind and snow and he hadn’t meant for that, and he certainly hadn’t meant for anybody to die.

It was an accident. It was an accident. It was an–

-

“I just…wanna know…what I did,” he pleaded, voice ragged already from hours of crying and screaming and pleading with no one.

It was another one of those days.

He kneeled in the snow and he waited. The forest had no answers for him. The moon sure as hell had no answers for him, but he just couldn’t make himself get up. It was all just pointless. Doubling over and burying his face in the snow with his fingers gripping at his hair was pointless. It never made anybody see him. It never made anybody talk to him. This was it, this was all there was and he just couldn’t accept that. If he could just accept it and forget all about things ever being different, maybe things could be like they had been in the beginning. Whatever happened to that? That first hundred years or so, that wasn’t so bad, couldn’t he just go back to that?

The darkness wrapped around him mercifully, shielding him from the world he wasn’t even really a part of, but was forced to watch, day in and day out. He was losing his grip on reality. Even the darkness felt sentient to him sometimes, like this, when he was at his lowest, out of pure desperation.

There had to be someone else out there. There had to.

—

There were other people out there, spirits like him that could see him, as it turned out, and that was an amazing relief, but there were also some rather large issues that made things…complicated. It wasn’t exactly the hot coco and snowball fights he’d imagined.

Turns out, after hundreds of years of being completely alone, your people skills aren’t exactly up to par. Maybe that was why the spirits he found never seemed to have time for him or just didn’t seem to like him very much. Maybe if he was less annoying, or more interesting, Bunny wouldn’t have immediately told him to get lost. He was just trying to play, like he did with the kids, and it wasn’t appreciated by anybody, ever, and he just didn’t get it. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do differently.

When Bunny finally mentioned the others, starting with Sandy, that didn’t exactly go great either. He was nice enough, but talking was tough and he always fell asleep before they really got anywhere. It took ages for him to even find out about North and Tooth, and that was promising, he thought, until he realized how absurdly busy they both were, everyday, all the time. No matter what, it always felt like he was bothering them, and they tried and apologized and said he was welcome, but saying it and showing it were two totally different things, and Jack just didn’t feel like talking about teeth and toys all the time.

It was almost worse knowing that there were people out there he could talk to, that didn’t want to talk to him, or wouldn’t, or couldn’t. He couldn’t say he was any much less alone, even if it was nice to know at least he had the option of popping in to visit them now and then.

But most of the time, he kept to himself and he did what he always did. He had fun.

So, understandably, when The Guardians asked for his help, he was stunned. He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but it was absolutely a huge deal because for the first time ever they wanted him involved in something. He wanted to be bitter and mad about the way they’d treated him, and he didn’t want anything to do with their Guardian stuff, but what he did want was for someone to see him, and they could give him that. They were finally willing to give him that, and he’d take whatever he could get because even though it made him feel like crap nothing was worse than the way things already were.

He said he would think about it. This Pitch Black guy did sound really dangerous, that was true, and he hated the idea of kids suffering just because of some power hungry asshole, but it just wasn’t really his thing, super serious meetings and fighting and what not. He didn’t see how he could even really help anyway. How was snow going to help them win what was starting to sound like a full-on war? What was he gonna do, hit Pitch with a snowball? So stupid.

He wanted them off his back, but then as soon as he started trying to distance himself from them, even as soon as he left North’s workshop, he felt a jolt of fear. Not doing what they wanted meant being alone again. Maybe they didn’t actually like him, maybe Bunny straight up hated his guts cause he didn’t know how to take a joke, but if they were willing to put up with him that was worth something, as much as he would have been ashamed to admit it. At one point, they hadn’t even been willing to do that.

So he stayed involved, but things just seemed to get worse and worse. If he felt like he was bothering them before, now he felt like he was their plan’s entire achilles heel, dragging everyone down. Why couldn’t he just keep his stupid mouth shut?

“I’m just saying, isn’t it better not to use violence or whatever? Aren’t we supposed to be the good guys?” Jack asked, looking around at the Guardians at the table, which Jack had his feet propped up on. Jeez, it was just a question, and they were already acting like he’d sent an avalanche down onto their mothers.

“Mate, how many times do we have to go over this? It’s Pitch! Nobody cares what happens to him!” Bunny cried in frustration, finally getting to his feet.

Something about that struck Jack in a sore spot, or at least he assumed it must have because he stood up too, grabbing his staff, and yelled back, “Oh yeah? Well I do. You want my help, we need to at least try to talk to him.”

“And give him an opportunity to get a leg up on us? I don’t think so!” Bunny cried back incredulously, looking at the others and gesturing to him like he was nuts.

“Jack,” Toothiana reasoned as she hovered over, putting herself not so subtly between the two of them while Sandy and North looked on with concern. “It’s really good that you have such a big heart, but we have to think of the children first. They haven’t done anything wrong to deserve this and what Pitch is planning would really hurt them.”

“Pitch can’t help it if his center is fear. Doesn’t he at least deserve a chance to stop what he’s doing before we destroy him? Did you talk to him?”

North crossed his arms over his broad chest, a patient, but intense look on his face. “Pitch has been given many, many chances to be different and he does not. We have to think of the children. Children are most important, more than anything else.”

“Why, just because you guys all get your power from them or whatever?” Jack scoffed quietly in disgust. “You know, I’m getting really sick of hearing you guys say that like you think I don’t care about the kids. I know more about children than any of you, I’ve spent all my time with them because I had no one else to spend it with. Don’t act like I don’t care about kids,” he finished angrily before hopping onto a bit of wind and heading for the nearest window. “I need some air.”

“But we do need to talk about this again, as soon as possible, okay, Jack? Just take care of yourself first and we’ll be here,” Tooth offered with a small, worried smile. She looked tired, and he felt bad for her, but that didn’t change the rest of this. It didn’t change the fact that even now , when they thought he wasn’t looking, they were all exchanging knowing glances, like they just knew he would do this.

Bunny scoffed and thumped his foot on the hardwood, pulling up a path to the warren. “Yeah, well I won’t,” he spat back before disappearing. Jack rolled his eyes and ducked out through the window then took off.

If they weren’t going to do it, he’d do it himself.

——

Jack wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but a busted up bed in the middle of the woods wasn’t it. It seemed a bit underwhelming, honestly, considering how much the others talked up The Nightmare King, and considering it was supposed to be impossible to find.

Although…

“...definitely creepy, though,” he muttered to himself as he pushed one of the loose boards with his toe, causing it to fall in. “Whoops.”

A bed in the middle of the woods just seemed wrong. He paused and looked around the forest, feeling like he was being watched. He was definitely just being paranoid, probably, but even the dark trees around him seemed ominous. Maybe he was just giving himself one last chance to change his mind because, after all, this was probably a bad idea. He looked back into the hole, frowning, then shrugged, took a step forward, and let himself fall in.

He slowed his fall as he was swallowed by the rocky chute and when he at last came to the bottom he felt more paranoid than ever. The only difference was that now he had every right to be. Every corner could have something lurking in those looming shadows. Besides the ultra creepy hanging cages and endless dark passageways, Pitch was probably already watching him, or at least knew he was here. Something intangible in the air felt like it had changed.

He floated down, hovering over a large, flat expanse of rock that covered only a small portion of the incredibly vast, intricate space. He glanced up and saw a staircase upside down on the ceiling leading into a dark tunnel, and his skin crawled, even though that was pretty cool. Could The Boogeyman actually use it? That would be totally awesome to see.

He shook his head. Focus, Jack. “Hello?” he called, the caverns somehow both echoing and immediately swallowing his voice. “Hey, Pitch! I uh…hi! It’s…Jack? Jack Frost? Uh…you busy? You don’t…know me or anything, but…”

He stepped down onto solid ground, hearing the soft sound of his bare feet on the rock as he started to wander idly, head twisting this way and that, then was startled when he glanced behind him and Pitch was just standing there, staring at him with an expression of careful neutrality.

“Hello, Jack.”

Jack’s blue eyes stared up at him, comically wide. He hadn’t expected the silky purr of The Nightmare King’s voice, anticipating something a little creepier, ferocious even, but the chills running down his spine were not at all the unwelcome sorts. He clutched his staff tighter to his chest in both hands before flashing him a toothy grin.

“Hi. How’s it going? Wow, you’re tall…uh…” His brain cramped as Pitch took a slow, purposeful step closer, looking Jack up and down in a way that, to his surprise, lacked any hostility, but Jack still couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all and that put him on edge. What he did know was he was being appraised.

“You must be lost,” Pitch teased quietly. “This is certainly no place for little frost spirits to play.”

Jack disagreed. He felt like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Pitch prompted, with a bit of a sarcastic lilt, when Jack failed to explain just showing up in his lair like this.

Feeling suddenly oddly shy, Jack gripped his staff in both hands and leaned against it, tilting his head and peering up at Pitch with the sweet, guileless sort of expression that tended to get him out of a lot of trouble. “I just…wanted to meet you. You know? Heard a lot about you.”

He felt Pitch watching him closely as he hopped up and sat on the crook of his staff, balancing delicately and effortlessly to show that this was totally not a big deal at all. He was just hanging out up here, feet dangling, feeling a bit like a cat as he put on an air of being utterly unbothered, and instead of gawking, he tore his gaze away from The Boogeyman like he couldn’t have cared less that he was huge and dark and pretty and every bit as terrifying as Jack, for some reason, hadn’t actually expected he would be.

“Nice place you got here. Who’s your decorator? Do they do large pine trees in the middle of nowhere?”

Pitch’s eyes continued following him, hands clasped neatly behind his back as he approached with one eyebrow raised and a little smirk of amusement. “You wanted to meet me and now you have. It is wonderful to meet you. Jack Frost. Although, I already knew of you, of course. The flesh does do you more justice, I’ll say.”

In excitement, Jack grabbed his staff out from under himself and floated, gaping at Pitch again in amazement, and with just enough hope to tug at the heartstrings. “You’ve heard of me? How?” Also, like, didn’t that kind of sound like flirting? Weird flirting, but flirting. Pitch’s gaze suddenly seemed ravenous.

“Well, of course I have. Who hasn’t heard of the wondrous Jack Frost?” Pitch lilted, gliding forward to meet him face-to-face at last, shark-like with grace.

Now recognizing it for the jab it was, Jack glared at him, hoping it was enough to cover up the hurt, and gripped his staff tight at his side as he sank a little closer to the floor. “Yeah, well, like, everyone, apparently. Except you, I guess, and The Guardians.”

Jack looked away as his words hung on an awkward note. Of course it was a joke. No one had heard of him.

Jack was getting nervous now as Pitch began to slowly circle him, his gaze even more intense than before. The animal sheen of his golden eyes flickered in the dim light and Jack swallowed, staff held aloft as he turned his head this way and that, trying to keep track of him, but Pitch never seemed to be where he was meant to be as though physics simply didn’t apply to him. If he had to guess, he’d say they absolutely didn’t.

“Ah yes, The Guardians. I make it my business to know everyone they’re associating with. And, naturally, they’ve made you their little errand boy.”

“Nope, try again,” Jack threw back at him, eyes darting around as they tried to follow him, moving in and out of the shadows. This felt strangely familiar, making him feel even more off-kilter. Despite Pitch’s teasing, they had definitely never met. He’d remember if they had. “I’m not here for them.”

“Is that so?” Pitch lilted from the dark. “To what do I owe this little intrusion then?”

“I…” Jack hesitated, feeling intensely vulnerable as he realized that in all honesty he wasn’t really sure why he was there. It was a pretty stupid idea, he had to admit. Even worse, Pitch seemed to pick up on this, his gaze snagging on him as his gate slowed and he moved out into the minimal light there was to get a better look at him.

“I don’t…know. I just wanted to see you.” Jack’s staff hung low and forgotten at his side as his gaze dropped. His chest felt tight and he clawed at it absently, not realizing he was doing so. “I…yeah, no. That’s it. Guess I just thought…you might wanna be friends or something?” He dared a timid glance back up at Pitch, eyes big and blue and much too vulnerable, but he couldn’t help it. Something inside him was screaming. He wanted to be vulnerable in front of Pitch. He wanted to feed himself to him.

Pitch’s face was curiously blank. After a pause long enough to make Jack’s skin crawl with anticipation, Pitch finally hissed, “And what makes you think I would want that?”

It stung way more than it should have. He had to catch his breath for a second, but tried not to let it show. Instead, he just offered him a tiny smile and a shrug.

“Everyone needs friends, right?”

Pitch just stared at him, expression unchanging, but to Jack’s surprise he showed no disgust and didn’t right out reject his offer either, technically. He did, however, throw out a sarcastic little, “Projecting, are we?”

Jack knew he’d let a wounded look cross his face, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He’d decided to be vulnerable. He’d opened himself up to this, and it was his own fault.

And the worst part was he didn’t know what he could possibly say to that because Pitch was absolutely right.

His gaze fell, but shot back up as Pitch turned his back on him and started walking away. “You have friends, Jack. Leave me be.”

A jolt of panic shot through him, and he nearly went after Pitch, but he forced himself to be still. He couldn't make Pitch be his friend. He couldn’t make anyone stay. That was something he’d never been able to make anybody do.

But the sight of Pitch disappearing into the dark fractured him, and he found himself suddenly pleading in a shaky little voice, “Please, Pitch. Don’t leave.”

Pitch stopped just before his black robes faded into the dark completely. Jack grimaced, wrapping his arm over his stomach as he stared at Pitch’s back with intense desperation. It felt very easy for all of this to just slip between their fingers then and he just hoped Pitch would turn around. Just look at him.

He wouldn’t though, they never did. Suddenly sickened by the thought of Pitch disappearing into the dark, Jack decided to disappear first, turning and darting back towards the tunnel in the ceiling that served as an entrance.

“Jack.”

Jack stopped, frozen. He was too afraid to turn around at first, but eventually he swore under his breath to himself and turned back to look at Pitch.

Pitch was gazing up at him cautiously, afraid of scaring him off, it seemed. After a long, tense silence they were both afraid to fill, Pitch finally offered gently, “You shouldn’t be here, little Guardian, but I would like you to stay anyway.”

Jack breathed in deeply, his eyes widening. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Actually, he couldn’t believe it at all. This had to be some kind of trap, right?

When he didn’t respond right away, Pitch held his hand out to him, palm up, fingers fanned elegantly, and added softly, “Please.”

He hesitated and glanced back in the direction of the entrance, unconvinced, tense, and ready to bolt. He was just embarrassing himself. It would be easier and more rational to just leave and try to pretend like none of this ever happened. The Guardians would absolutely flip if they knew what was happening right now. They’d been on his case about Pitch ever since the beginning, like he’d have any idea what The Boogeyman was doing when he’d never even met the guy.

In the end, Jack found he couldn’t resist the hand Pitch was offering him.

After catching his breath and trying and failing to rethink his life choices, Jack slowly floated back down towards Pitch’s outstretched hand, deciding he wanted to know who the real Pitch Black was.

He barely kept himself from cringing away as Pitch reached for him, but he didn’t, and instead allowed Pitch to grip his wrist and pull him back down to earth so he was once more standing in front of him. Somehow, in that span of time, Jack found they’d gone from being Jack Frost, The Guardian of Fun and Pitch Black, The Boogeyman, to just two people. Goosebumps danced up his arms and down his back as he felt Pitch’s hand slide smoothly from Jack’s wrist into his hand, and Jack stared up into his golden eyes as he just stood there, holding it. His hand was so warm.

Jack tried to let himself be vulnerable again, even after Pitch had thrown that back in his face. He wasn’t sure Pitch knew how to be vulnerable, but his aloof mask was long gone and now he just looked tired. He looked tired and miserable and defeated. Even so, his golden gaze was soft, and Jack was certain whatever Pitch Black he was seeing right now was the real one.

Now that they were so close, both still and quiet, the air between them resonated with a strange tension. It felt like in the silence they were saying way more than they’d actually managed to say out loud so far. Jack was so mesmerized and unable to look away in that moment that he actually wondered if Pitch could have hypnotized him somehow.

“If you would really like to be friends,” Pitch began quietly, “...I think that can be arranged. Is that what you really want, Jack?”

Jack nodded, eyes sparkling up at him. “Yes…”

Pitch nodded, and Jack watched, too stunned to react, as Pitch lifted Jack’s hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of it delicately, all the while staring intently into his eyes.

“Then it is so.”

Jack looked at their hands in wonder as they lowered, but continued holding on to one another. Pitch’s skin looked so beautiful and he couldn’t imagine it any shade other than gray, and he was warm, even warmer than anyone else he knew. His eyes darted back up to Pitch’s and he saw him doing the same, first staring at their hands before meeting Jack’s eyes again, and they were so many layered shades of gold, Jack was captivated by the way they glittered and gleamed and seemed to see everything. Neither of them pulled away at first and somehow just holding hands suddenly seemed intensely intimate.

Jack’s mind was warm and foggy when Pitch finally did release him, and now he couldn’t quite figure out how he was supposed to react in this situation. That wasn’t normal. This wasn’t normal, right?

“Cool,” he finally said thickly. “Uh, are you messing with me? …cause if you are, you should just tell me…I’ll go easy on you, I promise.”

Pitch hummed in thought, and was quiet. At first, Jack didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he did, saying in a low voice, “Perhaps I simply have a soft spot for lost little things in the dark.”

Jack cringed, but despite his embarrassment at being so transparent, apparently, after a moment his body leaned closer without him really thinking about it. They’d been touching and that was nice, and now they weren’t and Jack was thinking it would be nice to go back to that. Touch starved would be an understatement, and for whatever reason Pitch seemed potentially ready and willing to give it to him.

Pitch just smirked and brushed by Jack, walking towards somewhere behind him. Jack turned to watch him, and found himself nearly face to face with his chest. Especially after all the circling from earlier, it was starting to feel like they were dancing, especially as he felt a hand land on his waist. Pitch just laid it there like it was the most normal thing in the world and again Jack noticed the heat of his hand burning him. It was all he could think about. Pitch knew that, he had to, he was totally messing with him.

“…you’re so hot,” Jack said finally, before choking and stepping back. “Warm! Like, you’re warm, temperature wise, it’s um…yeah, never mind,” he finished, mortified as he stuck his hands in his armpits.

To his surprise, Pitch cackled, and even though he was embarrassed, making Pitch of all people laugh like that felt really, really amazing. It was such a full, rich sound, reverberating through the cavern around them.

Jack beamed up at him. “Glad you’re happy at least. You like that? Me suffering for your amusement?”

“Very much so,” Pitch confirmed with a toothy smirk. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re cool.”

Pitch laughed again as Jack covered his face with his hands and groaned loudly. “Oh my god, stoooop…” Even while he said it, he was still grinning behind his hands.

He was surprised when Pitch grabbed each of his wrists and pulled his hands away from his face, standing much too close. Jack stared at him wide-eyed and flushed as Pitch teased, “I thought you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah, I think I changed my mind,” Jack said, but was grinning too much for it to be convincing. “Also, ooo, do we need a safe word? Mine’s pineapples.”

Pitch immediately let go of him and now Jack was the one laughing. Still, neither of them had stepped back at all. He knew it was just because he wasn’t used to contact with other people yet, but it made his heart race. That being said, he could feel his face was rather warm and rosy as he stared up at Pitch, bright-eyed and thrilled because, really, this was going well, wasn’t it?

“Alright, I guess you had a point,” Jack admitted.

Pitch raised a skeptical brow at him, clearly uncertain as to exactly what Jack was referring to. “Did I, now?”

Jack wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, you are pretty easy on the eyes.”

Pitch raised a slender eyebrow at him in turn. “You aren’t seriously flirting with me right now, Jack Frost.”

Jack just grinned up at him. He could have sworn he could feel the heat radiating from Pitch’s body, but that was highly unlikely. “That depends, is it working?”

Pitch rolled his eyes, but still had a vivacious smirk plastered across his face. “I think you’re out of practice.”

“That’s not a no,” Jack pointed out cheerfully. “Show me how it’s done then, your majesty, there’s no way you’re any better when you’ve been hanging out down here for a million years. I bet you can’t even remember how to–”

He realized he might have gone too far, but by the time he realized Pitch was backing him into the wall it was too late. He was already caged in, one gray hand planted on the cave wall above him, the rest of his larger frame blocking an easy escape. Suddenly, Jack felt very, very small, realizing he hardly even came up to Pitch’s chest, and now Pitch was so close that he really could feel the heat from his body.

And all of that definitely wasn’t hot. At all.

All Jack’s bravado was gone now though as he stared fearfully up at Pitch looming over him, golden eyes blazing, face an unreadable mask. Pitch was stronger, they were in his lair, playing by his rules, and all Jack could do was wait and hope Pitch couldn’t see him shivering.

Pitch raised his free hand and Jack went very still, hardly breathing as Pitch ran the back of his hand down his cheek with all the tenderness in the world, slowly, like he was savoring the touch.

Jack let his breath out in a rush, chest heaving quietly as he tried to blink away his confusion and fear, but the image before him didn’t change. Now Pitch’s expression was mischievous and dripping with arrogance, and Jack found that though he was afraid, he didn’t want to get away anymore. He supposed, pathetically, he’d take affection where he could get it. He just didn’t know why he was getting it now, from Pitch, of all people, and yet that didn’t change the way his heart fluttered, eyes closing halfway as Pitch took his face in his hand, cradling his cheek and jaw like he actually meant something. He let out a small, involuntary and entirely pathetic noise as Pitch’s thumb slowly began caressing his cheek and suddenly his whole body was on fire.

He was drowning. Pitch’s honeyed gaze was filling an empty space inside of him and it was so good it hurt, but he didn’t understand, and that hurt too.

“Why is it that you are not more afraid of me…Jack Frost?” Pitch leaned down and breathed across his neck.

Jack wasn’t sure if he was actually meant to answer. Either way, he wasn’t sure he could. His lips parted, but the only sound that came out was a breathless little whine. Should he have been more afraid? He was afraid, he definitely had been, but now that he was realizing this was just Pitch’s version of flirting being demonstrated, he was quickly turning to putty in his hands and the fear, really, just made it better. He liked it. He wanted to be scared.

Pitch hovered mere inches from Jack’s face, and for one absurd moment he was sure Pitch was going to kiss him, but then he stopped just short of his lips. Jack could feel the moist heat of his breath, so much warmer than his own. He was so tired of being cold all the time, no matter the place, no matter the season. Just cold.

“Perhaps you should be more afraid,” Pitch advised him quietly. “That might be more wise. Fear is meant to keep you alive.”

Miraculously, Jack found his voice. “Yeah, well, it’s…I like it,” he breathed, licking his lips. “Besides, pretty sure I’m already dead. So…I’m…fine. With it. With, uh…you…”

Before he could say anymore, Pitch slowly closed the distance between them. Jack could never say he hadn’t had plenty of time to decide he didn’t like this, to use his staff, to do something else, because when Pitch pressed his lips against his finally it was after a torturously long pause in which Pitch just lingered, like he was savoring Jack’s anxiety, and maybe he was. Maybe the anticipation felt good to him. Whatever the reason, the kiss was slow at first, but scorching, leaving Jack already helpless as he kissed him softly over and over and, okay, Jack didn’t actually know what kissing was generally supposed to be like, but this was not a casual make out session. No way. This was tiny hairs rising on the back of his neck, legs weak, body immediately aching with want.

Pitch licked slowly into Jack’s mouth and he parted his lips for him eagerly, idly rocking his hips as Pitch’s hands possessively pulled him closer. Jack was mortified when Pitch tilted his head, slid his tongue hot and slow further into Jack’s mouth, and Jack let out a desperate little sound somewhere between a whimper and an exhale. Pitch’s responding hum of approval, though, vibrating across his tongue, coupled with the tightening of the hand on his waist as Pitch pulled him flush against his hips, shot him straight through with liquid heat so good it was almost painful. No, this was absolutely not a casual make out session. It wasn’t even inherently more sexual than he would have expected, or aggressive, or anything like that. But it was way more intense. He felt like he was kissing someone for the first and last time and needed to make it count. He felt like Pitch was the one afraid. He felt like Pitch was signing his name in pitch black ink on his heart every time it beat, and Jack wanted him to, he wanted him everywhere.

Pitch was clearly taking his time, gradually warming the temperature of Jack’s mouth up for him and Jack didn’t mind a bit. Behind closed eyes, his head was spinning with such unexpected fervent want he was glad he had the wall behind him for support.

He never, ever would have imagined Pitch would want to kiss him, let alone kiss him like this, so it hadn’t even really been an option in Jack’s mind even though obviously Pitch was gorgeous. Jack found almost right away, as soon as he saw the bed over the entrance even, the fear it provoked didn’t sit inside him like a burden, but rather like a coiled spring, and then seeing Pitch himself? All that confidence, that smooth voice, even the deep V of his robe, it wasn’t even fair, but it didn’t matter because he was smarts and elegance and class, and Jack was…Jack.

He really didn’t want to ruin it, but it was too good to be true. He wasn’t that naive and he wasn’t stupid either, even though The Guardians quite often treated him like he was, so when he got his brain to form a coherent thought, Jack leaned back to catch his breath, just a little.

To his surprise, Pitch did the same, not seeming eager to immediately continue, and not pretending to be aloof and unaffected either. In fact, Jack thought he looked just as wrecked as he was, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Then again, neither did anything else, all of a sudden.

He was definitely missing something here. He just wasn’t sure how to ask since he didn’t really know the question.

Well, there was one question he could think of.

“Jeez,” Jack said, laughing breathlessly. “Where were you all that time?”

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he definitely didn’t expect Pitch’s reaction to be for all the color to drain out of his face until he looked ghostly, for all the emotion to fall away leaving nothing at all. Something about the reaction made Jack stop breathing and have a hard time starting again and he stared up at him, frozen.

“What was that?” Pitch responded, barely louder than a whisper as he leaned back.

Jack stammered soundlessly as Pitch stepped away from him before finally he choked out, “I just…I was just saying, you know, all that time I was alone and like, if you’d been there then it would’ve…been nice.”

Pitch’s face was completely blank. It was disturbing for reasons Jack couldn’t even begin to describe, but not the least of which was because it meant whatever had been happening between them a moment ago was now over.

“Yes, well,” Pitch began, straightening himself up as if he didn’t still look flawless. “As much of a fun little distraction as you’ve been, unless you’d like to return to utter isolation, I think it’s time for you to remember whose side you’re supposed to be on.”

As far as Jack was concerned, Pitch might as well have kicked him in the teeth. He reeled, blinking away pain and anger. “…I’m not on anyone’s side,” he managed to spit back at him. “I would have thought that’d be really obvious after you just had your tongue down my throat, but okay, let’s hear it. Why should I even have to be on a side?”

Pitch peered down at him coldly, looking as though his mind was already ahead to what more important things he would be doing as soon as he dealt with Jack’s tantrum. “Careful, Jack. You sound very much like the child you practically are.”

“And you sound like a complete dickhead. What’s your excuse then, aren’t you thousands of years old? Shouldn’t you know better than to have to resort to name calling because you don’t wanna answer a simple question?”

“Mm.” Pitch tilted his head eerily as he eyed him like he was trying to decide which part to eat first. “Shame. You were doing so well.” He waved his hand dismissively, turned, and started walking away. “I’ve had enough babysitting for today. You may see yourself out.”

For a moment there was just the sound of Pitch’s quiet footsteps on the stone, but then, much like last time, he halted at the sound of Jack’s voice, this time ringing loud and clear.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Pitch turned abruptly, just in time to see Jack waving a curt goodbye before quickly heading back the way he came.

Chapter Text

After having a chance to reconsider how much of a dick Pitch had been, Jack decided not to come back like he’d promised after all. He’d mostly just said that to get under Pitch’s skin, anyway.

The problem was, it seemed Pitch had gotten under his too. In the end, what it really came down to was Jack couldn’t stop thinking about Pitch and practically swooning, as embarrassing as that was. He’d space out in the branches of one of his favorite trees and lose himself thinking about Pitch’s little smirk, the naturally seductive lilt of his voice, or the way Pitch’s hands gripped him possessively like he knew as well as Jack did he was already his.

He’d visited North to try and keep Pitch out of his mind, but it only made him notice the things he liked about being around Pitch even more. He missed the snarky banter. He missed his sharp edges and the uncertainty. North was so brash and jolly, it just made Jack’s feelings about Pitch stronger.

Tooth, too, was able to keep his mind occupied for a while, but it wasn’t long before the shimmering of gold somewhere in the palace would remind him of Pitch’s eyes, and he ended up leaving feeling disgusted with himself.

They’d only met once. What was the big deal? Fine, his eyes were pretty, and yeah, his facial structure was unique enough that anyone would be mesmerized by him. And he liked that he was tall, and the way his robes moved as he seemed to glide from one place to the next. There was a lot to appreciate about him physically, but he was an unpredictable, dangerous, arrogant jerk. Jack had to be nuts to spend time with someone as nice as Tooth and be distracted by thoughts of Pitch’s goddamn eyes.

And, of course, Jack spent time with the kids. He stuck mostly to his hometown for a couple days, making sure everyone was doing okay. Claude and Caleb weren’t fighting anymore, at least not as much as they were the last time he’d seen them, so that was good. They were on speaking terms again anyway. Cupcake was getting super good at drawing and lately she’d been turning her artwork into little clay figurines, which Jack thought was the coolest. She went in so hard on anything she put her mind to, which was everything, and he couldn’t wait to see what kind of adult she would grow into. Sophie had lost a tooth, which wasn’t that uncommon these days, and Jamie…

“Hey little dude,” Jack greeted, floating gracefully in through the window like a bit of fluff from a dandelion head, landing behind Jamie where he was plopped down at his desk. “Ah. Homework. What kind?” Jack asked, peering over his shoulder as Jamie let out a deep sigh. “Math, huh? You got this, bud, that’s easy stuff.”

Jack sighed, turned around, and sat on the floor by Jamie’s desk, leaning back against the wall casually. He was still troubled by his meeting with Pitch. Despite his best efforts to forget all about it, he’d found himself reminded of Pitch wherever he went, and of the strange way he’d acted. It felt like he was missing something. Something big.

After a while of sitting in the quiet, Jack murmured, “Mind if I vent a little bit? …yeah, didn’t think so.” He sighed softly through his nose, staring vacantly across the dark room, lit only by Jamie’s desk lamp. It was just enough light to illuminate his newest crayon drawing of a dinosaur on the nearby wall. Jack admired it as he listened to the sound of Jamie’s pen scratching away at the paper and occasionally the tick of a calculator or an eraser moving across the page.

“…so,I think I…have a crush. On this guy,” Jack started awkwardly. “He’s…kind of a jerk. Really good-looking, smart and cool. He, um…I guess I made him mad? I’m not really sure. I really should just leave him alone, probably, huh? But it feels like…it almost feels like I already know him…it’s like…ah, jeez,” he grumbled, rubbing his hand across his face. “What am I doing?”

Jamie groaned as if in commiseration and Jack smiled a little then froze as Jamie muttered, “You got this, come on…”

Jack looked up at him hesitantly. He was just talking to himself, right? “...thanks,” he mumbled back anyway, then let out a breathless little laugh, smiling sadly. “You always know just what to say.” He grinned up at Jamie as the boy scribbled away with a determined scowl on his face. “So you think I should go for it?”

Jamie paused, erased something, then continued writing. It looked like he was nearly finished. Jack sighed and looked down, his smile fading away. He wished he had somebody he could really talk to about this.

Finally, Jamie started putting away his school papers, tucking them into his backpack, so Jack floated back up onto his feet. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Don’t stay up too late, little dude…or just don’t get caught. Personally, I don’t see the big deal,reading comics after bedtime, but…Mom said you’d get your metal detector taken away.”

Jamie grumbled to himself about grownups being lame and Jack chuckled a little.

He headed for the window, but paused right before he left. “…hey, thanks for listening.”

“Nooo problem!” Jamie said. Jack spun around quickly to see Jamie concentrating as he chucked a ball of paper into the bin. He made it in and whooped excitedly. “Easy street!”

Jack stood quietly by the open window for a while, looking at the floor before looking up at the moon and sighing. He hopped up onto the windowsill as he slipped out into the night he heard Jamie say, “Oh, that dang window again.”

——

Jamie’s imaginary pep talk didn’t exactly convince Jack to go back, but the fact that Jack was even trying to take it like it was a sign told him that he really should go for it. Or, at least, he should go back and just see what happened.

Maybe he was just bored, who knows, but he swallowed his pride and returned to The Boogeyman’s Lair a few weeks later. Immediately, things felt awkward, but he was surprised to find that Pitch, at least, didn’t actually seem irked by the sight of him floating down into his lair. Jack wouldn’t have really blamed him for not wanting to see him, but right away he thought Pitch seemed just as willing to forget their first encounter as Jack was.

He stepped down onto the smooth expanse of rock just beneath the tunnel from the surface and cautiously walked up to Pitch, feeling absurdly short. He didn’t want to come off as feeling as uncomfortable as he was, so he did his best to put on a casual air as they came face to face, forcing himself to relax his posture and not grip his staff so tight.

Pitch gazed back at him evenly, his keen eyes raking over Jack as they took him in with intense focus. Jack paused as well, letting the silence surround him as he tried to decide what kind of mood Pitch seemed to be in today. It didn’t help that the first moments after descent were always a bit jarring; all the sounds of the world disappeared and he entered a space where sunlight no longer ruled. It made him wonder what it must be like, then, for Pitch to spend so much time in the dark, only to be confronted by an explosion of light and sound and expected to adjust every time he emerged.

“Hey,” Jack said casually as if he hadn’t just reappeared after weeks of absence following a first meeting that had resulted in him honoring his namesake and jacking off the whole time. He tried not to think about that now, of all times, and instead focus on how he could maybe not fuck this up.

Besides, it wasn’t the whole time.

“Hello, Jack,” Pitch greeted him in return with just as much attention to appearing casual. That’s what Jack thought, anyway, and then promptly did himself no favors by wondering if Pitch had jacked off too, maybe even thinking about him. He did say he was a fun distraction, after all, not a dull and uninspiring one.

Jack was pretty sure he was supposed to say something now, so he frantically buried those thoughts and opened his mouth, hoping words would come out. Unfortunately, he immediately got distracted instead. Leaning his head back, he looked first at the ceiling, then craned his head to look around a pillar he hadn’t remembered being there.

“Is this…?” he began, pointing at the pillar. “Does this place change?”

“Yes,” Pitch said simply as he watched Jack spin in place, gazing all around him in awe.

“Wow,” Jack breathed. “This place is so cool…is the whole thing like that? …how do you find your way around?”

“I use the shadows to get where I need to go,” he stated simply. “But some things do remain the same.”

“Ah, well that’s nifty,” Jack said, a genuine and easy smile floating across his face despite his nerves being frayed. When he faced forward and looked back at Pitch, he caught the older man staring at him with an oddly wistful face. Jack frowned, concerned. Maybe for Pitch, the world, even his own world, didn’t seem to have the wonder in it that it once did. Or maybe he was lonely?

Jack watched Pitch back, trying to think of what to say. He felt like he should say something at least. If he didn’t know how to make him feel better, he could distract him. He was a fun distraction, after all. “Um…hey, look, I’m sorry about the other day? I, uh…I didn’t mean…”

Pitch just waved his hand dismissively and shook his head. “Think nothing of it. Although I am a bit surprised you returned.”

Jack shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, well. You probably shouldn’t be. You can read my fears, right?”

Pitch raised his eyebrows a little, as if surprised. He probably expected him to be much less self-aware than that. He didn’t exactly give off an aura of someone particularly insightful, but he was at least aware of how desperate he was for company, even if he tried to convince himself he wasn’t.

Jack looked down a little, fiddling with his staff, feeling sort of foolish. He was relieved when Pitch broke the silence. Jack looked up at him, eyes wide and bright with attention.

“What is it, exactly, I can do for you today, Jack?” Pitch asked.

Jack chuckled softly, looking down, then peering back up at Pitch through his lashes. “I don’t know. I hear I’m rather good at being a fun little distraction. Whaaat do you wanna do?”

Pitch let out a long, dreamy sigh and looked Jack up and down, then countered, “I believe I asked you first.”

“Oh cool, you can count.” Jack laughed as he dodged Pitch’s reaching arm, shuttling backwards into the air before quickly returning, a mischievous grin on his face. He was starting to feel like Pitch brought out both the best and the worst in him.

“I’d considered apologizing for my behavior, but I’m not sure you deserve it,” Pitch said with irritation and playfulness in equal measure.

Jack just laughed more and came back to land in front of him, hands on his hips. “Whatever. I’ve been called way worse.”

Pitch gestured with his head for Jack to follow him then turned and walked towards a grand staircase carved intricately out of stone, railings and all. It spoke to the vast, disorienting nature of the space that Jack had hardly even noticed it. He followed, beaming and breathless with excitement. As he walked at Pitch’s side he tried to keep the bounce in his step to a minimum, and was relieved that Pitch seemed to be in an amicable mood. He really wanted to try and actually get to know him. He was definitely the most interesting person he’d ever met. Sadly, he doubted Pitch found him quite as interesting.

“That is not a marker I’d consider valuable,” Pitch commented, referencing Jack’s track record of being insulted worse than Pitch had done, so far. “Although, I suppose you’re right.” He looked down at Jack as they walked, folding his hands neatly behind his back. “I have quite the sharp tongue.”

“Felt fine to me.” Jack paused briefly, mouth open as he registered what just came out of it, then quickly added, “The next time you get sick of hearing me talk, think about this moment and just imagine how sick of hearing myself I am. Okay? Okay. Cause I guarantee you, I am way more sick of it than you are.”

Pitch belly laughed, the sound echoing eerily throughout the caverns as they walked, and Jack beamed at the accomplishment, laughing a little himself. As they neared the stop of the stairs, Pitch flashed him a playful smirk, making Jack’s heart stutter.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I can always take care of that little problem if it should arise.”

“Not the first person to threaten to gag me, either.”

“But I promise you, I will be the first to follow through,” Pitch purred, reached out, and took Jack by the hand.

Jack flushed, glancing down at their hands like he’d never seen hands before, and only understood once they passed under a tall archway into a hall with no light whatsoever. He couldn’t see a thing in front of him, and he squeezed Pitch’s hand. He nearly whined as Pitch squeezed it back. It was just so good and warm and comfortable. He’d always thought holding hands with someone would be weird, but he was stunned by how natural and effortless this was, and if Pitch wanted his hand back he was going to have to fight him for it or offer him something better.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah, well…don’t have much competition,” he murmured, looking around as the last of the light began to desert them. “Doubt I’ll be getting kidnapped anytime soon. Your only real competition is Bunny, he’s sure sick of hearing me.”

“Hardly competition,” Pitch drawled from the dark beside him. “If he ever so much as attempts it, I’ll make sure he never speaks again.”

Jack shivered at Pitch’s oddly possessive comment, certain Pitch meant it. He’d have to warn Bunny if Pitch kept making threats like that, but he wasn’t actually worried about it. If anything, it felt nice.

“I’ll, uh…be sure to let him know,” Jack said quietly, focused more on the feeling of Pitch’s hand, and wondering where they were going, than on what he was saying. In the dark, everything felt heightened and new. “Doesn’t matter anyway. As if I’d ever let him put a gag in my mouth.”

“I bet you’d be good for me though, wouldn’t you, Jack?” Pitch purred, to which Jack responded by plastering his free hand over his mouth to make sure no embarrassing noises slipped through, but it didn’t really matter. The pitiful way he whined into his palm was clearly audible all the same. It was like Pitch knew what he’d been fantasizing about and was just feeding it to him on a silver spoon. He couldn’t possibly know, could he? Right?

“Ah, now he’s quiet,” Pitch teased, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. “Don’t tell me you’re so speechless you can’t answer my question.”

“Wh…what was the question?” Jack stammered.

Jack gasped, suddenly finding himself pressed up against a wall, Pitch’s thigh positioned precariously between Jack’s legs as a hand appeared out of the dark, sliding up his throat and tilting his head back. Jack realized with horror that, duh, of course Pitch could see him perfectly even though he himself couldn’t see a thing. He was mortified, positive the face he was making was absolutely, shamelessly slack with want.

“Would you be good for me, Jack?” Pitch whispered across Jack’s ear and he let out a helpless little sound, arching his back as he shut his eyes. He hoped Pitch didn’t expect him to answer that. No way. He could barely even remember how to speak.

“Ahh,” Pitch sighed as he leaned back. “How disappointing.”

Jack’s eyes flew open and his hands scrambled in the dark, grabbing onto whatever parts of Pitch they could reach. “What? No, wait, yes! Yes, I would be.”

Pitch pressed back into him, his free hand running up Jack’s side while the other kept his head tilted back. His voice was back, hot against his ear. “You would be what?”

Jack shivered violently from head to toe. He pressed his lips together tightly as he moaned, hips rocking against Pitch’s leg mindlessly. “I…” He bit his lip, growling and whining behind his lips as he tried to get the words out, his face getting hotter and hotter. Just do it. Don’t think about it.

“…I would be good for you,” Jack finally breathed out, his voice sounding much too loud and much too honest in the dark. He could imagine quite clearly various scenarios where he obediently opened his mouth as Pitch placed a gag into it.

Pitch hummed with approval and Jack sighed with satisfaction, thinking that was all he was going to get, until eager hands pulled him closer and lips pressed firmly against his.

Maybe wanting to prove himself, Jack immediately parted his lips for him, eagerly pressing them against Pitch’s own slightly open mouth, showing him he could be good for him, if that was what Pitch really wanted. Based on the ravenous sound Pitch made as he pushed his tongue into Jack’s mouth, he would say he did.

Sometimes it seemed like Pitch wanted to do nothing more than watch him squirm, taking him apart piece by piece just for the sake of it. But there were other times, like now, when Pitch took what he wanted like he’d only heard of self-control in passing. Jack let out a sharp, startled sound of pleasure against Pitch’s lips as he grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in, causing Jack’s start of an erection to grind into Pitch’s thigh. He gasped and Pitch’s tongue slid deeper, rhythmically fucking his mouth and to Jack this seemed like just such a downright filthy move. That didn’t even begin to play fair.

Fine, he decided, if Pitch wanted to be like that and not even bother to pretend like they were just casually making out a little and go right for the throat, then fine. He might as well be a little bolder too. The first time he’d seen Pitch his eyes had gotten stuck on that gray sliver of skin revealed by the V of Pitch’s robe and he’d been very curious to get a closer look and see where the V ended and where, in all that black on black, cloth ended and skin began. Pitch didn’t seem to mind his smaller, colder hands exploring as he pressed them over his chest and slipped them inside his robe and in fact it only made him clutch Jack tighter by his slender waist as he bit and sucked at his neck.

Encouraged by Pitch’s positive response, he tried sliding his fingers up underneath his robe, using his thigh as a road. He nearly jerked his hand away when Pitch hissed as his hand moved over the older spirit's hardening cock, but when he started to pull away Pitch reached down and pressed his hand back into place more firmly.

Jack was going to be the first spirit ever to die. This was going to kill him. It was too good. He shuddered with shock and want at the realization Pitch was just as excited as he was, if not more so. A fun distraction indeed. He gripped and rubbed at Pitch through his pants and was overwhelmed when Pitch responded by gathering him closer and kissing the breath from his lungs. None of this would have been so effective if Pitch hadn’t been holding him like he thought Jack was the biggest turn on possible just for existing. Feeling wanted like this made Jack dread when this was going to stop.

His eyes flew open in the dark as Pitch’s hand squeezed his ass hard then he shut his eyes tight, whimpering as he hooked an arm around Pitch’s neck, needing the support more once he felt Pitch’s skillful hands moving to undo the ties at the front of his pants. As Pitch’s hand slid down his bare stomach in between his legs, Jack gasped. He couldn’t keep his hips from bucking into the heat of Pitch’s hand and he felt Pitch, the perfect bastard, smirking as he kissed his way along his neck.

When Pitch started swirling the pad of his thumb over the slick head of Jack’s cock, he threw his head back into the wall with a thud and let out a needy sound that echoed much too much. He hadn’t really considered that until now.

He heard a bit of fumbling in the dark as Pitch dragged his tongue up his neck like he was his favorite popsicle flavor, and then Jack choked when he realized what Pitch was doing. The temperature difference of Pitch’s cock against his was wild. His brain completely short-circuited as Pitch’s hand started moving and he realized vaguely that it was very slick. Later, he would question why the hell Pitch would just have lube on him. Right now, his only question was, what did he have to do to get Pitch to let him come?

“Please…please,” Jack gasped, both arms wrapped around Pitch now as he just focused on staying standing. Pitch pressed his lips to his with surprising tenderness before making his way down his neck and sinking his teeth into him hard. He didn’t expect to like the biting so much, but it lit him up instantly and he gasped out a desperate sound of pain and satisfaction, his head spinning. He didn’t want to come already, but Pitch was making it very difficult.

“I knew you’d be good for me,” Pitch suddenly growled into his ear and Jack shut his eyes tight as a wave of liquid heat flooded his body. A humiliating sound burst out of him, followed by a litany of more embarrassing sounds that were impossible to quiet with the echoing of the cavern amplifying his voice.

But Pitch loved it. His lips hovered, just brushing against his as he moaned and whimpered and begged pathetically. He’d never been this vocal on his own, this was completely different, Pitch was just dragging the sounds out of him and relishing them, even as he pressed their lips together and swallowed them down.

Jack gripped Pitch’s shoulders, moaning into his mouth, his voice getting higher, more urgent, then Pitch leaned back from the kiss as Jack gasped like he was drowning before filling the caverns with a cry of desperate relief. His voice broke and fell away into a dry sob as he clung to Pitch, and Pitch’s hand kept moving, wringing every last moan and whimper out of Jack he could.

Just when Jack started to beg because he was way too sensitive and it almost hurt, he couldn’t stand it, Pitch’s hoarse voice rang out around them as he came too. Jack took the opportunity to nuzzle his face into Pitch’s neck and bite him a little and Pitch jerked slightly as he let out a growling sound that Jack wanted to hear everyday for the rest of his life. Pitch’s nails dug into him as he clutched him possessively to his chest, and goosebumps peppered his skin as Pitch panted next to his ear.

For a few moments, they both just caught their breath, then Pitch scooped Jack up into his arms and held him tight.

It wasn’t really what Jack expected, but god, it was so nice, to have someone hold him like this, just because. Just because they wanted to. He didn’t know why Pitch wanted to hold him, but Jack felt like he did and that was enough. He didn’t feel like a nuisance or a bother, just warm and wanted.

Finally, after pressing his lips briefly to Jack’s forehead, Pitch continued walking, only this time he had Jack as a passenger. Jack looked in every direction, fascinated by the underground. Parts of the tunnel were lit as they went, either with curious little balls of flame, lanterns, or plain old candles. Jack was sure Pitch used electricity down here, but he had a feeling he just liked the look of the old-fashioned lighting. Jack liked it too. Something about it was just homey.

As they passed through another area of total darkness, Jack asked quietly and lazily against Pitch’s shoulder, “Where are we going?”

“I had thought I would simply see where the caverns would take us by foot without traveling through the shadows,” he explained softly, though his silky voice seemed to travel.

Jack loved that neither of them knew exactly where they were and he was excited. It was like they were on an adventure together.

“Awesome. Okay. If I get lost in here, will you be able to find me?” He didn’t sound particularly bothered one way or the other, though, even if in reality that thought was kind of terrifying, if he let his mind settle on it for too long, so he didn’t.

Pitch scoffed lightly. “Anywhere you are lost in darkness, I will always find you.”

Jack was quiet for a long moment then he said in a low, teasing voice, “Wow, Pitch…that is legit so romantic.”

“As I was saying…” Pitch continued, ignoring him, “Despite what you may think, I hadn’t planned to seduce you in the dark tunnels of my lair. Given our change of plans, you might prefer a more sedentary activity.”

“You’re adorable,” Jack mumbled, and meant it, aware he was getting way too cuddly and familiar and not able to find it in himself to care, especially because he probably had, like, five seconds to live now.

“Excuse me?” Pitch muttered coldly.

“Nothin’, never mind…but while we’re at it, pretty sure I’m the one that seduced you.”

Pitch deadpanned skeptically, “Is that so?”

Jack smiled and closed his eyes. “Yep. Something like…want a fun little distraction? And I’m the fun little distraction. So, pretty positive I’m the sexual deviant here.”

The sound of Pitch’s small, but sincere laugh made Jack grin. “I see. That still doesn’t answer my implied question, I’m afraid.”

“Depends, are you gonna carry me the whole time?”

He felt hot breath warming his head as Pitch leaned over him and growled playfully into his hair, “That depends, are you going to behave yourself?”

Jack considered his options carefully. He could lie and say yes, definitely, but they both knew that wasn’t true. ‘No’ would probably get him dropped on his ass immediately, and besides, he might behave himself so that wasn’t fair.

“…probably not,” he ventured cautiously, a bit of a question in his voice.

“Then I’ll carry you so long as it pleases me.”

Jack giggled with pure, innocent happiness and felt Pitch let out a little puff of breath against his hair before leaning back.

Pitch showed him around wherever they happened upon and Jack was just about as happy as he could be. He kept waiting for something to go wrong, for him to mess something up, but it never happened.

He decided to quit while he was ahead and leave before anything like that could happen, so after miraculously getting Pitch to carry him around to a few different places he said he was tired and was gonna get going.

Pitch saw him off at the entrance and just as Jack was about to leave, Pitch gently rested his hand on his arm. Jack turned and looked at him curiously.

“You don’t have to only visit when you feel like being a toy, Jack,” Pitch advised, face gentle, but voice firm.

Jack stared at him for much longer than he should have, but he was just speechless. Finally, he flashed him a big smile and it was entirely genuine, but it was also important that he got out of there as soon as possible before he could embarrass himself.

“That’s me, though. All about fun. See yah, Pitchy.”

“Pitchy?” Pitch echoed with exasperation, and Jack just laughed, grinned, and waved as he soared away.

——

Jack laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the treehouse as Jamie sat nearby, sorting his monster card collection. If he was going to trade with Monty later, he needed to make sure he knew what he had doubles of, of course.

“But like, I don’t really think that’s fair. Remember when you had that crush on Pippa for like, two days? It’s like that.”

Jack rambled on and on, gently tapping his foot. “That doesn’t mean I don’t mean it right now though, you know?”

“Ew, gross,” Jamie complained as one of the cards got stuck to his fingers with a mysterious green substance.

“I know, I know…he said I could come back just to hang out though, so I’ve been doing that and…” Jack chewed his bottom lip a little, trying not to smile, and failing miserably. “It’s been really…nice? Like actual friends, like me and you, or Monty or Cupcake…just spending time together, cause everything’s better with friends. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He glanced over at Jamie. “Do people still say that? It means…well, it means I keep waiting for him to tell me to buzz off, I guess.” He paused, not sure if people still said that either. “Get lost?” He grinned. “Make like an egg and beat it?”

He chuckled a little then sighed and looked back at Jamie, rolling his head to the side to get a better look at him and his binder. “Whatever. Enough about me, little dude, what’s up with you? How’s the collection coming along?”

Jack rolled into his stomach to lay next to Jamie and look over his cards in their clear plastic sleeves while he flipped through them. “Wooow, lookin’ good…did you get that—…ohh, sure did, there it is. Bet you’re proud of that one.”

Jack watched happily as Jamie paused and spent some time just staring at his favorite new card: an ultra rare holographic monster with five diamond stars in the corner. It was a really cool looking monster and the two of them admired it for a while before Jamie continued flipping through the binder.

“You’re a good kid, Jamie…I hope one day you can see me and hear me and everything, but if not, I’m still glad we get to hang out. You’d be as awesome a little brother as you are a big brother, for sure.”

Generally, Jack tried to see himself out before anyone had a chance to walk out on him, reminding him that he didn’t even hardly exist, and he could see that Jamie was getting to the end of his binder, so he was about to head out when they heard Monty calling from the yard.

Jamie grinned, yelled, “I’ll be right there!” and quickly gathered all his stuff together before throwing it in his adventuring bag, slinging it over his shoulder and climbing down the ladder on the trunk of the old tree. Jack listened to the two kids run off, chatting away, and suddenly it seemed really quiet.

After trying and failing to sit with the silence a while, telling himself it was okay, he was real, he did matter, Jack sighed and decided he would go see Pitch after all.

…

Jack was back sooner this time, understandably, but not for the reasons he expected. Not that he’d have any issue with being a toy today, but he wanted to try out Pitch’s suggestion and see if actually hanging out with someone was something he could handle.

Pitch wasn’t immediately within sight as he landed and he was tempted to snoop, but they were trying to build trust here, and that was pretty uncool, especially because he was certain someone like Pitch valued his privacy. Jack did too. So, instead of wandering, he stood and waited, sure that Pitch would come without him even having to call for him, and took the opportunity to look around from where he was floating.

Again, the layout was different. Maybe it was because he’d come back sooner or because he’d been paying more attention, but he noticed some things were the same even if most of it wasn’t. The stairs, for example, were in the same place, but the balcony connected to the archway now had an extension, creating a bridge to the other side of the cavern. Strangely, though, it didn’t seem to lead anywhere. Jack’s eyes followed the strange monochromatic tile pattern on the wall where he thought a door ought to be and saw it led up to the ceiling. He realized then that, for whatever reason, the tile was actually a pathway that came to the base of an upside down statue. The ambiguously gendered figure had their face hidden underneath a hood and was holding onto a chain that dangled with an ornate cage on the end. Jack’s mouth fell open.

“Woah,” he said under his breath and floated up to the cage and the figure to get a better look at them. He peered inside the small cage. There was either rust or blood in the bottom, and it was probably just barely big enough for Jack to fit inside of. He shuddered, shoulders hunching as he hovered backwards and took another look around, paying more attention to the ceiling now. He loved how the–

Jack screamed and shot backwards, bumping hard enough into the heavy cage to send it swinging as he spotted Pitch watching him on the ceiling nearby. Jack stared at him, panting, and yelled as Pitch cackled, “You motherfucker! How long have you been there?!”

Pitch just beamed as he came closer, parallel now with the statue Jack had been examining. “Aww, poor Jack…I have always been here,” he answered ominously as he stepped behind the statue and disappeared.

“Oh, I fucking hate this,” Jack grumbled, but he was already smiling a little as he looked around. “This is the worst game of hide and seek ever, Pitch. Seriously. So bad some might say you were cheating. At a child’s game. Which, if you think about it, is pretty embarrassing for you. I bet if–”

Jack gasped hard as his own shadow became Pitch and wrapped its arms around him from behind, capturing him, and Jack cried out in frustration, but he was full on grinning now. “Stop doing that, you suck, Pitch. You suck so bad.”

“Then I guess you’re not interested,” Pitch teased as he released him, grinning like a shark, now the fully fleshed-out version of himself. “Oh well. Shame. That’s all I had planned for today.”

“You–...what? That’s–” He stopped as he got it, his cheeks immediately coloring pink. “Dirty old man.” He grinned. “Like I’d ever let that mouth anywhere near me.”

Pitch rolled his eyes, flashed him a smirk, and sank into the shadows before rematerializing on the floor below. Once Jack located him, he followed, watching him like he thought he might disappear again, because he might.

As he stepped down to stand in front of Pitch, feeling smaller reminded him of why he’d come here in the first place and it actually wasn’t…for that. This, the flirting and the…all of that. His playful smile faltered and he turned his gaze to the floor as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

He had no idea what he was doing. Pitch was going to be disappointed if he wasn’t here to get him off, right? It had been a while since they’d done anything like that, and it definitely wasn’t that Jack didn’t want to, but…

“So. How are…things?” What the heck did he talk with North and the others about when he saw them? Actually, now that he thought about it, it was mostly them talking and Jack listening. He really wasn’t sure what to say. Even with Pitch, it wasn’t like Pitch talked his ear off. Even when they did it was mostly sarcastic banter, flirting, and mutual alone time that they spent together. Jack didn’t bother trying to generate actual conversations very often, and Pitch seemed happy just to have him there, and he wasn’t about to mess that up. Except…now he absolutely was.

Pitch watched him curiously and raised an eyebrow at him, but let him flounder his way through.

“About as dull as to be expected,” he responded.

Jack glanced around, some of his discomfort seeping away. “Yeah, it is always quiet around here, isn’t it? Compared to everyone but Sandy’s place, that is. But everywhere else, actually, just…in general. I went to the bottom of the ocean once just because I could, it was pretty quiet…or, well, I tried to, but I got bored before I got to the bottom. The ocean is crazy deep. I wanted to see all the neon, light up fish and stuff, you know? I got worried about messing with the ecosystem or whatever anyway. Seems like fish kept following me because my staff was glowing.”

He shrugged, then stiffened as he realized he was rambling about dumb shit. He looked back down, shuffling his feet around, and said with an awkward laugh, “Sorry. Uh. What were we talking about? …right, the uh…”

Pitch sighed heavily and Jack winced as he looked up at him with a sheepish grin. “The ocean, I thought.”

He chuckled uncomfortably, assuming Pitch was being sarcastic. “Right…right…uh…the lair, um…”

“I’ve been to the bottom, and it’s actually not all that interesting in most places, so you haven’t missed much, trust me,” Pitch continued, rolling his eyes as if the ocean had committed a personal offense against him.

Jack’s heart stopped as he stared at Pitch in disbelief, not because he’d been to the bottom of the ocean, although they’d definitely get to that, but more so because he realized he’d misinterpreted what Pitch was saying, and he wasn’t being scolded after all…or, at least, not for the reason he thought.

Pitch waved his hand in front of his face and Jack blinked himself out of his stupor. “Sorry. Sorry, I just…” He laughed. “I usually do all my talking when I’m alone. Whenever I’m with anyone that can see me, I’m usually listening so I just…I assumed you…did you know? None of the others have ever been that far down in the ocean. They say it’s too…too, uh…” His smile fell away as he looked into Pitch’s eyes and realized he already understood perfectly.

“Too cold and dark,” Pitch finished. His lips parted again and he hesitated before finally saying, “Would you like some tea?”

Jack’s chest swelled with happiness and he nodded rapidly, clutching his staff tight as he followed Pitch down a dark corridor. This was just about the least likely thing he ever would have expected, considering how awkward he’d made it last time, but it was definitely happening. He even had a chance to grill Pitch about the ocean as they walked. Apparently, it was a lot of silt, detritus, creatures that burrowed themselves in the sandy muck along the bottom, and sometimes small fish and crabs. He promised to tell him the more interesting things he’d seen somewhere down the line, and at first Jack was impressed and annoyed to realize he was using these pieces of information as bargaining chips. He was floored and elated, however, when he realized as well that this meant Pitch intended to continue having Jack around in the future.

He was amazed to find himself, a minute or so later, sitting at a bar stool sat against a small island off to one side of the kitchen, watching, riveted, as Pitch filled a kettle with water. He hardly even remembered drinking his tea last time, let alone watching Pitch make it. This felt astoundingly privileged for him to be seeing, and he couldn’t imagine why in the world this would be happening to him, but it was and he was grateful. He recognized it as the unusual kindness that it was from The Nightmare King, he just didn’t understand why it was being offered to him of all people, especially after Pitch’s attitude towards him the first day. No matter how nice he was to him, Jack couldn’t help but expect Pitch to try and kick him out again. Maybe it was some sort of apology. If Pitch wasn’t in the habit of giving out actual apologies, it wouldn’t have surprised him.

He crossed his arms on the counter, leaning against it with rapt attention as he watched Pitch put the kettle on and begin getting things out for tea.

“You’re really making tea,” Jack stated quietly in wonder.

Pitch glanced back at him as if this were a strange thing to say. “Did I not say so?”

“No, yeah, I know. You did, I just…it’s…really nice.” He felt himself making a goofy grin, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m…really happy.”

He saw Pitch pause as he turned back towards the stove, just sort of freezing momentarily before carrying on with whatever he was doing. Jack continued watching, content, before he suddenly realized something and jumped out of his seat in a panic.

“Oh, shoot, sorry, am I supposed to be helping right now?” He hurried around the island over to Pitch, looking up at him apologetically. “Sorry, I never had anyone make me tea before. I don’t really know how, but if you tell me what to do…I’ve seen other people do it.”

Pitch stared at him in surprise, cocked his head, then to Jack’s surprise he laughed before reaching out and petting Jack’s hair gently, fingers running effortlessly through the strands as if they did this all the time.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to do anything. If it pleases you, you may fetch two mugs from the cupboard next to the sink.”

Pitch seemed to not be aware of the effect he was having on Jack at first as he melted under his touch, leaning into him helplessly and his cheekbones dusting with pink, but Jack realized eventually that this was only because Pitch was distracted as well. His eyes remained intently focused on each lock of soft, silvery white hair as he brushed it aside, occasionally allowing his eyes to roam over Jack’s face with the softest expression he could imagine Pitch ever having, before abruptly he turned away like he was ripping off a bandaid and began measuring out tea leaves into little sachets.

Jack lingered at his side, breathless with longing, before finally dragging himself away from whatever the hell that was, even as he fought the urge to turn around, grab Pitch’s hand, and put it back in his hair.

He walked over to the cupboard and leaned against the counter for a moment, his hands shaking, then he grabbed a couple mugs and went back over to Pitch. He didn’t look at Jack right away as Jack set the mugs down, and Jack noticed they were both oddly quiet. He wanted to break the silence himself, but he couldn’t. It almost felt good, but it burned too, because now Jack knew there was the potential for something like that to happen, and god, it was pathetic, but he craved even just that small touch desperately. Since when was that even an option? Because they kissed and stuff? Was it like some unspoken rule? Could they do that again? He even considered humiliating himself and just flat-out asking Pitch to touch his hair, but he chickened out and stayed quiet, standing at his side and watching as Pitch set the sachets in the cups.

“Good,” Pitch praised him, for fetching the cups Jack assumed, before turning to look at him. “I’m assuming you’ve had tea before.”

“You know what they say about why you shouldn’t assume anything. It makes an ass of you and ume.”

Pitch put his hand over his eyes and Jack chuckled apologetically. “Sorry, too much time around kids…yeah, I’ve had tea. Just like, basic stuff in little bags, or one time I tried grinding up random plants and making tea out of it, but it tasted terrible.”

Pitch threw up his hand mildly as if exasperated, but he was noticeably smiling. “I was just trying to determine how you take your tea.”

Jack stared at him vacantly until Pitch just shook his head and sighed. “Oh, never mind.”

Jack laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“It’s no matter.”

“You’re being really nice to me.”

Pitch eyed him, considering, then said, “And?”

“Well…” Jack shifted awkwardly from foot to foot and glanced away, running his fingers idly along the counter. “Before, you were…I mean, you seemed mad at me. Like you didn’t want me here and then the next time, uh…that was…totally different.” He peered up at Pitch tentatively. “I just never really know what to expect.”

Pitch nodded slowly in understanding. “That’s a fair assessment. Perhaps it would have been wiser to stay away. Yet here you are.”

Jack looked down at his feet. “Yeah, I uh…I’m…” He heaved a great sigh. “I’m sorry about…coming here all the time, it’s not like it’s your job to babysit me. I just…feel like being around you is so easy, so…but yeah, I probably shouldn’t’ve…”

“I’m glad you did,” Pitch said, his voice quiet, but firm, and it certainly felt very loud in Jack’s ears. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Oh. Okay. That’s…good. Well, thanks, for this. I, um…” His voice faded away. “Can you touch my hair again?” Immediately, he was stunned and mortified by his own stupidity and, eyes wide with panic, tried to backtrack. “That’s weird, sorry, never mind, I don’t know why I eeeeevvvveeeen—“

In the middle of a word, Jack shivered violently as Pitch dragged his fingers suddenly back through his hair, tickling his scalp and making his eyes flutter closed. He let out a shameless little moan, just a small one, mostly breath, and there’d be plenty of time to be mortified by that later, but right now Pitch was just so warm as he sank helplessly into his chest. His fingers felt so careful and kind and good, and he just couldn’t help it.

For an instant, his eyes fluttered back open. His head had lolled back loosely as Pitch’s fingers continued raking across it, and he looked up as he leaned into Pitch and saw him looking back down at him. He just couldn’t be embarrassed when Pitch was looking at him like that, like he mattered. Briefly the day before he’d looked at him the same way and Jack had craved it ever since. It was like there was nowhere Pitch wanted to be more than right here, watching Jack unravel at his fingertips just from such simple affection. His other hand rested itself gently on Jack’s lower back and Jack realized he was clinging to Pitch’s robe. He didn’t understand why Pitch was tolerating this, but the relief this moment brought him was greater than he ever could have imagined so he was infinitely grateful. Pitch couldn’t have known just how good this would feel, how touch starved Jack was, how much he needed this, to be seen and cared about, and even given all that, it just had to be from Pitch. It had to be. He couldn’t imagine wanting this from anyone else now.

And here they were, Pitch holding him as they stood in his kitchen, the two of them staring at each other like fools, and none of it made sense, but still, all he wanted was this.

When Pitch finally stopped because the kettle was screaming, Jack felt drunk and had to lean against the counter so Pitch could step away to get the water. He watched him do this in a bit of a daze, hardly able to believe that just happened. It was too surreal, the moment too perfect.

“Sorry,” Jack finally gasped, to which Pitch just shook his head.

“Do you like sugar?”

Jack stammered for a moment before finally spitting out, “Yeah, everyone likes sugar though pretty much, right?”

“Do you usually like it more than other people?” Pitch asked, glancing at him briefly as he added a small spoonful to one of the mugs. When Jack remained quiet, he looked up and saw Jack struggling on an answer. It was hard for him to say when something like this had never happened. No one had ever made him tea before, and why would he ever pay attention to how much sugar other people pit in their tea? He tried to think about how much sugar he saw other people use.

Finally, he murmured, “I…don’t know. I had a giant pixie stick once. I didn’t finish it, but I was pretty close.”

Pitch raised his eyebrows, nodded, and added a few small but heaping spoonfuls of sugar to the other mug. Jack watched with a crooked grin.

“Pfftt, don’t judge me.”

Pitch just smirked as he poured the steaming water in. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jack laughed a little, thinking to himself that, once again, for now this was going surprisingly well. However, he knew it was only going well because they hadn’t broached the subject of how Jack wanted Pitch and The Guardians to get along. Then shit was going to hit the fan, probably. Definitely. But he could handle it. Maybe.

“You get no milk.”

Jack blinked himself out of his thoughts, absolutely baffled by this sudden declaration. Immediately, giggles began bubbling up in his chest as he grinned and asked, “What?”

Pitch shot him a pointed look like he was scolding a child. Jack would have been offended, except he had a feeling Pitch was just like that with everybody and it just made the situation funnier. “You get no milk in your tea because I will not be having another tedious conversation trying to determine what kind of milk you’d like, and how much, etcetera. So you get no milk.”

Jack was trying pretty hard not to laugh just because they had some serious stuff they had to talk about. It just seemed kind of distracting and rude, to have a giggle fit over something Pitch had said in complete seriousness. So he held it in, barely. That much he was sure Pitch could tell, but oh well. He was doing his best.

“Oh. Uh. Okay…um. Isn’t that kind of what we’re doing now though? Having a…conversation about-”

Pitch sharply pointed to the stool Jack had been sitting on before, his mouth very tight and stern. Jack went back to his seat, choking on his laughter. “I’m going, I’m going!”

Jack watched Pitch stir the tea then slide his mug over to him, but before Jack could take it he put his hand over the top.

“I’d recommend you cool it or let it cool. If I’m as hot as you say, this will be a great deal hotter, and you’ll seriously burn yourself.”

Jack snorted and picked up the mug, frosting the outside as he took it in both hands. “Okay, Dad.”

Pitch just ignored him as he picked up his own mug and came over to sit beside him at the island. “So, you might as well go on and talk about whatever it is you’re so anxious to talk about.”

“Oh. Uh,” Jack stammered. “Wow, am I that obvious?”

“I’m assuming it’s about The Guardians. Perhaps they’re giving you flack for coming here, or maybe you’re just worried they will. Whatever the case, it’s inevitable, so we might as well get it over with,” Pitch explained matter-of-factly, looking entirely bored by the whole thing.

“Oh. Okay. Well…” Jack tapped his fingers on the counter nervously and sipped his tea, definitely not stalling. “Thanks for the tea, by the way. It’s good. Even without milk.”

“You’re welcome,” Pitch said mildly as he turned in his seat to keep Jack more in his line of vision, gracefully crossing one leg over the other. Jeez, he was so pretty…

Focus, Jack. “Yeah, so…well, it’s pretty simple. You guys hate each other and you fight. I…don’t want that. They think it’s not possible to protect the children without destroying you. I think that’s dumb and I’m not doing that, so I end up giving them trouble about it a lot, so I finally decided to come see you myself.”

Pitch’s brows were raised slightly. “Do you really? Give them trouble over such a thing, I mean.”

“Such a thing as in you?” Jack said with a little chuckle. “Yeah, I do. They hate it. But like, too bad. They think you’re a monster…sorry, I don’t think that, obviously, but they do, and that sucks and like…can’t we get what you all want without…without hurting each other? Like, what’s the deal? There’s a way.”

“And what would that way be, Jack?” Pitch asked, resting his chin on his fist as he leaned against the counter, but based on his chilly demeanor, Jack got the feeling he was setting him up for something rather than asking a real question. He frowned and set his tea down slowly as if he was trying not to antagonize a stalking predator.

“That depends. The Guardians want to protect kids. So what do you want? Believers?”

Pitch sat up straight again, setting his own tea down before he leaned forward and reached towards Jack, beckoning him closer. Cautiously, Jack leaned towards him, thinking Pitch was going to kiss him for some reason. Pitch took his chin in his hand and leaned closer, confirming Jack’s suspicions, until he suddenly stopped. Staring into Jack’s eyes, he purred, “You want to know what I want, Jack?”

Jack nodded fractionally, feeling really nervous all of a sudden. Something about this was off. Pitch’s attitude was off. He could feel Pitch’s hot breath as he continued, quiet, but vicious.

“I want them gone. I want them to know what it feels like not to be believed in. To be weak and hated and alone, with no one there to remind them of what’s important, no hope, wonder, or dreams. Just fear and darkness.”

Pitch pushed Jack’s face away a little as he released him, and it felt unnecessarily mean.

As Jack glared at him half-heartedly. Pitch waved his hand at him, gesturing mockingly as if to say it was his turn. “Go on, then, Jack, why don’t you explain to me how we can make that work into your happy little plan where everyone just gets along and holds hands. Shall I invite them all to tea as well?”

Jack’s stomach flipped and after processing that for a few seconds he put his hand to his chest, suddenly more worried than angry. “Wait. What? Why would you want that?”

“That’s none of your business,” Pitch stated simply, sipping his tea.

And just like that, the anger was back in the forefront. “It’s totally my business. In what world would that ever not be my business? You’re my friend, they’re my friends, and I care about my kids more than anything. I know part of this at least is that you want people to believe in you, so let’s just…can’t we just focus on that instead of…fighting for no reason?”

Pitch shook his head slowly and sighed, looking away as if he was already checking out of the conversation, and it boiled Jack’s blood because this was important. He couldn’t even think of anything more important; afterall, this war wouldn’t only affect them. It didn’t even matter who won or who lost because the world needed hope, wonder, dreams, memories, but it also needed fear. If any one of them was lost, Jack couldn’t even imagine how bad that would be.

And here was Pitch, acting like he was so smart and above it all, when in reality he was just being petty and childish, and it was going to hurt a lot of people. It was going to hurt a lot of kids, kids who were probably less immature than Pitch was being right now.

“This isn’t something you can fix, Jack. What’s done is done.”

“What does that even mean?” Jack cried in sudden frustration. “Are you…are you serious right now? That’s garbage, Pitch, and you have to know that, you’re a smart, reasonable person, so what the hell are you talking about?”

“Everyone has something that makes them unreasonable,” Pitch stated simply as he looked back at him, unmoved. “This isn’t negotiable.”

Jack got to his feet. “Yeah, you know what makes me unreasonable? You. What the fuck, Pitch, you…” He waved his hands wildly in frustration then growled and gripped at his hair as he turned his back on him. “I can’t even look at you. How can you just sit there and…?”

He spun back around on Pitch suddenly, pointing at him angrily. “You know better, you’re just choosing to focus on revenge or whatever because you don’t want to actually deal with anything. Why? Do you…do you get that I’m trying to help you, too? You get that right?” He threw his hands up in frustration again. “I don’t want them to hurt you. I don’t want you to be alone, because hey, yeah, let’s rub it in some more: I know what that’s like! No one deserves that, you don’t deserve that, and I’m just trying to…I care about you. That’s…”

Jack paused, scrubbing his face with his hands. He had to calm down. He forced himself to sit back in his seat, but now he found as the anger sank from a boil to a simmer, that he was just sad. Tears were already threatening to come to the surface. Suddenly, he would have preferred the anger.

“Shit, Pitch, I just…” He sighed and hung his head then slowly shook it. “You can call me whatever you want…act like my trauma is a big joke or just a good stick to poke me with. It doesn’t matter. I’m still not going to let anything happen to any of you. You’re all I’ve got.”

He picked up his tea and forced himself to take a sip, ignoring Pitch’s wide eyed stare. He placed it back on the counter then realized in dismay that he was crying. Great. Might as well keep talking, then. He took a deep breath and hung his head, then let it all come tumbling out of him.

“No one was ever there for me.” He let out a little hiccuping sound, forcing his words out around it. “Ever. No one helped me or cared about me. I know you’ve been through worse. I know, but I’m just saying that I can’t…I can’t watch that happen to you. You’re pushing me away, and I know I’m nothing special, but I do at least want to try and help and I think I can if any of you would just…just…” He dropped his hand limp onto the counter. “...believe in me…” A sad little sarcastic smile tugged at one side of his face. “Ha. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Jack,” Pitch interjected softly, but he ignored him.

“You might be onto something. I always figured I was probably cursed to keep anyone from believing in me. Maybe that applies to everybody around me, including you guys. That kind of actually makes sense.”

“Jack–”

Jack put a tired hand up. “Don’t. If you try to tell me you believe in me or something I’m going to lose my mind. Just…just stop.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I’m so tired. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of knowing that you’re alone too and you just don’t want me except when you want to touch me, but most of the time it just seems like you’re tolerating me. You’re just as happy to be alone. I…” Jack winced as understanding settled in, then he finished quietly, “I really like you.”

In the quiet, Jack swallowed thickly as he realized how true that was. What he’d once written off as fear of Pitch or anxiety about socializing, he now recognized as something else. He really, really liked him. He thought about him way too often and felt giddy when he did. He liked the way Pitch made him feel…actually, there were very few things he didn’t like about Pitch, even the bad things, in a way. He wanted it all.

But most importantly, sitting here now, he realized just how much he cared about Pitch. He couldn’t stand the idea of The Guardians hurting him. Jack would keep him safe, and he wanted so badly for Pitch to be happy.

And now he was sitting here, begging for scraps, complaining about Pitch not feeling the same even though he was the one that just turned up in Pitch’s home one day. Pitch never asked him to be here. He never asked anything of Jack, and he’d never promised anything either and now Jack was whining that his feelings weren’t returned. How pathetic was that? How long had it been obvious to Pitch that Jack felt this way about him before Jack had even figured it out for himself?

He couldn’t look at Pitch right now, so he didn’t know what kind of face he was making, but he could feel him staring.

And still, there was still one thought he kept coming back to. “Everyone’s better off without me, but I’m not better off alone. What am I supposed to do?”

Suddenly mortified, Jack turned and grabbed his tea, chugged it, then hopped off the stool and grabbed his staff. “Right, well, this was fun. Thanks. Sorry. Uh…yeah. Sorry.”

He ignored the sound of Pitch calling his name as he flew back through the caverns towards the exit.

Chapter Text

Jack hadn’t decided if he was going to go back yet or not. Ever. He thought taking time away from Pitch, The Guardians, and everyone else would help him clear his head and make him feel like himself again, even if time away from people was the opposite of what he wanted.

Unfortunately, though, months passed, and he didn’t understand anything better than he had when he left. The longer he was gone, the easier it was to stay away, despite the gaping hole inside him, and he fell into old patterns. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was quiet, easy. He spent a lot of time on the winds, spending hours, sometimes even days in the clouds. He buried himself in the snow and took long naps. At some point, turning forests into sparkling wonderlands of ice and snow lost its charm. He spent most of his time in forests, trying to remember what existing was meant to feel like because he was sure he was doing it wrong.

He was sure The Guardians wouldn’t even notice he was gone. Pitch would, but only because Jack had left his lair the way he did, which the young spirit still cringed to think about. But they didn’t know each other that well. It didn’t matter. Pitch wouldn’t miss him. He’d probably be relieved to return to the quiet he was used to.

Jack missed him, though. Even if every day he did his best to convince himself he didn’t.

He couldn’t think of a single time anyone had ever snuck up on him, and to say Pitch scared the absolute shit out of him would be an understatement. He was so startled he didn’t even remember he had ice powers. So when Pitch grabbed him from behind in the middle of a dark forest, Jack immediately dropped his staff in shock, which was embarrassing and definitely the stupidest thing he could have done. He scrambled away from his attacker, spun around ready to throw a punch and, seeing Pitch standing there smirking, all he could do was gasp for breath and stare at him, dumbstruck. He blinked and looked around as if Pitch would somehow prove himself to be an illusion, but there he was, still standing there, tall, dark, and spooky.

“There’s my little frost spirit,” Pitch teased softly. “How I missed the taste of your fear.”

“You…you fucking suck!” Jack yelled as Pitch laughed. He looked around for his staff, grabbed it off the ground from among the fallen leaves, and pointed it at Pitch threateningly. Pitch, however, just kept grinning. “You…I thought I was gonna die, you asshole!”

“Oh, do calm down,” Pitch said, chuckling lightly. He looked way too happy with himself, but as the seconds ticked on, Jack had a ludicrous idea: maybe he was happy to see Jack. He wouldn’t have even dared to think it if Pitch hadn’t reached out, taken his hand, and kissed it like the first time they had met, then refused to let go of his hand. He looked Jack up and down slowly, eyes glittering in the dark.

“I was worried, but you seem to be in one piece, at least.”

“Oh, yeah. I—wait, you were worried?” Jack stammered, staring up at Pitch in disbelief.

Pitch smirked and tugged Jack a little closer. “Ah, I see. You didn’t realize I would come looking for you if you ran. There’s nowhere far enough you could run from me, Jack.”

Jack looked down shyly. Since his impromptu vacation began, he hadn’t even been around the people that couldn’t see him. Now his heart was hammering nervously in his chest just from a fairly simple conversation. He was definitely feeling more shy than usual. “I wasn’t…running, I was just…taking a vacation. From everything.”

“I see. Well then, perhaps, since you are vacationing, you wouldn’t mind accompanying me on a little adventure.”

Jack immediately perked up, looking up at him with bright-eyed curiosity. “An adventure? Sure, like what?”

He followed as Pitch started walking, happily holding his hand as he listened to Pitch explain, “I’ve never lost my fondness for the stars in all my time living, and not living. It’s a bit cliche, but I have to say they’re possibly my favorite type of celestial being. So much potential for creation, for chaos. Without them, the universe would be so dark and empty.”

Jack nodded slightly to show he was listening as he glanced around the woods. He loved the forest at night. Their footsteps in the detritus of the forest floor sounded loud to him, but he didn’t mind. At least they wouldn’t spook any bears or anything.

“I would have thought looking at them would bore me by now, but it doesn’t.” Pitch looked down at him gently, squeezing his hand. “Would you like to go stargazing with me?”

Jack looked up at him, hardly able to breathe. His heart was positively bursting. As the apples of his cheeks warmed, he nodded timidly. This felt so romantic. “Yes.”

Pitch’s thumb caressed the back of his hand slowly as he looked forward again. “Lovely. I have a spot in mind, if it’s all the same to you. We’ll be traveling by shadows.”

Jack nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, cool. Sounds good.”

Pitch nodded and looked back at him. “Don’t let go of my hand, then.”

Jack swallowed. He was seriously having chest pains. He nodded. “Right. Okay.”

Pitch flashed him a smirk and then everything went dark.

Moments later, light came into their surroundings again, more than there had been before. Jack looked around curiously. The air felt different all of a sudden. It was somewhat humid and warm, considering it was the middle of the night. He had to guess they were someplace kind of tropical, despite the fact that they were clearly on a mountain with rolling fields in every direction.

“Woah, this is gorgeous. Did I just hear a cow somewhere?” He laughed a little, looking all around, then he grinned up at Pitch. “You come here? Regularly?”

Pitch nodded and looked up at the sky. “It’s my favorite place.”

Jack pressed his lips tightly together to keep himself from saying anything stupid and ruining everything, but that sounded…important. He said his favorite place. Not his favorite place for stargazing. Maybe that’s what he meant?

“I get why,” he finally said, quietly. “It’s really nice.”

Pitch hummed his acknowledgement and they walked in comfortable silence for a while. The air smelled amazing, fresh and grassy, but with a hint of ocean air. He was willing to bet they weren’t too far from the ocean. He didn’t see any cows, or smell them, but every now and then off in the distance he’d hear one, and it made him happy. If he were a cow he’d definitely wanna live here.

As they approached the top of a grassy slope, Jack suddenly stopped walking and just stared ahead, frozen. “Shut up.”

Pitch chuckled and tugged him along. “Thought you might appreciate some creature comforts after your extended stay in the wild.”

There just ahead, laying in the grass, were a handful of pillows, a folded blanket, and a smaller already unfolded blanket covered with plates and trays full of different things to eat or drink.

“Pitch, what...Is this a date?” he joked, laughing as he let go of Pitch’s hand and circled the food, looking at the fancy glasses and at a luxurious platter in particular that held various things dipped in chocolate. Well, Pitch was technically a king after all. An impressive spread like this probably wasn’t unusual for him. Jack wasn’t really sure how that worked.

“Yes,” Pitch said, humorlessly, and Jack immediately went very still. Slowly, he turned, looking over at Pitch with wide eyes.

Pitch looked back at him, perfectly serious. “Unless you want this to be an oddly romantic platonic outing, which I’m also fine with.” A flicker of amusement passed over his face. “You seemed like you needed a little help grasping that I might actually care about you.”

Jack put the back of his hand to his mouth, wondering exactly what type of things could actually make you go into shock. “...You’re really serious. Are you serious?”

Gold eyes glittered at him dangerously as Pitch smirked a little and offered a playful, “I’m perfectly willing to show you exactly how serious, if you like.”

“I…! That’s…I mean, no, you don’t…I…okay! I’m just gonna…uh…”

Jack sat his happy ass down on the grass, his face absolutely burning. Everything was burning. He was melting. What the fuck was happening? Was he dreaming? Did he die and now his consciousness was making up a fantasy world for him to spend eternity in?

He’d never been on a date. What was he supposed to do? Should he, like…he should flirt or something, right? Was Pitch expecting him to just yank his shirt off and tackle him for putting something like this together? Wasn’t Jack supposed to bring flowers, or-?

“You have two options,” Pitch said as he sat beside him, lounging casually as he poured Jack a pink, bubbly drink from a clear, glass decanter before setting it down. “Stop overthinking this, on your own or I will make you stop.”

Jack suppressed an embarrassing noise as he experienced a full body shiver then he shot Pitch a playfully dirty look. “How am I supposed to stop on my own?”

“Open your mouth.”

Maybe Pitch was just trying to make him have a heart attack and kill him. “Is this gonna be a thing with us, cause like, I’m not complaining, but I feel like you–” He paused as Pitch picked up a cookie dipped in chocolate and put it to his lips. Obediently, if not looking a little salty, he opened his mouth. Pitch laughed softly and inserted the cookie, then closed his jaw for him, which was super unnecessary and Jack was totally okay with it for some reason. He still had to try not to laugh, though. This was all so surreal.

The cookie was really good. He definitely wasn’t thinking about anything other than this goddamn cookie right now, that was for sure. Pitch who? What date? Cookie…he leaned back on his hands and let his head fall back.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his mouth still full. “So good…”

“I’m glad you think so, because to be perfectly honest, they gave me a bit of trouble.” He sighed and gave Jack a commiserating sort of look. “The first batch went in the bin.”

“I feel like they were probably fine and you’re just picky,” Jack said, flashing him a playful grin before looking at the rest of the food again curiously. He actually liked to cook and bake and he was surprised Pitch did too. None of the other spirits were really into it except North with his cookies, but it seemed like he mostly liked eating the cookies more than anything else, and it was worth mentioning that these cookies didn’t look anything like those. He only really assumed it was a cookie because of the size and texture.

Pitch nodded. “Yes, that’s fair,” he said and handed him his drink.

Jack watched him with curiosity. “What is that? It looks like raspberry ginger ale.”

“It’s raspberry ginger ale.”

Jack narrowed his eyes at him as he hesitantly took the glass. “How did you know that was my favorite drink?”

Pitch laughed a little, raising a playful eyebrow. “Jack. I stalk. It’s what I do, and I know a lot about you. It’s just one thing I happen to know, of many.”

“Well, that’s fucking creepy.”

“Yes, that’s rather the point.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but smiled a little and took a sip, feeling very fancy somehow despite sitting as casually as possible in the grass in a sweatshirt. He wondered when it would finally sink in what was happening right now. He actually wasn’t worried about it being a trap. It didn’t need to be. Pitch had him wrapped around his finger even before this and he knew it. And if it was a sex thing, let’s be real, they both knew it would be painfully easy for Pitch to fuck him if he wanted to. He didn’t have to go through all this. It was like some sort of switch flipped in Pitch while Jack had been gone, and Pitch had made his mind up about something.

He glanced at Pitch sideways in a way he hoped was subtle. What could Pitch possibly be thinking?

“...you came looking for me,” Jack whispered, the sound carrying easily on the hill. “Why did you do that?”

Pitch stared out at the horizon. “You want the honest answer, I assume.”

Jack peered at him closer in confusion. “Well, yeah.”

Pitch looked back at him. “Because I’m a selfish fool. If I actually cared about you as much as I think I do, I’d have left you alone from the beginning, not done…” He waved his hand at the blankets and pillows in near disgust. “...this.” He sighed and looked off into the distance. “But I couldn’t. Not this time.”

Jack frowned, worried, and even more confused. He scooted a little closer. “What? Is this like one of those things where you think you’re no good for me or something?”

Pitch looked down with a small sigh. “Something like that. You do realize you’re a Guardian, don’t you?”

“I’m not though. And I’m not gonna be, so if that’s the problem–”

“You were chosen, Jack,” he responded patiently as he looked back at him.

“Yeah? Well, what about my choice? Anybody can choose anything they want for me, that doesn’t mean I have to go along with it. I’m not a Guardian.”

Pitch just sighed and shook his head a little. “Jack–”

“Nope. Whatever you’re gonna say, nope. Uh-uh.”

Pitch looked back at him, exasperated. “Jack, you can’t just–”

Jack closed the rest of the space between them and kissed him to shut him up. Now that Jack was here though, lips pressed against Pitch’s as he sat there momentarily stunned, he wasn’t so sure that had been a good idea after all. He hadn’t thought at all, really, he’d just sort of done it, and Pitch wasn’t responding right away and what if he didn’t want to kiss him? He was starting to feel truly silly when Pitch finally took his face in his hands and kissed the breath out of him. Jack sank into him with utter relief and practically climbed into his lap when Pitch tugged him forward.

Without really being aware he was doing it, Jack straddled Pitch as he pressed his hands to Pitch’s face, for once taller as he kneeled over him and pulled Pitch closer. He couldn’t get him close enough. It hurt, and it was amazing. It burned, but it was gentle, and less frantic than many of their fevered interactions were. Even given that, it was more intense than any interaction he could ever remember having with anyone. He was drowning in Pitch and with alarm realized he sort of felt like he was going to cry.

And then he did.

Tears spilled down the sides of his face, but he didn’t stop, because he’d wanted this so bad for so long: someone to care about who cared about him. Someone that worried about him, who he could talk to, who made him feel understood and respected and loved. He wasn’t assuming Pitch loved him, he didn’t even know if he was in love with Pitch, but he knew he did at least love him, the way he loved ice crystals or long walks or animals, of course he did. What was there not to love? He loved this. He loved being here with him in the dark on some mountain, the way Pitch encouraged him enthusiastically as Jack’s tongue slicked over his, pushing deeper into his mouth, for once his fears were quiet. He loved the way Pitch made him feel, even when he wasn’t with him and found himself disquieted by his longing, annoyed by the stuttering of his heart, and giddy with anticipation to see him again. He’d never minded being afraid less because look what he got in return.

The well of emotion in his chest kept growing and he moaned softly into Pitch’s mouth, dissolving on his tongue like sugar. One of Pitch’s hands had slid to the back of his neck while the other crept into his hair, and it was all so full of such deep, genuine affection, it was starting to become harder to imagine Pitch not loving him than the other way around.

Pitch slowly leaned back to look at him, cradling him and staring up at Jack like he was the one actually trying to figure out how Jack could really be here with him. The tender desperation Jack felt was mirror back at him, and after becoming a little less dazed himself, Pitch reached up and wiped tears from Jack’s cheek.

“You’re alright,” Pitch whispered, briefly touching their foreheads together before gathering Jack against his chest.

As Jack laid his head against Pitch’s shoulder, he laid his arms around him loosely and cuddled into him, his head spinning pleasantly. Feeling a little embarrassed, he shut his eyes and turned his face into him, hiding.

After a long while, his body gradually warming, he scooted out of Pitch’s lap and offered him an apologetic smile, sitting right up close to him instead. “I’m just…I’m not used to…this. Sorry.”

It helped that Pitch looked genuinely unbothered, relaxed as he turned his attention to the stars. Jack looked at them too. They seemed to take up as much of the night sky as the black and empty spaces in between did.

“Don’t apologize. It just means I got to hold you for a while and I hardly see how that’s a downside.”

Jack shut his eyes tight and covered his face with his hands shyly. “How can you just say shit like that?”

Pitch just laughed, and, attracted by the sound, Jack looked back at him, grinning, leaning closer without realizing it. Pitch looked so much less guarded, Jack could hardly believe it. “You’ll get used to it. I’m a patient man, Jack,” he lilted, flashing him a playful little smirk that made Jack’s insides squirm.

Jack grinned and started grabbing some more food. He wasn’t about to let Pitch’s efforts go to waste, of course. “Oh yeah? Think you’re patient enough for my shit?”

Pitch’s face broke out into a grin and he threw his head back, laughing at the stars. “Oh, Jack,” he sighed finally. “You have…no idea how patient I can be for you.”

Jack watched him curiously as he nibbled at the tiniest little sandwich he’d ever seen. “I’m just wondering, like, where was all this energy before? You know, when you were being a dick? You were being a massive dick.”

Pitch was quiet for a while and Jack watched as he pierced a piece of strawberry from one of the plates on a claw, popped it in his mouth, and seemed to consider Jack’s words as he ate. Finally, he murmured quietly, “You were gone a while. Long enough that I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t return. I wasn’t worried until I realized none of The Guardians had heard from you either, and when I thought back on our conversation. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d pushed you too far. I didn’t think you would disappear, after how long you’d spent alone the first time, but I still worried.” He looked down at him, both fondly and with annoyance. “I know how stubborn you can be. I started to worry you’d do even more irrevocable damage to yourself before you were suffering enough to seek anyone out.”

“You make it sound a lot more dramatic than it is,” Jack said, glancing up at him with a gentle smile.

“Regardless of how you’d like to phrase it.” Pitch looked over at him, face shockingly soft and kind. “I know isolation. In any context, it induces a sort of madness. I like to think I’m beyond such vulnerability, but when I look at you I know better.” He looked back up at the sky. “I like to think I am a perfectly rational being, but I’m recognizing my mind is fractured. I’ll often believe I know exactly what must be done and how, only to realize the next minute I was so blinded by rage or longing that none of it really made sense at all. I like to think I’m above…” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “All of this, that I can see things exactly as they really are. And then…”

He turned and met Jack’s eyes. “Then I see you and I want this.”

He paused as they looked at each other quietly. Jack understood perfectly. Sometimes he just didn’t know what was real anymore. He didn’t know who to trust and he certainly couldn’t trust himself, but when he saw Pitch in all his sweeping, dark elegance, when he looked into his knowing, mischievous eyes and heard that hypnotizing voice, he could convince himself that it really was this simple. They didn’t have to fight or keep their distance. Why couldn’t they have it all? When Jack saw Pitch he was positive, without a doubt, that The Guardians could be reasoned with. Pitch could be reasoned with, and everything would work out.

Jack wasn’t exactly sure what internal battle Pitch was facing when he looked at Jack, but right now, from what he was hearing it was very similar to his own.

Right now, his chest felt too full and his head felt warm and fuzzy. He smiled at Pitch, feeling giddy and reckless, and leaned closer, resting his hand in the grass between them and propping himself up against it. Why had he ever worried about anything?

“…yeah,” he finally said, laughing at himself a little, and he was relieved when Pitch laughed a little too as he leaned towards him and laid his hand over Jack’s in the grass, eyes lidded.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Pitch murmured. “In one piece, anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Jack responded, smiling up at him brightly. “Are you? Uh, alright? I mean?”

Pitch smiled, closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead down against Jack’s gently. “Yes. I’m alright. In fact, never better, I think.”

Bursting at the seams with happiness, Jack laughed and closed his eyes too, and was pleased to find that when Pitch leaned back it was only to seek out his lips. Jack was already doing the same, and met him gently part way.

After a few moments, Jack found himself pressed into Pitch’s side as Pitch wound his arm around him, parted lips pressing together slowly over and over. Jack was pretty sure he could have done this forever, but it seemed like it was probably rude to make out the whole time. He wasn’t sure what a first date was really meant to be like, but it seemed like a waste not to do more…date…things? He never imagined he’d actually get to go on a date, let alone one like…

He really did mean to look at the stars or something when he leaned back, but he was still just staring at Pitch and Pitch was staring back at him, having the same problem.

Luckily, he spotted a shooting star and got distracted, glancing off to the side in wonder. It wasn’t like he didn’t see them often enough, but here on the mountain, so far from light pollution and so close to the sky, it really was dazzling.

Pitch leaned his head back and looked up as well.

“Is this really your favorite spot?” Jack asked softly.

Pitch nodded. “Yes. If I thought about it very hard, I might come up with another answer, but this is the first place that comes to mind. You’ll never find another person here…and you’ll never find a place to see more stars. There’s a famous observatory not far from here, actually.” He paused. “Also, I like the cows.”

Jack laughed wholeheartedly and leaned back to look at him better, an incredulous grin on his face. “Really?”

He offered him a crooked smirk. “They’re right down the hill. Does it surprise you so much that I prefer animals to people?”

Jack grinned at him. “Do they like you?”

Pitch rolled his eyes as if at a memory. “Most of them. Some of them are rather temperamental. It’s what I guess you would call a love-hate relationship. In general, they’re essentially wild, but then again,” he added, smirking at Jack and looking him up and down pointedly. “Wild things seem to take to me quite easily.”

“Probably cause you are one,” Jack teased as he grabbed a pillow, threw it down behind him and flipped down onto his back. “Oh my god, this is so cool. You know, I bet if you took The Guardians all on dates like this they’d warm up to you in no time.”

“Well, now, what an impressively disturbing thought,” Pitch commented before grabbing another pillow and laying down beside him, albeit a bit more gracefully. Jack snickered and glanced at him before looking back at the sky.

“…I’m sorry I ran off,” Jack murmured, throwing him another furtive glance.

Pitch shook his head a little, his gaze lost in the stars. “It’s understandable. I was…I am worried that this will hurt you somehow. I know you’re afraid of that,” he added gently as he turned his head to look at him.

Jack looked away shyly. “Yeah, I mean…yeah. Nobody has to tell me this is too good to be true, I’m not that naive…or arrogant enough to think I can single-handedly end this war between all of you. That’s just…it’s ridiculous, but I really think…” He glanced timidly over at Pitch, wincing a little. “I think you and I could do it. If you…I know you’re worried about me supposedly being a Guardian and that ending badly, but I really think…I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I think I get it, but…I still think we could work everything out so you guys could stop trying to kill each other.”

Pitch gazed back at him fondly and turned slightly so he could lay his arm around Jack, pulling him closer. Jack let out a sigh of utter contentment and cuddled into him, his mind thoroughly saturated with happiness.

“Perhaps,” Pitch murmured in agreement, and that was way better than before. He still sounded doubtful and worried, but he wasn’t aggressively denying their chances either, which was a huge improvement.

“So warm,” Jack moaned softly, rubbing his face back and forth against Pitch’s chest before losing his senses mildly and biting him a little.

Pitch just laughed, his nails scratching lazily at Jack’s lower back. “My little wild thing.”

Jack buried his face against him with a breathless little laugh as he turned very pink.

It was probably bad etiquette to fall asleep on a date, and literally on your date, but Pitch was just so warm and comfortable. His hands kept running slowly over his body, just petting him affectionately, his back, his hair, running ticklish tracks up and down his arms and up the back of his neck. Jack wrapped his arms around him like a koala, entwining their legs and sighing softly. Falling asleep was inevitable, but he still tried to stay awake, not wanting this to end, not wanting Pitch to go, but in the end he did fall into a very blissful sleep.

——

“I’m fine.”

“Jack Frost, I swear if you don’t—“

Jack spun around, glaring, but his own anger shrank in the face of Pitch’s fury and he timidly gave in as Pitch grabbed him by the shoulders and yanked him closer. He remained still as Pitch examined his face, except to mutter stubbornly, “I’m fine, Pitch,” one more time.

“You are most certainly not fine,” Pitch hissed, voice scathing as he examined the damage done. It was a really solid set of black eyes, maybe a broken nose, and he’d definitely cut the inside of his lip on his teeth. Most of all, though, Pitch seemed concerned by the swelling on the side of his head, which Jack had to admit was killing him.

“Seriously, it looks dramatic, but it’s–...look, I just came here without thinking. I was gonna wash up, maybe ask you to check out my nose or something cause I know you do that medicine stuff sometimes, but it’s really not—“

“Jack, so help me, if you say ‘it’s not a big deal’ or ‘it’s fine’ one more time, I’m going to march you right to the Warren so you can tell both Bunnymund and I how fine it is,” Pitch spat furiously before grabbing Jack by the elbow and dragging him along to his study.

Once they arrived, transported through the shadows in a matter of seconds, Pitch sat Jack down in an armchair to wait as he went and got whatever materials he needed, but not before ordering Jack sharply to stay. Jack sighed and waited obediently as he tried to decide how much to tell Pitch about what happened.

He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t know if it was a good idea to admit the fight was about Pitch. He was trying to get The Guardians to get along with Pitch, not make everything worse. He knew Pitch would be upset, but he was already more upset than he’d thought he would be. He’d gotten black eyes before from running hard enough into trees or whatever multiple times. Everything always healed perfectly back to normal. It seemed like this weird metaphysical manifestation of a body always returned to its natural state, regardless, so it really wasn’t anything to worry about. He’d wondered if losing an arm meant it would grow back, but he wasn’t willing to try it out.

He was fine though, this was nothing and he’d thought Pitch would get that. Maybe he’d thought a little sympathy would be nice, but in truth he’d just sort of panicked and was angry and upset and all of a sudden wanted to see Pitch, and now he wasn't sure that was such a good idea. He hadn’t been planning on lying to him or pretending like it never happened, but he kind of regretted showing up covered in blood from his nosebleed, sobbing about how he was going to kill that damn rabbit.

Pitch came back with an old black box, unlatched it, and set it on the table by Jack’s chair, then he ordered Jack to stand.

“Pitch, just hold on a second, let me—“

Pitch sighed, gripped his arm and tugged, coaxing him firmly to his feet, and when Jack winced he released him immediately, eyes wide.

They stared at each other in silence, both breathing heavily as even more tension filled the room.

“Off,” Pitch ordered finally, voice low and dangerous.

“Pitch—“

“Take it off, now, Jack,” he demanded much louder, his voice booming up into the rafters of the large room, and Jack sighed with resignation.

He stripped his sweatshirt off, which was gross anyway and sticky with blood, and cast it aside. “Look, I’m sorry, I—“

“This is your last warning, Jack, I will absolutely gag you if you apologize or minimalize anything regarding what has happened from this point forward, do you understand?”

Jack scrunched his mouth up in an irritated pout. “…Maybe I wanna be”

“Cute,” Pitch dismissed brusquely, confirming that Jack absolutely couldn’t flirt his way out of this either. “Go on then, if you like, and see what happens,” Pitch goaded further as he started examining Jack’s arm. The elbow was swollen and would likely bruise, but didn’t appear to have any serious damage to it, as it was moving just fine. Pitch would have to keep an eye on that though.

“Wow, he really said ‘fuck around and find out’,” Jack muttered to himself, and realized maybe he was still feeling irritable and looking for a fight.

Pitch ignored him, instead ordering him to open his mouth and, wow, this was definitely just going to be, like, a thing with them. Jack was still bleeding from the mouth, and Pitch seemed to be looking for the source when he suddenly froze. Pitch slowly reached into Jack’s mouth and pinched some gray hair stuck to the side of his tongue between his fingers. He removed it, examining it in wonder, then looked at Jack in disbelief.

“You bit him.”

“Yeahhh,” Jack admitted, shrugging the shoulder on his good side. “Probably why my arm is messed up, cause I wouldn’t let go. It’s my own fault.”

Pitch opened his mouth, stunned, then closed it, apparently speechless. He just shook his head and let out a breathless little laugh before leaning in to take a better look at Jack’s nose. The cut in his mouth bled a lot initially, but it wasn’t serious. The nose hurt like a bitch though.

“Man, I must look so hot right now,” Jack waxed sarcastically. “All covered in blood and spit -and hair apparently- my hair’s a mess, my face is puffy as shit, I bet…this is—“

“I might just gag you anyway,” Pitch joked, although Jack had a feeling he wasn’t entirely joking, based on the dangerous glint of promise in his eye.

“That’s probably a good idea, honestly. I’m still, like…what’s the word? Feisty. No. Spicy. No. I feel like…” He chomped his teeth. “…still. You know? I said it wasn’t a big deal and I meant it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still mad as hell.”

“What were you fighting about?” Pitch asked as he dabbed Jack’s face with a cotton pad, wet with something that stung.

“It’s…uh.” Jack glanced up at the ceiling. “It’s dumb. Kinda embarrassed, we don’t have to get into all that.”

“Oh, we don’t?” Pitch asked slyly.

“Nope,” Jack said stubbornly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be any particular reason you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be because the fight was about me?” Pitch teased, but with a hint of warning in his tone. Lying would have consequences.

Jack was quiet. He looked down for a moment, thinking, then finally admitted quietly, “Yeah, I guess. Technically, that’s…me and him fight all the time anyway, so it’s not like this is that surprising. It could have been about anything. It just happened to be about…you, this time.”

“Mm-hm,” Pitch hummed, eyes intent on his work. “So what happened then exactly that’s supposedly not at all a big deal?”

“Pitch, do we really have to—“

Pitch gently took him by the jaw in one hand and made Jack look at him, and Jack realized for the first time that Pitch was not only still angry, but way more angry than he was. He controlled it well, but he could see it under the surface, in the tension of his jaw, or his brow, but mostly he could see it in the way Pitch’s golden eyes were so intensely focused, like he’d already decided Bunny was going to die, he was just calculating the specifics. He’d passed straight through rage into plotting war general. It was terrifying how well the expression suited him, appearing perfectly at home on his handsome face.

And of course there was the low growl of his voice as he said patiently, “Jack. You come into my home, covered in your own blood, crying and raving, battered and shaking from head to toe. You will tell me exactly what has happened in excruciating detail, and you will tell me now.”

Jack swallowed, his breath quickening, and he nodded as Pitch let him go. “Right…I uh…okay, but you can’t get mad at me, okay?”

Pitch closed his eyes. “Jack, I’m not mad at you, I’m upset that you’re hurt.”

“Well, yeah, okay, but like…well, so, the fight…so I mentioned you and me were friends.”

Pitch’s mouth immediately fell open. He was stunned. “You…?”

Jack couldn’t look at him. “Yeah. Kind of, like, I said something like, you’re all just assuming you know what he’s like, but you’re way off. And Bunny was like, how would you know, you don’t know anything, you’re just a kid, blah blah blah, the usual, so I said like, actually yeah I do know because I’m the only one that’s bothered to try and make friends with him. And then Bunny was roasting me basically, and you, laughing about me trying to make friends with you, assuming it didn’t work, you know?”

Jack took a deep breath and sighed, glancing down and ignoring Pitch’s dumbfounded expression as he pushed on. “So I said we were friends and that it was actually easy and they were all just a bunch of bullies on the playground and it was embarrassing, cause now I was getting really mad. Cause this whole time they’re insulting you, right? And man, I am so sick of hearing that all the time. They know how I feel, they just don’t care because they are believed in so they don’t get it.”

He sighed again. “So…Bunny’s like, that’s not possible, Pitch doesn’t have friends, he has victims, he’s not even a person. And I called him a coward and he called me some dumb insult I never heard before, like he does, and I told him maybe he’s the one that shouldn’t be a Guardian because he’s so selfish and a poor excuse for someone supposed to be representing hope, and he came at me and he was really pissed, so I made him fall on some ice then he chucked his boomerang at me and I dodged it, but it came around and hit me in the back. So I put it in an ice cube and while he was throwing a tantrum I just…I was so angry, he was yelling that neither of us deserved believers and that’s why we didn’t have them, that we would never have them, so I punched him in the face as hard as I could, and he punched me back so I hooked him by the ankle with my staff while I was on the floor and yanked him off his feet again. The others tried to step in, but Bunny jumped on me and it was just kind of a mess after that, but he’s big and I might be fast, but so is he and…look, I tried, but I don’t fight much, so…anyway…”

Jack looked at his lap, embarrassed. He especially didn’t want to talk about the next part. Maybe he could get around it somehow. “Um. So. I lost, basically, which is…”

“What do you mean you lost?” Pitch asked through clenched teeth.

“I just…” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t…want to.”

“Jack, just tell me what–”

“They hate me,” he breathed.

All at once, it hit him. He was just trying to do the right thing, but that didn’t matter now because he was officially the bad guy. There would be no more Guardian meetings, no more hanging out at the workshop and making toys with North or trying to keep up with Tooth as they chatted and darted around the palace. None of them would want anything to do with him after he started a fight like that, over Pitch, who they all already thought was pure evil and that was all there was to it.

“...you should have seen the way they looked at me,” Jack whispered, sinking back into his seat, consumed by horror. It was happening. He was going to be alone again. He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out, suppressing the sob that wanted to burst out of him instead.

“Jack,” Pitch said softly, reaching a hand out to him, but Jack ignored it as tears ran down his battered face.

“I wasn’t...I didn’t really want to hurt anyone, not seriously, I just got scared because he’s so much bigger, right? And I wanted to win for you. And my head was killing me and I couldn’t breathe good. He was holding me down, hitting me and screaming at me that I’m a traitor, and I couldn’t get away, and it’s stupid, but I never had anyone on top of me like that before, and I was so scared…so I blasted him with ice, just to get him off me and it threw him back and he wasn’t moving. And they all looked at me like…”

Jack turned away, shrinking as he hid his face in his elbow, so deeply ashamed of himself he almost wanted to disappear again. He shook from the force of the sobs he was trying to keep quiet, but he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out from behind his arm, down his face, and into his lap. He flinched away from the gentle hand Pitch laid on his shoulder. He didn’t deserve comfort.

“You were only defending yourself,” Pitch said quietly, getting down on one knee in front of him. “Even they can understand that. It would be obvious to anyone, seeing what you described. Look at you.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there,” Jack said, peering over his shaking arm at him. “They…” He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “Bunny will never…and the others, they’ve all been friends for such a long time. Every time I argue with them it seems like they’re a little more disappointed in me, you know? And now they had to throw me out because…North yelled at me like I was…”

Humiliated beyond reason and overwhelmed by a fresh wave of despair, Jack tightened his arms around himself and hung his head. What else was there to say? He was the enemy now. And without The Guardians…

“No one will ever believe in me.”

He broke down as Pitch lifted him into his arms and sat in the chair with Jack in his lap, trying to gently soothe him, but Jack was inconsolable. He was being a baby about it, he knew that, but he was so scared of being shunned by all of them. They’d become like a family to him. They were all he had, he couldn’t just pin all his social needs on Pitch, and for all The Guardian’s eccentricities, he genuinely liked all of them, even Bunny. He had a unique relationship with each of them and he couldn’t lose that. He was so much closer to being alone again, and this thing with Pitch, it was too good to be true, and when he was alone again he’d have to come to terms with the fact that he would never be believed in by anyone.

Once again, he’d somehow managed to fuck up everything. He was just trying to…He wanted to do the right thing. What happened?

Pitch was surprisingly quiet as he held him, opting to simply hold him close and remind him that, at least for right now, he was not alone, and everything would be alright.

Once he was all bandaged up and Pitch had thoroughly examined him to his satisfaction, he insisted Jack get some rest in the lair so he could keep an eye on his condition in case there was anything wrong they couldn’t yet see any evidence of. Jack agreed, glad to spend some time with Pitch. Soon he was in relatively high spirits again, once the wave of emotion from the fight had worn off and he felt more like himself. While he laid in bed, with Pitch reading a book nearby, he tried to think of a way to apologize to Bunny and the others.

He was pretty sure Pitch was still upset, though, because as Jack started falling asleep he realized he hadn’t actually seen or heard Pitch turn any of the pages in his book.

——

They’d put their hands on his wild thing, his Jack. His skin was torn and stained with bruises. Even now as he slept, blood dried in his hair and tears dried on his cheeks and oh, they had never seen horrors like the ones that were coming for them. Not in all his years terrorizing the world, because this was the last fucking straw and he’d be sure their backs would break under the weight of it. For every scratch, every bruise, every tear, they would suffer. For every shiver, every hiss of pain, they would suffer. They had no idea what they’d done, it never should have come to this. How many times would they fail Jack? As many times, perhaps, as Jack went running back to them.

Pitch fumed at Jack’s bedside, staring vacantly at the pages of the book in his lap. He’d been patient. He’d been kind. Endlessly patient, endlessly kind, and always tempering his ego and rage for the sake of Jack or anyone innocent who might get in the way, because he was not that thing anymore. The shadows and he had an understanding, one they’d worked out long ago, and now, more himself than he ever was, he’d tried to be reasonable, but that was all over now.

He was taking what was his. What had always been his, going back millions of years in their first lifetime together. Pitch had paid dearly for his mistakes then and had suffered the consequences ever since, but now he was ready, and all of that was over now, because he was ready. He would defend and fight for Jack the way Jack had fought for him all that time ago. He would believe in him the way Jack had believed in him then, and been wrong, and died for it. He was sorry, so sorry, he would never stop being sorry, but he was done doing the right thing.

Hadn’t he done that? Hadn’t he tried for long enough to do right by the world, not fighting the shadows, but befriending them, the beings that had torn apart his whole world, that took his daughter from him, took Jack from him? It took millions of years to do it, but here he was, and they were loyal and the world was safe and it was all thanks to him. No one cared and that was fine, but Jack didn’t deserve a single ounce of the consequences he was being dealt now. The Man in the Moon was, in reality, a vicious and selfish beast and if he wanted to take Jack, they’d have to pry Jack’s cold dead body from his cold dead hands. He would not allow them to take him, not for the children of the world or anyone else.

Jack would never let his plan play out the way it needed to. He would want to save everyone and be one big happy family, but that wouldn’t work, Pitch was sure of that now. His resolve was firm. Jack meant well, he really did, but he didn’t have the benefit of hindsight. Pitch had kept his distance, for the most part, all this time, but if it was no longer in Jack’s best interest and they actually had a chance to be together again, both eternal, no threat of darkness looming over their heads and nothing else to lose, Pitch was going to take that chance.

And oh, Jack was going to hate him. He was going to hate him fiercely for a time, but he couldn’t hate him forever. He’d come around and see that it was Jack Pitch was fighting for, and he might not forgive, but he would forget enough of Pitch’s sins to stay by his side, and that would be enough. It would have to be, because The Guardians couldn’t remain a threat and this he could not forgive.

If his plans failed, however, Jack would need The Guardians to fall back on. In their stupidity they might fault Jack for what was to come. He would find a way to circumvent that.

Being associated with Pitch was a death sentence, that’s what he’d learned, especially when it came to Jack, but this time he would keep him safe, no matter what he had to sacrifice.

——

Ice and snow were the best ways Jack knew how to communicate with others. After all, his entire life it was the only option he had. No one ever noticed him unless he used his ice. Now he hoped using this extension of his soul would help him make The Guardians understand how sorry he was, but honestly? He was nervous, because he really wasn’t sure any of it would be enough. They’d only just started letting him come around, and now he pulled something like this.

The sculpture he made of The Guardians in the center of the meeting room was just one piece of his apology. He did have to actually apologize, and more importantly…

He didn’t want to think about it. He really didn’t want to think about it, but…

Jack nearly collapsed, leaning heavily on his staff for support as he let out a breathless sound of relief and stared up at North with damp, hopeful eyes. “So…so he’s okay?” Jack gasped.

North smiled kindly back at him, eyes crinkling at the edges, and opened his mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a voice behind Jack, on the opposite end of the room.

“Gonna take more than that to get ridda me, mate.”

Jack froze completely in shock before spinning around to see Bunny standing there on the other side of the room, just inside the doorway. He didn’t look as bad as Jack did, but he also had a lot of fur to cover things up. The only really obvious injury he had was the bandage wrapped around his arm where Jack bit him. Jack winced and slowly approached, keeping his staff pointed benignly at the floor.

He had no idea what to say. For a long few moments, the room was mostly silent as they looked at each other, both equally cautious as North looked on from afar. It was a tense, awkward moment and Jack was tempted to fidget with his staff, but he didn’t want Bunny to think he was attacking or something.

“Hey…I’m…I’m sorry. For everything, I…I just got…freaked out and I just kind of reacted, I didn’t really want to...well, I mean, I did want to hurt you, but not…not bad and I was really worried you…Are you really okay?” Jack rambled, staring up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Got quite a lot of fight in there, don’t yah?” Bunny finally commented mildly after appraising him and his words for a while. “All that over Pitch, huh? That what he’s worth to you? Throwing away being a Guardian, helping these kids that are trusting you…”

“It’s not…” Jack sighed and glanced away sadly. “Look, I don’t want to argue more about it. I just wanted to apologize and see if you were okay. I wanna make it up to you somehow, but I figured this is at least–”

“Then why don’t you answer the question? How ‘bout that? If you’re so sorry.” Bunny challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jack looked back up, meeting his steady gaze, but totally at a loss himself. He managed to stammer, “It’s…not about him, it’s about…doing the right thing. Getting rid of him, just cause it’s easier, it doesn’t feel right. I can’t...I wouldn’t be me if I just went along with all the plans you guys have when it’s going to hurt someone who’s already suffered so much. And I know, I know he’s hurt a lot of people, but…I just…it’s not who I am.”

“You gotta make a choice,” Bunny said stiffly, taking a step closer, but he looked calm and Jack didn’t feel like he was being threatened. He felt like he was being warned. “You gotta look out for you too. You’re gonna destroy yourself like this, mate. You can’t put everything on the line for one bloke you don’t even know. Cause at the end of the day, it’s all because he reminds you of you, isn’t it? But he’s not you, Jack. You might not be a Guardian, but don’t lump yourself in with someone like him.”

Jack grimaced and looked down, gripping his staff tightly in both hands in front of him.

“Jack, he is right,” North added from behind, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder, and Jack glanced back at him. “That person we saw that day, when you two fought, that was someone who has been hurt very bad and has been alone for a long time, but we are your friends. We understand and we still care. Even so, we are Guardians, first and foremost. We must protect the children and this? This is not helping anyone, Jack, least of all you.”

Jack nodded and hung his head. He’d honestly expected a lot worse than this, even though he was pretty sure he already knew what North was getting at. The way they were both still trying to be kind to him made him feel more than ever like there had to be something wrong with him.

“Unless you are agreeing to stay away from Pitch, we will have to say good-bye to you for a while, Jack,” North said as gently as possible, but Jack could still hardly breathe. He nodded as North continued somberly, “We have all discussed and think this is being best for everyone so that we can focus on children and you can focus on sorting out what is in your heart. It is not a punishment. Do you understand?”

Turning and looking up at North, he got the feeling by his tone and the soft look on his face that he was more worried about Jack than anything and actually did want to know if he understood, for Jack’s own benefit. The problem was, Jack wasn’t sure he did understand.

Jack nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I got it.”

North sighed sadly, seeing in Jack’s face that he was indeed saying that he couldn’t stay away from Pitch and that he wouldn’t, and that meant he’d have to stay away from everyone else and take this weird little break North was proposing. Maybe North had hoped he would see reason, but if there was reason to be seen, he didn’t see it.

“But first, you are looking rough, and we are also glad you are being…somewhat okay,” North added, looking him over. “No matter what, you are still being Guardian, Jack. Let’s take a look at these injuries, yes? How are you feeling?”

Jack shut his eyes tight. “Ha…I’m fine, North.” Looking back up at him, he forced a small smile. “I’m alright, I already…Pitch took care of it.”

The look North and Bunny shared didn’t slip past him, but he pretended not to notice. North looked back at him and nodded. “If you are sure that is best.”

Jack nodded and looked back at Bunny. “I, uh…” He felt like he had more to say, but really that was probably just because he felt like he had to grovel. Maybe if he did, they would let him stay. He wondered if Sandy and Tooth knew about this too, and figured they probably did. While he was gone they’d almost certainly all gotten together and talked about it, keeping him out of everything like they’d done since the beginning. Probably, Bunny was here both being looked after and waiting for Jack to inevitably return. Well, he had, and now it was time to go.

“Call me if you need anything though, alright?” Jack said, trying to sound cheerful.

North smiled warmly at him. “Of course. Take care, Jack.”

Every cell trembling with fear, he forced a half-hearted smile and nodded to them both, then took off back through the window he’d come through.

Chapter Text

Jack was stunned when it turned out they actually did need him.

It had been a while since the talk with North and Bunny and he’d been keeping to himself a lot lately. He didn’t want to bring Pitch down with his dreary mood. Even though Pitch had said, essentially, he didn’t exist to entertain anyone, it still felt like it would be awkward to just hang around, acting like this person Pitch didn’t even know. None of the frost spirit’s usual smiles, jokes, or playfulness that Pitch had become used to. Jack was just quiet. His facial expressions didn’t really change much. He was just tired and miserable and there was no reason Pitch should have to deal with that, especially when it already seemed like he’d been struggling the last time Jack saw him, and he was pretty sure that was his fault too.

When he saw a bit of golden sand that seemed to beckon him, he followed it and was surprised to see North rocketing through the air on his sleigh. He made a beeline for it, and was immediately alarmed when he realized Tooth was nowhere to be found and the remaining three Guardians looked extremely solemn.

“What’s going on?” he cried over the wind as he dropped into the sleigh between Bunny and Sandy.

“Trouble at The Tooth Palace!” North called back.

“But what–?”

“We don’t know yet,” Bunny explained, glancing at Jack as he gripped tightly the side of the sleigh. “But it can’t be good.”

Jack’s chest constricted with worry, and he silently urged the wind to help them go faster.

By the time they arrived, all the teeth were gone, along with every faerie, except for the one Jack managed to catch at the last second. They’d hardly begun comforting a distraught Tooth when they heard a wicked laugh from above and all turned their attention upwards.

Of course, Jack already knew Pitch was behind this. As soon as he had seen the Nightmares ghosting through the sky he had known. Seeing him here, though, looking so smug and relaxed in the face of their misery struck him hard.

“Pitch! What are you doing?” Jack called out to him, eyes wide with hurt and confusion.

His stomach curdled as Pitch peered down at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow before slipping away and suddenly reappearing behind them.

“Come now, Frost, I’ve heard you’re not the brightest, but really,” he mocked, and it was definitely that same deep, beautiful voice Jack knew, the one that soothed him and made him shiver, the one he loved to hear say his name more than any other, only this couldn’t be the same person. Pitch had never looked at him in the cold, cruel way he was now.

“…Frost?” he breathed in disbelief, staring at Pitch, blinking away shock, as if that would make him change. He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Run along now,” Pitch said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “You’re not a Guardian, last I recall, so I’m going to ignore you.” He chuckled as he glided away. “But I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”

Jack would have much preferred if Pitch just beat him up like Bunny did, twice as bad even, because this…this was…

“You can’t be serious. Pitch,” he said, barely keeping a tremor out of his voice as he followed him across the platform. “Hey. Look at me.”

Pitch stopped when he realized he was being followed, turned, and looked Jack up and down apathetically. “Well, you’re not really associated with The Guardians anymore, now are you? So what do I need you for? I’ll just get a dog if I want something to follow me everywhere, slobber all over me and throw itself in my lap, begging for scraps every chance it gets.” He flashed Jack a playful smile like this was some inside joke, added, “I’ve always been more of a cat person,” then stepped behind a golden structure and disappeared, leaving Jack standing there, sick and breathless.

It wasn’t true. It wasn’t.

“That’s…that’s not…but…”

In his peripherals he could see The Guardians staring at him with enough sympathy to make his stomach sick and his skin prickle with humiliation. Hadn't they told him this would happen? They tried to tell him, didn’t they, that Pitch was using him, that he was no good and it wasn’t worth the risk and to just let it be, but he couldn’t just do that, could he? No. Jack thought he knew better. He thought he would somehow be the one thing to turn things around when nothing and no one else could.

He’d never been so desperate to not to be seen as he was right now. The way Pitch had said that…could it even have been anymore degrading? It was clear what Pitch was getting at. Saying Jack slobbered on him and threw himself in Pitch’s lap wasn’t exactly ambiguous, and he could only imagine The Guardians were staring at him now, thinking that the whole time Jack was advocating for the older spirit, it was just because Pitch was fucking him. He was absolutely humiliated.

Jack was grateful when Pitch reappeared nearby and The Guardians turned their attention back to him as they began exchanging more verbal blows because it gave him a chance to fade into the background. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, he slowly stepped away from the others and stood watching from a distance. After all, this was going to be his life again now. He’d better get used to it.

He watched the banter quietly, just wanting to disappear. And he would. First, all he had to do was stand here and wait for this to be over. He would help in whatever fight ensued, he would help get the faeries and teeth back if he could, and then he would go back where he belonged: to some far off town where he wouldn’t bother anyone.

But…his heart constricted painfully in his chest as he remembered how just the other day Pitch had been holding him and telling him everything was going to be alright. It was never going to be alright.

Jack had never felt more pathetic in his life than he did right now as he watched Pitch, continuing to ignore him as he taunted the others. Jack closed his eyes and tried to remember the feeling of being wrapped in his arms in the grass. He’d been nothing but a nuisance to him, apparently, but in Jack’s memory, for now, until that version of Pitch and this one merged, it still felt so real and untouched by what just happened. If he’d known that would be the last time he’d feel loved and cared for, he would have concentrated harder on the feeling of Pitch’s warm, graceful hands, the softness in the lines of Pitch’s face as he gazed at him like he were the stars, and he certainly wouldn’t have fallen asleep so soon.

He allowed himself this pitiful instant in time to try and wring one last drop of that feeling out before it all went away. Before even the memories were tainted by what happened today and knowing now that none of it was real. In time he was sure he would hate Pitch and those memories would make him sick, but right now he couldn’t hate him Pitch gave him the only true affection he’d ever known. He was the only one that made him feel truly seen, or believed in, and he would never, ever have that again. He had to be at least a little grateful.

Jack’s eyes shot up as Pitch let out a sudden cry of distress and he looked up just in time to see Pitch’s face bearing a snarl as he dodged Bunny’s boomerang. It was then that Tooth took the opportunity to dart in with a large, sharp blade. Pitch dodged her too, several times, before letting out a hiss of pain, spinning away from her, and slipping away into the shadows, his blood splattered on the pillar.

The Guardians all looked around for him, forming a tight huddle, but despite everything Jack was horribly worried. He spun all around, running this way and that as he searched for any sign of Pitch. The Nightmare was still here and Jack was positive he wouldn’t leave it behind, and that was no inconsiderable amount of blood. Quickly, Jack was starting to panic.

“Pitch? …Pitch!” he called, filled with dread. What if he was badly hurt? Jack suddenly didn’t care how awful Pitch was; all he cared about was finding him and making sure he was—

Something smooth and sharp pressed up against his throat, and he froze.

“Give me a reason, I beg you,” Pitch said from behind him, loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. They all turned at once towards the two of them with looks of shock and anger on their faces. Based on their reactions, Jack guessed this wasn’t Pitch’s usual behavior under any circumstance. They all seemed particularly stunned by Pitch’s silent, brutal threat.

“He has done nothing to you, Pitch, leave him be,” North demanded fiercely
nonetheless, brandishing his sabers.

“I don’t think any of you are getting the message. I think a good old-fashioned beheading would be a fun little change of pace, don’t you, Frost?” Pitch purred, peering down at him with a smirk.

“…you—“ Jack started furiously, but then let out a gasp as he was forced to his knees. Pitch grabbed a fistful of Jack’s hair, shoved him down hard, then yanked his head back before pressing the blade of his scythe back to his throat.

“Hush…the grownups are talking,” Pitch taunted. He put his hand out. “Give me the staff.”

Jack’s eyes widened with fresh horror. “…what? No.”

Fingers tightened painfully in his hair and he winced as Pitch chuckled and leaned down closer to him, purring into his ear, “Oh, don’t tell me. You actually still believe I care about you, and I would never really hurt you. Is that it? Poor little Jack. No, I could take it from you, but I want you to show your supposed friends how pathetic you are. Hmm, by the way,” he hummed casually, “Did you know I told The Guardians about you way back in the beginning, before any of you met? So all this time, when they’ve treated you like an outsider while you’d done nothing except try to spark belief and joy in children’s hearts, it was because they believed you were working for me.”

Jack’s face went blank. “…you’re lying.” He was staring right at The Guardians, but hadn’t been able to really see them until right now. He looked between them all, silently pleading with them to say it wasn’t true, but they were silent, and the abashed looks on all their faces said it all. “You’re lying,” Jack insisted shakily, but even he didn’t believe it.

“It’s true,” Pitch sighed, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. “They believed me instead of you, these friends of yours. They really thought I’d rely on you to do my errands for me. I let them think it was a secret of course, and oh, they thought they were so clever, when really we’d never met. Technically, I never told them anything.”

“Wh…why?” Jack whispered, eyes wide and glistening as he turned them upwards towards Pitch where he loomed over him. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t need another Guardian butting into my business and getting in my way. But you’re not a Guardian after all, are you? Pity. It was all for nothing then. But you know, Jack,” he added softly, fingers yanking at his scalp and making his eyes water. “I think I did you a favor. With friends like these, who needs enemies?”

“You…you fucking…” Jack would have preferred Pitch just cut his head off than cry right now. He was just so angry, and Pitch was hurting him, and there was just sincerely nothing he could do as a single tear rolled from the outer corner of his eye, freezing solid to his cheek part of the way down. He wanted to scream at him, but he couldn’t say a word. He could hardly breathe, so he just took it and grit his teeth, more furious than he could ever remember being.

“So,” Pitch continued as he let go of Jack’s hair and put his hand out. “Hand it over.”

Jack tried to choke out some kind of retort, but only strangled sounds would come out of his strained throat. After a long pause, though, scythe stinging against his neck, Jack shut his eyes tight and as Pitch eased the scythe away, Jack held the handle of his staff out for Pitch to take and hung his head in defeat.

Pitch took it, and Jack wasn’t sure what he’d done with it, but soon that hand was free again and petting Jack’s hair. “Good boy. Now, you’re coming with me.”

“No, I’m not,” he finally spat venomously at him through grit teeth.

“You are if you want your staff back.”

“No. No, fuck you. Do it, you fucking...” He couldn’t. He was not going along with this willingly, no matter what. If Pitch was going to kill him, break his staff, fine, but he wasn’t going to make it any easier than he already had. Regardless, Pitch controlled everything he had left to lose. “You fucking bastard…”

“Ah, well, if you’re so opposed to the idea, then I suppose you don’t mind if I put each and every one of the tooth faeries through a blender. Or, you know, whatever I’m in the mood for at the time, it’ll take a while to get through all of them. Your choice, Jack.”

Tooth gasped. “Pitch…! You wouldn’t,” she breathed, voice shrill and eyes wide with horror. “Not even you. You wouldn’t do that.”

Pitch shrugged. “What did you think was going to happen? I certainly don’t need them for anything. I suppose I could stuff my pillows with them.”

“Don’t,” Jack pleaded quietly, his anger and hope rapidly draining away. “Pitch, don’t hurt them. You don’t have to do that…please,” he added in a whisper.

“That all depends on you, Jack. Are you going to be good for me?”

Jack’s breath stuttered with shock. He couldn’t believe, even now, that Pitch would twist those words just to hurt him. It had been such a vulnerable moment for Jack, and the fact that he’d use it against him seemed too cruel, considering there was no goal other than to throw salt in the wound.

Finally, he hung his head in defeat, taking a deep tremulous breath as he shut his eyes tight again. “…yes.”

“Yes, what?” Pitch prompted softly.

Jack let out a rush of breath as more tears squeezed out, his face burning with shame. “Please…stop…”

Pitch nudged his head back up with the scythe and leaned over him, making him look him in the eye again. To his surprise, Pitch didn’t look to him like he was getting nearly as much enjoyment out of this as he’d expected. Nonetheless, he insisted, “Say it.”

Jack stared up into his eyes, heartbroken, silently pleading for mercy, but there was no mercy to be found. More tears ran down the sides of his face as he looked Pitch in the eye and said quietly, “…I’ll be good for you.”

“Excellent.” Pitch removed the scythe from his neck. “Get up,” he ordered as he called the nightmare over to them somehow, without making a sound. It descended gracefully down onto the platform beside them as Jack got to his feet. He couldn’t look at any of them. His body was just moving on its own.

His eyes remained downcast as he let Pitch help him up onto the nightmare, vaguely aware of how close he was standing to him, like he was trying to shade Jack from the sun. His hands lingered first on Jack’s thigh then his back as if he thought he might fall off then he sighed quietly. Jack turned his face away from everyone as Pitch gracefully climbed up and sat behind him, placing an arm securely around his waist like a seatbelt. The nightmare stamped its feet eagerly beneath them and Jack wondered if it tasted his fear. He shouldn’t have had much left to fear, but on the horizon there was the looming threat that when this was all over, he would be alone again. The nightmare let out an ethereal, echoing whinny, and they took off quickly. He heard The Guardians’ cries of outrage as they gave chase, but they cantered into the solid, rocky side of the mountain and disappeared in a burst of shadow and nightmare sand.

——

Seconds later, they burst out of the darkness into Pitch’s lair. He watched as the Nightmare trotted elegantly through the cavern, its hooves causing a satisfying clatter to echo off the rock, which surprised Jack for some reason. He’d only ever heard them soundlessly glide through the air, but he supposed it made sense. They weren’t made of just darkness after all, they were dream sand as well. He’d heard the pleasing rustle dream sand could make when brushing across a physical surface and Jack wondered if the nightmare sand sounded the same. Either way, and regardless of his bitterness on behalf of Sandy, he had to admit he held a reverence for the nightmare, watching how it moved with such eerie, effortless grace, much like Pitch.

He reached out absently and brushed a hand carefully over its flank, and got no reaction good or bad, so he did it again.

He jumped when a low voice behind him lightly scolded, “What are you doing?”

“Petting the horse?” he said, like it was obvious, because it was. And he couldn’t wait to hear the indignation in Pitch’s voice at having called one of his nightmares a ‘horse’. It was the very least of what he deserved at this point.

“It is not a horse,” he corrected him indignantly. Jack almost could have smiled.

“Do they have a name?”

“It’s a Nightmare, you know this.”

“No, I mean this one.” Jack risked brushing fingers through its sandy mane, and what a strange feeling, the sand warm, always moving, dancing around and between his fingers in a playful waltz. The nightmare made a quiet sound that, to Jack, sounded like approval, if his minimal experience with horses was anything to go by. He liked to think he had a pretty good repertoire with animals in general. He got them much better than people, and they got him better too.

He didn’t think Pitch was going to answer. Finally, he murmured, “Her name is Mora.” His voice carried something gentle with it that made Jack feel both warm and unspeakably sad.

“Hi Mora. You’re really cool…this isn't your fault. Thanks for the ride,” he mumbled. He looked around, wondering where they were going, wondering if he was supposed to be more nervous than he was, but all he could feel was numbness, with tiny bursts of emotion in between.

They stopped. Jack looked around. He was really starting to think this place was actually endless. He craned his head back, trying to find a ceiling somewhere up there, and getting nothing.

He was prodded loose from his endeavor when he first felt Pitch climb off of Mora and looked around to see what Pitch was up to. Even riding atop Mora as he was, and Pitch dismounted, Pitch was still nearly taller than him, not quite, but close enough for it to be disconcerting.

When Pitch reached a hand out to him to help him down off of Mora, Jack took it without thinking. He paused, staring at their hands, remembering a moment from when they first met, when he’d examined how opposite they were and he’d thought it was beautiful.

He winced, but allowed Pitch to help him down. He let go, unsure how to feel about Pitch’s warmth fading from his cold skin. Despair? Disgust? Either way, when it was gone, he wanted it back.

He was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace, and now everything was warm, but he immediately and vehemently rejected it, trying to shove Pitch away. Pitch resisted, clinging to him as he squirmed, burying fingers in his hair.

“What is wrong with you? Get off me,” Jack demanded weakly.

Pitch just held him tighter. “I’m so sorry...everything’s going to be alright.”

Jack gasped hard at the same moment the tears came on strong again, going still before he continued struggling. “You—…fuck you, what’s going on?”

“This is how it has to be. But it will work out in the end, I promise you. It’s okay if you hate me.”

“I do. I do hate you,” Jack insisted, pushing against him as hard as he could before giving up and just standing there, dropping his face helplessly against Pitch’s shoulder.

“I know. It’s okay, Jack,” Pitch whispered softly.

“It’s not. It’s never going to be okay. You ruined everything,” Jack cried, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before whispering, barely making any sound at all, “I hate you…I hate you…”

Pitch finally let go of him with a sigh, and Jack shoved him away hard as he did so, finally breaking free of him and taking several large steps back. Suddenly, he realized they were not in the location they’d been in a moment ago, but in a large bedroom, carved out of the walls of the cave. It was a cozy room, despite its size, and Jack would have liked it under any other circumstance.

His head whipped back around to look at Pitch. “Give me my staff back,” he demanded hoarsely.

Pitch just looked at him. Jack clawed at his chest, furious, but also fighting back panic. “Pitch. Give me back my staff. You can’t just…”

“You can trust no harm will come to it so long as you do what I say,” Pitch said simply, and if he had any sympathy or remorse for Jack, it was nowhere in his expression.

Jack stared at him, frozen through with horror as the position he was in finally struck him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Finally, he choked out, “You used me…all along. This whole time.”

Pitch sighed. “Of course I did, Jack. You make it so easy.”

Jack’s chest burned and after catching his breath a moment, he shouted back viciously, “It’s only easy because it’s you. Do you think it’s an accident? I’m vulnerable on purpose because it’s you and you keep…punishing me for it.”

Pitch looked back at him, face blank. “Have you learned your lesson yet?”

After a long, painful silence, Jack said quietly, bitterly, “Yeah…yeah, I think I have.”

Pitch nodded. “Good. This is where you’ll be staying. You’re not to leave this room. As soon as you walk out this door, the shadows will consume you and put you right back here, so don’t bother. No harm will come to the faeries, just stay put and do as I say.”

“I don’t know what’s really going on,” Jack breathed, “But I’ll never…forgive you for this.”

Pitch just looked at him then he turned and left the room, locking the door behind him with a metallic click.

Feeling impossibly heavy, Jack sank to the floor, curled into himself, and tried to understand what just happened.

Chapter Text

Jack found himself quickly exhausted by not having access to his staff. He hadn’t realized how much not having it would affect him in ways other than his abilities with ice and snow. But now, during his “stay” in Pitch’s lair, he found himself sleeping all the time. It didn’t help that there was nothing to do.

Everytime he woke up, Pitch was there, either by the bed reading a book or nodding off, or he would be sitting solemnly at the end of the bed doing nothing at all, eyes closed as if in prayer. He really did seem to be worried about how Jack would do without his staff, but despite that refused to give it back. Jack genuinely wanted to kick his ass, but had never been in less of a position to do so. He didn’t really care if Pitch was worried about him or not, he was still livid.

Pitch always seemed to anticipate whatever he needed. The door was always locked with a click behind him if Pitch ever had to leave for something.

He couldn’t talk to Pitch. He could hardly even look at him. Clearly, he was a prisoner here, although he wouldn’t have left of his own accord anyway, and Pitch didn’t seem eager to speak to him either.

Nonetheless, he was always there. And despite the fact that Jack wanted nothing to do with Pitch, he was desperately glad he was. He couldn’t stand being alone right now.

But Pitch always kept his distance. Nothing was like it was before, and Jack wasn’t even sure why he himself was here. Supposedly, it was because he interfered, but Jack had never actually done that, only promised it, and this seemed like a lot of trouble to go through for a neutral party. The more time passed, the more he questioned it, and eventually this led to him questioning Pitch.

“Why am I here?”

Pitch froze at the small table by the end of the bed where he stood with what looked, essentially, to Jack like a portable chemistry set. The young spirit didn’t know the first thing about any of the objects he saw, except for perhaps a strange sort of scale for weighing ingredients. Apparently, Jack wasn’t the only one bored. Too bad he’d rather stick a pineapple in his ass than have Pitch anywhere near it at the moment. Being cooped up together could have been a really good thing for them.

Pitch turned his head slightly towards him to show he had heard him, but he didn’t turn around, so Jack couldn’t see his face. He paused for so long Jack started to think maybe he hadn’t heard him after all. Then he said quietly, “Clearly, I was mistaken about your affiliation with The Guardians. They’ve been very eager to get you back. Considering that, and considering your willingness to give yourself up for them, I’ll be keeping you here until further notice so you don’t cause trouble.”

When Jack laughed, that caught Pitch’s attention enough to get him to turn around. “No, you won’t,” Jack said with a cold smile. He saw Pitch grit his teeth in irritation, but Jack just shrugged. He’d had it. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you think I’d be too devastated to fight back or something? After what you did to me? Nuh-uh. If that’s the only reason I’m still here, then see yah!”

Jack started to get out of bed, but Pitch’s long legs carried him swiftly over to the bed and he shoved Jack back down. Jack hated himself for it, but he supposed he hadn’t fully realized or accepted that this person wasn’t his Pitch. His Pitch wouldn’t have hurt him. This thing would, and had no problem putting his hands on him, apparently. So, when Pitch pushed him back into the bed, it startled Jack. He found himself staring up at Pitch, blue eyes big and round with fear and hurt, rather than retaliating.

“What I was thinking was that unless you want your staff back after it goes through a wood chipper, you’ll do whatever I say and that means staying in this room,” Pitch snarled.

Jack blinked rapidly as if struck and his mouth fell open. “…you wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would,” he said, smirking wickedly. “In fact, I should have already, but it makes a nice bargaining chip. Or rather about a thousand chips, to be precise. So you behave yourself, or…”

Pitch reached his hand up and, in retrospect, likely only intended to give Jack’s face a patronizing little pat or a pinch, but Pitch raised his hand, Jack flinched hard. Then, embarrassed by his reaction, he turned his face away.

Pitch was quiet. When the frost spirit looked back, he caught a glimpse of Pitch’s stricken face before he quickly turned and stormed out of the room.

Jack stared after him, shaking like a small dog in the rain, before covering his eyes with his hand. He took a deep shuddering breath and tried to calm himself. It was okay. It was—

A sob came, then another one. He slammed his other hand over his face as if he could stop the tears that way, but they still came. It hardly mattered at this point, but he tried to muffle the sounds anyway by pulling his knees up on the bed and huddling against them. If Pitch heard him crying and made fun of him for it later, he didn’t think he could stand it.

By the time Pitch returned, it had been long enough for Jack to be breathless with fear that Pitch would just leave him here in this room alone forever. When he did finally enter the room, though, Jack pretended to be asleep.

He heard the door close behind the older spirit and then it was quiet. Pitch was so still Jack thought maybe he turned and walked back out when he saw him sleeping, but then he heard his quiet footsteps cross the room to the side of the bed.

It was quiet enough in the bedroom that he could hear Pitch breathing. As he remained, his breaths became more shallow and uneven. Jack wanted to peek at him to see what kind of face he was making, but he was too worried about getting caught, so he just kept listening. He nearly gave himself away as he started a bit, hearing Pitch’s voice. It was barely there, but easy to understand.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you this time. I promise.”

Jack was so focused on making sure Pitch didn’t realize he was awake that he only barely felt the heat as Pitch ran the back of one finger down his tear-stained cheek. By the time he realized that’s what it was and he reflexively opened his eyes, Pitch already had his back to him again and his hands over his own face. The sight was almost enough to make Jack sit up in bed, but not quite. He was simply too stunned and bewildered.

Pitch soon returned to the table to resume whatever he was doing before and Jack watched, failing to make sense of anything.

——

“Jack.”

“Nope.”

“Jack—“

“Uh-uh.”

Pitch growled in frustration and stormed away from Jack where he was standing in the middle of the room. There was no way he was getting back in that damn bed.

“You’re such a child,” Pitch spat at him. “How many times do I have to tell you? Without your staff, you are weaker. You have to rest and you have to take the medicine I give you.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest and hopped up onto the table purely because he knew it annoyed Pitch. “And how many times do I have to tell you I don’t care? For all I know, you’re lying about all that too.”

“Why would I bother to lie about something so trivial? Get off the table.”

“I don’t know, Pitch, why do you lie about any of the things you lie about? Cause you’re an evil little dick weasel?”

When Jack was bored (which he was all the time now, since he was being held against his will in this damn room) he sometimes liked to sit around and think up new insults for Pitch. He’d already written the word Pitch in big letters out of frost across the rock wall over the door, with a big ‘X’ across the ‘P’ and replaced by a ‘B’, with an arrow pointing to the doorway. He had at least enough frost for that, and if spitefully using up all his energy because it ticked Pitch off was the only thing fun to do, he’d do it all damn day.

Pitch who, by the way, was starting to get right proper angry. He could tell by the way his hands turned to claws at his sides like they were practicing wringing Jack’s neck. That made him a bit nervous, but so far Pitch hadn’t actually done anything to hurt him, or his staff, so hopefully he wasn’t pushing this too far. But honestly he was starting not to even care whether or not he was. Because fuck this, fuck Pitch, and fuck everyone and everything else just because.

“Funny how you ever think upsetting me will end favorably for you, Frost,” Pitch said through gritted teeth.

“Funny how you ever think I care.”

“Just curious,” Pitch sneered. “Why is it you don’t want your staff back in one piece? Are you just tired of making snow? Looking for a permanent vacation?”

He really shouldn’t have let it get to him, but it wasn’t fair when Pitch just jumped to that, like that meant he instantly won whatever argument they were having and made him right… because it did. Because Jack was helpless, he had to do what Pitch wanted in the end if he ever wanted to see his staff again, so he really, really hated when Pitch pulled that against him, and looked so pleased with himself doing it. Like threatening a piece of Jack’s soul was just such a happy, fun time for him.

Jack glanced down at the glass container Pitch had been gradually filling with batches of Jack’s medicine all day, depositing into it from a smaller bowl he did the actual mixing in. It sat there on the edge of the table after Pitch had finally gotten fed up with Jack’s antics. Jack stared at it. He looked back at Pitch.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Pitch hissed.

Jack stared at him.

“Jack, if you—“

Jack nudged the glass off the edge of the table and it shattered on the stone, splashing clear liquid everywhere. As Jack stared down at it, he felt amazing. As he looked back up at Pitch’s livid face, he felt…not so amazing. Could he die if he wasn’t really alive? He always wondered that and thought he might be about to find out the answer.

“P…Pitch. Hey. Wait,” he pleaded. As soon as Pitch took a step forward, Jack screamed and jumped off the table, making a beeline for the door. He’d take his chances with the shadows. Pitch, of course, blocked it immediately before advancing on him, causing Jack to scramble backwards and begin running and crawling around the room, dodging Pitch as fast as he could. The wind would have been proud. He was nothing if not fast and for a while he managed to duck, dodge, and squirm out of Pitch’s grip, making both of them out of breath. He scrambled across the bed only for Pitch to pop out from under it on the other side and snatch at his ankles. Jack hopped out of the way and ran, sliding on the carpet and throwing himself to the ground to avoid getting caught for his clumsy mistake, rolling to one side then the other as Pitch tried to pin him down. Jack scrambled away, throwing a chair behind him to slow Pitch down and he knew he was just making him more angry, but it was too late to just let himself get caught, there was no way he could do that.

Jack parkoured across the furniture, knocking everything off in the process until at last he managed to get himself into a tough spot. They could both see his options were limited, so Jack turned around to face Pitch in a panic, throwing his hands up defensively.

“Hey hey hey, Pitch, just wait, I—…!”

He made one last effort and turned to run.

Pitch finally grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him into the air before slamming him chest first into the nearest wall, nearly knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Selfish, obnoxious little brat,” Pitch growled in his ear. “If I had half a brain I’d chuck that staff of yours in a pit, pump you full of shadows, and be done with the whole thing.”

Jack tried to bite his tongue at least, but if he was being honest, he didn’t try very hard. “What’s stopping you then?” Jack threw back over his shoulder at him, breathing heavily. “Oh, that makes a lot of sense actually, you don’t have half a brain.”

He winced nervously as Pitch pressed in closer, feeling the heat of his breath on his neck, and goddamn it, this was not the time to let adrenaline turn into an aphrodisiac. Except…was he imagining it or did Pitch also sound half as excited as he was furious? “How is it you keep forgetting what I could do to you? It wouldn’t be hard, you know. Child’s play, even, to turn you into my plaything and yet I show you mercy. And this is how you act? I think you should apologize.”

Jack licked his lips and swallowed. He didn’t know about Pitch, but as for himself, his anger was quickly dwindling, or at least taking a new shape. He really was shameless. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Pitch, if you really think I’m going to apologize to you, you've got way less than half a brain. I have an idea, how about you apologize to me for, you know, everything, you ass clown.”

Jack was starting to slip in this awkward position, hiking his sweatshirt up over his stomach as Pitch balled it in his fist, holding him like a kitten. He squirmed, and Pitch responded by just dropping him. Jack cried out in surprise and barely caught himself on his feet. He turned around, but as soon as he did, Pitch shoved him into the wall again and pinned him there with his superior weight and size, sliding his hand up around his throat like a threat. He looked pissed, but Jack was certain there was a heated gleam in his eye and a flirtatious lilt in his tone that he recognized. He wasn’t even sure if Pitch realized what he was feeling yet until Pitch went to speak, paused, and looked Jack up and down.

Suddenly, Jack really wished he would do something to him. He wasn’t really sure what, but he liked feeling like he had some control at least, in that he could make Pitch feel such conflicting feelings of anger and lust, and god, he was so bored. A part of himself he kind of hated wanted Pitch to fuck him until he cried out all the desperate, hateful things inside of him. He needed the bubble of emotion to grow so it could burst because no matter what, he couldn’t really hate Pitch. He didn’t want to fight this anymore, he just wanted Pitch to take him so Jack could break down already. He wanted Pitch to break him. He was tired of the anticipation he felt now as he slowly lost all the things that mattered to him and any hope he ever had of things getting better, he just wanted it gone already. He wanted Pitch to take it from him. Maybe then he could let him go.

“…if you’re a good boy and apologize, maybe I’ll go easy on you,” Pitch finally said in a dangerously low purr, and Jack was sure he must have seen him shiver, and silently cursed himself.

Maybe what he really needed was to take some of this anger out on Pitch. Deciding this was the case, Jack managed to catch Pitch by enough surprise that when he shoved him as hard as he could, Pitch actually staggered. Jack elbowed his way past him so he wasn’t pressed up against the wall, but he’d no sooner stepped away than Pitch grabbed him by the arm.

An intense struggle ensued and though Jack made Pitch really work for it, Pitch still ended up pinning him face down on the bed, twisting his arms behind his back. They were both out of breath again and as Jack panted against the comforter it killed him how bad he needed Pitch to pound him into this bed until it broke, just like this with his hands behind his back. It killed him because he hated the idea just as much. Pitch didn’t deserve to have his dick anywhere near him and Jack certainly didn’t want to be dominated by him when he already felt so helpless.

Jack let out a small, needy whine in the back of his throat and squirmed, his whole body burning.

…shit, okay, maybe he did.

He could practically hear Pitch’s frantic thoughts as he acknowledged to himself that he was thinking about the same thing, but also knowing Pitch, he would never act on it, worried as he would be about his position of obvious power. Jack was literally a prisoner. Putting anything in any of his holes would be extremely unethical, even more than this already was. And he really wished Pitch would take his ethics and shove those up his ass, because he’d just about had it with Pitch being moral only when it was inconvenient for Jack specifically, and not the rest of the time.

The least he could do was fuck with Pitch, then. Wiggling underneath him, goading him, Jack moaned in a way that could easily be interpreted as either distress or Jack practically begging Pitch to fuck him.

“Now what?” Jack asked, breathless as he struggled half-heartedly. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize, you’re gonna be waiting a really long time.”

Pitch growled in frustration and Jack could feel his hips shifting against him from behind as he adjusted his grip. Then, Jack’s eyes widened as Pitch slowly ran his fingers into his hair before gripping it and tugging his head to the side so they could at least sort of look each other in the eye. “You’re extremely transparent, Jack. Are you really so desperate that even now you’d have me touch you? Everything I’ve done and you’re still like a bitch in heat as soon as I get my hands on you.”

Jack gasped as he felt Pitch let go of his arms and grab ahold of his hips instead. He could feel color quickly flushing into his face and he stopped struggling as Pitch let out a dark chuckle. He was mortified that he would just…say that out loud, as if Pitch didn’t also want to touch him. He remembered a phrase Pitch had said to him the first time they’d met.

“Projecting, are we?” Jack echoed, then without thinking about it he let out an absolutely filthy noise and taunted breathlessly, “Oh, Pitch, harder! Ah, right there…!”

Pitch let go of him immediately and Jack howled with laughter. “You damn…hypocrite!” he gasped, and as Pitch stepped back Jack was able to roll onto his back. “You—“ He stopped abruptly when he saw how close Pitch still was, practically right between his knees, and based on the stunned, but clearly hungry look on his face, Jack’s taunt had been very effective. Good, because it didn’t matter that he still had strong feelings for Pitch, he hated his guts just as much and anything he could do to make him uncomfortable was great in his book.

In the name of that, Jack put on his most pitiful, innocent face and put his hands over his head, deciding to give Pitch that apology after all. “I’m so sorry, Pitch,” he simpered, spreading his legs a little. “I’m totally helpless, maybe you should just take my virginity…you know, since you’ve taken everything else from me.”

Pitch’s face darkened and he made a sound of disgust, but instead of storming out of the room like Jack expected, Pitch grabbed him by the thighs and yanked him flush against his hips, and Jack was too stunned and turned on to hide the reaction he had as he realized Pitch was actually hard. He arched his back and slapped his hand over his mouth as his eyes rolled up.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Pitch growled at him. “You think I’m so despicable, maybe you’re right.” He ground his hips between Jack’s legs and Jack wailed into the palm of his hand, eyes shut tight. “Maybe I should have you. You are mine, after all.” He ground into him again and Jack let out a broken cry into his hand as Pitch continued taunting him, grinding against him ruthlessly. “Maybe I’ll strip you down right now. You do realize I can do whatever I want to you and no one would care? No one would save you? I could tie you to this bed and only come see you when I wanted to use your body, and you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Jack lowered his hand back on the bed with a gasp, now actively grinding back against Pitch, wondering if he could actually come from this, fully clothed, which in any other context would sound ridiculous, but right now it sounded not only possible, but amazing.

Pitch suddenly grabbed Jack by the wrists and pinned his arms above his head. His body was pressed flush against him, and he could feel the heat of Pitch’s breath on his neck and ear even as he turned his head away, but he was still. Jack shut his eyes tight, resisting the urge to rock his hips into him.

“You’re weak,” Pitch breathed.

Jack grit his teeth and looked back at him, fiery anger in his eyes, their noses almost touching. “No, I’m not,” he growled back.

“Then go ahead. Escape. Get away from me,” Pitch taunted.

Jack didn’t want to take the bait, but some part of him, the part that was so infuriated he didn’t care about anything but proving him wrong, thought maybe he really could get away, so he tried. He thrashed violently against Pitch, ever aware of how hard they both still were and hating it, kicking and bucking as he pushed out a feral cry, but in the end, of course, he only succeeded in exhausting himself until he could hardly move at all. He’d given it all he had and Pitch hadn’t budged an inch. He’d only succeeded in rubbing against him, stimulating them both, and he felt the strangest build up of emotion inside him. He was only barely suppressing humiliated, furious tears, but his mind was also feral with want.

“Aw, poor little Jack,” Pitch simpered. “Is that it?”

“I hate you,” Jack cried hoarsely as he wrapped his legs around Pitch. “I fucking…hate you.”

“Good,” Pitch whispered against his shoulder as he nudged the neck of his sweatshirt aside then he sank his teeth into his shoulder, hard. Really hard. Shocked by the pain, Jack’s eyes flew open and he found a little more energy left to use to struggle and writhe. When he didn’t scream loud enough for Pitch’s liking, Pitch sank his teeth in deeper until he did, his voice becoming shrill before breaking into a desperate sob.

“Stop,” Jack finally begged, sobbing quietly with relief as Pitch released him, instead licking at the wound and pressing kisses around it tenderly. Jack laid there shivering. He was harder than ever.

Pitch cradled his jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing affectionately over his cheek, catching tears as they streamed, Jack’s breath hitching in his chest as he tried to remember how to breathe normally. He wished he would hurt him so much more than that but knew, instinctively, Pitch wasn’t going to give that to him. If he actually planned on fucking him, he’d have done it by now, or at least gotten Jack’s pants off.

“I could never hate you,” Pitch murmured and wrapped his arms around Jack, cradling him to his body, and Jack gasped as Pitching started grinding his hips against him, heat pooling in his belly until Jack realized, horrified, he really was going to come. For some reason that thought suddenly made him feel so humiliated and small, but it didn’t stop him from choking out moans on every breath. He wanted to get away, stop the friction Pitch was forcing on him, but there was nothing he could do, and that thought just made him throw his head back as heat shot through him that felt so good it hurt.

“Please…please,” he finally begged in a needy, breathless voice that hardly sounded like him. He took a deep, desperate gasp and then another, arching his back. “Fuck…fuck….Pitch…!”

His eyes shut tight of their own accord and his body went rigid as liquid light raced through him, and it shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did, god, it did, it obliterated every other thought in his mind and all he could feel was ecstasy, Pitch, and his heat as he held him tight. He keened shamelessly, his voice broken and ragged, until gradually the sounds forcing their way out of him turned to silence and he was still and limp in Pitch’s arms.

He felt strange as he came down from his high, like all his emotions were finally raw and exposed and then suddenly big, fat tears were leaking from the corners of his eyes. As he started to sob, he desperately wanted to hide. Pitch leaned back and Jack threw his arms over his face, his small chest shaking from the force of his sobs. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, but it was exactly what he needed. It was a huge release, even if he felt awful.

Pitch seemed to be at sort of a loss. He wasn’t sure if he should hold him or comfort him or continue being the bad guy, it seemed. Then again, if they hated each other they probably shouldn’t have done what they just did either.

In the end, Pitch settled for scooping Jack up and laying him back in bed the right away, propped against stacked fluffy white pillows, then he covered him with the blanket.

Jack couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t even let Pitch see his face, he was so mortified and defeated, and he kept either his hands or arms covering it at all times, even though the tears escaped easily, running down his neck. He felt Pitch gently pet his hair, then as Jack turned away from him in bed on his side, Pitch ran his hand up and down his back a few times silently before getting up and leaving.

Chapter Text

It seemed like over time both of them were being gradually worn down to nothing. Jack wasn’t so interested in causing trouble, and Pitch didn’t seem to care much for threats or sarcasm. Things weren’t peaceful, but they were quiet, and Jack hated it. He’d expected to feel worn down, but he didn’t understand what was draining all of Pitch’s energy and worried it might have something to do with The Guardians. Pitch assured him, though, he was fine. He said it didn’t involve them, so Jack just let it go, not having the energy to care more than that.

One day, after sitting by Jack for a while and reading a book in his usual chair, Pitch said he had some things to take care of, left, and didn’t lock the door behind him. Jack waited and listened, but it never came. He was sure of it.

He wasn’t sure what to do with this information. Could Pitch have forgotten? That seemed highly unlikely. As far as the shadowy barrier went, Jack didn’t even understand how that could work. He supposed it would, if Pitch told the shadows not to let him pass, but he did wonder. They’d never bothered him before. In fact, throughout his afterlife, they’d often looked after him, even played with him. They’d helped him when he was in trouble. He had a hard time believing they would turn on him even for Pitch, much in the way he saw the wind as a friend.

In the end, Jack did nothing. Where would he go anyway? Even if he somehow managed to find his staff in this maze and it was still in one piece, then he managed to escape, what then? Would he go see one of The Guardians? He was supposed to be taking a break from “all that”, according to North, and keeping his distance from them. So he’d escape just to go lay around in a forest somewhere, cover some town in snow? Why? For what? Who cared? No one liked winter anyway. No one would miss him, especially if they never knew he existed in the first place. If he just disappeared, no one would know, not Jamie or Monty or Cupcake or Pippa.

So he stayed. Even when Pitch “forgot” to lock the door the second time, and the third and forth.

Pitch was clearly aware of the deep depression Jack had sunken into and his demeanor with Jack softened greatly, although Jack wasn’t really sure why Pitch would care. Was he a boring captive? Maybe it was just that Pitch’s lethargic distracted state made him kinder, and he didn’t have the motivation to dedicate to being cruel.

But the kindness was so much worse.

“You may leave this room, if you’d like,” Pitch said suddenly one day as he scribbled away at his journal, or whatever the hell that thing was he wrote in while he was babysitting Jack. The longer Jack went without his staff it seemed the weaker he became, but Jack wasn’t even sure that was the issue. It certainly didn’t help though.

Jack was sitting at the end of the bed, just sort of letting his mind wander as he picked at some loose thread on the comforter. Hearing what Pitch said, he turned and looked at him, sitting in his usual spot.

Pitch looked back at him evenly. “You’ll have to be careful if you do, though. If you get lost, yell for me and I’ll come. There are many dangerous places you could wind up, so don’t just run out there and start fooling around.”

Jack just stared at him for a moment then looked back down at the blanket. “Okay.”

He heard Pitch sigh quietly from behind him as Jack tugged off the bit of string and started tying knots in it. Pitch stood and made his way over to stand in front of him, causing his view to become mostly the black of Pitch’s robe. He continued tying knots until Pitch’s hand swept up underneath his chin and coaxed his head back to look up at him.

“Fey little things like you were not meant to be kept within walls,” Pitch murmured, gazing at him softly, and Jack didn’t know any better he’d say Pitch was worried.

That now familiar pain constricted his chest and throat, and Jack pulled away from Pitch with a little gasp of pain. Being cared about had become the most painful possible thing and he wished Pitch would just go back to the way he was acting before.

There was a pause, then Pitch said more quietly, but imploring, “Jack, you can’t stay like this. Please. Go. Just walk, see what you find. I won’t let any harm come to you, but you have to get out of this room.”

Jack grimaced, shutting his eyes tight. His breath came faster as he tried to figure out how he should react in this situation. He knew how he wanted to react. He wanted to fall forward into Pitch and wrap his arms around him and beg him to love him again, or just care. Whatever it was Pitch was pretending to feel before and sometimes pretended to feel now, because this face Pitch had on now looked so much like that person. And why? Was this some sort of trap? He couldn’t imagine what the motivation would be. He couldn’t risk believing it might be genuine. He had to save something of himself, at least, if he could.

Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he felt Pitch reach out and brush some hair away from his face, fingers warm and hair ticklish. It was almost more than he could stand.

Finally, just to get Pitch to back off, he nodded, hanging his head in resignation as Pitch stepped away, then Jack got to his feet and practically ran to the door.

Sometimes, when he was really feeling low, Jack had truly believed he was already in his own personal hell, alone and completely unable to reach out to anyone. Most of the time, he was just stoked to be alive, to fly, to see the world and go where he pleased. It was a really amazing life he had and he knew it, and he was determined to have as much fun with that as he possibly could. But then there were those times…

Jack had once heard somewhere it wasn’t hell without hope. If you accepted your situation and learned to live with it, you could get used to just about anything enough to survive. It was the continuous hope and disappointment that drove you mad. He’d thought that was dumb.

He didn’t think that anymore.

Why? Did he just hate Jack that much? Was it fun for him? Was he feeding off of Jack’s fear of abandonment? Pitch was clearly different when they were alone; even if he was still cold and distant, there was no show of mirthful appreciation for Jack’s suffering, and Jack couldn’t even dare to let himself think about the times Pitch thought he wasn’t looking or had fallen asleep. Sometimes, Pitch would say he was sorry. He would tuck the sheets around him a little tighter, or do little nice things that could have been accidents, but Jack knew they weren’t. Because maybe Pitch had forgotten he’d told him he hated white chocolate, but Jack remembered, and thought it was weird to see him sitting there eating it until he left and that was when Jack saw he’d left the rest of the chocolate on the table by his bed. And if it was Jack’s favorite, even with little bits of peppermint in it, that could have been a coincidence, but it wasn’t, and he just didn’t understand anything about this.

He wandered, and he thought. He tried to make sense of it and couldn’t. He had considered that maybe Pitch was pushing him away on purpose because he thought it was for his benefit somehow, but that seemed too much like it couldn’t be anything more than a fantasy. He shied away from the idea, just short of accepting it could be a possibility.

Pitch had said before he was concerned because Jack was meant to be a Guardian, that they were supposed to be enemies, and what were the odds that right after that conversation, right after he showed up in Pitch’s lair badly beaten from an argument about Pitch, that the older spirit would suddenly decide Jack wasn’t affiliated with The Guardians enough to deal with him anymore? That…that didn’t even make sense, did it? Jack was still strong, still a good weapon to turn against The Guardians, and they still trusted him enough that it would be easy for Pitch to think of some way to use Jack to his advantage.

Right?

So…so then why…?

It was another long, tedious day of wandering around the caverns of the lair. Once, he would have found this place fascinating. It was always changing and there were so many mysteries to discover…even if most of the doors were locked to him now. However, it was hard to care about any of that when his mind was such a mess. He wanted the open sky, he wanted his staff, he wanted to see The Guardians, eat cookies with North, even argue with Bunny. He didn’t want any of this.

And yet, hadn’t this always been what he’d wanted? Pitch was technically spending a lot of time with him. He was cold and distant most of the time, but sometimes…sometimes…

He’d reach out just to rub circles into Jack’s back, like he didn’t even know he was doing it, wipe something off his cheek, or fuss over whether or not Jack was taking care of himself. He reminded him to rest frequently and scolded him lightly when he didn’t wash a bit of dirt off his face.

It was just those little things at first, but eventually those small bits of affection became so blatant they had to be signs that either Pitch was cracking or he was trying to get Jack to crack. And Jack genuinely didn’t know which it was.

Jack had just been about to slip into the room serving as his, breath hitching and stuttering as he tried to get himself to stop shaking, when Pitch put a hand on his shoulder. Jack didn’t register immediately that that’s what had happened, and threw himself with a yelp into the wall trying to get away, grunting quietly as pain erupted where his shoulder made impact with the stone. His feet scrambled backwards and he would have fallen flat on his back, but Pitch snatched him up, one hand grabbing him around the waist and the other wrapping around his shoulders, fingers digging into his sweatshirt as he yanked him in.

Breathing heavily, Jack planted his hands against Pitch’s chest and tried to push him away, but Pitch wouldn’t let him go. Jack realized Pitch had been trying to get his attention and saying his name repeatedly. Only once he grabbed Jack’s face in his hands did the younger spirit look at him. He stared up into his eyes, now frozen still.

Pitch looked calm overall, but was clearly worried. “Shh, you’re alright. Breathe. Take a deep breath…good. Now let it out.”

Jack let all his breath out into a rush and sank into Pitch arms, relieved when the other man wrapped him up close to his chest. Jack didn’t care. He had no shame or common sense right now, only fear, because he’d been stupid enough to tuck himself away in some dark corner and fall asleep, and he couldn’t blame the nightmare that found him and fed from him. He didn’t fault the thing for doing what it was born to do. It even seemed concerned when he woke up sobbing, and even then he’d still been too proud to call Pitch for help. After stumbling around for what felt like forever, he was eventually able to follow the wall out until he ended up somewhere with light and by then he was still shaking so bad he could hardly stand.

“What happened?” Pitch asked quietly, staring into his eyes with worry as his thumbs brushed over his pale cheeks slowly, grounding him.

Jack shut his eyes tight, but it didn’t help. Even if he couldn’t see Pitch, he could still feel him, hear him, even catch that clean smell that was distinctly Pitch, warm musk and herbal. “N…nothing. Just. I was just…walking.”

Prying his eyes open, he looked up and immediately regretted it. The tenderness of Pitch’s gaze was unbearable. He really could have believed in that moment that none of the bad things had happened and he was just spending time with Pitch in his lair again like he used to do.

Jack meant to pull away, he meant to jerk his head back and storm into his room, but instead he let out a deep shuddering breath and leaned into Pitch’s touch. He closed his eyes again, clinging to this feeling, knowing how brief it was, and as he finally had enough self-control to turn his head away he let out a short sigh of loss, shutting his eyes tighter. It felt like bait he’d taken, except in yanking himself off the hook he’d left a piece of himself behind, and now he felt an emptiness inside him.

“Fine,” he choked out, voice garbled as he pushed past Pitch into his room. “Nothing. I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

He made a beeline for the bed, crawled under the covers, and hid there, unsure of whether or not he wanted Pitch to crawl in bed beside him. Either way, he thought it was fitting; he was hiding from The Boogeyman, after all.

Jack had never felt so fragile. He just knew he was going to break, he knew it was going to happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Everything inside him felt wrong. He felt thinner than a sheen of black ice, brittle like the tiniest of icicles, and yet even though he wanted Pitch stay away more than ever, he’d never craved his comfort so badly.

——

The day it happened, they had fought. Clearly, both of them were on edge, or they wouldn’t have fought over something so small, but Pitch was in one of his bad guy moods where he was determined to remind Jack why he was here and where they stood.

And Jack wasn’t having it.

“No,” Jack said again, baring his teeth as he took a step back. This time if Pitch wanted a fight, he was going to get one.

“Now, Jack!,” Pitch yelled back at him, pointing at the door.

“Fuck you,” he shouted back, walking backwards into the corner as Pitch advanced on him.

“This is not negotiable. I won’t have anymore of this pathetic moping. Do I really have to drag you out?” Pitch snarled as he loomed over him.

Jack pointed at him in warning as Pitch got closer. “Don’t you touch me, Pitch, I swear to god. I will—“

Pitch grabbed him and Jack dropped to the ground, straight through his hands, but Pitch was on him in an instant, dragging Jack out of the corner as he fought him. Eventually, Pitch gave up and just threw him over his shoulder.

Jack kicked Pitch so hard in the gut he sank to one knee with a grunt of surprise as much as pain, and Jack immediately squirmed out of his grip, accidentally flipping himself over Pitch’s shoulder and landing hard on his back. By the time he flipped over and sat up, Pitch was already there. He snatched him up by the front of his sweatshirt, grabbing a tight fistful of it in each hand, then he continued dragging him along. He tried to force Jack to his feet and make him walk himself, but he stubbornly refused. He could only ever remember being this angry once, at The Man in the Moon, and let’s just say it was a good thing he didn’t have his staff right now. Jack was done.

All at once, everything just sort of bubbled over and suddenly Jack started fiercely struggling with every bit of strength left in his body, limbs flailing, but Pitch was stronger and smarter, and as he dragged him through the doorway and threw Jack onto the ground in the hall something inside him let go. He felt so small and helpless. He felt completely betrayed and abandoned. He hated Pitch, he hated himself, he was weak, and he was so completely alone, and how could he have ever thought Pitch actually cared about him?

Pitch stood there panting and furious, watching Jack as he sat there, resting on one hip, hands planted flat on the ground and head hung low.

The first sob ripped itself out of him like a bark, like he was choking on it and couldn’t get it out. There was a beat of silence as he slapped the ground as hard as he could twic before pushing out a ragged scream of grief and anger. After that, he just dissolved, pulling his legs in from the side and grabbing at his hair as he sobbed. Let Pitch watch, Jack didn’t care anymore. His chest burned and his head throbbed. He just wanted it all to stop. He let out another short scream before doubling over, wrapping his arms over his stomach.

He didn’t have the strength to fight it as Pitch sat on the ground and pulled him to his chest. Jack was completely helpless in his arms, crying pitifully as he sagged under his grip, arms dropping to his sides. Warmth surrounded him as Pitch leaned his head against Jack’s and promised over and over, “Everything’s going to be alright…shh, love, don’t cry. You’re alright. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go, I’ve got you.”

For a moment, in his vulnerable state, Jack believed him. He really did, maybe he just wanted it bad enough, but he really believed what Pitch said. He turned into Pitch and he wrapped his arms around him and burrowed against his chest, allowing himself to find comfort in his warmth and his words. Everything was going to be alright. Pitch wasn’t going to let him go again. He was right here, everything was okay. Jack was so relieved, even buried in grief as he was as it all came pouring out of him.

Pitch didn’t let him go. He held him so tightly it hurt, and Jack heard him swear quietly to himself a few times before he began apologizing over and over.

“I didn’t mean for this,” Pitch said under his breath to himself as Jack sobbed. “This isn’t what I…”

He didn’t expect himself to speak, didn’t even think he could, but then the words came pouring out. “Why?” he gasped. “…why are you…” Fresh tears poured from his eyes and he shut them tight as he whimpered, “Do you hate me or not? Just…just make up your mind…I can’t…I can’t stand it, please…please, I’ll do whatever you want, just stop. Please stop.”

Pitch went stiff at first as he begged, but as he dissolved in Pitch’s arms and started to totally break down again, Pitch buried his face against Jack, clutching at him, and it felt like all around him Pitch was there trying to hold him together. Then he heard Pitch let out a long shuddering sound and realized he was crying too.

“I don’t hate you,” Pitch breathed, rocking him slightly. “I don’t hate you.”

Jack didn’t have any words left. He didn’t have anything left, so he just closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of how small and safe he felt in Pitch’s arms.

They sat there for a long while before finally Pitch stood with Jack in his arms and brought him back into the room Jack had been so determined not to leave. He sat on the bed, leaning back among the pillows with Jack in his lap and just stayed that way quietly. It seemed Pitch was also out of words.

Eventually, though, Pitch was the first one to speak up. Jack’s eyes fluttered open as Pitch whispered, “Rest. When you wake, I’ll answer whatever questions you want to ask.”

Jack’s eyes closed halfway. That sounded good. Right now, he’d had enough. “...kay.”

Pitch pressed a kiss lightly to his forehead as Jack shut his eyes and fell asleep laying on Pitch’s chest.

——

When Jack woke, he hadn’t expected to feel well-rested exactly, but he also didn’t expect to feel so empty. Maybe he really was broken. Maybe he just didn’t know what he was supposed to feel anymore so his mind decided he’d just feel nothing. Either way, he found himself sitting at Pitch’s kitchen table, in his little breakfast nook that had bookshelves instead of windows, and Jack thought it seemed like a wildly inappropriate place to have such a serious conversation, given it was so warm and comfortable, but Pitch insisted, so here they were.

Jack sat up straight, hands on his legs as he stared vacantly at the table, and he listened.

“I need you here so that you don’t get hurt, because I know you, Jack Frost, you will put yourself between any threat and someone you care about, including if that threat is me, and The Guardians cannot go on as they have. I’m sick of The Man in the Moon’s games. They–”

“Did you really tell them to push me away in the beginning?” Jack interrupted.

Pitch grit his teeth. He looked exhausted, like just sitting up was a chore. “I hinted that I knew you and implied we were on friendly terms.”

A little crack appeared in Jack’s composure as hurt rippled to the surface. “Why?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t let them have you. You have to understand,” he implored, face taut with raw desperation. “Inevitably, they’ll take you one way or the other if something’s not done. I can’t stand one more lost soldier, another short eternity alone, wondering what I could have done differently, what made me not good enough, or whether maybe I’d always been wrong about everything and I really did deserve to be alone. Me, not just who I became because of the shadows.”

Pain was injected into Pitch’s words exponentially with every breath, and Jack stared at him, mesmerized because even though he had no idea what Pitch had been saying at first, he understood the rest. He knew what it felt like to wonder if maybe he deserved an eternity of loneliness and if so why, and if he changed himself, could he fix things enough to make the pain stop? He didn’t know what was his fault or wasn’t anymore, reality or fear, truth or shadows, and eventually he just started accepting all the blame for…everything. He would never be good enough.

“You were meant to be a Guardian,” Pitch continued more softly. “If that comes to pass, there is no future for us together. Eventually, one of us would be killed and the other would feel responsible and there would be no happy ending and I will not…I will not…”

Pitch continued shaking his head over and over as he hung it, closing his eyes and muttering to himself under his breath.

Jack just stared back at him. “So that’s it then? That’s all this was for?”

Pitch raised his head and looked up at him with strained bewilderment. “...yes. It was. To make them think you were my enemy so you wouldn’t be dragged into this war that never should have been yours. To keep you here and safe, out of my way, out of their way in case they decide you’re too much of a liability thanks to my efforts to make you seem suspicious, until I realized just how much pain you were in. Yes, Jack. That’s what it was for.”

Jack glanced back at the table and sighed quietly. “...right. Got it.”

He could feel Pitch’s eyes burning into him as he analyzed him from across the table, leaning in slightly, head tilted just so. He couldn’t read him and Jack wasn’t surprised; he didn’t even know what he was feeling. “...tell me what’s on your mind, if you would, please.”

Jack just shook his head a little in defeat and sighed again, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were cold. “…no one will ever believe in me. I get it now.”

Pitch’s eyes widened. He was obviously completely lost. “...what?”

Jack shrugged. “No one will ever believe in me. Not the kids, not The Guardians, and not you.” He released a deep, shuddering breath. “I just wish I’d stopped trying a lot sooner, you know? If I just went into this like, yeah, The Guardians will never trust me and Pitch will never…” He closed his eyes. Nope. He wasn’t going to cry. He was done with that. He let himself freeze back over before he opened his eyes and continued. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I promised I wouldn’t give up on you, that I could help you get believers and I could convince The Guardians that was okay, and you didn’t believe me. It was easier for you to torture me than it was for you to think that maybe I might know what I’m talking about. But I’m just some kid. Right?”

“Jack, that’s not–”

Jack stood abruptly. “Is it cool if I go back to my room? I’m just…you know. I’m sort of over this whole thing.” He glanced up and Pitch looked at him, surprised. He opened his mouth, but Jack just shook his head and smiled a little. “I’m not mad…how can I be? You’re right. You’re all right. What have I ever done to prove to anyone I…deserved to be believed in? I’m just…” He put his hand over his eyes. “I’m just tired, okay? Can I go?”

“No, Jack, sit, please,” Pitch insisted. “We’ve only just started. What you’re saying isn’t true at all and this is important. Sit.”

Jack looked back at him, his gaze surprisingly cold for someone who was totally not mad, apparently. “It’s not? Cause from what I’m hearing, you’ve been doing your own plan for how things should go and just totally left me out of it and, surprise, it didn’t work, and I got hurt, and so did you, and so did everyone, and maybe I just don’t know a lot about what it means to be believed in, but that doesn’t sound like it to me. What do you think, Pitch? And like, okay,” he continued, throwing his hands up in frustration. “What am I supposed to do now? Cause yeah, you fucking blew it, and now I’m here, and I care about you, and I can’t just…I can’t just stop caring, it’s too late, and now I’m supposedly a prisoner after you humiliated me and threatened my life, and I’m sure that looks real good to The Guardians. I’m sure taking all the faeries and teeth hostage looks really good to them too, and it won’t at all make my life harder when I’m trying to convince them you’re good because, guess what, I’m still the idiot who believes in you, and why? Beats me, since all you’ve done is make my life even more of a living hell than it already was. So yeah, what’s your big plan now? You wanna just fix this all on your own too? You got some big plan to make me un-fall in love with you? Figure I’ll just go take a nap, and you’ve got it under control, right? Lemme know when—“

Jack suddenly stopped, realizing what he’d said. Based on the wideness of Pitch’s eyes, he’d realized it too.

They stared at each other in silence, both frozen, afraid to even breathe, let alone move or speak.

It wasn’t like it wasn’t already obvious, but that wasn’t the point. This was not how he’d imagined telling Pitch he loved him for the first time. He thought maybe it would pop out during sex by accident, or after. Maybe spontaneously it would occur to him because of some small thing that reminded him of Pitch, like the smell of an herb he often used or the mischievous elegance of a passing raven, and he would run to Pitch, tackle him, and he’d tell him then.

He definitely did not think he would say it while standing in Pitch’s kitchen, arguing over the how’s and why’s of Pitch totally betraying him, breaking his heart, and making it impossible for him to trust or care about anyone else ever again after centuries of him being alone. His first and his last. And sure, there was never a correct time for something like that, but he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to think back on the first time and remember Pitch’s stunned face calculating ways to try and fix the unfixable or how Jack was burning alive with shame and wishing he could disappear.

He didn’t want this.

He was still standing there, breathing heavily. Pitch was still watching him cautiously. In the end, Pitch was the one to break the silence and it was like a rubber band had snapped, catapulting him out of the room.

“Jack—“

As soon as he opened his mouth, Jack turned and practically ran for the door, but he heard the screeching of Pitch’s chair from behind him and then Pitch had him locked in a tight embrace from behind.

“Jack, it’s okay,” he insisted, stubbornly crushing Jack to his chest as he let out an agonized cry and struggled so hard against him his feet came up off the ground. “Jack—“

“You ruined…EVERYTHING,” Jack sobbed, scrunching his legs up as the rest of him hung limp in Pitch’s arms and his tears peppered the tile. “You ruined…everything. You did it. You got what you really wanted, right?”

“No no no no,” Pitch whispered, sitting right on the kitchen floor with Jack nested in his crossed legs as he loosened his hold on him and instead began trying to soothe him, rubbing his chest and running fingers briskly back through his hair, brushing it out of his face. “No. Jack. Please, listen. Listen,” he repeated, trying to be heard over Jack’s tears as he buried his face in his hands. “Jack, I know…I know I’ve done a terrible job of showing it. But please don’t run out of here thinking I don’t love you.”

Jack shut his eyes tightly, whining quietly as he slapped Pitch’s arm a few times before finally relaxing back against his chest and turning his face into Pitch’s shoulder.

Immediately, Pitch turned Jack around in his lap and crushed him to his chest, enveloping him completely as he buried his face against Jack, apologizing over and over.

“I’m sorry…I do love you, Jack. I do. And you are absolutely right.”

Jack suddenly found himself looking up into Pitch’s tearful eyes as he took his face in his hands and whispered emphatically, “I never should have tried to make you think I didn’t, and I promise to never do so again. You and I are a team, I should have trusted you, and I didn’t, and that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me and the fact that I’m not sure I’ve ever trusted anyone, and I’ve ruined anyone who’s ever trusted me. I do believe in you…let me prove it to you. Let me prove it to you.”

Breath hitching and hiccuping, Jack stared into Pitch’s eyes, desperately searching for any sign of deceit and finding none. He sank back into Pitch’s chest weakly and Pitch just held him close, slowly rubbing his back.

As Jack started to relax and get sleepy, he suddenly groaned quietly and tried to sit up. “Don’t wanna sleep,” he mumbled, disoriented.

“I know. I know, love,” Pitch whispered. “You have nothing to be scared of. Trust me.” He carefully got to his feet, scooping Jack up and heading back the way they came. “Rest. When you wake, everything will be better than it was and I’ll be right here. Everything I said will still be true.”

Jack wasn’t so sure at first, but this was too much for him even at his best, let alone when he was hardly half his former self after being without his staff for so long. Nowadays, he slept more than he was awake. Finally, he nodded and closed his eyes.

“There we go,” Pitch whispered, just above his head. “Everything’s alright now.”

Jack believed him.

Chapter Text

When Jack woke, the first thing he noticed was actually being nearly too warm. The second thing was the unfamiliar embroidery under his hand as it laid limp on the blanket. Then he realized he was gently moving up and down, and opened his eyes in surprise.

It took a second for him to remember what had happened before he fell asleep, but only a second, and then he wasn’t surprised anymore to find he was draped over Pitch’s chest, one long arm clad in black wrapped around his torso, trapping him there protectively. Pitch was still sleeping. Jack smiled a little.

He was still kinda mad, though, so when his cheek brushed Pitch’s nipple, Jack paused only briefly before deciding to wake Pitch by biting it.

Pitch shot up with a hiss of pain and surprise, but to Jack’s surprise, he didn’t drop him, not all the way, anyway. Sagging in Pitch’s armpit, Jack watched him with his mouth open a little in innocent surprise, like he had no idea that would happen, then laughed.

Realizing what had happened, Pitch looked at him, sighed loudly, and flopped back on the bed, taking Jack with him. “Nasty little gremlin.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to be nice to me for the rest of eternity now, actually, so like…maybe try that again,” Jack joked, relieved that he even could joke around like his old self again. This felt so familiar that his stomach got excited little butterflies as Pitch closed his eyes again and smirked.

“Nasty little frost spirit.”

“Why you always gotta throw ‘little’ in there like you don’t love that you could turn me into a human shish kabob? Like it’s a bad thing.”

Pitch’s eyes flew open and Jack burst out laughing. Yeah, he was definitely feeling more like himself again. It was going to take a long time for him to feel really okay, but this was nicer. Much nicer than things had been.

“I have a lot more energy,” Jack exclaimed as he sat up then climbed on top of Pitch so he was straddling him. He looked down at him playfully. “That was some nap.”

“Oh, do you? Wonderful,” Pitch crooned as his hands ran up Jack’s hips and just rested there. “Actually, there might be another reason for that, now that you mention it.”

Jack squinted at him suspiciously, pretending he was impervious to the way Pitch was slowly petting his hips. In reality, it was extremely distracting. If he’d been touch-starved before, when he didn’t even realize what he was truly missing, now he was absolutely ravenous. “Why do you have that sneaky little…you know. Attitude.”

“So suspicious,” Pitch said with a tone of mock offense, smirking up at him as he gave his hip a little squeeze. “I’ll explain once you get up.”

Jack weighed his options carefully for a moment; he kind of liked it right where he was. “…well, what if I don’t wanna get up?”

“Fine,” Pitch said, nonplussed, and crossed his arms behind his head as he looked Jack up and down. “The view is good anyway.”

Jack lowered himself over Pitch languidly, drawn in by his heat and the deadly combo of affection and mischief in his eyes. Jack himself was absolutely surging with energy all of a sudden and wondered how much of his lack of energy had actually been because he was depressed. He really wasn’t sure, but what he was sure of was that Pitch’s warmth felt amazing between his legs, and he thought maybe it was about time they made up for all the making out they hadn’t done.

Suddenly nervous, Jack hesitated briefly before leaning down. He paused, hovering just over Pitch’s mouth, and glanced up into his eyes like he was trying to figure out if this was really okay to be doing. He wasn’t sure. It felt like he wasn’t supposed to be ready. How could he want this when Pitch had hurt him so much? He could see in the softness of Pitch’s gaze that he understood. Jack’s own relief was mirrored back at him as he felt the warmth of Pitch’s breath on his lips, but he didn’t pull him closer, didn’t try to encourage him one way or another.

Things between them were far from okay. They were not the way they were before and never would be, but Jack understood why Pitch did the things he did enough to at least believe the person he was looking at now was real. He’d been lost to Jack for so long, and now that he was back he looked ragged, haunted, and lost. They were both filled with so much pain, and maybe they deserved this reprieve. Maybe it was okay for them to fall in love again just for a little while and accept the comfort they offered each other.

Glancing back down at Pitch’s lips, Jack wasn’t sure he really cared if this was okay or not. Slowly, he pressed his lips against his, and quickly remembered how much he used to love this. Parting his lips, he sank into Pitch, relaxing more, with a sigh of utter relief. God, he’d missed this. If he had to guess based on how quickly Pitch kissed him back, open mouthed, and let Jack’s tongue dart inside, he’d say Pitch missed it too.

It was going to be a long time before he could trust Pitch, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love him in the meantime, if Pitch let him.

When Jack finally pulled back, he felt pleasantly lightheaded and heavy. He looked down at Pitch, very aware of the stupid face he was probably making, and murmured, “I missed you.”

Pitch made a face as if Jack had punched him in the chest, breathing sharply and closing his eyes, then he looked back up at him and whispered, “I missed you, Jack.”

Yes, Jack decided then as he pressed his lips over Pitch’s again. He was going to kiss Pitch once for every time he’d looked at his lips and thought of kissing them, but hadn’t because Pitch was too busy being evil or whatever.

Pitch surprised him by moaning into his mouth as he cupped Jack’s cheek in his hand. As his fingertips ran up Jack’s spine, Jack shivered and parted his lips in a quiet gasp, letting out a soft little laugh. Eagerly, he welcomed Pitch’s tongue in, whining softly as his own fingers wound into Pitch’s hair.

“Fuck,” Jack hiccuped quietly against Pitch’s lips as he leaned back briefly before kissing him again. Pitch’s hands began to wander up and down Jack’s sides, occasionally venturing lower over the gentle curve of his butt and, craving more of that contact, Jack rolled his hips against him, grinding down into his lap. Pitch made a sound of surprise into Jack’s mouth and so naturally, Jack did it again.

He leaned back and looked down at Pitch’s hungry expression, his own eyes lidded and hazy as he continued rocking his hips against him, watching Pitch’s face with fascination as he mirrored back the same feverish want. The idea that he could ever have this kind of effect on Pitch still amazed him.

Pitch sat up just a little bit, anchoring Jack in his lap, then he ran his hands up his narrow back, slipping them under his sweatshirt as he pulled him in and started kissing the delicate pale skin all up and down the side of his neck. Jack was quickly finding himself more and more out of breath and thinking less and less. He had very little on his mind other than getting these damn clothes off as fast as possible and was relieved when Pitch seemed to have the same idea, stripping Jack’s shirt from him and tossing it aside before shrugging off his robe.

Jack leaned back into him, but paused, staring at Pitch. And fine, he was just shirtless technically, but he didn’t really think that was a fair assessment of the situation when Pitch looked like some god of the underworld and Jack just looked like…the tiny twink he was.

He quickly was distracted from his thoughts, however, as Pitch’s long, skilled fingers began untying the front of his pants, and making quick work of it. Jack laid his arms around Pitch’s shoulders and leaned against him, blinking up at him sweetly as he watched until Pitch captured his mouth again. Sighing with contentment, Jack sank further into him, nipping playfully at Pitch’s lip, and then as Pitch finished untying his pants, Jack leaned back and knelt over Pitch with a playful little wiggle of his butt.

“Help me with these?” he asked, bashful, but an unmistakable impish light in his eyes.

The sensual way Pitch slid his hands into his pants first, brushing against his erection, seemed unnecessary and unfair, and Jack pressed his lips together tightly, feeling the blaze of color in his cheekbones. Pitch eased his pants off of him and got rid of those too before getting rid of his own, and just the fact that the both of them being naked suggested to Jack that they were actually going to fuck was a huge turn on somehow. He felt vulnerable and he didn’t care. He’d spent so much time feeling vulnerable and helpless and this time it was his choice to be, and it felt amazing, a little scary, but he could handle a bit of fear.

Jack choked back a whine as he ground their hips together and Pitch seemed like he was just about to kiss him when Jack wrapped his fingers around Pitch’s cock and ran the soft pads of his fingers up and down its length. “I want this inside me,” he whispered, any embarrassment he was feeling suppressed by lust as he looked up at him helplessly.

Pitch looked at Jack with awe like he thought he was dreaming then he swore and pulled Jack to him, kissing him hard. He shifted a little, gripping Jack tight in one hand as the other fumbled with something, and Jack figured out what it was when Pitch’s fingers slid down slick and sticky between his legs from behind. He gasped and Pitch just pushed his tongue deeper into his mouth while his fingers, claws retracted, felt around and got acquainted with his anatomy. Jack let out a particularly loud whimper as they pushed gently against tight muscle, rocking back against the feeling as his head spun.

“Spread your legs,” Pitch demanded quietly against his lips and Jack, shot through with a sharp burst of pleasure at the order, shut his eyes tight before obediently parting his knees further.

“Good boy,” Pitch purred and Jack whined.

“Stop that,” he gasped, his thighs already trembling. He couldn’t take it. “Please…please…”

“How can I deny you anything, Jack, when you ask so sweetly?” Pitch breathed playfully across his lips before finally pressing a finger inside him.

Jack let out a high pitched hum and shut his eyes tight, keening when Pitch began moving at a shallow, steady pace inside him, but already he was pushing deeper, greedily exploring Jack’s insides. He soon added a second, and Jack gasped as Pitch’s fingers moved and scissored inside him. Any coherency that had remained escaped him, and all he could do in that moment was keep his trembling thighs apart as Pitch opened him up, slowly and carefully, but it seemed like every time Jack got used to the pace, Pitch would push him harder, moving faster, deeper.

“Now listen to me very carefully, Jack,” Pitch said softly, nipping at his earlobe. “I might not fit inside your tiny body—“ Jack interrupted with a dry sob of longing. “—and that’s perfectly fine.” He pressed his lips to his neck, smirking as he purred, “There are still many other things we can do, I promise you.” He punctuated the statement by leading a long, hot lick up Jack’s neck before biting and sucking on it. With treatment like that, how was Jack supposed to think about anything other than piercing himself on Pitch’s cock?

“I can. I can do it, it’s…” He released his death grip from Pitch’s shoulders and took Pitch in his hand again, running his fingers over the head, and bit back a whimper as he imagined trying to fit all that inside him. He wasn’t sure he could.

“I’ve…I’ve done stuff,” Jack insisted breathlessly, making eye contact with Pitch, except for when every now and then Pitch would move in a way that made them flutter closed as he tried to remember how to breathe. “On my own.”

Pitch was watching him intently now, smirking as he murmured, “Have you? Like what?”

Jack shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, but then Pitch cured his fingers perfectly and he wailed, his mind going blank. “I…I don’t know!”

“But you do,” Pitch teased quietly, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose against the side of his face affectionately.

Jack pressed his lips together tightly as he moaned, but realized Pitch wasn’t going to give him what he wanted until he cooperated, and suddenly Jack decided he had no use for pride.

“Just…my hands, or…mostly ice. In different shapes. Because…you know…that’s…Pitch,” he complained and finally, with a dark little chuckle, Pitch’s fingers slipped out of him.

“Go on, then,” Pitch said as he just laid back and Jack happily obliged.

In the past, he never would have guessed he’d like this position, where he had so much control, but it was closer to what he was used to and it would help him figure out what he could handle since he honestly didn’t really know. Pitch watched him, hypnotized, and Jack felt more stable with the way Pitch’s hands roamed over him, subtly supporting him as they blazed paths across his cool skin. All Jack’s attention focused on one point as he settled over the head of Pitch’s cock then lowered himself onto it.

Immediately, one of Jack’s hands flew from the bed to Pitch’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly as shivers shot up and down his spine. “Fuck,” he gasped, panting rapidly.

“Slow. Breathe,” Pitch demanded, pressing his lips softly over Jack’s briefly. Jack took a few slow deep breaths before sinking into the kiss again, comforted and distracted by it, then, as he parted his lips for Pitch and his tongue slipped between them, Jack sank his hips onto Pitch lower. They both gasped in shock before crushing their mouths back together.

He knew Pitch would have been absolutely, perfectly happy if this was as far as he could go, but Jack wasn’t. However, he was perfectly happy with staying like this for now. His body started moving practically on its own, hips rocking in shallow thrusts as he pleasured himself on Pitch’s cock. He’d lost concentration on the kiss and instead held onto Pitch for dear life, whimpering as he focused on angling his hips just right. He loved Pitch fiercely in that moment as he gripped his hips, moving them just so and fucking up into him, and Jack screamed. He couldn’t help it. He made nonsense sounds he was pretty sure was an attempt at begging, then without thinking slammed himself down onto Pitch the rest of the way so their hips were completely flush.

They both froze. He was so impossibly full. He couldn’t even breathe properly. He was going to die, he was absolutely skewered, he was nothing more than a little toy Pitch could use to get off with. Jack let out a dry sob and was immediately gathered close as Pitch cradled his face in his hands and softly kissed him over and over, whispering words of encouragement.

“Oh, my little star, you’re alright. Breathe,” Pitch encouraged him gently. Even though he could feel Pitch twitching eagerly inside him, Pitch gave no indication of anything other than undying patience and affection, despite the fact that he was clearly breathless with want.

Jack sniffled, chest hitching as he choked out, “I’m fine…I just…it’s a lot. Gimme…gimme a minute.”

“It’s never too late to change your mind,” Pitch whispered, smiling against his cheek. “I promise, I won’t be upset.”

“No no no no,” Jack insisted immediately. “Fuck, no, just…no.” He couldn’t help but laugh a little breathlessly himself, and so did Pitch, just a little bit.

“Sweet thing…” Pitch murmured, running his fingers lazily up and down his back and pressing his lips to the side of his neck.

“No, you,” Jack countered weakly and let his head fall onto Pitch’s shoulder. “Oh shit. Shit shit shit, that’s so good…it’s so hot, I’m gonna melt, Pitch.”

Jack rambled nonsense for a while until Pitch kissed him again and redirected his attention.

After a while, Jack became too impatient and tried to move, but Pitch’s hands had been resting on his hips and now they gripped him tightly so that he couldn’t move an inch. Stubbornly, Jack leaned into Pitch with his arms around his neck and desperately tried to move his hips, but he didn’t budge. Jack was just stuck on Pitch’s lap, cock buried inside him, and while the very thought had him out of breath, he needed more than this.

“Pitch, move,” he pleaded, trying and failing to sound angry.

“Say please,” Pitch purred against his ear, sending goosebumps out across his entire body.

Frustrated and desperate, Jack choked out a quiet sob, but after brief consideration, swallowed his pride, and looked up into Pitch’s face again with the absolute best puppy dog eyes he knew how to give. He could barely even catch his breath enough to beg, but he managed it. “Please, Pitch…come on, I’ll be good and take it all for you, I promise, just please fuck me.”

He wasn’t sure whether or not that’s what Pitch had been looking for, but apparently what Pitch got was more than enough because his eyes widened and he could actually see his dark skin visibly flush along his cheekbones. He seemed too stunned to do anything at first, but then he let out a rough groan, lifting Jack almost up off him before filling him completely again.

In any other circumstance, Jack would have been mortified by the way he bleated with shock and pleasure, and just a little bit of pain, making it all the better. He didn’t have time to recover before Pitch kept fucking into him, and Jack couldn’t think about another thing after that except the way Pitch felt, inside him, under his hands, against his thighs and lips, the way his hands held and moved him with alarming ease.

After a while, Pitch loosened his hold on him and slid his hands up his body, leaving Jack to move himself up on Pitch’s cock and he didn’t mind a bit. He could go as deep or as fast or as gentle as he wanted. Sometimes he braced him and sank down slow, grinding as he took Pitch fully inside him, just to see what it would feel like, and it flooded his belly with heat, so he did it again. Pitch moaned under him and swore, and as his hands returned to Jack’s hips, Jack began moving fast and hard again as Pitch fucked up into him. Soon each inhale was coming as a gasp and each breath out was a desperate, high-pitched cry, begging wordlessly for something. His eyes had closed, but then as he looked down at Pitch, he saw him staring up at him like he couldn’t even look away if he wanted to.

Suddenly, frantically, Jack pushed down on Pitch as fast and hard as he could, begging in sounds he wasn’t even sure were words. He was so close, and then Pitch came inside him, and as he continued fucking him through it, Jack came too, an involuntary cry tearing out of him as his already pale stomach was covered in white.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck…” he gasped, like he was shocked that he’d come at all, but really he was still lost in it, closing his eyes as his body shook. He never would have imagined it could be like this. Pitch became still underneath him as they both caught their breath, then finally, when they were both semi-aware again, Pitch slipped out of him. Jack let out a soft cry at the sensation and was about to complain, but stopped.

Pitch actually looked a little worried. “Are you alright?”

Jack closed his eyes, whimpering softly as he nodded. “It…feels weird. Inside. It’s…” Pitch’s cum was starting to slide down his thighs and he shuttered. “Shit…shit, that’s gross, but really hot…ick…”

Pitch, the bastard, actually laughed at him, which made Jack laugh too before Pitch snatched him up and snuggled him close. Grinning, Jack squirmed a little as he settled down against him happily and hid his face against his neck. He was exhausted, and yet that roiling energy sat just under the surface of his skin telling him there was so much fun to be had, waiting for him to find it, and he had to get up and go.

But not right now.

They both slept for a while more. It was really more like dozing, fading comfortably in and out of awareness as their bodies tangled together in various configurations, all of which he liked very much.

Eventually though, that energy called him out of his rest. He didn’t want to disturb Pitch so he was careful as he eased himself out of his arms and off the bed.

He was sore, but less than he’d expected, and more importantly, he felt extremely odd. He’d gotten sick before, even if it was rare and he wasn’t really sure how it happened. Could that be it? It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but…

He looked around the room in confusion, his heart racing, and looked back at the bed. There was just Pitch, laying there stretched out luxuriously like a panther snoozing, and nothing else of note, except…he examined the bed, weaving his head back and forth like he thought there might be some kind of treasure hiding there, and then he had the awful thought of, what if Pitch had done something to himself to make Jack feel this way? Was it possible that there was some magical way to manipulate his feelings like that? It wasn’t an aphrodisiac, even if now he couldn’t help but pause and blush as he looked over Pitch’s sleeping form, but no, it was more than that. It felt good, it felt right, it felt familiar, but dangerous.

He sighed and decided he might as well put his clothes on first before he woke Pitch up and tried to figure this out. He wasn’t used to being perceived, so the idea of someone actually seeing him when he was completely naked was still weird to him, especially that he wasn’t hyperfocused on getting more skin-to-skin contact. He reached down and grabbed his pants, pulled them on, then crouched and grabbed his sweatshirt then threw it on. It was then that he saw the faint glow from underneath the bed.

It hit Jack suddenly then. Of course. Pitch had said he had something for him, and if The Boogeyman was going to keep something safe, where else but under a bed?

And yes, there, under the bed, was Jack’s staff.

“Yes!” he hissed and dropped down onto his stomach, reaching under the bed. From above he heard Pitch murmur, half asleep, “Jack?” and then as his fingers wrapped around the staff everything went white and Jack was thrown back into the wall. The pain didn’t even register. All he knew was that his hand was frozen to the wood and he couldn’t let go.

The ice wasn’t listening to him. His body wasn’t listening to him either and soon he was lost in a sea of white as the wind picked him up off the ground like it was welcoming him home. Gasping, he hung helpless in the air, unable to catch his breath or think about anything other than the seemingly endless ice bursting from his every pore as energy like he couldn’t have possibly imagined flowed through him. He’d never felt so strong. He could only see white, but he heard ice cracking like gunshots all around him, and then an awful cry of pain.

And then everything was perfectly still and silent.

Jack stopped floating and dropped to the ground on his back with a grunt. He was still frozen to his staff, but it lay there beside him, benign and currently unremarkable, especially compared to the room around it.

And then there was Pitch, laying next to the bed on his side in a pool of his own blood. The bright red was shocking against the ethereal, crystalline blue encompassing the entire rest of the room, and Jack crawled over to him frantically as Pitch pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Pitch insisted, wincing as he clutched his trembling arm.

“Oh god,” Jack breathed, staring as blood poured in a steady rivulet from Pitch’s shaking fingers. Pitch only had a slight grimace on his face and didn’t seem too bothered, but that was a lot of blood. A lot of blood, that was too much blood. “Oh god, I didn’t mean to, I—“

“I know, I know,” Pitch said through gritted teeth as he stepped out of the ice caging him into position. He may have been hit, but it looked like almost all of what should have hit him actually missed. If it had hit him... “It’s fine. How good are you at doing stitches?”

Jack’s eyes widened even further in alarm and he shouted, now in a full panic, “What?!”

Pitch groaned and rolled his eyes. “Never mind. I’ll be right back,” Pitch said as he conjured darkness for him to travel through.

“Uh, you absolutely will not,” Jack cried, latching onto Pitch’s intact hand. “I’m coming with you obviously.”

Pitch just grunted and without another word carried them through the shadows.

Jack watched, petrified, as Pitch went about the room they found themselves in, bleeding everywhere like he did this all the time. Maybe he did. “Uh, Pitch? Can I help? Are you gonna stop the bleeding? Technically, I can freeze it, but it won’t be pleasant, so if—“

“It’s alright,” Pitch insisted, starting to look a little amused. He flashed Jack half a playful smirk from over by the counter and added, “As intoxicating as this particular fear of yours is, I’m not going to die. Do calm down.”

Jack realized they were in Pitch’s study. He’d only been there once before, back when he’d gotten in that fight with Bunny, and Pitch made him sit in one of those chairs by the entrance.

He watched, mystified and worried as Pitch opened a large cabinet filled to the brim with jars of black powder. He tapped the fine, matte black powder into what Jack realized was a massive gash on his hand, traveling all the way up his forearm from Jack’s violent burst of ice. It made him queasy just to look at it. He was lucky that hadn’t gone straight through Pitch’s face. There was blood just…everywhere, so it was hard to say, but it looked like he’d also gotten slashed a little on his shin, nicked on his shoulder, and there was a very scary puncture under his collarbone. Pitch must have had to dislodge himself from the ice while Jack was still hovering like some creepy, ancient god.

“That stops the bleeding?” Jack asked nervously. “I’m so sorry.”

“Think of it as karma,” Pitch threw out nonchalantly as he wiped the blood and extra powder away onto the counter before waving his hand over it. While focusing, the extra powder gathered itself back together and went back into the bottle, not wasting a single bit of it. Jack had no idea what it could be, and had more important things to think about than Pitch’s cool science shit, even if it was very cool.

“Just cause you deserve it doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad,” Jack grumbled, to which Pitch gave him an incredulous look, then huffed out a laugh and shook his head as he took out some bandages.

He repeated the process with the black powder to his other injuries then looked to Jack as he grabbed some gauze and tape.

“Could you please?” Pitch asked, gesturing to the gauze, and Jack quickly nodded and came over. This, at least, he could do.

Pitch had him sit down with him on a long ornate dark green couch that Jack thought should have looked out of place in a room that was clearly used for sciencey things and where many messes were made, but somehow it suited the classy but earthy space perfectly, surrounding by wood, herbs, and books. Jack just thought the couple of ominous stains on it already gave it character.

As he started putting gauze over Pitch’s wounds, he glanced up at him apologetically. Jack glanced around for the rolled gauze, but didn’t see any.

“You needn’t be too neat,” Pitch explained calmly. “And you can stop looking at me like that. The bandages are only to hold the shade in place until it solidifies. It won’t take long.”

“I really didn’t mean to. I’ve thought about smacking you with my staff a couple a times, but not, like…”

Pitch just smiled a little and shook his head. “I know. I was trying to tell you to be careful because the reaction might be strong. I didn’t realize how strong or I would have been more cautious. I was reaching for you with this hand, so I couldn’t move it or block in time.”

Jack winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Jack, if you…” Pitch’s voice trailed away then he laughed. “Isn’t it odd how the past echoes?”

Jack tilted his head, confused at first, then he thought about it and remembered sitting in this same room getting fixed up after the fight and Pitch threatening to gag him for apologizing. He chuckled.

“Yeah. It is weird, isn’t it?” He paused, focusing on what he was doing, but also considering what Pitch had said. He was quiet as he finished taping the last of the gauze in place. He could feel them both thinking about all that had happened and how strange it was for them to even be here doing this right now.

Pitch stood to put the medical supplies away and Jack stood too, trailing after him as he looked this way and that, unable to believe the number of interesting things he could get in trouble with in here. The fact that Pitch let him in here at all was sort of amazing.

“Hey, Pitch?” Jack began as he eyed a particularly unpleasant taxidermy display of a large spider eating a moth.

“Yes, Jack,” he responded distractedly as he slid a large black box back into a cabinet under the counter.

Jack turned and looked at him. “What happens when a spirit dies?”

Pitch froze with his back to him. He paused, then looked back at him over his shoulder and said evenly, “It depends how they die and what sort of spirit they are to begin with. Some are reincarnated among the living. Some as another form of spirit. There are many ways a spirit can die.”

Jack looked down, shuffling his feet bashfully. “What would happen to you if you die?”

Pitch turned to face him fully, eying him with a sympathetic expression. “I’m not going to die. I’m extremely difficult to actually kill. In fact, I’m not really certain it’s even possible. My guess would be that I’d return to the shadows and when they found a new host, I would be part of them. To what degree I would actually be myself as you know me, I don’t know.”

Jack winced and glanced back up at him. “Oh.” He paused. “Would you remember me?”

Pitch looked him up and down like he was trying to figure out if there was more to the question than just what he was hearing. Finally, he answered quietly, “Most likely I would not.” He paused, considering. “But…there are situations in which a spirit is reborn and is still drawn to people or places it once cared deeply about. I might not remember you, but I would find you, and I’d love you again.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he flushed, pushing his hands up defensively. “I didn’t—I was just…you can’t know that, anyway, you might not even like me.”

Pitch smirked like this was some little inside joke only he was privy to then said, “I may have destroyed your faith in me, but if you ever believe anything I say again then trust that I would fall for you again. I do not say this lightly.”

Jack was pretty sure anything rotten Pitch had ever done had just been wiped clean from his mind in one fell swoop. Well, no, not really. Jack was still pissed and he’d already had trust issues before, so now he wasn’t even sure he was capable of trust, but…but what Pitch just said, that was…

“Jack,” Pitch said louder, and Jack blinked. Pitch looked very amused.

“What? I’m listening.”

Pitch grinned wickedly and took a step closer meaning he was now officially too close. Jack instinctively took a step back and bumped into a large shelf that, luckily, was too sturdy to go crashing down along with all its gross stuff in jars on it. With a manic grin on his face, Jack laughed breathlessly. “Uh…”

Pitch just smiled warmly as he moved into his personal space and, wow, maybe Pitch was onto something, because he couldn’t even get within a few feet of Pitch without swooning and that was after all the shit he pulled. So yeah, you know what? Maybe love could break time and space like that. Sure. Why not? He could believe he’d still swoon if Pitch breathed on him a million years from now.

Right on cue, Pitch’s hand slid over the back of his neck, fluffing up the little soft hairs on the back of it as he leaned in and purred, “A million years is a long time. If you’d known me then, all those years between who I am now and who I was, do you think you would recognize me?”

“I…well. Uh. You…you said I couldn’t, right?” Jack stammered.

“I did.”

“Then…then I mean…you’re probably…right. Right? What do you mean by…recognize? Remember? Or do you mean I would…” He grinned and joked, “Oh, I don’t know, hunt you down in some spooky cave system after everyone I’ve ever known tells me you’re a literal monster I should never go near and immediately make out with you. Just, you know, random example.”

Pitch just hummed a low noise deep in his throat like a purr then gathered Jack closer and kissed him, slowly and sweetly. Jack groaned softly and leaned into his chest, standing on his tiptoes without even thinking about it, just trying to get closer, even though, really, it was unnecessary, especially once Pitch settled his hands on Jack’s waist, holding him as close as he could get. Jack parted his lips in an ecstatic sigh and as Pitch’s hands ran reverently up and down Jack’s back he licked at Jack’s bottom lip. Smiling, Jack tilted his head, mouth open as he licked at him back, laying his arms around Pitch’s neck.

He wasn’t sure how long they stood there kissing like their lives depended on it, but it was long enough for Jack to forget whatever they’d been talking about. He had a lingering feeling there was something else he’d wanted to ask, but couldn’t remember it now. Near the warm light of one of the lamps like this, Pitch’s skin almost looked golden brown and Jack found he could picture this easily. He blinked and Pitch’s face changed, became passionate and fierce, without all those gaunt and haunted lines. An ornate, high collared jacket, adorned with gold. The gold chain of a locket around his neck, muscles more prominent and less sinewy, smelling of incense and pine. The palace was—

Jack blinked and it was gone so fast that he couldn’t have even described it now. Sometimes his imagination ran away with him. Probably he was just eager to envision a life for Pitch other than one that had forced him to suffer so much. His chest hurt, and he wrapped his fingers in Pitch’s robe tighter, burrowing gently into his neck.

Pitch smirked as he leaned back to look at him. “How does it feel to have your staff back?”

Jack chuckled and grinned as he leaned against him more heavily. “Amazing. I forgot I ever felt this good.”

Pitch’s smirk immediately evaporated at that. “...I’m sorry, Jack. Don’t think I take lightly what I did by taking your staff from you. I understand the importance of it to your being, and I understood then. I thought I could…I hoped if…” He stopped and closed his eyes then sighed and shook his head. “It’s all nonsense. Everything I thought I was trying to do. I’m…” He opened his eyes so he could meet Jack’s eyes with a humility and vulnerability Jack had never seen. “I’m properly ashamed of how I’ve hurt you. Nothing changes what I put you through. Intentions count for very little when you’re the one living with the consequences. I…I don’t know why you’re still here, Jack. You know I won’t stop you from leaving, yes?” He raised his hand. “My hand is fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jack cocked his head as he stared up at Pitch, heart aching with empathy, and settled his arms carefully around Pitch’s neck, minding his injuries. “…how are you so smart, but so stupid…?” He smiled a little gently and added before Pitch could get too offended, “Thank you…that’s…actually really good to hear. I know I’m…” His smile faltered and fell away. “Give me time, ‘kay? I forgive you, but I’m so…man, I hope someday I can trust you, I really want to right now. But I can’t. And I’m still so…so angry. I can already tell, like I don’t think I am and then you say or do something and I’m just instantly furious for no reason and I know it’s actually frustration about everything that’s happened so I just need time to…I dunno. I’m honestly not sure what the right way to go about this is, but can I still try?”

Pitch wrapped both arms around him and hugged him tight, and Jack swore he heard him growl over his shoulder. “Of course. I’ve never felt so stupid for calling you a child, Jack.”

Jack laughed a little and joked as he hugged him back, “I am pretty short.”

Pitch hummed noncommittally then surprised Jack by scooping him into his arms.

“Hey hey hey, watch the hand!” Jack squeaked.

Pitch just laughed. “It’s fine. It’ll be like new in no time.”

“Well, okay, but it’s not like new now,” Jack griped.

“Jack, you don’t weigh more than a bean, there’s no need to be concerned.”

His mouth fell open. “Alright, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

Pitch just laughed at him more, but Jack lost any interest in complaining as Pitch nuzzled his face into his hair. Instead, Jack just sighed and rolled his eyes, smiling. “The worst,” he muttered into Pitch’s shoulder playfully as he closed his eyes, then chuckled and added, “Boy. I am not looking forward to explaining this to The Guardians.”

Pitch leaned away enough to look at him, his expression flat with caution. “Explain what?”

Jack glanced up, confused. “You…me…sucking face. Hopefully other things eventually…”

Pitch didn’t look amused. “You do realize much of what I’ve done, as foul as it may be, was for the purpose of making them believe you and I are enemies.”

Jack frowned, straightening up a bit as he tensed. “Yeah, because you’re assuming they won’t be cool with us and I’ll be ostracized or whatever, and then you’ll die. Right? Did I miss anything?”

Massaging his temple with his thumb, Pitch sighed and closed his eyes. “No.” He looked back at him. “And yes, I said I believe in you, and I would prove it. I’ll make good on that promise, Jack, but that doesn’t mean we should immediately undo all my work and potentially put you in danger. Unless you have a plan right this instant you’re positive will work, it would be extremely unwise to—“

Pitch looked on in alarm as Jack hopped back onto his feet, grabbed his staff, and marched for the door. He followed, snatching him by the hand when he refused to stop as he called after him.

Jack stopped and looked up at him, tempted to yank his hand away, but he didn’t, yet. “I’m gonna go tell them now. I’m not doing this. I’m not, Pitch, if I tell them and get it over with, you won’t have any more reasons to treat me like shit for my own benefit, right?”

Pitch didn’t look happy about the last part, but that was okay; Jack wasn’t happy about it either. “It’s just a backup plan. It’s already in place, leave it be.”

“And what happens when you decide that’s not good enough? What happens when they hurt you because I never even tried to convince them not to? What if I lose you and this time it’s not because you’re being an arrogant control freak, but because I never told them how much it would devastate me if anything happened to you? That’s not happening.” He pulled away, continuing towards the door.

Pitch followed. “Jack, don’t. Let’s talk about this.”

“Nope. I’m done talking.”

“Jack—“

“I’m gonna tell them everything, about your whole stupid plan, how we were totally cool until that whole thing with The Tooth Palace, and when you let the faeries go and return the teeth, they’ll see that…” He paused at the doorway to look at Pitch, who was starting to look somewhat frantic. More than that, he didn’t look confident at all about Jack’s reasoning. “…you are letting them go, right?”

Pitch was quiet.

Jack stared at him. “You can’t be serious. Pitch. Tell me you’re not serious.”

“It’s better if Toothiana is weaker, Jack. It’s safer, for both of us, if you really insist on tying yourself to a sinking ship—“

Jack’s temper flared and ice lightning crackled at the crook of his staff. “It’s not a sinking ship, Pitch, I’m telling you, nothing is going to happen. I won’t let it, but convincing them of anything is going to be impossible if you still have Tooth’s faeries. You have to let them go. The poor things are probably scared to death.”

“Convincing them, after what they saw? Absolutely not. Who knows what they’ll be thinking I’ve done to you since then,” Pitch insisted, waving his hand in frustration. “I imply, very clearly and in no uncertain terms, that I’ve been taking advantage of you sexually, now I’ve threatened your life, coerced you into leaving with me, and held you against your will all this time. If you return and tell them what you’re intending to tell them, especially if I return the faeries and teeth, they’ll think I only returned them in exchange for your cooperation. Obviously, they’ll believe I’ve simply coerced you again somehow. Why should they believe anything you say if I’m the one involved behind the scenes?”

“Has it ever occurred to you once to just tell the truth? Jesus, Pitch.”

“And when would I have done that, exactly?” Pitch shot back, and Jack thought he was covering up full on panic with anger. He really did not want him to walk out that door. The carnal fear in his eyes made Jack stop and actually consider his words as Pitch continued, “Should I have let them know in advance I’d be stealing the faeries? Or should I have waited until after kidnapping you as well?”

“Neither, you dumbass, you should have never made them hate me in the first place, or taken the faeries,” Jack shouted, his statement punctuated by the sound of the ice crackling across the floor under their feet.

“I couldn’t,” Pitch insisted. “I needed…they would have recruited you into their ranks immediately, gained your trust, and then what chance would I have had? You’d have been lost to me.”

Jack threw out his hands incredulously. “So why didn’t you just come to me before that? You know, when I was alone for hundreds of years, totally not believed in or seen by anyone, not even the damn moon talking to me when apparently he was talking to everyone else.”

At that, Pitch was quiet. He stood there, jaw clenched and looking away from him before finally saying, “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Jack pressed angrily, thinking Pitch was still trying to dodge the question.

“No, I literally couldn’t, Jack,” Pitch explained. “The Man in the Moon used his light. His influence was enough to keep me and most of my shadows away, he would let me nowhere near you. I tried, darkness, I tried, Jack. I was always at your side, I promise you, but I couldn’t—” His voice broke and he looked away. “I couldn’t reach you.”

Jack’s mouth opened and closed a few times. He was stunned. That sounded…a lot like Jack’s own inability to reach out to anyone for all that time. So meanwhile…meanwhile, Pitch was reaching back?

“What?” he finally croaked breathlessly. “…why?”

Pitch sighed quietly, looking him over with concern now. “He wanted to protect you from me. I suppose he thought I would prevent you from ever becoming a Guardian the way he intended.”

He stood there, floored, once again drowning in a sense of utter betrayal. It took him a second to realize Pitch was calling his name. He looked up at him. “Huh?”

Pitch took a step closer to him, imploring him gently to understand. “I am a dangerous person, Jack. While I’ll never personally forgive him for what he’s done, I think you should at least…consider forgiving him, if you’re forgiving me, that is.”

“…I haven’t decided yet,” Jack muttered and looked away so he wouldn’t have to see the look of hurt on Pitch’s face. It wasn’t strictly true. To be perfectly honest, he’d forgiven him already, even if he didn’t remember doing so. For everything, even if he might not ever be able to fully trust again. But he’d spoken reflexively now in a bitter instant where he wanted to hurt…someone, anyone, like he’d been hurt, and Pitch was responsible for so much of his pain. He felt bad instantly, but didn’t take it back. He just sighed and fiddled with his hands as he looked at the floor.

“…I won’t…go talk to them yet,” Jack conceded quietly. “But…soon. Okay?” He looked up at Pitch, catching the last flicker of pain in his eyes before he schooled his expression to something solemn, but mostly neutral. “They need to go home. I can’t imagine what they…”

Ah, but he could imagine it, couldn’t he? Perfectly, in fact. Jack had been caged up too, and as desperately as he wanted his freedom in that moment, he decided he wouldn’t set a single toe on the surface until they could go. Something in his chest tightened painfully as he felt a flutter of panic, but he pushed it down as Pitch nodded in agreement.

“We just need a little more time to come up with a way to convince The Guardians either that I’m not a threat or that you’re not on my side.” Jack put his hand over his face and started to argue, but Pitch cut in, “I know. You are on my side. And you want them to know that. I’m just saying both options to make it more clear why I chose the latter. After everything, I can’t possibly imagine how to convince them I’m not a threat, but you cannot put yourself in the middle of this war. I won’t have you getting yourself killed defending me.”

Jack was quiet for a moment then he smiled a little. “Aw. You’re really that sure I’d do that for you?”

He expected some kind of teasing answer, but instead Pitch suddenly turned away from him, looking like he was going to be sick. “Yes. Yes, I am. And I will see all of existence brought to an end before I allow that to happen.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he weaseled his way around Pitch, wiggling up into his arms and tugging on his robe. “Hey. It’ll be fine, okay? We’ll come up with something. I’m positive. I’ve already got some ideas, so…Pitch,” he urged as he realized Pitch was shaking. Jack’s eyes widened with worry and he reached up, pressing his cold, small hands to either side of Pitch’s face. “What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong? Is your arm okay?”

Pitch nodded and swallowed thickly then said, “Arm. It…the powder.” He shook his head. “It’ll be gone now.”

Jack stared up into his face intently, blue eyes big and bright with worry. He’d never seen him so shaken so suddenly and it was weird enough that he was confused. “Oh. Uh. Okay. Is that…bad?”

“No. No, it’s good.” Jack started to protest as Pitch reached up to his arm and tugged the bandages loose, but then stared in amazement at the healthy bare skin. There wasn’t so much as a scar, although there was some dried blood as evidence that it had in fact happened.

Jack blinked slowly in amazement before looking up at Pitch and murmuring softly, “It’s gone.”

Pitch nodded. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Jack let Pitch pull him close and kiss him, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something important again. He’d felt like that an awful lot since meeting Pitch, like there were just always so many layers, and he didn’t like it one bit.

He was probably just being paranoid.

Chapter Text

Initially, things were really good. Despite the issue of the faeries hanging over their heads and the fact that Jack had totally lost track of how much time had passed since he’d last seen the surface, he was actually pretty happy overall. He loved getting to spend all this time with Pitch, learning more about him and re-building the trust that had been broken. He’d thought they would fight more because they both had such strong personalities, but Pitch was extremely patient with him, and Jack did his absolute best to see things from Pitch’s point of view. They had good days and bad days, and they argued about the faeries regularly, but clashed surprisingly little otherwise.

Despite their differences, Jack and Pitch found that rather than getting more and more on each other’s nerves, they were settling into comfortable routines as if it had always been this way.

Jack took the lukewarm cup of tea from Pitch and lifted the pillow on the couch that had tipped into Pitch’s spot to make room for him. Once Pitch was settled in next to him with his own cup of tea, Jack leaned into his shoulder without taking his eyes off the journal in his lap, scowling at it all the while. Seeing the look on his face, Pitch chuckled and peered closer.

“Having trouble?” His tone wasn’t exactly teasing, but it wasn’t exactly not either.

Jacked responded by groaning. “Journaling is hard. I definitely didn’t think it would be this hard. I haven’t written this much since I sat in on that stupid college class. I really tried, man. Those people are nuts. They write whole pages all the time.”

Pitch smirked. “What are you having trouble with? Looks like you’re doing fine to me.”

Jack quickly moved the leather bound journal Pitch had given him away far enough so that he hopefully couldn’t read it. Not that he was sure anyone could read his handwriting anyway. It had been ages since he’d written anything and he could barely write his own name and a few other essential things before Pitch started teaching him. He squinted at Pitch suspiciously, his lips puckered tightly together.

“Don’t read it!”

Pitch laughed. “I’m not! Don’t hit the man with the hot beverage,” he warned, in case Jack was thinking about it, cause he was.

Jack groaned and sipped his tea, which he took a second to appreciate Pitch had dumped a metric fuck ton of sugar into. And he didn’t burn himself trying to drink it either. Perfect. He decided to wind back the attitude a bit and he sighed, sidling back up into Pitch. “Sorry. Thanks. No, I just…it sounds like a toddler wrote it.”

“May I take a look?” Pitch intoned delicately, raising an eyebrow at him and putting his hand out.

Jack frowned, but handed it over. He waited, sipping his tea and trying to pretend like he wasn’t mortified, until Pitch hummed thoughtfully and Jack’s head whipped back around.

“What?” he breathed, edging closer. Peering down at the page Pitch had flipped to and was eying with confusion, Jack explained, “Oh, I started having a lot of dreams since I came here. Just regular ones. So I started writing them down to practice, sometimes I just don’t know what to write about.”

He remembered this particular dream well. It was the first one he remembered being particularly odd, and it inspired him to start recording his dreams in the first place.

…

……

The snow felt so comfortable under his cheek…except that it hurt. It was so cold it burned, his whole body burned. His clothes were soaked through. He’d abandoned his thin jacket in the storm (it wasn’t doing him any good anyway) and soon after that he’d fallen and didn’t get back up.
He’d meant to get back up.
It was quiet except for the howling winds as they whipped the frost up all around him. He watched them play with reverence. The ice crystals glittered with iridescence in the light and he could think of nothing more beautiful.
There was something immensely comforting about the way the snow cradled his body. He’d always loved the outdoors, especially in the winter. Unlike most people around here, he liked the extremes in weather they’d often get and instead of battening down, he would venture out. You wouldn’t think walking around in the woods making the rough shapes of furniture out of snow would be so much fun, but he certainly thought it was. It made him feel like he had a little home of his own.
He tried to imagine now, just like then, that he was home. He closed his eyes against the blinding white and imagined the plumes of snow were nothing more than a soft bed to sleep on. It was easy enough to do.
Besides, he really was home, wasn’t he?
It should have been a lonely death, but for the first time in his life, he really didn’t feel alone at all as Winter filled him.

At first, he’d thought he was already dead, but the longer he walked, nearly knee-deep in the snow, the more he was able to take in and the harder it was to believe that he didn’t exist. Of course he was still a part of the world; look at the snow in his hand. This was surely the most perfect snowball he’d ever seen. Look at the icicles hanging from the branches after the passing storm and how the sun made the fields absolutely sparkle under his bare feet.
The one problem he kept coming back to, though, was that he wasn’t cold. Or…no, that wasn’t right, he was cold. He was so cold that he knew there had never been anyone that had been colder. His body didn’t feel like it was made of ice, he was made of ice, his spirit. Somewhere deep down inside he’d become something more than what he’d been. He felt strong, stronger than he ever had in his whole life so it was just really hard for him to believe that he wasn’t alive because he’d never felt so alive.
Oh, and he was naked. Completely, totally butt-naked. He had no idea why. He couldn’t remember a thing about where he’d been before he woke up in the woods, buried in a tomb of snow. His best guess was he’d succumbed to hypothermia and started removing his clothes just before his collapse, but that didn’t explain anything else.
That made it really hard to explain anything to the poor family he came across first, who took him in, clothed and fed him. They tried to give him a hot bath and he’d shrieked. He was embarrassed by his reaction until they all realized he had a significant burn from trying to step into the tub that the lady of the house had comfortably stuck her arm into only moments ago.
No one could explain exactly what happened to him, and no one ever would, but he wasn’t dead, he knew that much, and that was good enough for him.

……

…

His written description wasn’t even close to the dream as he remembered it, but it got the important points down in a couple simple paragraphs and that was good enough for him. Maybe one day he’d be able to write down his dreams and actually portray what they really felt like. That’d be neat.

Pitch was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Sounds like you were reliving the general experience of freezing to death. It’s simple verbiage, but if you’re worried about the writing you shouldn’t be...” He paused then got distracted and added, “You curse more when you write. That’s rather fascinating actually.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up and he peeked at Pitch’s face then down at his own journal in Pitch’s lap. “Why? Isn’t that what all kids do, they learn all the swears and write on everything.”

Pitch laughed and shrugged, looking unsurprised by this response. It would have been easy enough to imagine little Jack doing graffiti without any additional information. “In any case, this is very good, Jack. You’re doing an excellent job. The way you express yourself is straightforward and insightful in a way many would be envious of. You shouldn’t feel you have anything to be embarrassed about. We can worry about spelling and vocabulary more at a later date, but right now you’re making remarkable progress.”

Jack’s face turned pink and he quickly looked away, closing the journal and setting it aside as he sank lower into the couch. “...thanks…” he mumbled.

“Mm,” Pitch acknowledged, going back to his tea.

For a while, they were companionably silent then Jack glanced back at him again. “Would you really show me how to do that thing?”

“I don’t see why not. As long as you can keep up with me. I am very out of practice though, I’ll admit.”

“Ha ha. No, seriously. I know I won’t be any good, but…I’d really like to learn…something, you know?”

Pitch turned a little in his seat, lounging with his arm elegantly over the back of the couch as he eyed Jack curiously and sipped his tea. “I suppose I do know. Although, I wonder why the sudden interest. Boredom?”

“I, well, I just.” He looked at his lap, his shoulders hunched shyly. “I thought you looked really cool practicing. And you’re…strong, and I’m really…I don’t really work out, exactly, but I just thought…everyone needs a hobby, right? And you know so much cool stuff. I just thought…” His voice trailed off shyly as he picked at a bit of loose thread on the couch.

Pitch was quiet for so long that Jack had to look at him to see what kind of face he was making. His eyes flicked back over to him, wincing as he anticipated rejection, mockery, or both. He was surprised to see, instead, Pitch gazing at him with deep affection, but he also looked strangely lost, like he couldn’t possibly understand why anyone would admire him enough to want to learn anything from him. Jack’s breath hitched and he waited, watching as Pitch tried to find his words.

“Perhaps later this evening. Not with a real sword, though, of course. How does that sound?”

Jack’s skin prickled with excitement, but he felt a little uneasy and couldn’t say why. “Yeah, that’s great. I mean, you don’t have to if…”

“No, I’d love to, Jack. Don’t worry,” he soothed, resting his chin on the back of his hand as his attention remained on Jack. “What else do you have planned for the day?”

“Oh, uh. Not…much. Honestly.” Jack mumbled, glancing away, embarrassed, as if it were his own fault Pitch was practically holding him hostage. He just didn’t want Pitch to feel bad for something he knew was only half his fault at this point. Jack was technically free to go whenever he liked. Mostly, he tried to avoid the topic as much as possible, afraid of being kicked out because, really, that was much closer to the truth. It was more likely than being kept as an actual prisoner, at this point. Pitch was always nagging at him, trying to get him to go to the surface.

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment, then Pitch said simply, “Ah. Yes, well…” Pitch paused, sipping his tea and clearing his throat. “Perhaps it will cheer you up to know I’m also free today.”

Jack sat up straighter, his eyes going round with innocent hope as well as trepidation like he hardly dared to believe it, then he knocked the rest of his tea flavored sugar water back, set the teacup down and turned on the couch to face Pitch.

“Are you really?” he whispered.

Pitch chuckled. “Yes. If you’d like to keep me company, you’re welcome to. I’m not sure it will be terribly interesting. There’s just one thing I have to take care of and then I will find you. How does that sound?”

Jack nodded and was going to ask more curious questions, but stopped as Pitch reached out and carefully ran his fingers back through Jack’s hair. It stopped Jack in his tracks immediately, and he sighed with contentment as his eyes slid shut. Satisfied with this response, Pitch hummed with approval then leaned forward and pressed a slow, soft kiss to his lips that immediately erased everything else in the world from Jack’s mind. There was no reason why they couldn’t just sit here and do this all day, as far as Jack was concerned, but he found himself leaning into Pitch, chasing his lips as they were already moving away. Pitch seemed equally reluctant to stop, and Jack moaned as he felt Pitch respond to his pitiful seeking by leaning back into him and parting his lips as he pressed just one more kiss to his mouth, and then another, and then another, lazy and dizzying.

When Pitch did at last actually lean all the way back, Jack found himself warmed through and dazed with no idea what the hell had been happening before this and no care for what would happen after. There was only this. He stared up at Pitch with a lost expression as Pitch stood, smiling, and ran a thumb over Jack’s bottom lip. It seemed like Pitch was stalling, and that thrilled him, that he would want this so much too.

Finally, Pitch lowered his hand, stood, then pet his hair before walking away. Jack turned to watch him go. Once Pitch was out of sight, he stood and went to put his journal away then pretend like he was busy until Pitch came to get him.

——

In the end, Jack found himself wandering through the library while he waited for Pitch. After tucking his journal away in its spot on the shelf, Jack turned and looked around, deciding he’d try and read something easy, like Pitch had suggested. Reading was hard, but pretty rewarding, and easier, of course, when he had Pitch there to tell him what things meant when he didn’t understand them, but he was feeling motivated by the praise he’d received and thought he could handle it.

When Pitch first started teaching him to read and write better, he’d directed Jack to a particular shelf with books on it that were easier. At first, Jack was annoyed by this suggestion, but soon he realized most of the books in his library were absurdly complicated and most people would probably find them difficult. It was like they were in a whole other language and it was super impressive that Pitch could even read any of that junk, but Jack certainly couldn’t. He was fine with that.

Jack stopped in front of the shelf and bent down to pick up a small leather bound book off the floor. He turned it over, but not only was there no title or author on the front, there was no information at all. He was about to stick the book back on the shelf, but before he could figure out where to put it he hesitated and gave it another look, suddenly curious.

It was handwritten, which surprised and intrigued him. It didn’t look quite like Pitch’s handwriting, a little simpler, but he wasn’t quite sure. It could have been his. He was just starting to feel like maybe he should put it back and ask Pitch about it later, in case it was something personal that ended up here by accident, when he flipped past a page that stopped his heart. He rushed back through the book, looking for the page, because he knew what he’d seen, he just couldn’t imagine what it meant.

Sure enough, he’d been right. He stared at the picture drawn there. He read the notes around it, and he took a deep breath, but forgot to let it back out.

There had to be some kind of explanation. Maybe Pitch was working on a novel and he just so happened to…get inspiration from that, so it made it sound as though–

Jack heard the door at the front of the library open and panicked. He grabbed his own journal, smushed the book he’d found between its pages, and shoved it back on the shelf.

“I’ve come for you, little firefly,” Pitch called to him playfully as he approached. “Hope you didn’t think you could hide from me, although it could be interesting to see you try.”

Jack laughed in a way he hoped didn’t sound nervous and vaguely unhinged and gravitated towards Pitch, wrapping his arms around one of his. “Nah, I like it right here.”

Pitch slowly slid an arm around his back, giving Jack a bit of a look, a look he recognized. It was the focused but distant gaze of someone that’s trying to identify a smell. In this case, it was fear. Jack tried to throw him off by focusing on the general fear of Pitch being unhappy with him, since that was a fear he had often, rather than ruminating on the journal specifically.

The Nightmare King’s gaze burned into Jack for long enough that he started to fidget involuntarily, trying to think of a way to get out from under Pitch’s scrutiny. But then Pitch did nothing more than kiss the top of his head before leading him from the library, still seeming in high spirits. Maybe Jack was just paranoid.

“You should carry me, my legs are tired,” Jack said spontaneously.

Pitch scoffed and threw him a skeptical glance. “Oh yeah? Is that so? And what’s made your poor little legs so tired?”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? They’re short. Keeping up with you is a workout. But I mean, fine, if you don’t wanna, I see how it–” Jack squealed as Pitch scooped him up, then went limp, cackling. “I was kidding, put me down! I am a full-grown man, I don’t need you to–excuse me, that was my favorite ass cheek you just pinched.”

“Mm, we wouldn’t want to damage your best asset, now would we?” Pitch purred, as if it was perfectly acceptable to make horrible puns and not, in fact, basically a war crime.

Jack struggled and flailed, arching his back and kicking his legs. “STOP, oh my god,” he whined. “You’re fucking…I literally can’t remember why I ever liked you, put me down, you dirty old man!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Help, I’m being kidnapped by a pervert!”

Jack continued struggling, trying not to laugh the whole while, until finally Pitch threw him over his shoulder and slapped Jack’s ass so hard his scream echoed in the caverns. Stiff and barely breathing, Jack glanced back at Pitch, aghast. “I could freeze you solid, you know.”

“Fine,” Pitch murmured, audibly smirking, and Jack gasped as Pitch gave his butt a firm rub where he’d slapped it, as if to soothe the sting. “I’ll behave.”

“Goddamn liar,” Jack grumbled, but he was grinning. He knew he’d been stressed about something a minute ago, but couldn’t remember what it was, and didn’t want to just yet.

——

Pitch was right. Jack couldn’t just run off to The Guardians without a solid plan to convince them he was safe, otherwise nothing else he said about Pitch had half a chance of being persuasive and as soon as the faeries were returned they would be strengthened and on the warpath again, more eager to take Pitch out than ever…before he tried to behead one of them next.

Jack had been to the meetings. He knew they wanted to keep Pitch weak, and make him much weaker if possible. They wanted to knock him all the way down, and they could rationalize it all they wanted, but Jack knew the real reason was because The Guardians were afraid of Pitch. They’d seen him when he was strong and they were willing to do anything to prevent that from happening again. Returning balance may have been a legitimate concern once, but now they had a huge advantage and they knew it and yet they still wanted to take everything else away from him that had not yet been taken.

But Jack wasn’t willing to live in a world where Pitch was sacrificed just because it was easier to do that than show him kindness. Even before he’d fallen for him, Jack couldn’t tolerate that, and he certainly couldn’t tolerate it now.

Jack found it hard to even see that person from thousands of years ago as the same person cuddled up on the couch with him today. The Guardians never got to see that side of him, though, so they wouldn’t know that, now would they? If Jack could show them Pitch’s heart, would they lose interest in getting rid of him? They’d have to. No one could see the person he saw when he looked at Pitch and think the world would be better off without him and Jack didn’t want to live in a world where only by sacrificing Pitch could the world go on turning. That didn’t make sense to him.

He could worry about getting Pitch not to kill everyone later because, as he’d steadily realized, he trusted Pitch more than The Guardians even given all that had happened. Right now, he just needed to get Tooth back her faeries as well as the teeth.

But how the hell was he supposed to show them Pitch was a person if he couldn’t leave? Pitch was convinced it wasn’t safe for him to go see The Guardians on his own right now, as if they’d kidnap him the way Pitch had.

And then, of course, he had to keep in mind that he was asking Pitch to give up the progress he’d made by obtaining the faeries and the teeth, essentially putting them in even more danger. Jack was asking him to risk everything when he asked Pitch to believe in him; the least Jack could do was heed his one request and wait a little longer.

It wasn’t even really fair of him to ask Pitch not to want revenge against them after the way he’d been treated. He didn’t understand the full extent of it, but he felt like it was pretty obvious: at some point Pitch had been cast out for being different and treated poorly ever since. Of course he wanted revenge. Jack felt like there was a lot he was missing here, especially after finding that book in the library that seemed to suggest there was a lot Pitch still wasn’t telling him, but regardless he couldn’t exactly ask Pitch to just give up his grudge outright. He deserved to have his feelings and goals taken into account. He felt wronged. He had needs that weren’t being met. That wasn’t so evil. Jack could work with that.

So he needed a plan, like, yesterday. But it seemed like the harder he tried to think, the more his brain refused to even give him a fighting chance. He was becoming more irritable and morose to the point that he hardly recognized himself anymore and being cooped up certainly wasn’t helping. He was definitely starting to get under Pitch’s skin as well.

“I’m not speaking on this with you again, Jack,” Pitch dismissed him immediately the next time he brought it up, which already pissed Jack off, right off the bat. It was true they’d been over this again and again, which was probably why Pitch didn’t want to talk about it, again, but funnily enough Jack didn’t give a shit, and he also didn’t care whether or not that was because Jack was becoming increasingly mentally unstable. Pitch was always mentally unstable, and he functioned pretty well.

“Oh, okay, no, yeah. Right. Not like it’s important or anything,” Jack said sarcastically as he slung his staff over his shoulder and paced back and forth behind Pitch, who was trying to get work done at his desk. That work, most likely, was trying to solve precisely the problem he was griping about, yet he couldn’t stop himself from antagonizing the poor man.

“How many times must we discuss the same thing?” Pitch said, throwing down his pen in exasperation as he turned to face him. “You must have a lot of faith in me indeed if you think I can magically make all your problems disappear if you harass me enough.”

“Not all of them, just the ones you cause,” Jack retaliated as he stopped pacing to look at him. “I know we don’t have a solid plan yet, but at some point soon if we still don’t have a plan, we’re just going to have to let them go anyway. They—“

“We?” Pitch interrupted, raising a confused brow. Rather than annoyed, Jack was surprised to see mostly concern in his face. Pitch turned to face him fully, refocusing his attention. “I fail to see how this is your doing or why you should be responsible for a plan. You make it sound like it’s your fault.”

Jack’s eyes darted away. He felt indescribably guilty about his involvement in this, and at this point he really considered it his crime as much as Pitch’s. He could have freed the faeries by this point if he’d wanted to just by going behind Pitch’s back, but as usual he and Pitch were actually somehow weirdly on the same page. This wasn’t a bad guy versus good guy situation, and besides, Jack wouldn’t do that to him.

With a quiet sigh through his nose, his gaze sank to the floor, both hands clutching his staff miserably to his chest.

Pitch sighed and glanced upwards like he was praying for patience. He must have found it, because when he looked back at Jack his demeanor had softened.

“As previously discussed,” he began more gently, “We cannot set them free because we need a plan so that you’re not putting yourself in danger when you go to speak with The Guardians.”

“It’s not like they’re going to hurt me.”

“Yes, because you’ve always returned from dealing with them in one piece in the past,” Pitch drawled.

Jack frowned. “That was totally different…maybe I should go talk to them first, after all.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jack threw up his hands. “Okay, then you could come with me.”

“I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Can you stop being a sarcastic asshole for five seconds?” Jack cried suddenly in frustration. “This isn’t a game, just…be serious, this is important.”

Jack wasn’t sure if it was being called out that did it or if it was the fact that, as they both noticed, in that moment, Jack was the one calling an end to fun and games. It put a bad taste in both of their mouths, especially thinking about the way Jack had been skulking about the lair lately, subdued, quiet, and oh so serious.

How long had it been since he’d been himself?

“Yes. Of course,” Pitch conceded, then after a pause added, “You’ve been thinking about this quite a lot, haven’t you?”

Jack winced and looked away. “Well, yeah.”

Pitch glanced at his desk, sighed heavily, then looked back at Jack and got to his feet. “You’re right. Let’s sit down and talk about this again. First, what do you say we have a little fun?”

Jack’s eyes widened fractionally in surprise as they sparkled up at Pitch. “…really?” He shifted uncomfortably and looked to the door to the hall which led to where the faeries were being kept. It felt wrong to do anything fun when they were suffering. “But…” He looked back at Pitch. “What kind of fun? …ohh, you mean like…”

Pitch chuckled and put his hands on his waist, pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “That’s not what I mean. Unless that’s your best idea of fun right now, in which case I’m sure I could be persuaded.”

Jack grinned a little and looked down shyly, but moved even closer. “Oh. Uhh, well…what were you thinkin’?”

“I was thinking it’s time I show you the gallery. Normally, it requires a bit of setup, but in this case I think you’d like to help.”

Jack smiled and said cheerfully, without knowing anything else, “Sure.”

Pitched paused and looked at him in that way Jack was coming to learn meant he’d done something Pitch thought was cute or wholesome, then he leaned his head against his briefly before taking his hand and leading Jack into the shadows. It was cheesy as hell, but Jack thought to himself in that moment he’d follow Pitch anywhere, and he meant it.

Jack was bewildered when they arrived in a very large empty room, strangely arranged, with large pedestals built into the floor, empty picture frames dangling into open air, and many empty shelves of all types and sizes.

“Here we are,” Pitch said simply, walking slowly around the space. “Let me show you how this generally works,” he said, and with a flourish of his hand a large, expensive looking vase appeared on the closest pedestal suited to fit it. “It looks real enough, and technically it is, but…” Jack watched in amazement as Pitch stepped back and conjured a massive, glittering black scythe mid-swing above his head. It gave off darkness like a mist that eventually dissipated, but not before billowing over everything in its wake. He recognized it as the one Pitch had threatened him with, but it was hard to feel anything but awe…and maybe a little bit horny.

He was mesmerized as Pitch swung the scythe at the vase, shattering it upon impact. It sounded like porcelain or glass, but when the pieces hit the ground they were only little piles of nightmare sand.

Jack had to stop himself from jumping up and down like a child and then thought, why? He hopped a couple times then yelled, bursting with enthusiasm, “That was awesome!”

Jack hurried over and stared up at Pitch starry eyed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re seriously…you’re seriously so cool, Pitch…! Can you do it again?”

Pitch looked back at Jack in bewildered amusement, smiling crookedly. “I can. Would you like to try?” Jack’s mouth fell open and Pitch laughed, gesturing him closer. “I’ll take that as a yes…stand here…yes, like that. Good.”

Pitch guided Jack into his arms, back against Pitch’s chest, and held the scythe aloft, positioning Jack’s small pale hands just beneath his own on the scythe’s intimidating handle. Even with Pitch supporting the bulk of the weight, Jack could tell it was heavy, and as Pitch showed him how to position it, Jack flushed because he suddenly realized that Pitch was flirting and it was extremely effective, so effective that Jack couldn’t even make a dumb joke or flirt back. He was too smitten, and followed along obediently like he cared more about technique than Pitch’s warmth at his back as Pitch nudged his legs with his own to show him how to position his feet. He could have been showing him anything and as long as he was standing this close to him, speaking to him so sweetly in his ear, Jack would have been just as charmed. Jack’s own machismo just went right ahead, swooned, and fainted, and instead he was quiet and bashful and giggling the whole time.

Together, they swung the scythe at another vase Pitch conjured, and as it shattered against the blade, Jack’s heart thrummed wildly. He looked back and up at Pitch for his approval and felt warm and tingly as Pitch purred, “Very good, Jack…”

Jack felt giddy and shy as he settled back in against him more and asked if they could do another one.

Eventually, after about half a dozen attempts, pausing in between so Pitch could place a hand on his stomach and explain the importance of core strength or fix his posture, Jack relinquished his hold and stepped back, bashfully clearing his throat. “Yeah, that was, um…that’s really cool,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, grinning ear to ear.

“You’re a natural,” Pitch assured him playfully, although Jack highly doubted that. “Although, if you had your own Boogey scythe, it would have to be a good deal shorter.”

Jack snorted with laughter and nudged him. “Shut up.”

Pitch flashed him a smirk and with a swish the scythe disappeared in an impressive cloud of darkness that bled across the stone floor like a heavy fog. “Now that you’ve got the idea, perhaps you’d like to help me populate the gallery with some more victims.”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Jack cried, snatching his staff and taking off into the air. “Anything? As long as it’s smashable?”

“Anything at all,” Pitch confirmed and got to work creating beautiful pieces of art to ruin.

In the end, Jack almost wasn’t sure what was more fun, making things or breaking them, but, of course, breaking won out in his heart. He really needed that. Really, really needed that. He wasn’t sure if Pitch even knew how bad he needed that, but he had a feeling he did. He wondered why Pitch hadn’t told him about this sooner.

“Pitch?” he asked as they sat together on the floor among piles of darkness and shattered ice. Pitch looked at him. “What was this room before? This isn’t what it always was, was it? Otherwise, why didn’t you tell me about it sooner?”

Pitch hummed thoughtfully in confirmation as his golden eyes traced the room. “No, it wasn’t…for a long time, centuries after, I used this room to remember what I’d lost to the shadows…” He paused and looked over at Jack, hesitating. “I never actually…explained to you where the shadows came from, did I?”

Jack turned slightly to face him more, eyes sparkling with curiosity, and he gripped at his crossed legs as if excited enough that he felt they needed to be tamed. “No…you said they were different now.”

Pitch gazed at him with surprising gentleness. It was a difficult topic, and Jack thought he would be brusque and defensive, but instead Pitch looked as though this tale was both sad and sweet.

“Once I lost everything, I didn’t see any reason to keep fighting, and the shadows were able to possess me.” He sighed and glanced back around the gallery as if he could see what it once was. “I’ve thought about what I could have done differently for countless hours, but…it doesn’t matter.”

Pitch hung his head a little and closed his eyes, as if bracing himself, and Jack’s curiosity vanished. Suddenly, he was filled only with worry, and as he scooted closer, trying to be supportive, their crossed legs bumped together.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I get it. I wanna know, but not if…not if it’s too much,” Jack offered, peering up into Pitch’s face with concern.

Pitch looked back at him and after considering him for a moment, flashed him half a smile and took one of Jack’s hands in his then continued. “The nature of the shadows is not evil. It never was. They don’t destroy for the sake of it. They feed, and grow, like any living thing wants to do. We only thought them evil because we were prey, but they’re a neutral force. Once I finally realized the only way to stop their mindless hunger was to understand them and bond with them, the shadows became tame and loyal to me. If you spend millions of years with anything…you’re bound to come to an understanding, if the motivation is right. That’s around the time when I came back to myself.”

Jack squeezed his hand a little, wincing in sympathy. “So they stopped growing because of that?”

Pitch opened his mouth, winced, then surprised Jack by turning his head away slightly in shame. “…not…quite. We became one. Inseparable. That doesn’t just mean I enacted my will on them. We worked together, as one new being, and terrorized many for countless centuries here before I finally found myself again.”

Jack gazed at him, mesmerized, and held Pitch’s hand gently to his chest. “How? How did you…?”

Pitch ground his teeth together for a moment before looking back at Jack, and he was overwhelmed by the amount of love and adoration he saw on his face. “I found something I’d lost…quite by accident, or fate, if you believe in such things.”

Jack shrugged a little. He didn’t know if he did or not. “What was it?”

Pitch glanced back around at the gallery. “Everything that was once here was something I recreated from memory. Portraits, sketches, things I learned to mold or sew just so I’d have…something. Paintings of places and people I would never see again. I used to practice drills I once knew, knowing I’m likely the only person ‘alive’ who remembers them…I had nothing left of my old life, save for my sword, and a locket my…daughter gave me.”

Jack’s eyes widened and suddenly it hit him hard that obviously Pitch had this whole long, long life before he ever came along. Of course he’d known that, but he couldn’t picture it properly until now. He always imagined Pitch’s life before now being spent mostly alone, down here, coming out to fight The Guardians and to try and instill belief and fear in children.

But of course Pitch had other homes, he’d had friends, he probably hadn’t always dressed like this or acted like this or talked like this. He’d had a daughter and that hurt because losing a child on it’s own would be enough to destroy anyone, oh, Jack knew that very well, maybe not because he’d lived it end to end, but he’d seen what it did to families, and he’d lost his own fair share of children he’d come to love more than anything throughout their lifetimes. He’d stood at enough graves, bringing flurries of snow out of season and leaving toys that probably baffled the families of adults who’d lived long, rich lives. They usually wouldn’t recognize that it was identical to the firetruck or doll their loved one had always had in hand as a child, back when Jack first met them.

And then there were the parents he stood beside in the cemetery, quietly, out of the way as they tried to wrap their heads around the fact that they were still alive and their child was not. Sometimes they howled with grief. Sometimes they ripped up all the flowers. Sometimes they stood in the rain for hours at a time. Sometimes the two parents argued with each other. Sometimes they brought their other children, the siblings of the child who’d passed on, and they would all stand there as still and cold as a group of snowmen as the parents tried to keep it together for the kids, and the kids tried to keep it together for the parents. And Pitch, Pitch had been one of those hollow, broken parents.

Jack shut his eyes as tight as he could, fat tears falling relentlessly as he forced his way under Pitch’s arm, tucking himself against his side. “…I’m so sorry,” he finally whispered.

Pitch held him close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and Jack responded by sobbing and sliding his arms around Pitch’s neck, pressing into him desperately like he was falling.

Pitch’s eyes widened and he was still for a moment before wrapping his arms around Jack and gathering him close. “Jack,” he breathed softly, and began slowly rubbing his back. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Jack choked into his shoulder, breath hitching. “It’s not alright. You…it’s not fair.”

He felt Pitch sigh. “…I know. I know.”

For a while, Jack refused to let go of him, partially because he didn’t want Pitch to see him such a mess, even if he was plenty used to it by now. Finally though, he leaned back and looked up at Pitch, wiping his face. “Jeez, I’m…really sorry. I just…” He laughed at himself a little. “I wanted to comfort you, but I’m a mess. Again.”

Pitch chuckled and gathered Jack back close to his shoulder. “You did.”

That almost got Jack going again, but he kept it together and did little more than sniffle lightly. “If you…ever want to…you know. Remember. Stuff. I wanna hear it. You don’t have to, but…yeah. I…” He paused, considered mentioning the journal in the library and said instead, “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

Pitch nodded slowly. “The locket, I’m afraid, went missing many years ago. I was lucid enough, at times, to be aware of having it, but by the same I had full control over the shadows, it was long gone.”

Jack gasped quietly in fresh pain. That just…seemed too cruel. He was certain the lost thing Pitch had found was the locket, but he must have meant the sword. He didn’t want to ask about that now though. It didn’t matter, but already he had the beginnings of a desire ignited within him to find the locket for Pitch. That was absurd, of course. But, of course, he didn’t care.

“I’m afraid,” Pitch began again, “That I don’t remember terribly much, unless it was written down and stored in the library. I used to come here and…” Pitch closed his eyes. “…try to remember. And then, one day, I was trying to…” He took a deep breath. “I was trying to remember her face…I was looking at the paintings of her and they all looked a little different, and…and I couldn’t remember which was right. I decided, what was the point? What was the point of any of it then? And I destroyed all of it. Every last thing in the gallery. Because I’d forgotten the most important thing, and none of it…meant anything now. Nothing did.”

Jack stared at him in shock, eyes glossy. “…do you…regret it?” he asked softly.

Pitch continued looking all around slowly as if he could still see all the ghosts freed from the items this room once contained. “…I don’t know. I suppose I got what I wanted.”

“What did you want?” Jack asked gently.

Pitch looked back at him, very little expression on his face, and that’s what really broke Jack’s heart. “To forget.”

After catching his breath, Jack whispered, “Even if…you don’t remember anything at all, you still love her. Remember what you told me? About when a spirit dies and becomes something else?”

Pitch took a hard breath in and held it for a moment, staring ahead vacantly for a while before nodding slowly and looking at Jack in a way that made him feel truly loved.

Shyly, fiddling with his fingers, Jack continued, offering, “If there’s anything you want to tell me about her, though…or about anything…I’d love to listen. I know this is all, like…a lot. At once. But if there is anything…”

Pitch was quiet long enough that Jack didn’t think he was going to answer, and that would have been fine, but then he said softly, “Seraphina. Her… name. Was Seraphina.”

Jack squeezed his eyes shut tight in tandem with his heart, then opened them again. “That’s really pretty. Was she, uh…an…adult?”

Pitch paused. He was quiet for a long while. “I don’t know.”

Jack looked up at him and was alarmed to see tears running down Pitch’s face, even though his expression was flat and his voice was steady. “You would have loved her.” He looked at Jack. “I know she would have loved you.”

Immediately, Jack crawled up him and pulled Pitch down, tipping him over onto Jack’s shoulder instead whether he liked it or not and wrapping his arms around him as if Jack could somehow hide Pitch against his much smaller body. At first, Pitch froze somewhat, but almost instantly their emotions tuned into one another fully and Pitch clung to Jack, leaning over him and gathering Jack to him as much as Jack was trying to gather him against him too.

“It’s okay,” Jack breathed, even as fresh tears poured down his face. He dug his fingers into Pitch, clinging to him hard as he tried to hide him away. “It’s okay.”

Pitch let him. He let him pull him in and Jack could feel his chest rising and falling as he huffed out nearly silent sobs against Jack’s neck. The fact that he was actually willing to be vulnerable like this stunned Jack as much as it honored him. He didn’t want to see Pitch like this, but the fact that he could, that Pitch was letting him, filled Jack’s heart more than he could possibly say.

“I love you,” Jack whispered into Pitch’s ear once he’d gone still and quiet. “So much. More than…snow. Or treehouses. Or squirrels.”

Pitch sat up partly and pet Jack’s hair with a low chuckle then wiped his face and sat up the rest of the way. His eyes were a little red and damp, but besides that he was as poised and put together as always.

Jack patted his shoulder twice. “Pat pat.”

Pitch gave him a strange look then snorted and rolled his eyes. “Well? Aren’t you going to clean all this up?”

Jack’s mouth fell open. “What?!”

“Fine, alright…I’ll take the sand and you take the ice.”

“Why can’t I do the sand?”

Pitch gave him a look. “I don’t know. Why can’t you?”

“You’re the expert, you tell me.”

Jack laughed as Pitch smirked then they each raised a hand and called back the bits of dark and cold peppered throughout the room. Jack grinned as he watched them swirl around the room on their return, creating a beautiful painting-like look to the room overall, like they’d turned the gallery itself into a piece of art. It was stunning to see, glittering and strange.

Unable to resist, Jack shot some of his ice particles into some of Pitch’s nightmare sand, causing them to solidify together in an abstract shape with stunning coloration before tinkling to the ground. After he did this a few more times, Pitch pummeled his ice with nightmare sand twice as hard, sending bits of glittering black and blue everywhere.

Jack burst out laughing. “Hey!”

It was all complete chaos after that, leaving Jack cackling on the ground.

Later, he would decide that he had to take another look at the strange book he'd found before bringing it up to Pitch. It seemed to be some kind of record, a record of things he might want to remember, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up over nothing. More importantly, he couldn’t figure out why Pitch was lying to him, but he was afraid to ask because he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer.

——

They were only postponing the inevitable and Pitch slowed everything down because of how meticulous he was. Maybe it was because he’d spent years underground growing an army, painstakingly creating the perfect plan for an uprising, but if there was even one little problem with what either of them came up with that couldn’t be resolved neatly, the plan was completely scrapped. He wondered if he’d have been less picky if almost all the plans didn’t involve putting Jack in some kind of danger. There could be no kinks, no unresolved issues, no predicaments, just smooth sailing all the way through, but plans like that took more time than they had and it was only a matter of time before something gave way.

Jack wasn’t surprised when the thing that gave was him, in the end.

He missed the forests. He missed the open sky desperately, he missed sunlight and barren snowy landscapes. He missed the kids, especially Jamie and his friends. As much as he wanted to use his privileges for the sake of returning to the life he knew, he immediately felt too guilty to even consider it.

Once he’d flown to the very top of Pitch’s lair and looked up through the old slats in the wooden bed frame, knowing he could leave, wanted it so much he thought he’d go mad, but he just couldn’t while the faeries remained trapped underground. It was his own fault, anyway, he knew better than to taunt himself like that, but he still stole a glimpse of the sunlight in the trees and as many lungfuls of fresh air as he could carry. After watching the clouds pass by for much too long, and then spending a little longer to make it convincing that he hadn’t been crying in case he ran into Pitch, he headed back down into the caverns.

It was fine. He was totally fine.

They really weren’t so bad. As much as he missed the open sky, it was still sort of fun not ever fully knowing what he might find down here: a room he’d never seen before, an area packed with stalagmites and stalactites, even a small stream. Caves, he decided, were awesome. Even considering how long he’d been alive, he hadn’t spent much time in them. He doubted many people did. He thought that suited Pitch just as much as he thought it was sad.

He was nervous about telling The Guardians how…close he was getting with Pitch once he did finally see them again, too. He imagined talking to Tooth or Bunny about it: they’d just be working things out, talking it over, and Jack would suddenly involuntarily recall Pitch getting him to beg for his cock, and then Jack would never be able to look at either of them ever again.

More importantly, none of The Guardians took him seriously now. If they found out he and Pitch were together? He’d probably lose any bit of respect they had left for him and he doubted they’d ever listen to anything he had to say ever again. The fight with Bunny was the perfect example to show how tenuous the situation already was before. Jack couldn’t afford to make it any worse.

But that wasn’t fair. Pitch didn’t deserve to be hidden like some dirty secret. Hadn’t he lived that way long enough? Jack was not going to be just one more person to treat him like that.

Really, though, overall he decided he didn’t care what The Guardians thought, what kind of war was going on…he wasn’t a damn Guardian. How many times did he have to say it? He wasn’t a Guardian. He wasn’t going to be a Guardian. This wasn’t his war. He cared about the kids as much as anyone, but was anyone else even thinking of the kids at this point? It was all just some kind of fucked up power trip, like the kids were just a bunch of little batteries. He knew The Guardians at least didn’t actually feel that way, but it sure felt like it a lot of the time and he was sick to death of it. And now he was supposed to care about their agenda enough not to see Pitch again? No way.

A guy that kidnaps you isn’t supposed to make you feel more understood and cared about than your friends. That was not cool. And Jack admitted, yeah, a lot of that was his fault too for being shitty at communicating and purposefully keeping them at a distance because he didn’t know anything else, but it was also definitely their fault for never seeking him out first, for not making more of an effort in the early days to show him compassion and make time for him, for being close minded, and for treating him like a kid.

So yeah. No chance at all he was walking away from this. Whatever…this was. He wouldn’t know, but he had a feeling humans and spirits did relationships a little different. He’d heard the phrase ‘till death do you part’, but what about when death just never happened? What if your weird spirit genitals were incompatible? What if you were overwhelmed by the huge number of weird spirit genitals there were to choose from when choosing a sexual partner? What if neither of you had any idea what gender or sex you were supposed to be? The priorities were just different, but the two of them were happy, and while they’d had conversations about their opinions on some things they both wanted and didn’t want, the topic of choosing an actual label had never come up and he was perfectly fine with that.

Even if an argument started out ugly, it never ended there and he thought part of that had to do with Pitch’s determination to make up for how he’d treated Jack, but Jack found he was just as fiercely protective over Pitch. In the same vein, he was just as determined to never let go of Pitch now that he had him, and if that meant learning better people skills, he could do that as long as Pitch was patient with him, and he was. If Pitch was willing to be vulnerable with him like that, Jack would work just as hard.

Jack was walking down the hall, just wandering, hoping it would help him think, and realizing miserably that it wasn’t working. He knew Pitch was sleeping, and he did it so rarely now that Jack really didn’t want to wake him up, but he’d left his journal in Pitch’s bedroom…or…he felt ridiculous for blushing about it, but at some point it had become their bedroom.

He was about to pass their bedroom door and he slowed to a stop, hesitating as he tried to decide whether or not to go in. Besides waking Pitch up, he had another fear as well. He was afraid he would want to stay.

When was the last time they’d slept in bed together? Just to rest. Not Jack tipping over into Pitch’s lap in the library because he couldn’t keep his eyes open, not Jack finding Pitch asleep at his desk. When had they laid down with each other just for the purpose of resting and being close?

Swearing under his breath, he decided he’d just slip in quick and grab the journal. He could handle that. He knew exactly where it was, he was quick and light on his feet. Pitch would never know he was even there.

But…he also acknowledged to himself in that moment, as he carefully shut the door behind him and plunged himself into darkness, that he should be sleeping regularly. That might even explain why he wasn’t thinking clearly so much of the time these days. Sleeping wasn’t necessary, but it helped to at least rest, and he hadn’t been doing that, and more importantly he hadn’t been resting with Pitch.

That gave Jack an awesome idea. If he slept more, Pitch certainly would too, and he needed it more than Jack did. He’d start actually going to bed at night and see if he could tempt Pitch into bed with him. Right now, though, he had other priorities.

He’d gotten used to the dark even more and knew the layout of the bedroom, so he was able to navigate it without issue. Jack paused by the bed as he realized he could hear Pitch breathing and his heart ached. He wanted to climb right on top of him and fall asleep that way. He wanted to lay his head on his chest and listen to the beat of his heart. They hadn’t really been spending a lot of time together in general either, actually, had they? Or was he just being selfish? He honestly couldn’t tell.

He chewed his lip as he stood there a little longer then he kept moving, feeling around on the bedside table for the journal’s shape, but stopped as the deep, slow breaths Pitch took in his sleep became quiet and shallow. Jack waited for them to go back to normal, but in the end it didn’t matter how much sound he did or didn’t make.

“Jack?” Pitch asked softly, voice rough with sleep.

Jack cursed himself, looking towards the bed even if he couldn’t see a damn thing. “…yeah? Sorry…I…was just…”

“Come ‘ere,” Pitch mumbled, and Jack could hear the blankets shifting.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, I was just…grabbing my journal, you can go back to sleep,” he whispered back.

“I can’t. Your fears are too loud. Let me quiet them.”

Jack winced, feeling guilty. Once again, everything was about him and his problems, his fear. Pitch couldn’t even rest without Jack—

“Jack,” Pitch snapped. Jack blinked then took a hesitant step towards the bed, then another until his knee hit the side of it.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Jack whispered, resting his hands hesitantly on the comforter. “You don’t have to—…I’ll just…”

Pitch suddenly snatched him out of the dark and dragged him onto the bed, wringing a little sound of surprise out of Jack, then he gathered him close, wrapping arms and legs around him both. Pitch made a sleepy sound then sighed contentedly in a huff against Jack’s neck as he settled back in.

Jack laid there, his heart racing as if this were the first time he and Pitch had ever been so close when in reality, before Jack stopped bothering to sleep, he’d become a veritable teddy bear. It had been awkward initially, when they’d started sleeping together; Jack didn’t want to bother Pitch, thinking the man was entitled to sleep without Jack climbing all over him, and he had a feeling Pitch, likewise, hadn’t wanted to make Jack feel like he owed him physical closeness just because he was sleeping in his bed now. But, gradually and sweetly, Jack, who desperately craved that closeness, sent out little feelers one at a time, fingers brushing against Pitch’s hand which he would then grasp, or a scoot closer, to which Pitch would respond by pulling him to his chest. And soon it was the easiest thing in the world to pile in bed together. Jack was quite sure neither of them had slept nearly as much before they had the other.

And yet now it had been so long. Jack didn’t even think that was why he felt his heart racing so easily. He was pretty sure that was just because he was an idiot in love and he still just couldn’t quite believe he got to have this.

“Settle, my star,” Pitch mumbled as his breathing evened out again, and for a little while, Jack did. Relief washed over him as he was able to rest for a little while in Pitch’s arms, and soon he was sound asleep as well.

Unfortunately, peace like that couldn’t last. Not when there was so much waiting for them to fix, and soon Jack went back to his pattern of being entirely unable to exist without obsessing over finding a solution to everything going on.

He wasn’t made to be kept in any one place long. All of this went against his nature, he knew that, they both knew that, but he couldn’t leave until the faeries were allowed to go free too. He wasn’t going to just leave them here. Poor things were probably terrified, even if they were managing to slowly escape, taking teeth with them each time. Jack knew they were for sure because he’d spotted two of them by the entrance, each carrying one end of a golden capsule. They’d all stopped, eyes comically wide as they made eye contact with each other, then Jack had quickly shooed them along. They smiled, nodded rapidly, and zoomed away and Jack watched them go with a small pang of jealousy.

He spent time with them, making sure they were doing as okay as could be expected and trying to cheer them up. He invented games for them to play with each other when he wasn’t around and even some they could play with him through the bars of the cages. He told them stories and jokes, he even wrote and acted out an entire play for them once and made a whole event out of it. He was constantly nagging Pitch about different ways he wanted to make their living conditions nicer, like adding pillows and blankets, decorating the cages with flowers, and other such things, until eventually they actually seemed pretty happy.

One day, Jack went into the cavern where all the cages of faeries were being kept, but stopped and hid behind a stone column when he saw Pitch already in the large room. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it looked like he was speaking to the faeries, who only looked moderately terrified, and then Jack watched with amazement and deep fondness as Pitch went around putting up lanterns all over the room, banishing the darkness. Jack was just stunned. He knew the faeries weren’t usually afraid of the dark, but the dark down here was different, and these shadows, they were afraid of them. But still, Jack couldn’t believe Pitch would be willing to do that for them, and he wondered if it had more to do with him having empathy for the faeries or for Jack.

Despite all of this, though, it just didn’t feel right to return to the surface, to free himself, while they were all still in cages. He flat out refused time and time again to leave the lair, and he could tell it was grating on Pitch’s nerves, as he seemed more insistent and anxious about it each time they spoke.

Still, Pitch’s own stress didn’t go unnoticed by Jack. He’d pass by when he was working in the library or in his room late into the night and see Pitch hunched over his desk with a snarl of frustration on his face. Jack paused once, looking over his shoulder long enough to see him scribble out the last item on a list so hard it tore through the paper. Jack’s plans weren’t going much better, or at least, they weren’t foolproof enough that he thought anyone would buy into it. It was difficult to know anything for sure when so much of what they needed to accomplish relied on belief, especially the belief of children, and that was something Jack had never even had.

He felt like he was letting everyone down.

——

Pitch wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there. He didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish. Self-flagellation, perhaps?

It had started with him sitting there because he was waiting for the crying to stop, but it wasn’t stopping, or rather it was, but then by the time Pitch felt like he had enough of whatever it was he needed to go in there and comfort the poor boy, the crying would start again.

And that sounded counterintuitive, yes, of course it was, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he’d been right: about five minutes after he’d come to tell Jack he’d be up a few more hours to get some things done, had been kissed cheerfully goodnight by a seemingly content and sleepy Jack, and left the room, the crying started. It started quiet and grew steadily more bold and racketous until they were full on sobs, muffled in the pillows.

And it wasn’t that he intended to comfort Jack while he actually needed it, oh no. Pitch was much too cowardly for that. No, he was waiting for the tears he could hear from the hall to stop long enough to be certain he wouldn’t walk in on Jack still crying, so that he could then go in and comfort Jack without Jack knowing that’s what he was doing. He would hold him a little closer, he would whisper to him a little more sweetly, hell, he’d have rocked him to sleep if that’s what he wanted, just please…please…

Pitch buried his face in his hands as he tried to decide, yet again, whether or not to open the door.

This had to end.

Chapter Text

He just had to try harder, Jack decided. He stopped sleeping at all, he didn’t need to sleep, or eat, or have fun. He didn’t need to cling onto Pitch every night like he didn’t have better things to be doing other than babysitting Jack. He didn’t need to do anything except focus on figuring out a way to get Pitch believers reliably without hurting anyone and without tipping off The Guardians in a way that would prompt them to attack. Either that, or it had to be a plan so solid and benign he could go to The Guardians with it and they would see that there was no way Pitch could be coercing him into doing anything, like convince them of some wild plan that would somehow doom the world even if it looked good on paper.

How long had it been exactly? He really had no idea. He’d stopped paying attention to Pitch’s clocks or his little dials around the lair denoting day or night. He stayed out of Pitch’s way, and instead found little nooks and crannies of the strange, ever-changing landscape of the lair for him to hide out in and draw little diagrams and scribble barely legible notes.

He was doing this one day, laying in the inner curl of a spiral bit of stone jutting out from a wall, when Pitch approached him from the walkway beside it.

“Quite the artist,” Pitch teased. Jack sighed heavily, staring morosely at his piece of paper, not even bothering to look up.

“Yeah,” Jack muttered, tapping his pen on the page restlessly.

It was quiet, and quickly getting awkward, but Jack didn’t care. He was angry, he was tired, he didn’t even want Pitch to look at him. He didn’t have to stand there, pretending he didn’t have better things to be doing.

Finally, Pitch’s smooth voice said quietly, “How’s it coming along?”

Jack scoffed lightly and turned his face away, scratching the back of his head. “…it’s not.”

“Mm,” Pitch said with understanding. “Then perhaps it’s time to take a break.”

Jack looked back at him with irritation and bit back, “I can’t, we need to figure this out. The nightmares and shadows are dying, faeries are suffering, Tooth is suffering—“

“You’re suffering.”

Jack threw up his hands. “So what? How could that possibly matter, Pitch?”

“Yes, because you’re making tons of progress now by pushing yourself like this, aren’t you?”

Jack sat up and turned his back on him. “Oh, don’t even start with me. If you’re not gonna help then go away.”

Jack suddenly found his head jerked up, staring into scowling golden eyes as Pitch tightly gripped his chin. “You will not take your frustration out on me. I am trying to help you. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and right now you’re clearly empty, so either you rest or I will make you.”

“Cool. Super helpful, Pitch,” Jack griped, glaring up at him. “So what, you gonna tie me to the bed or something? We don’t have time for this! I have to figure this out.”

“That’s not your job. If I’ve been unable to come up with anything better after millennia, what makes you think you will after less than a single year?”

“Because you’re grouchy and cynical and arrogant, and you’ve been living underground, and I’ve spent plenty of time with The Guardians, recently, at their meetings, seeing things from their point of view, because up until recently I was one of them! I was one of them, so if anyone should be able to figure this out, seeing your point of view, and theirs, and…it should be me. I should be able to do this, why can’t I do this?”

He pulled away from Pitch, snatched up his staff, and flew away, knowing Pitch would follow him wherever he went, but he couldn’t stand to stay still.

Sure enough, as soon as he landed, Pitch’s golden eyes appeared in the darkness directly in front of him. “It’s not your responsibility to fix the many mistakes made by those much older and more powerful than you.”

“Of course it’s not, but apparently nobody else is going to do anything.” He gripped his head and swore under his breath. “I have to. I have to do something.”

Pitch approached him, stepping into the light. “You need to rest.”

“I can’t,” Jack shouted back at him.

“This is a war that’s been going on for thousands of years.” Pitch rolled his eyes. “It’s not all going to come to some sudden, gory end because Jack Frost took a nap because he was acting like a fussy toddler.”

Jack let out a growl of frustration, putting his hands to his head. “You’re…you’re actually unbearable sometimes, you know that?”

Pitch huffed and looked him up and down, taking a step towards him. “Do you think I don’t see you lying there, staring upwards towards the surface, just to see the tiniest window to the sky?”

Jack turned away from him, shoving his hands in his pockets, staff tucked in his armpit. “I do not.”

“Maybe you also think I don’t notice when you fly up there and come back, trying to act like you weren’t just bawling your eyes out because you were just so close to being free…”

“I do NOT,” Jack shouted, spinning back around on him, bristling with anger and embarrassment.

Pitch took a furious step towards him and Jack quickly took a step back, realizing he’d crossed a line. “Do not lie to my face, Jack Frost.”

Feeling defensive, angry, and a little unstable, he forgot to feel afraid or guilty all of a sudden and yelled back, “Alright, fine. Yeah. I do, Pitch. I fly up there and I stick my head just up out of the hole and I breathe as deep as I can, and cry when the sun hits my face because it feels so good, and I watch the clouds and remember what it feels like to fly with them…you got me. I’m miserable. Shocking.” He threw up his hands in frustration, gesturing around at the cave and ignoring the flicker of pain in Pitch’s expression. “Do you think I want to be stuck down here? Do you think I like rotting away in the dark down here with you instead of making blizzards and hanging out with kids, reminding them it’s not all school and homework and chores and fighting parents? But nope, silly little Jack has nothing better to do.”

“Then get out,” Pitch said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. “I told you to go from the very beginning. This is no place for little frost spirits.”

Jack stormed off before he could embarrass himself by crying or something equally stupid. “Leave me alone,” he called back at Pitch, but of course, Pitch followed.

“Do you imagine you’re helping anyone by acting this way?”

Jack stopped and spun around, annoyed, and challenged, “What way?”

“Like a stubborn brat with no brain,” Pitch bit back. “What is it with this consistent martyr complex you have where you think making inane pointless personal sacrifices has a positive effect on anyone? Let me assure you, it does not.”

Jack scowled at the floor. “It’s not about that. Some people do have a moral compass, you know.”

“Ahh, so that’s what you call it. Such a good person you are for laying here in the dark instead of up there in the grass. Certainly a noble cause,” Pitch mocked as he circled him.

“Would you shut up?” Jack barked at him suddenly. “Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean I’m wrong. If it matters to you so much, then let the faeries go. Problem solved.”

Pitch groaned and rubbed his temples. “Ohh Jack…you are such a trial sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Jack grumbled before turning to walk away again, but Pitch wasn’t having it. He followed as Jack shot back, “You’ve made that very clear.”

He followed and grabbed his arm and when he wouldn’t let go, Jack almost iced his hand, but stopped himself at the last second. “No. This game of yours is over. I’m done being patient. Get out.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen, Pitch,” Jack said, instead of being intimidated, which Pitch didn’t seem to take kindly to.

“I mean it. Get out,” Pitch ordered. “Or I will throw you out.”

“Oh, cool!” Jack mocked him back as frost lightning crackled at the crook of his staff. “Is it time for you to play the bad guy again? Can I be the bad guy this time? I’m kind of sick of being treated like shit, so, you know, think I’d like a turn using you for an emotional punching bag for a change.”

Pitch’s hand squeezed tighter, only for the briefest instant dipping into pain, before Pitch jerked his hand away and stormed away from Jack, but Jack wasn’t done. He followed him this time. He wasn’t finished, and two could play at this game.

“Hey, where yah going? You’re not doing it right, see, this is the part where you’re supposed to have hope for the future for once and fall in love with me so I can betray and humiliate you in front of all your friends then lock you up and psychologically torture you for months. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“You need to walk away from me. Now,” Pitch said through clenched teeth, without turning around to look at him.

“Ooo, scary, or what, Pitch, you’re gonna cut my head off? So are you throwing me out or not cause, like, I’m really confused. Do you want me to stay, do you want me to go…actually, you know what? I think I hate your games, Pitch, mostly because I never know when we’re playing them. Were we playing when you fucked me, was that like a metaphor or something? What about when you said you believed in me, were we playing then? Were we playing when you said that shit about your daughter, was that all made up? Did you even have a daughter? Mostly I hate your games though because I never win, because I somehow always end up still down here in this hole with you playing house like I wouldn’t be anywhere else if I could be, like I’m not just here because you’re the only one that can fucking stand me.”

Pitch spun around on him abruptly with quiet but lethal rage, and it must have triggered something in Pitch that enabled him to make Jack feel so afraid because suddenly Jack was scrambling away from him so fast he fell flat on his back. He cowered, his heart beating out of his chest, his whole body shaking in terror as Pitch dragged him to his feet and shook him.

Jack couldn’t look at him, but as he cowered he heard Pitch loud and clear as he spat venomously, “I am doing everything I can to make every ridiculous whim you have happen. How dare you talk to me like that when I do nothing but try to think of how to do right by you day and night? You can’t play the hero and the victim. You say your suffering doesn’t matter and yet all of a sudden it’s oh, poor Jack, boo hoo, I’m so sad and lonely. You’re the only one playing games, Jack. You're nothing more than a whiny little brat playing make believe. I’m working hard to do better, and you’re lashing out like a child because I’m trying to help you. If you don’t want my help, if what I’m doing isn’t good enough for you, then you don’t have to stay.” He shoved Jack away from him. “Go, get out of my sight, now,” he hissed, pointing to the entrance.

Jack stared up at him from where he’d fallen back on the ground, shivering as he watched Pitch turn and storm off into the dark. “…P…Pitch…” It seemed like he was already gone, but Jack pleaded with him anyway. “Pitch, wait. Please.”

He tried to remember how to breathe normally as he closed his eyes and figured out what the hell he was supposed to do next. It hurt too much, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t do this anymore. He was just about at the end of his rope, but what was he supposed to do? All this sitting around and thinking, it wasn’t him. He was no good at this stuff. He was about action.

Maybe that was exactly why nothing ever got done. It was all careful plans and negotiating, boring meetings and conversations. Maybe he just needed to do something.

Jack spent the rest of the day wandering around, letting Pitch think he was blowing off steam, but once he found where the faeries were being kept in the ever-changing caverns, it was just a matter of waiting for Pitch to be gone for a while.

When it finally happened and they were alone, Jack opened the cages and started shepherding out the faeries. They of course wouldn’t leave without the teeth, so Jack hovered there anxiously, head darting around as he kept a nervous eye on the shadows and two by two the faeries carried away the teeth. They were incredibly fast, but it was going to take a while still, and that made him nervous.

But at last, all the teeth were gone, but even so, three faeries remained and it seemed they were arguing. Jack flew over to them quickly. “What, what’s the matter?”

The faeries just continued squeaking quietly at one another, before finally one looked at Jack in frustration like it wanted to try and get Jack on its side. It gestured to the vacant cave floor, then moved in the direction of one of the cave’s tunnels. The other faeries shook their heads vigorously.

“What? …the teeth? It’s alright, they’re all gone. Go ahead, you can go home,” Jack urged anxiously.

The faerie shook its head stubbornly, but the other faeries gestured to Jack, pointing at him. The stubborn faerie peeped, and they all argued a little more. Just when Jack started to panic, the faeries finally agreed, waved to Jack, and took off out of the lair empty-handed. Well, that was odd.

They’d no sooner disappeared out of the shoot as Pitch appeared from the shadows behind him. He made a beeline for Jack and grabbed him by the shoulders, but he looked confused and relieved rather than angry.

“Jack, what happened? Are you alright?” He looked him up and down for injuries, not even noticing yet that the massive piles of teeth were gone. He looked back into his eyes, touching his cheek tenderly. “Are you hurt? Why were you…?” Scared.

Jack winced, feeling horribly guilty, seeing how worried Pitch was about him, regardless of the horrible things they’d said to each other. “Alright…don’t…don’t get mad. I’m alright, but uh…”

Pitch froze as he read Jack’s fears, concentrating hard, then he looked around the entryway. He looked back at Jack then suddenly recoiled from him as if burned, stepping back from him quickly.

“Pitch, I—“

“Out,” Pitch ordered coldly and pointed to the entrance, expression livid. “I want you out. Now.”

“Just listen, let me—“

“You think I need you here? Well, it turns out I’m not the only one that can stand you. Do us both a world of good and run back to your Guardians, tell them whatever you want, do what you want, I don’t care anymore, just get far away from me.”

Jack’s eyes widened with shock and hurt. He could hardly even catch his breath. He wanted to say, you don’t mean that. He wanted to say, but I don’t want to leave you. Instead, choking on a lump in his throat, Jack took off into the air and soared away. The sunlight didn’t feel nearly as good on his skin as he thought it would.

——

It had been so long since he’d seen North’s workshop and for some reason he didn’t expect to feel the pang of excitement budding in his chest, but it was there, and he wanted to see everyone, even if that meant awkward conversations had to happen. They got on his nerves, but they really were like a family, and he’d missed them, so this was a really great distraction from Pitch throwing him out, which his mind currently still refused to touch. Everytime it almost did, it was like poking around at a rotten tooth, tonguing the exposed nerve, and he immediately recoiled.

Jack didn’t mean the hurtful things he said, so surely Pitch didn’t mean—

Nope. Nope. He was at the workshop. He was here to see North, to show him he was okay. He had to focus. He was supposed to be all about fun, remember?

Jack just had a thing about doors. Really there was no reason he couldn’t have gone right in through the front door, but where was the fun in that? He always used the window.

Floating up to one of the easiest windows to access, the one leading into the room where all their meetings were held, he peered inside and saw two yeti’s having a disagreement over garland placement and grinned. He’d have to go find Phil later, but first he had to decide how to make his entrance.

As he peered thoughtfully through the window panes, he noticed his reflection and thought he really should have at least looked in a mirror before he came to make sure he didn’t look like an escaped prisoner that had been held captive for months, or so, he wasn’t great with time. It had been a while and he hadn’t been taking care of himself lately at all. He was in pretty rough shape, kinda dirty, dark circles bruising the pale, delicate skin under his eyes. He’d bitten the skin around his fingernails to shreds and there was even a little blood under his nails. He swore and looked back at his reflection in a panic.

That was when he noticed the bruised bite marks on his neck and gasped. When the hell had those happened? They made out so often he couldn’t even remember. That wasn't even fair. He bruised so easily!

He clutched his hair, telling himself not to panic, he’d just leave and come back later, but then the yetis spotted him and started yowling, running out of the room and waving their arms over their heads.

Jack swore under his breath and quickly ducked into the room, looking around frantically, he needed an idea, he needed a plan right now. North was going to be here any second and he absolutely could not, under any circumstance—

His eyes landed on the garland the yeti’s had been working with. He zoomed over and snatched it up, threw up his hood, and looped it around his neck like a scarf. That was ridiculous, but what else was he supposed to do? Looking around, he saw a goofy looking Santa hat hanging off the back of a chair and snatched it up before tossing it on his head. Maybe that would help sell it.

He was so screwed.

It sounded like an elephant stampede was headed his way and then two yetis and North came running into the room, skidding to a stop with North out in front. His eyes were each as wide as Manny himself.

“Jack! It’s true, you are here, you are safe!” he shouted, letting out something between a laugh and a sob as he snatched him up into a bone crushing hug, lifting him into the air like he were a child. Jack laughed and put his arms around him, as much as he could anyway. His Santa hat fell right off and as soon as North let him go he grabbed it back up off the floor and shoved it back on his head, grinning.

His heart hurt at the way North got down on one knee in front of him, put a hand on his shoulder, and said with such genuine worry, “Jack, are you injured?”

“Nope, I’m just fine. I’ve got a lot to tell you guys,” he said cheerfully, like he wasn’t totally freaking out at all.

North looked him up and down carefully. Clearly, he was not happy with the way Jack looked. Suddenly, it occurred to Jack to wonder whether or not North had ever killed anybody before. He must have, given the little Jack knew about his past, and he certainly looked like he could now as he made the assumption Jack had been locked up somewhere all this time.

At last though, North’s face brightened again and Jack relaxed a little bit.

“We must call everyone, they will be so, so happy! This is wonderful, wonderful news!” he cried as he stood back up and went to do just that.

Jack watched him with a bit of a grimace. He really did not want to see North’s good cheer smashed to pieces, but he had a feeling this was going to get ugly.

It didn’t take long for everyone to arrive, and in fact they arrived almost all at exactly the same time, tumbling into the room in much the way that North had, and Jack had to be honest: it felt pretty good to be missed. He didn’t want them to worry of course, but this proof of being wanted filled him with something very like peace…especially after—

“Oh, Jack!” Tooth squealed as she barreled into him, clinging to him like he might disappear again while Baby Tooth snuggled against his cheek.

He grinned and meant it. “Hey, guys. I missed you too. I’m sorry I scared you.” He watched as Tooth fluttered back from him and began looking him over closely for signs he was hurt. Much like North, her face fell before tactfully peeking up again.

“It’s not your fault, Jack, of course!”

“Oi, what happened, mate?” Bunnymund responded as he moved closer, not going in for a hug, but looking Jack over with wide eyes full of disbelief, head bobbing and weaving around like it all might start to make sense from another angle. “You look like hell.”

“Are you hurt, Jack? How did you even escape?” Tooth added as she buzzed around him.

Jack smiled. “No, no, I’m fine. Actually, funny story,” he started as Sandy came over and after spinning in place with joy for a moment quietly bumped his forehead against Jack’s. Jack smiled and closed his eyes, reciprocating the simple, but intimate touch before looking around at them all again. “So, uh…I didn’t have to escape.”

They all stared at him confused. Feeling a little flustered under all their gazes, he cleared his throat and hopped up on the wind again for dramatic effect. “Pitch actually just…let me go.”

“Wow, that must have been one hell of a whollop,” Bunny said with a wink. “Good on yah, mate. Proud of yah. Give us a play by play.”

“I…no, I didn’t-…it wasn’t like that, he let me go because we-…well, I…you know how I always said he wasn’t all bad? Well, I was right.” The Guardians exchanged doubtful glances with one another, but he persevered. “He’s…look, I know he’s done a lot of awful stuff and I’m still not cool with that or anything, we’re working on it, but…I wasn’t actually even really being kept prisoner. I mean, I was at first, but then he kept acting weird and being nice for no reason and then when I got really upset he finally apologized and just explained everything and apparently he…come on, don’t look at me like that. Are you even listening?”

Not a single one of them looked like they were buying this. He thought it would scare him, all of their doubt and judgment, but it was just pissing him off. He hadn’t even gotten to the actual explanation yet and they were tuning him out, doing that thing that made him crazy where they communicated with each other without speaking at all, each face a knowing look, their minds made up. He huffed, gesturing with his staff as he said, “Look, I’m only here because he gave me back my staff and let me come see you. I didn’t have to come here. I could have just stayed with him and not put up with this, so just keep that in mind before you tell me how wrong I am. He even agreed with me that the faeries and teeth should be returned.”

Bunny started to speak, but Tooth put her hand up, cutting him off. “Don’t you think it’s all a little too good to be true, Jack?” Tooth offered patiently. “I mean, after all this time, why you? Why would you be the one exception to everything he’s proven himself to be?”

“Because I’m the only one listening. Because I’m the only one that knows what it’s like to be alone and ignored for centuries, so I get it, and I get that I don’t have the history you guys have with him, but that’s it, right? I’m just a neutral party. I’m not a Guardian, I’m not one of his minions—“

“Says who?” Bunny cut in, eying him suspiciously.

“Says…?” His anger flared but he pushed it down. “No, you would know if I was, right? And why would I come back and say all this when it’s obviously a stupid thing to do? I knew none of you would believe me at first, but you will, because you can see I’m not…possessed or corrupted or whatever. Right? Sandy? No nightmare sand?” He turned towards him expectantly.

Sandy looked uneasy, but after tilting his head to the side thoughtfully he closed his eyes and put out his hand. It glowed for a while, a pretty, golden light, but that was all. Nothing else happened, and Sandy opened his eyes again, nodding solemnly.

Jack waved his hand at Sandy with indignant triumph. “See?”

North narrowed his eyes at Sandy. “So we know for sure he is not corrupted by nightmare sand or Shadows? Yes?”

Sandy nodded and quickly flashed a number of symbols that Jack didn’t catch because he was too busy glaring at Bunny, who was glaring at him.

Honestly, he just needed to calm down. He took a deep breath and tore his gaze away from Bunny, reminding himself that he didn’t need them to believe him right away. It didn’t matter, because he was right and at the end of this he was going to go back to Pitch and Pitch would forgive him and all would be well. They’d come around eventually. And Pitch…he couldn’t stay mad at him forever, right? It would be fine. He would see that Jack was right and what he was willing to do for him and Pitch would definitely forgive him.

“Look…I know how this sounds. I know how it looks. But I’ve always thought Pitch needed another chance and we could get him to calm down a bit. Isn’t this a great chance to do that? All of this is just proof I was right about him,” he insisted. “I know you’re not gonna believe me, especially after what happened at The Tooth Palace, but just…think about it?”

“What’s he got on you then, huh? I always knew you were a little off, but this is low, mate, even for you,” Bunny bit back, as scathing as ever.

Jack clenched his jaw, telling himself not to take the bait. Luckily, Tooth stepped in before he had a chance.

“I think what Bunny means is, if he’s threatening you somehow, Jack, we’re on your side. There’s nothing he can do if we’re a team, but we can’t help you if you don’t trust us and tell us what’s really going on.”

“That’s…no, listen,” Jack said again, trying and failing not to get angry. “That’s not it. You’re wrong. He’s not threatening me with anything. You have your faeries back, right? And the teeth? What could he possibly be holding over my head?”

They were all silent, hesitant as they glanced at one another, conferring without ever looking at him, again, and he tried not to let that get to him, but it did. It absolutely did.

Finally, Bunny looked back at him, insistent, but expression a little softer, pitying. “You’re safe here with us now, mate. Whoever he’s got or whatever he’s doin’ to you, let us help, yeah? Is it Jamie?”

Jack’s mouth fell open, then he cried, “No! That’s not…he’s not doing anything like that.”

“Like what? Treating you like a pet?”

He didn’t want Bunny to know he was getting to him, but he felt a hot wash of shame and he knew his cheeks would start getting red if they hadn’t already.

“I never said he wasn’t an asshole, okay? I told you, he was trying to humiliate me to make us look like enemies because he knew you guys would react like this if you thought we were too friendly. After the beating Bunny gave me? As soon as I told him the fight was about him, his attitude totally flipped.”

Before he could say anything else, Sandy started rapidly creating symbols over his head.

Jack looked at Tooth who was nearest, unsettled. He didn’t like the way this was going at all. “What’d he say?”

“Well, someone’s gotta tell it like it is. You should be ashamed of yourselves, coddling him like that,” Bunny snapped at Sandy, who just put his hands up like, okay chill out dude, and even Jack could understand that signal.

“No, you know what?” Jack interrupted before he could say anymore. “I’m done. With all of this. You don’t get to decide things about my life for me. You can do whatever you want, but I’m not going to do anything that’s going to hurt him, and I’m not going against any of you either. Nothing has changed except that I…care about him, after spending more time with him, alright? That’s not even weird.”

“Congratulations, I think you just found a way to make yourself look even more desperate and pathetic, mate,” Bunny countered, like he hadn’t heard a single goddamn thing Jack had said. “He doesn’t give a damn about you. He’s using you, it’s clear as day, and just because you’re a little lonely you’re gonna pretend you don’t see that?”

Jack clenched his fists, staff crackling with frost lightning just because of how worked up he was getting, and he had to work to suppress it. “None of you care about anything but your stupid club and making sure you have enough little batteries full of belief to keep you running. It’s not my problem if you forgot how to care about other people and I haven’t yet.”

“Yeah, well, like I said before, Pitch ain’t a person, is he?” Bunny intoned, looking smug and sounding even more smug than that. “Ain’t no way we’re letting that thing put its hands on you again, so whatever this is, we’ll stop him like we always have.”

Jack was quickly losing his self-control, and his staff crackled wildly as he squeezed it hard, making the others move back, but Bunny didn’t budge. “It’s not my problem if you don’t believe me, but you’ll make it my problem if you go after him, got it?”

“You’re seriously threatening us on behalf of The Boogeyman and you expect us to believe anything you’re saying?” Bunny countered, glaring and taking a couple big steps towards him. Jack was so angry that even though thoughts of their last altercation instinctively made him afraid, it was all drowned out by the rage simmering much closer to the surface. He hoped he did it. He hoped he did hit him, he dared him to. This time, Jack would take him down before Bunny could even reach for his stupid boomerang.

“You didn’t believe me anyway. You never do. Go ahead and give up then, go hide in your little hole and pretend like you’re right about everything, like you always do.”

Bunny grabbed the garland, yanked it off, and mocked, “Oh, grow up, mate.”

Jack panicked and as Bunny jerked his hand back with a pained hiss, Jack darted away from him, into the air and away from everyone else, letting the festive hat fall from his head. He pulled his hood tightly closed as he called down, “Don’t touch me.”

He looked ridiculous, but it was better than nothing, and they’d seen him do that before when he wasn’t feeling well. Maybe they’d just think Bunny had really gotten to him and would feel sorry for him.

Or…maybe they’d think he was skittish about being touched because of Pitch and whatever had been done to him while he was held captive.

Everyone looked at Bunny, whose hand had been encased in ice. Bunny was wincing, but he waved them all off. “It’s nothin’. I’m alright…” He swore under his breath, and was just trying to figure out how to get the damn ice off when it fell away into a light, powdery snow. He shook it off and looked up at Jack, but Jack stayed where he was, far away from everyone.

“It’s okay, Jack,” North called up to him cheerfully. “What is a little cold hands between friends? Come down, let us talk some more.” Bunny shot him a bit of a dirty look, but sighed and let it go.

Jack eyed North and the others cautiously, feeling like the mark on his neck was glowing, readily apparent for everyone to see. “…I don’t know if there’s anything else to talk about.”

Sandy started gesturing to him and making symbols, but Jack couldn’t see them clearly from here, so he sighed and floated down towards him. “What was that, Sandy?”

He tried his best to pay close attention as he did them again, beautiful glittering objects appearing and disappearing in bursts above his head, but Jack wasn’t getting it. He spotted himself, the symbol for first aid, something about a bird… “Uh…? Look…I appreciate you guys caring about me. Really. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But I think coming here was probably a mistake. Good to see all of you and everything, or, well, most of you…”

Bunny scoffed.

“Jack, I do have one more question for you,” North said, coming closer, standing with his hands on his hips. He looked even more serious with his heavy eyebrows and although his eyes were kind and warm, Jack would have been lying if he said he wasn’t a little intimidated. “When you come to workshop, you seem very happy, but I can tell…under that is something very painful. Does this have to do with Pitch?”

Jack’s eyes widened and he was so surprised that he stepped back down onto the floor, clutching his staff to his chest. “What?”

North nodded knowingly. “I can tell in your heart you really care about Pitch, but I am also seeing he has hurt you very badly. This is what I worry about. You can’t expect us not to worry when you go, can you? Even if all you say is true.”

“That’s…” Jack took a step back, his heart racing. “Okay, yeah, but it’s not like that. He…” Jack glanced at the others. “It wasn’t like he wanted to hurt me…I mean, it was kind of my own fault. I…you know how I am.”

“Oh Jack,” Tooth said softly, placing her hands over her heart.

Now Jack was really panicking. He knew he wasn’t explaining this right and now he had no choice but to keep going. “No, wait. No. He didn’t…I was the one who…we just argued, he had every right to be mad, and okay, we spend a lot of time together, fights happen. You’ve seen it yourself, I push people’s buttons, right? Bunny? You and me fought, but it wasn’t like…I still care, you know? It’s like that, he still cares about me.”

He looked at Bunny and saw he was grimacing, his ears flattened, and he really just looked like he felt guilty. Jack was confused.

“I…come on.” He looked around at them all. “You get it, right?”

“Mate, I’m sorry. Really,” Bunny began, slowly coming closer and sinking to a crouch in front of him so he wasn’t quite so tall. “Look, how about I just take a look at yah and make sure everything looks alright.”

Jack furrowed his brow at him confused, then he broke out in a cold sweat as he realized what Bunny meant and why. The way that sounded. “What? No.”

“It’ll only take a second. Come on,” he said gently, offering him his paw, palm up. “It’s nothing I ain’t seen before. You got nothin’ to be ashamed of. I’ll give you somethin’ so you won’t be sore and you’ll be on your way.”

Jack took another step back, breathing heavily. This was all wrong. “No. Stay away from me.”

“Sandy could do it, if that’ll make you feel better…know we ain’t on the best’a terms,” Bunny said, looking to Sandy, who gave Jack a gentle smile and nodded eagerly, giving him two thumbs up.

Jack shook his head. “That’s…I don’t need…”

Bunny snatched him by the wrist suddenly and shoved his sleeve up as far as his elbow. Jack jerked away from him angrily, ready to slap him.

“Hey, what the hell?” He hopped up into the air with an indignant huff. “You know what, forget it. This was a waste of time.”

Jack went to pull his sleeve back down and his heart stopped when he saw the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around his forearm. It must have been just barely peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve so that Bunny could see it that close up. Jack was stunned and horrified, instantly breaking out into a cold sweat. When could that have even happened?

The argument. When he walked away. But that was nothing, that was…

“That’s not…hold on,” he stammered. “That’s new, that…that’s never happened before, we just…it was my fault, I was the one that picked a fight, he was just trying to help and then I walked away and he…it didn’t even hurt, why aren’t you listening? What about what Bunny did? I could have gotten worse from Tooth or North hugging me, gimme a break.”

Jack jumped as North let out a roar of rage and sank one of his sabers right into the hardwood floor before turning his back on them all to calm down. He realized then that the situation wasn’t salvageable.

“Jack, please,” Tooth implored, but Jack ignored her, rising higher, out of immediate grabbing distance.

“Nope. I’m outta here,” Jack said and turned towards his favorite window.

“Do it,” he heard from behind him and Jack turned around, perplexed.

“Do…?”

Sandy nodded solemnly then looked at Jack and the last thing Jack remembered was a flash of gold and falling through the air into North’s waiting arms.

Chapter Text

Jack really, really didn’t want to destroy North’s whole damn workshop, but he was starting to think they weren’t going to leave him any choice. All he had to do was grab his staff and figure out how to ice his way out of this sand he was practically cocooned in and—

He looked around the bedroom they’d stuck him in frantically, but it wasn’t exactly a big room and in any case he just knew, he could feel it: they’d taken his staff.

The betrayal hit him so deep he lost his breath, blinking wide-eyed at the empty room as if he’d been hit. He could hardly believe it. It was happening again. Did any of them have any idea how awful this was for him? It wasn’t just some weapon, it was part of him. He needed it, and people he was supposed to be able to trust kept taking it from him and using it against him. He couldn’t breath, he wanted to cry, but he was so angry.

His legs weren’t wrapped in the glittering, shifting sand, so after some awkward struggling, and falling back on his ass once, he managed to get to his feet. As he started to really take stock of his surroundings, the seriousness of the situation finally settled in.

The window, of course, was out, since an imposing sheet of steel had been deployed to block it. Jack had known that was an option, but never thought it would be used against him. The door looked very sturdy, made of a thick, ornate wood that promised severe resistance if he tried to destroy it.

Other than that, there wasn’t a whole lot left in the room except for a bed and an armchair. He had a feeling it was sparse on purpose and he didn’t think the room being so well-lit was an accident either, although he wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole dang workshop had some kind of blanket protection against The Boogeyman.

The feeling of betrayal hit him strong again, knocking the breath out of him just as he heard a knock on the door, as if they cared what he wanted.

To his surprise, it was Sandy who entered. Jack had gotten better at communicating with him, but was immediately worried he wasn’t going to be able to understand anything he tried to say to him. He at least looked sympathetic and, more importantly, guilty, shuffling towards him as he tapped his fingertips together nervously.

“…what the FUCK, Sandy?” he shouted immediately, and was gratified when Sandy winced. “Are you serious right now? So you’re their dog, you just do what they tell you to, now? I thought you, of all of them, were better than that. Than this. I’m not even…” He was suddenly breathless again and looked to the ceiling in disbelief as he pushed back tears. “You were supposed to be my friend. You wanna use me for your agenda and as long as you get what you want and get to pretend you’re the good guys, who cares what I think, is that it?”

He dropped onto his butt on the edge of the bed and stamped his foot in frustration before shutting his eyes tight, hating Sandy’s gentle face, standing there, looking at him like this wasn’t all his fault. “Shit…I really thought you might understand. I knew Bunny wouldn’t, but…but you? North? I’m so stupid for trusting…anyone.”

He looked up at Sandy as he padded over and came to stand in front of him, just looking him over with worry. A little 3D image of Pitch appeared in golden sand over his head and hit Jack like a knife to the heart. He suddenly wished more than anything that Pitch was there. The next symbol that appeared alongside the glittering visage of Pitch was a heart, then the image of Jack. The two images suddenly came together like they were holding one another. Of all the things to be thinking about then, the height difference between the two figures shouldn’t have been one of them, but damn, was Pitch really that much taller than him? Not that he minded in the least, but it was kind of surprising to see it.

He realized he was meant to be answering as Sandy cocked his head inquisitively. “What? Yeah, I uh…jeez, Sandy. Are you asking me if I love Pitch?”

Despite himself, he could feel himself blushing as Sandy nodded, and the captive frost spirit glanced away. “Um. Wow, kinda messed up to ask me that right now, don’t you think?”

Sandy gave him an apologetic look, but the symbols remained above his head. Now Jack couldn’t even look at them.

Jack sighed heavily and hung his head. “…I don’t know what you want me to say, Sandy. I’ve been really interested in figuring him out ever since I first heard about him. I’ve gone to see him more times than what I’ve told you guys. Sorry, I guess, even though, you know, the whole total betrayal thing happening right now and all.” He wanted to feel nothing at Sandy’s sad sigh, but couldn’t help but feel sad.

“But, uh…yeah, I…” He shut his eyes tight. How could he say it without actually saying it? “I really like being around him. I care about him a lot. I trust him way more than I trust you guys at this point, that’s for sure. At least when he kidnapped me it was during kind of a battle and not just me, coming to you and trusting you to actually listen to me for once.” He scoffed and shook his head, looking at the ceiling. “I feel so stupid right now. I never should have left. He told me not to come, you know. He knew you would do this, and I didn’t listen to him, and I…”

And then he stabbed Pitch in the back. He’d wanted to think initially that the older spirit was just mad because he didn’t want the faeries to be set free, but he knew the real reason. It was because Jack had gone behind his back. And before that he’d said such horrible things to Pitch when he was just trying to help him. He treated Pitch like dirt, and yeah, he was probably still holding a lot of bitterness about everything Pitch had done, but this wasn’t how you handled problems when you loved someone. They were supposed to take care of each other, and that’s what Pitch had been trying to do. What had Jack been trying to do?

Jack opened his mouth to say something else and felt tears roll down the sides of his face as he stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say he didn’t love him to hide that they were together. What if they hurt Pitch while he was trapped here?

He wasn’t sure he’d answered Sandy’s question, but he didn’t care. Jack sighed as he looked at his lap, and unable to even wipe his face, he felt humiliated and small.

“…he’s never hurt me or made me do anything. I'm not good at communicating, I’m not used to it and whatever I said that made you think you had to do this, you’re wrong. He’s just some poor guy I started harassing into being friends with me. Okay? So just leave him alone.”

It was quiet for a while as they both just sadly existed near one another.

Jack sighed. “Look, can you just…let me out of here? This is ridiculous. I was trying to do the right thing and you’re all punishing me for it. I shouldn’t have even come.”

After Sandy flashed images of all of them together a few times, Jack sighed. “I know you’re worried about me. He’s dangerous, I’m young and stupid, totally get it, but I’m not corrupted. He hasn’t forced me to do anything except rest and stop touching all his stuff…You can’t just lock me up because you don’t like that I wanna hang out underground with a spooky old man. And if you’re worried about me fucking him for some reason, that’s not really any of your business anyway. Okay? Satisfied yet?”

Sandy nodded stiffly then awkwardly patted Jack’s knee in what he thought was meant to be a reassuring way, then smiled at him before turning to leave.

“Hey, wait!” Jack called after him, and saw Sandy flinch. “Can you get rid of this sand? Please? Also, gimme my staff back, seriously, that is so not cool.”

Sandy shook his head then left in a hurry and Jack groaned before falling back on the bed.

Why was he always being left out of everything? There was so much they weren’t telling him, and he didn’t even know the questions to ask.

At some point, Jack drifted off to sleep.

When he awoke, it was to the sound of the door opening, and he sat up to see none other than Bunny. He wasn’t sure if he was more filled with excitement or dread about seeing him. Honestly, Jack really needed someone to take his anger out on, but Bunny seemed a lot calmer now. He knew that was about to change, because despite his nap Jack was absolutely not calmer, so he tried to appreciate this subdued version of Bunny while he could.

“Hate to see you like this,” Bunny said as he stopped next to the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve had our differences, you and me, but I never wanted nothin’ like this to happen to you.”

Jack sat up, glowering at Bunny. “Yeah, me neither. Being utterly betrayed by your own friends is brutal. Hope you never have to go through this, but they do say karma’s a bitch.”

“Don’t get cute, you know damn well what I mean. Look,” he said and Jack watched in mild surprise as Bunny got down and sat on the floor, putting them closer to being face-to-face with one another. “These guys’ll blow smoke up your ass all day, but not me. I get it, something like that happens, you don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t wanna seem weak or vulnerable, but there’s nothing weak about it, or about you.” Bunny’s nose wiggled as he stared him down intently, brows furrowed. “I got a couple scars to remember. I know you’re tough. You don’t have to prove nothin’ to me, mate, but you have to tell me what Pitch did to you. He’s a worthless, nasty piece’a trash we shoulda taken out ages ago, and if anybody’ll be missed less when he’s gone, I don’t know ‘em. But we’ll get him. So go on, don’t worry about that. You’re safe. We’ve got plans for him, don’t you worry.”

Jack stared at him silently for a long time. He knew Bunny was trying to look out for him. He appreciated that, but what he was trying to do, get Jack to talk about Pitch as if he’d assaulted him so they could put Pitch to death when it just simply didn’t happen, ignited fresh rage inside him. He didn’t know yet if they’d seen the bite. For all he knew, they undressed and examined him before re-dressing and tying him up. Until he knew that for sure, though, he was giving them nothing.

What would Pitch do in this situation? Would he be fierce? Diplomatic? …probably that last one, huh? Jack figured he would at least try.

“Look, Bunny…it…means a lot that you’re trying to protect me, but I don’t need protecting. I’m fine. This is ridiculous, you can’t just kidnap me because you disagree with me.”

Bunny gave him a kind and patient look, like he was just some brainwashed idiot that didn’t know any better, and okay, anyone could end up in an abusive relationship, that wasn’t the issue. That wouldn’t make him stupid. The issue was they had no damn evidence except for one tiny bruise and one fucked up trick Pitch pulled while they were already at war. There were deaths on both sides. They weren’t mad at Bunny for beating Jack’s ass. This was all based on assumptions and prejudices about Pitch being bad and Jack being dumb and at some point good intentions didn’t matter anymore. Like, for example, when someone kidnaps you. It was fucked up when Pitch did it and it was fucked up now, it wasn’t like they got to cancel each other out like, well, fair is fair, you got to kidnap Jack, now it’s our turn. Absolutely fucking not.

“Seems like you do, mate, if you think siding with Pitch is a good idea, especially considering he’s a dead man as soon as he comes here lookin’ for you. There’s no point in sticking up for the guy, you think he’d stick up for you like this? Where is he then, huh? Haven’t heard a peep out of him.”

“...that’s not…” Jack’s voice barely came out as a wheeze.

So that was the plan? They were using Jack as bait?

Jack could just imagine it. Pitch, feeling guilty for yelling at Jack, would go looking for him when he didn’t return, because Pitch would come, and when he did they were going to kill him. He thought back to the cabinet full of what was left of the dead nightmares. Nightmares that had names. He wondered if there would be anything left of Pitch. What were the last words he’d ever said to him?

Suddenly, Jack didn’t care how Pitch would handle it.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM,” he screamed, leaning forward into Bunny’s face so far he almost slipped off the bed.

Bunny leaned back in surprise and Jack got to his feet.

“You keep his name out of your FUCKING MOUTH, you stupid selfish stubborn arrogant jackass,” he spat furiously. “Pitch would never do anything like what you’re accusing him of, he never has, and you’re a cynical fucking prick that’s given up on him and anyone like us, because you’re so jaded and so self-centered all you can think about is how hard it’s all been for you, and you’re blaming all that on Pitch. I really don’t give a shit what happened thousands and thousands of years ago anymore, I really don’t. You’re gonna damn the whole world because of your grudge, are you serious? Open your eyes, idiot! You never gave me a chance, not ever, you expect me to believe you gave him one? You’re only a Guardian because you got a special invitation, but I’ll say it again, you are the saddest excuse for a symbol of hope anyone could possibly be, and it’s fucking pathetic.”

Bunny’s fist was clenched and seeing that, Jack let out an enraged bark of laughter and lunged towards him, not sparing a single thought to the fact that his arms were bound and he had no staff, he’d tear out Bunny’s throat with his teeth. Bunny scrambled backwards as Jack shouted, “Go ahead and hit me, coward, if you touch him I will KILL YOU. Do you hear me? I will FUCKING KILL YOU if you hurt him!”

Bunny stepped back, completely stunned by Jack’s ferocity. Jack would have been impressed by his own ability to make Bunny completely speechless if he weren’t busy deciding his best means of attack the next time Bunny opened his mouth. Kick, headbutt, maybe a full-on tackle? He was ready.

“Take a breath, mate,” Bunny finally said, wide-eyed as he raised his hands defensively.

Jack’s scowl deepened, his jaw clenched as he stared him down and bit back, “I’m not your mate. Friends don’t do this.”

“Oh yeah? And how would you know what friends do?” Bunny grumbled back in some pathetic attempt to get back control over the situation.

“You don’t know a thing about Pitch but you’re still standing there running your mouth.”

Bunny crossed his arms over his chest. “I know everything I need to know, to know he ain’t worth yours or anybody else’s time. I know I said once nobody deserved what happened to you, but I take that back. He does, and I stand by—“

Bunny let out a cry of pain as Jack kicked him in the stomach as hard as he could. “I told you to keep him out of your mouth,” he spat. “You’re a fucking joke. If you hurt him, you’re gonna be so sorry. You have no idea, I’m telling you. I’m warning you, don’t.”

“Loyal dog, aren’t yah?” Bunny bit back wincing before storming out, clutching his stomach.

Once he was gone, Jack snarled and started pacing around the room like a bull. He tried to talk himself down.

It was fine, because he was going to get out of here. By the time Pitch even figured out he was gone he was going to escape and by then Pitch would have forgiven him. Because he loved him, right? So he would forgive him and things would go back to how they were if he just apologized, and if he could still get The Guardians to see reason somehow that would be even better.

Jack plopped back down on the bed, tapping his foot anxiously. That was all there was to it.

Right? He chewed at the inside of his lip until he tasted blood.

It wasn’t long after, probably after talking to Bunny about his unsuccessful attempt, that Tooth came fluttering in with a tentative, worried smile on her face. “Hello there.”

Jack sat up and just looked at her with a face he hoped read as extremely unimpressed.

Her expression seemed apologetic, and he didn’t really care, but she tried. “How are you holding up in here? We were worried about you not having things to do, but, well, you know. That’s how it goes sometimes, I guess!”

Jack sighed. “Just…whatever it is you want, can you just get it over with? I’m not…interested in being your friend right now, okay?”

She nodded, accepting this rather well. “Okay, Jack. That’s actually sort of what I’m wondering about. You see, you must have been pretty upset with Pitch too when you were first taken, after everything he said to hurt you, especially. You can probably understand why we’re concerned about how everything could have changed so fast.”

“Well, yeah, but…” He sighed deeply again. “He did try to keep up being the bad guy at first and that really hurt, I gotta be honest…and I get why he did it, but I’m still mad…but the first thing he did when we got back was apologize, tell me everything was going to work out. Eventually he explained his stupid plan where he was going to try and make us out to be enemies. And I know what you’re thinking, he was just trying to manipulate me when I was vulnerable or whatever, but why? Why would he think the best way to get me on his side would be to…to seduce me, or whatever it is you guys are thinking? It’s not like that at all, we’re just friends.”

“Maybe because you spent such a long time without any kind of affection. Maybe he knew that would be the best way to get you on his side, for you, specifically.”

His mind rejected the idea so hard he felt like the feelings her words conjured were trying to crawl up the back of his throat. He shut his eyes and shook his head violently. “No. No, that’s not it.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but knew she was still wearing that feathery soft look of concern on her face as she came closer and put a hand lightly on his shoulder. “But you can’t really be sure, can you, Jack?”

His eyes opened and he shrugged her off as he shot her a vicious glare that made her back up a bit in surprise. “You know, the ironic thing is that the only ones pushing me to his side are you. And you’ll probably say, yeah, that’s his plan, but if his plan is for you guys to hurt me so bad I can’t even stand to look at you again then just stop! It’s that easy! His evil plot to make me feel loved and accepted is thwarted! Right? Like, can you imagine if you would have just said, well okay Jack we don’t agree with you but you’re a person we respect and you can make decisions for yourself—“

She moved closer again, staring at him hard, her eyes glittering and radiant. “Jack, imagine this from our side. You’ve been threatened, coerced, and kidnapped, and you finally return after the faeries are released like you promised, sticking up for the man that took you. Can you really blame us for thinking you might not be in your right mind? Pitch is cunning and manipulative. If he doesn’t have the advantage of numbers he will find another way.”

“But you’re totally only seeing this from your side too. All of that’s true, but you know what else is true? He gave me back my staff. He let me leave to come see you. If he’s so clever and this was all some grand scheme, he would have come up with a better plan than ‘stake everything on the stubborn and unpredictable dumbass nobody believes in’. Letting me come here would also be stupid as hell because now you’re interrogating me, and I guess you can just say I’m lying or whatever, but if you care at all about what I’m saying happened, I’m telling you he’s treating me better than any of you ever did and if you hurt him I will never forgive you.”

Tooth’s eyes widened in shock and she hovered back again, eying him with uncertainty. He kept going.

“Tooth, he’s not some monster. I haven’t been locked in a cell all this time. He knows how I like my tea better than I do. He reads to me, he’s teaching me how to read and write better, he agreed to teach me how to use a sword, he…just spends time with me, listening to me ramble about absolutely nothing. He believes in me. I opened up to him and told him that I feel like none of you respect me…that I don’t feel…like I actually matter to any of you as long as I’m useful. And you know what he told me? He told me I was wrong and I needed to talk to you all about my feelings and work it out. Why would he want that? He’s not trying to pit me against you! Would you just…listen to me, for once?”

For a long while, Tooth was quiet. He could see her chest move faster as her breath quickened, the way her eyes darted around as she tried to process what he was saying, but always came back to rest on him. The quiet burned.

Finally, she breathed, “Jack, I’m so sorry. You’re right. We haven’t treated you very nicely, have we? Even since the very beginning.”

He let out a bark of bitter laughter, but in truth it eased something in his chest. It was something he needed to hear. “Yah think?”

When he looked back at her, he was alarmed to see tears in her eyes. Even though they weren’t falling, Jack immediately felt like a louse. One thing he loved about Tooth was that she was tough as nails, but so open with her emotions, and she didn’t see them as a weakness because they weren’t. That willingness to be vulnerable made him feel particularly awful when she was upset, like he was betraying some kind of unspoken trust.

“We really don’t want this, but what else can we do? How else can we make sure you’re safe and that Pitch isn’t using you?”

“You can’t, Tooth. You just have to trust me.”

“It’s not a matter of trust. Anyone can be manipulated and abused no matter how strong they are. It’s not so simple.” She paused. “Why do you have the bruises, Jack?”

Jack sighed and hung his head, but made himself meet her eye again, afraid she might not believe him otherwise. “It was an accident. Look at me, Tooth, my skin is like tissue paper. Yes, he grabbed me. We were arguing, I was taking my frustrations out on him–”

“What were you fighting about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He scoffed. Of course he minded, but he figured he’d better tell her anyway. “He said I wasn’t taking care of myself and being in the lair was bad for my mental health, because I wouldn’t leave until we could free the faeries…and he hated it. I haven’t been sleeping or eating or doing anything even remotely fun. I just…I just wanted to get everything figured out, but we were afraid if we let the faeries go you’d hurt one or both of us.” He turned his head away, ashamed, and said a little more quietly, “So I’m as responsible as he is…” He glanced back at her reluctantly. “And I’m sorry. Really, I am, for you and the faeries. None of that ever should have happened…he made a mistake, and we were just…afraid, Tooth.” He shut his eyes tight. “I didn’t know what to do.”

He heard Tooth sigh heavily and opened his eyes. She had a small patient smile on her face, but he couldn’t tell if she was buying any of what he said. “It’s okay, Jack. They’re back where they belong.”

“Do you believe me?” he whispered earnestly.

She glanced off to the side thoughtfully. “To be completely honest with you, Jack, I don’t know. I want to, of course, but it’s important too, that I’m very careful with my judgments right now. It’s a lot at stake…so I have to think about it. Okay?”

Jack paused and considered this. Finally, he sighed. “Look, can you just…have Sandy take this sand off at least? I can’t really do anything anyway, I don’t have my staff. Worst I can do is draw frost on the walls or make a tiny bit of snow. Hover an inch off the ground if I’m lucky.”

She sighed as well, and smiled a little, but he could already tell she wasn’t going to do it. “I’ll talk to him. I really am sorry, Jack. Maybe try to rest a little while, while we sort this out, okay? It’ll be alright.”

Jack tried to smile and couldn’t quite manage it. “Right.”

She forced a smile, shoulders hunched as she clasped her hands then turned to leave, but on a spur of the moment decision, Jack called after her, “Hey Tooth?” She turned back around and looked at him surprised. Jack bit his lip a little, considering his words more carefully than he usually did, and asked, “You don’t…have any of my teeth, do you? From when I was a kid? With…with memories and…stuff?”

Her mouth fell open a little as if she were stunned, then dread seemed to consume her as she wrapped her arms over her chest. “I…checked, actually. I thought they might help you, but I…didn’t find anything. I’m so sorry, Jack.”

Jack nodded slowly and swallowed, lowering his gaze. He felt like he’d sort of already known that.

She winced. “I thought…I mean, I should have…it doesn’t make sense, they–”

Jack just shook his head, sighed and flopped back down on the bed sideways, facing the wall. “Forget it.”

It was quiet for a moment except for the buzzing flutter of Tooth’s wings, then he heard her leave, closing the door quietly behind her.

He did, eventually, fall into an uneasy sleep. At least the dream sand made sure all his dreams were pleasant while he slept.

——

Jack looked across the table at Pitch as North went on and on about this and that, and while he was sure it was important stuff, he was bored to tears. Luckily, Pitch seemed to share this sentiment. Soon, he met Jack’s eye, rolling his own, and Jack bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Seeming to take this as a challenge of some sort, Pitch’s golden gaze ran him up and down before he mouthed something conspiratorially, some inside joke they shared only in the dream, something about Bunny and turnips, and damn it, Pitch, he just knew that would immediately get him going.

Jack plastered his hand over his mouth to suppress the inevitable giggle fit and, turning his head away like he was just cracking his neck or stretching or something and definitely not losing it, he kicked at Pitch under the table.

Pitch grinned wickedly at him like this was the exact reaction he wanted because it absolutely was, and Jack couldn’t help but feel a swell of giddiness at the bond he could feel between them as they grinned at each other like idiots at this boring meeting. He was vaguely aware of someone at the table becoming annoyed but didn’t pay them any attention.

Eventually, though, they did want Jack’s input. He was very important, after all. He stood, nervous at first, but was surprised to find he had something particularly clever to say. He felt confident as he said it, and the others were all stunned and began to discuss his idea with great enthusiasm. He caught sight of Bunny smirking and nodding slowly, clearly impressed.

He looked at Pitch and saw him staring at him with reverence, but no surprise, because he’d known Jack could do it. He’d always had faith in him.

The meeting ended and everyone was milling about, talking and getting along, when Pitch came over and put his arm around him. Jack was embarrassed at first, knowing everyone was looking as Pitch pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, just for a second, and for a moment he feared everyone’s scorn. Instead, everyone just continued talking happily, someone nearby said something encouraging about what a good pair they made.

Jack was late for the meeting. By the time he got there, zipping through the window, he found they’d already started, and was surprised to see Pitch in his seat, where everyone knew he always sat. He would playfully scold him for that later. Jack tried to catch his eye pointedly as he sat instead in Pitch’s usual seat, but Pitch didn’t pay him any mind and then Jack was startled as he sank straight through the chair.

Heart racing, he floated back up and tried again, but it just gave him that feeling. That same awful feeling of a person passing through him.

He tried to get everyone’s attention, telling them something really bad was going on, asking for help, scared, but they completely ignored him.

North snatched his staff off the table, casually snapped it in half, and chucked it behind him to a yeti who put it through a giant, Christmas themed wood chipper. They didn’t need it hanging around, unmagical and unremarkable, now that Jack was no longer around, and none of them cared that his soul was still inside it. Only that it was in the way and no longer useful to them.

Jack cried out in agony, clutching his chest, hardly able to breathe as the staff was ground to pieces. He felt himself starting to fall, like he was going to pass out, and he looked for Pitch, reaching for him, shouting his name. He screamed it again as he fell straight through the floor and kept falling.

He sank, passing every level of the workshop, unable to grab hold of anything, knowing no one would help him because they didn’t even know he existed. What if he just fell straight through the earth too and got entombed down there, forgotten?

And then he hit the ground, hard.

He suddenly found himself laying out in the snow, feeling like he was full of cement. He tried to sit up, barely managed it, looked to the window he always flew through to get to the meetings and saw Pitch standing there, so far away, watching, because he had known this was happening. He just didn’t care. Pitch didn’t need him anymore. And then he started sinking. It was so cold. The black water under the snow and ice was so cold it numbed him almost immediately, and as he floundered at the snow his limbs were so heavy that they plowed straight through it, sinking him even further, even faster.

Jack sobbed then let out one last ragged, terrified scream, calling Pitch’s name to the sky, but he was no longer in the window and then it was just dark and he couldn’t breathe. The water pushed into his lungs and he gagged, thinking to himself that his sister’s corpse was in this water somewhere and that same water was now inside him. Her face loomed, upside down, lifeless in the dark, and it was his fault because–

“You’re okay, you’re okay, Jack. You’re okay,” a deep, honeyed voice was saying over and over again, and he gasped then let out a sob that hurt even to push out. Pitch pulled him tighter to his chest and soothed, even as his own voice shook, “I know, I know, starling, I’m so sorry, it was the only way. It was a nightmare. You’re safe. I have you. You’re okay.”

There was no more dream sand wrapped around his body. Pitch was propped against the trunk of a large snow-covered pine and had pulled Jack up against his chest as they huddled in the snow. He rested sideways, Pitch’s long legs on either side of him, protectively caging him in, and with a deep shuddering breath Jack turned into him further, shifting and pressing his face into Pitch’s chest as he shamelessly clung to him and sobbed. He wasn’t sure if he felt more or less embarrassed when Pitch began slowly rubbing his back, his hand, so warm, easing away the tension in his muscles that were still so rigid.

“I have you. You’re safe…you’re safe,” he whispered again, and it felt like now Pitch was saying it for himself. Something felt different, off, other than just where they were. Jack opened his eyes and glanced around the snowy, barren landscape they now found themselves in, tears freezing on his chin like icicles, and he realized his staff was laying across his and Pitch’s laps. The return of power made him feel strong, but a bit unstable.

“What’s…how did you…?”

“I couldn’t find you,” Pitch breathed. “I never stopped looking for you, I swear it.” As he spoke, his fingers kept moving slowly through his hair, one hand on one side of his head at a time. “I didn’t think they would really hurt you, but I couldn’t be sure. After what I did, I was scared that…I don’t know. I don’t know, thank darkness you’re alright.”

Jack blinked away the last of the sleep, perplexed as Pitch’s fingers in his hair dragged him out of his panic, and then he heard shouting. As the voices got closer, Pitch clutched Jack to him protectively, the snarl of a wild animal on his face. Then, Jack watched, completely bewildered, as North rushed towards them between the icy trees, with the others close behind and their weapons drawn. The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up and goosebumps broke out across his body as he felt Pitch’s power surge, the shadows growing around them, leaking out from the Nightmare King like ink.

“Do not take another step further,” Pitch’s voice hissed all around them as if it were the trees themselves speaking, surrounding them on all sides and echoing ominously. His tone was menacing and commanding, but there was something much less controlled along the edges of it that promised slaughter. It gave Jack chills and he wondered if Pitch was only barely holding back on his accord, not wanting to simply slay them all even though it seemed he very much wanted to.

They cowered initially, fear piercing keenly through each of them, but then North took a bold step forward anyway, calling Jack’s name. Jack was terrified for a moment that Pitch would hurt him, but instead the darkness around them gathered, forming a sheer but impenetrable barrier and cutting The Guardians off from getting any nearer to them. Meanwhile, Pitch continued to tighten his grip on Jack, curling around him, his entire body tensed as it shielded him and prepared to fight. Jack hardly recognized the rough boom of Pitch’s voice as it bore down on them.

“You have no idea what you’ve done, but you will once I pull out every dark, squirming bloody thing from inside you then shove it back down your throats. I’ll make you beg for mercy, and then I’ll do it again and again until you’ve lived every single one of your fears out in its entirety. Until your mind breaks, you fucking maggots. You’ll never touch him again, you’ll never put another hand on him, do you hear me? Step back, now.”

The shadows flared up all around them menacingly, stretching up into the trees until they blacked out the starry night sky, and tendrils of darkness flailed wildly from Pitch as if he were ablaze. If it wasn’t for Sandy and Tooth’s glow and the strange lanterns following North around like airborne jellyfish, it would have been too dark to see a thing.

And The Guardians, appropriately, were terrified. Jack wasn’t sure if they were still standing there because they were frozen in fear, unable to move, or if it really was for his sake, but they were all stiff, eyes wide as they huddled together, maybe realizing they were in over their heads. He couldn’t blame them. It was one thing to know that Pitch was the king of fear, but to see it, to feel it, was a different experience altogether.

Jack sought Pitch’s hands and took them in his own, still feeling dazed, but realizing he needed to do something before things got any more out of control. “Hey, hold up,” he said, turning around and sitting on his knees before looking up into Pitch’s eyes intently. “Pitch…what happened?”

Pitch reluctantly and only briefly turned his gaze onto Jack, but his watchful eyes never left The Guardians for long. “You have been sleeping for months, Jack. Two whole months. Sixty-four days.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What? …no. Why? No.” He turned and looked at the others, particularly Sandy, but none of them denied it. Jack shook his head. “That’s…impossible, why would…”

Tooth came forward hesitantly. “We’ve been trying to find a way that Pitch may have been controlling you. We wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurting you, Jack. I’m sorry.”

Jack gaped at her. “...you’re sorry?” He looked back at Pitch incredulously. “Two months?”

Pitch nodded, and his heart sank, heavy with betrayal and hurt. “I finally found the cloud of dream sand they had you floating around in minutes ago.”

Jack was breathing heavily and was surprised to find that more than anything he was angry. He looked back at The Guardians, incredulous. “You’re sorry?”

Suddenly, he stood and turned around, glaring at them all, feeling like the snowy landscape was giving him additional strength. He was nowhere near the imposing figure Pitch was, but he didn’t have to be. Pitch got up too and stood behind him, backing him with the full force of his shadows, and Jack felt impossibly powerful.

“Alright. Listen. Cause I’m only saying this once. As of right now, there’s only one person I trust.” He pointed at Pitch as his dark figure loomed over him, eyes reflecting strangely white and blank in the dark. “Because he’s earned it. He messed up, a lot, but you’re wrong about him. Do you know how many blizzards I’ve made? How many people it’s killed, and yet you still want me to be a Guardian, but then he’s supposed to be the worst thing ever? Gimme a break. I know he doesn’t care about kids as much as you, or humans at all, but why should he? He’s not human and he never had the opportunity to be loved by humans the way you were. None of you care about anything except what helps you because you’re selfish. You don’t care at all about anyone who isn’t like you.”

Bunny opened his mouth, but Jack raised his hand to him. “No, shut up. I’m not done, and this part’s important, so listen really good, okay? You’re so scared of Pitch brainwashing me and controlling me? Fine. Go ahead, Pitch.”

He waited. They all did, staring at him, stunned and bewildered, no one more than Pitch as he peered down at Jack, eyes resembling something more human again. The shock actually seemed to calm him down somewhat. He blinked a few times, looking at Jack intently. “Excuse me?”

Jack waved his hand at him impatiently. “I’m yours now. What you say goes, I’ll do whatever you want so go ahead. You want me to ice ‘em? Want me to pull my pants down and moon Manny? Whatever you want, go ahead. You can put nightmare sand or whatever in me later, but starting right now? I’m yours, so give it a whirl, a little test run, have a blast. See if I care.”

“Jack…” his voice warned quietly, a definitive aura of greater calm settling around him. “You’re upset. Let’s go back home and I’ll—“

“So that’s what you want, Pitch? You want me to go with you? Alright, let’s go then!” He snatched up his staff off the ground, ready to go.

Pitch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but Jack could tell the situation was getting to him in other ways too. He saw the hunger in his eyes because he wanted to tell Jack to do all kinds of things. This was exactly what he wanted, but it was everyone else’s worst nightmare. The Nightmare King wanted to show them all exactly who Jack belonged to, especially after their little stunt. Luckily, it also distracted him from slaughtering everyone.

And, as a bonus, Jack was completely done with everyone’s shit, and self-control was overrated. Pitch could rangle him if he had to, but Jack was done.

“Jack,” he said more sternly. “Look at me, you’re—” Jack immediately turned to face him and looked up at him attentively, like the goddamn dog they all accused him of being. Already, he could see Pitch fighting his own mind and saw him slowly take a deep breath in and out through his nose. “...you’re not being rational.”

“Actually, I think I’m the only one here being rational.” He waved his hands behind him at The Guardians in frustration. “Nobody wants me to be my own person, you all want me to pick a side. Well, Pitch. I pick Pitch. Easy, no more fighting. Next.”

“Jack, we are only wanting what is best for you,” North said softly, or at least as softly as he was capable of speaking. And Jack knew he was sorry, and worried about him genuinely, but right now he really didn’t care.

“Cool. Can we go now?” He looked up at Pitch expectantly.

Pitch sneered. He was starting to actually get frustrated. “No. If you want to be a brat, why don’t we do this your way? Go over and give Bunny a big, fuzzy hug.”

Jack turned around while Bunny scoffed.

“Way to call his bluff. Never thought I’d agree…with…” Bunny froze, stunned, as Jack approached and wrapped his arms around him before he had the chance to step away. Once he was hugging him, he was too shocked to move. It wasn’t something Jack wanted to do, but just to rub it in, he made sure to hold onto Bunny for an awkwardly long time before finally, mercifully stepping back. This was kinda fun.

Everyone looked at him, and then at Pitch, who’s eyes were wide. Clearly, he hadn’t expected for one second that Jack would actually do it. He was sure Pitch never would have told him to pass through the protective barrier if he ever imagined he’d actually do what he said.

“Come here, Jack,” Pitch quickly ordered, putting an eager arm out, ready to embrace and protect him. He sounded calm enough, but Jack could tell that Pitch was actually scared. Scared, maybe, that The Guardians would see their opportunity and take him again, but they didn’t.

Jack passed back through the protective barrier and Pitch stepped forward to meet him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close. Jack felt strangely tingly, almost worried that everyone else would be able to see the electricity crawling over his skin as he peered around Pitch, who, whether he realized it or not, had turned slightly to block Jack from The Guardians.

“Here’s how things are going to be, since you insist on this little game of yours. I like games. We both know I don’t need nightmare sand to control you, don’t we, Jack?” he purred as he bent a finger and lightly caressed Jack with it under the chin. Jack gazed up at him like he was watching a meteor shower and nodded slightly, but Pitch prompted, “Say, ‘yes, sir’.”

Jack swallowed, breathing faster. “…yes. Sir.”

Pitch ran his claws very lightly under his chin this time, not leaving so much as a superficial scratch, and Jack shivered. Pitch nodded in approval, looking very pleased, but there was still an obvious undercurrent of aggression. He was still incredibly angry, emotional, and overall volatile. Whatever Jack had missed during his months asleep had been quite the ordeal for Pitch, and Pitch was not recovered from it in the slightest. Suddenly, he hoped Pitch actually would use him for some petty revenge somehow.

He got his wish when Pitch said, “And why don’t you tell them why that is?”

Jack’s breath caught in his throat. He stared up at Pitch another moment, his heart racing as he hesitated, but Pitch didn’t rush him, and that just made it easier, but he was still a little uncertain.

He looked over at the stunned Guardians, then back up at Pitch. “You mean…the real reason?”

Pitch nodded, gazing back down at him fondly, all that anger only simmering quietly in the background instead of boiling over like it had been. Jack took a breath, but as he looked back at Pitch he suddenly found it was easy.

“…because I—“

“That’s enough, Pitch,” North suddenly shouted and when Jack turned to look at him he was surprised by how angry he looked. He’d never seen him so ready to use those sabers. “What it is you are doing, that is all over now. This, even for you, it is low. Let him go. You said yourself, he is neutral party, he is not a Guardian, so let him be and we may show you mercy.”

It was hard for Jack not to have empathy for North and the others when they obviously cared so much, but that didn’t make him less angry and it didn’t make any of this okay. They had deep-rooted prejudices, but he couldn’t just forget everything else because they had good intentions. They’d have to work this out, eventually, but not right now when everyone’s emotions were running so high.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Jack,” North continued, fierce and determined. “We will stop him. We are still your friends, even if you are being upset with us.”

“I do want to though. You just don’t believe me, and you know what? That’s not my problem anymore. I’m making it not my problem. The only reason I’m not icing you right now is because Pitch doesn’t want that, because he knows I don’t want that. So keep that in mind.” He put his hands up defensively. “I get it. I really do, being worried about brainwashing, and manipulation and abuse, but until you guys can figure out how to care about me without stealing months of my life and treating me like a five year old, I don’t want you to care about me.”

“Jack…please,” Tooth murmured, coming as close as she could with the shadowy barrier still in place inherently knowing that although Jack could pass through it, the rest of them certainly couldn’t. “I know we did something really bad. And you were right. We didn’t find any evidence that you were being controlled, but it’s more than that. We’d hoped if Pitch had done anything to you, the natural healing properties of the dreamsand would reverse it. And if you were somehow corrupted in a way we didn’t understand, why would you ever let us help you in that state? We thought it was the only way to make sure you were…you. We would have done the same if it had been any of us.”

Jack sighed, ruffling his hair absently as he considered this. That…actually made perfect sense. “Right. Right…no, I think I get it, I just…I’m so tired of all the fighting. Of not being trusted, but I feel like I should have earned at least a little bit of trust, and I get what you’re saying, but it still feels awful.”

“That doesn’t mean you should do whatever Pitch says. You can’t place blind trust in anyone like that, Jack, it’s not safe or healthy, no matter what the situation is,” Tooth insisted, eyes wide and worried as they glittered in the lamp light.

“You put blind trust in each other all the time,” Jack insisted. “That’s just part of having any kind of relationship, isn’t it?”

The gentle hand at his back filled him with warmth and strength because he could feel how proud Pitch was of him without him saying a word.

“That’s not what I mean,” Tooth said, verging on desperate, but it seemed she was out of ways to explain what she wanted to say.

“But it’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m not—…” He stopped and sighed, shaking his head a little. “Forget it.”

Part of him wanted to scream at them that he loved Pitch, that he was in love with him, he wanted to tackle him into the snow and kiss him until they couldn’t possibly deny it, but none of that would mean anything. It would be a waste, and it would feel gross and degrading. He never wanted any part of his relationship with Pitch to feel like it was performative for anyone when it was worth so much more than that.

He looked back up at Pitch. “I’m ready to go home.”

Pitch nodded once. “You’re positive I can’t tear them into little bite-sized pieces and feed them to the shadows?” he murmured with deceiving gentleness because despite his tone, Jack knew it was a genuine request.

He wanted to laugh, but suppressed it, deciding that would be inappropriate and certainly wouldn’t help their cause. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“As you wish,” he murmured with a slight bow of his head then he put an arm around Jack’s shoulders and as Jack laid a hand over his he took one last look at The Guardians and they disappeared into the shadows.

——

“Well, that could have gone worse…maybe. If like…everyone died, or…they put me to sleep forever by accident…” Jack shrugged playfully, but when he looked back at Pitch he certainly wasn’t laughing.

Pitch had his back to him, his face in his hand, and, alarmed, Jack hurried over, looking up into his face. “Pitch?” he prompted worriedly. “Hey, what’s wrong? You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Pitch echoed, lowering his hand and looking at him, incredulous. “After how long they forced you to sleep for? How do you feel?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Eh. Kinda shitty, honestly. Little bit groggy and stupid. Like a bad nap. My muscles feel really weak, but nothing serious.”

Pitch sighed deeply and Jack braced himself for the lecture, but instead Pitch dropped down onto one knee in front of him before pulling him into his arms. His eyes widened and at first he just froze in surprise, hardly able to breathe as the affection set off a deep ache in his chest. Slowly, he settled his arms around Pitch as well, peering at him with even greater worry.

“...Pitch?” When Pitch didn’t answer right away Jack started to say more, but Pitch beat him to it.

“I was so sure that you’d left for good,” he breathed on a shuddering exhale. “It would have been the smart thing to do. It’s what I almost wanted you to do, but I’m a selfish creature and it took days for me to reach out to you, only to realize you were just…gone. I couldn’t feel you…anywhere.”

Jack watched, wide-eyed as Pitch sagged onto his knees completely, dragging Jack down the rest of the way with him into his lap where he wrapped his arms around him tight. “I’m so sorry,” Pitch wept, fingers digging into him as Jack went still with shock, then numbly put his arms around Pitch back. “I thought because of me you’d found a way to truly die. I thought I’d killed you with my cruelty, run you out and made you believe I didn’t need you when I do. I need you with me. To know what you’ve been through and say those things to you…I’m so sorry.”

Jack hugged Pitch tighter and felt him shaking with sobs. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay…shh, Pitch, hey, it’s alright. I’m okay. I’m totally fine. Everything’s fine.”

Pitch suddenly pulled Jack off of him and grabbed his face in his hands, looking him in the eyes. “I love you, Jack. Truly…you can’t imagine the agony I was in, thinking I’d caused you to take your own life and disappear forever, and I never made sure you understood. As if loving you were some sinful secret when I sometimes believe it’s my only redeeming quality.”

Now Jack was crying. He couldn’t help it. Looking into Pitch’s earnest, tear-filled eyes broke his heart, and he tried to keep it together for him, but he couldn’t. In the end, Jack’s chest hitched with a little sob, then he shut his eyes tight as the tears started flowing. “…I love you, too, Pitch…” He pried his eyes open and bumped their foreheads gently together. “Please don’t cry. It’s okay. You saved me.”

Pitch just hunched over and buried his face against Jack, shivering with silent sobs. Jack rubbed his back slowly, trying to soothe him, whispering to him that everything was okay. He was okay, and he loved him, and everything was going to be okay.

And miraculously, Jack believed it now more than ever.

Chapter Text

“Surely they realize. They can’t be that dense,” Pitch muttered.

Jack sighed, twisting his fingers nervously behind his back as he gazed up at the big wooden door, his staff tucked under his arm. He eyed the doorbell he’d just pressed, big and red and shiny. “I don’t know…do we really have to use the door?” Jack complained quietly, feet shifting on the snowy walkway. “This is stupid.”

Pitch flashed him an exasperated glance. “Yes. Honestly, Jack.”

“Pfftt. What? Don’t judge me. We were literally invited, they know we’re coming. If we’d gone in the window, this wouldn’t be taking so—“

A yeti opened the door, filling the entirety of the doorframe. He looked at Jack, then at Pitch, and then after some careful contemplation, he slowly closed the door again…then they heard the deadbolt click into place.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned up at Pitch. “Guess I was right.”

Pitch rolled his eyes, reached over, and pressed the doorbell repeatedly. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

Finally, the faces of three yetis appeared in the little window on the door before disappearing, and along with the sound of the doorbell repeatedly ringing they could hear the yetis arguing.

The door eventually opened, slowly, and a yeti peered out again, two yetis huddled behind him and looking over his shoulders. Pitch finally stopped ringing the doorbell.

“You know we’re supposed to be here, right?” Jack explained, more amused than he was truly annoyed.

The yeti sighed with resignation and opened the door the rest of the way.

“Just curious, is it me that’s the problem or him?” Jack asked, nodding to Pitch.

The yeti grunted.

Jack grinned. “I knew it.”

Pitch just sighed and shook his head, looking extremely alert as they entered the workshop finally. Jack smiled, looking around, thinking it was still nice to be back. Maybe it should have made him nervous to be here now, but this place was about as fun as it got, and he didn’t have it in him to dislike it.

Besides, he had Pitch.

As they moved through the workshop, Pitch loomed close behind him, the world’s most intimidating guard dog. He glared at everyone and everything they passed while Jack bounced along cheerfully in front. He noticed none of the yetis or elves wanted to get anywhere near them, but he didn’t mind. He was kind of wary of the whole situation anyway and it made him feel safer to have a little space. It also made it easier to decorate the place with ice and snow when the yetis weren’t breathing down his neck. Not his fault the workshop looked so much better with icicles.

They were shown to one of the elevators by the yetis who’d answered the door. As they waited for it to come down, Jack made eye contact with one of the yetis and was given the classic signal for ‘I’m watching you’, as he pointed two furry fingers at his own eyes before pointing them at Jack. Jack grinned and put his hands up defensively, chuckling as they got into the elevator.

“Friendly lot,” Pitch murmured, as he stood regally next to Jack in the elevator.

Jack smiled, peering out through the rounded glass front of the elevator as they moved up to the meeting room. This thing was definitely faster than any elevator Jack had ever been in before.

“Carl’s always like that. Phil likes to talk shit, I think, so Carl’s been weird ever since the indoor skating rink incident. Which I still think was really cool, but whatever.”

Pitch smirked a little, and Jack froze then shivered as he ran his claws lazily over the back of his neck. “Troublemaker.”

Jack grinned up at him and leaned into his side affectionately. “You wanna do something fun after this?”

Pitch raised an eyebrow at him, and Jack’s eyes widened as he felt Pitch’s hand reach down and grab his butt. Jack swatted at him, blushing and laughing, and Pitch backed off, looking very pleased with himself.

“Okay, that’s not what I meant, but I’m not saying no.”

“Nice view of the workshop from in here,” Pitch commented casually. “I’d really like to fuck you against that glass.”

Jack made a mortifying noise and turned away from Pitch, leaning into the wall with his hand over his mouth as he tried to think about anything other than that so that he wouldn’t get to the meeting room fully hard. How did Pitch always know exactly how to get to him? Apparently, Jack wasn’t the only troublemaker, but he already knew that. Behind him, Pitch just laughed.

“Pitch, you son of a…why would…that’s awful,” he groaned, turning and leaning his forehead against the wall as he covered his face with his hands.

“I know. Luckily, you’re a good little boy who would never be interested in that sort of thing.”

Jack shot him a look. “I would never do that.”

“Maybe, but there are a lot of elevators in the world like this one. What’s the harm if no one can actually see you?”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest, eyes wide. He was not actually considering this. “…this is really not a good time for this.”

“Apologies, I was inspired. Personally, I think this one would be just fine. Especially on a day when The Guardians are sure to be here.”

“That’s really fucked up.”

“Yep,” Pitch said simply, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “Ah, we’re here.”

Jack glimpsed his reflection in the glass and saw he was incredibly pink. He groaned as they got out on the floor with the meeting room on it. “You are the actual worst.” He flashed Pitch a playful grin and received one back.

“Jack!” North cried excitedly as he hurried towards them, faltering slightly when he saw Pitch. His eyebrows went up in surprise. “Ah, we thought you might bring Pitch. As long as everyone plays nice, who says we can’t all get together for a little chat?”

Jack’s lips went up in a smile on one side. “Bunny, probably…hey, speak of the devil.”

Bunny came over to them scowling, Sandy and Tooth not far behind, finishing up a conversation. Jack spared a brief glance for Pitch and saw that Pitch, amusingly, glanced at Bunny, then looked away again as if bored. In truth, he knew it was taking all his self-control not to eviscerate him on the spot.

“Riiight,” Jack muttered. “Well…guess we better get this over with.”

They all started heading to the table as Tooth came buzzing cheerfully over to Jack and came over for a hug. “Jack! How are you—“

Pitch stepped between Jack and her before she could get too close and she nearly ran into him. She quickly backed off, looking startled while Pitch stared her down coldly and growled, “You’ve lost that privilege.”

The other Guardians all turned to the three of them, ready for a fight. Jack’s eyes widened in surprise and he stepped to the side, resting his hand on one of Pitch’s outstretched arms as he looked up at him, warning him firmly, “Pitch.”

Pitch glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Did you want this twit tackling you?”

Jack stammered. Honestly, he didn’t want any of them near him right now. As happy as he was to see them, just the sight of each Guardian also filled him with an anger and bitterness he desperately wanted to get rid of. Unfortunately, he hadn’t figured out how to do that yet. He sighed. “…well, no, but I wouldn’t have put it like that, just for the record.” He tugged on his arm gently, gazing up at him in earnest. “Can you at least try to be civil? Please?”

Pitch turned and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That depends. Do you mean I’m not allowed to use derogatory language, or do you mean I’m not allowed to put myself between you and a potential threat?”

Jack frowned up at him, but as Pitch stood in front of him protectively and he saw the tension in Pitch’s face, Jack’s own demeanor softened. He remembered how hard it had been for Pitch, thinking he was dead because of what The Guardians had done and how much that had hurt him.

“Thank you for protecting me. I just don’t want a fight, okay? We’re supposed to be talking this out, I don’t want anyone to get hurt. So don’t antagonize anyone. But uh…” He cringed, a little embarrassed, and made it a point to not look at anyone else as they watched the exchange. “It’s fine. The other stuff.”

Pitch sighed patiently and with a dramatic roll of his eyes said, mostly sarcastically, “Your wish is my command.”

Jack laughed, and just like that Pitch was defused. He looked around at everyone. “Seriously, everyone just chill out. Come on.”

Soon everyone was gathered at the meeting table, North herding everyone along, trying to encourage a more amiable atmosphere.

Jack followed Pitch to his usual seat and nearly had a heart attack as Pitch stopped at Jack’s usual seat and rested his hand on the back of it before looking to him. “This one. Correct?”

Jack stared, frozen, finally giving a slight nod in response. He then watched as Pitch pulled the chair out for him and gestured for him to sit down. In a daze, Jack went over and sat, looking at Pitch upside down once he was situated.

“How did you know…?” he mumbled as Pitch pushed his seat in for him.

“The nightmare,” Pitch explained quietly, running fingers briefly through his hair before sitting beside him. “I remembered where I was sitting.”

Jack swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded, looking down at the table. “Thanks.”

Pitch said nothing. He just reached under the table, found Jack’s hand, and squeezed it. Jack squeezed it back. He felt bad, and it wasn’t what either of them wanted, but they both agreed it would be better if they just flat out denied that the two of them were involved in any way that wasn’t strictly platonic. For now, no matter how obvious it was. It would just distract from everything else going on and make the situation more complicated. The Guardians might not even believe it, but at least Jack wouldn’t have to talk about it and could stay focused on making them see Pitch deserved believers as much as anyone and that he could be trusted with that power if he was given another chance.

Of course, that was assuming one of them didn’t totally fuck it up.

“So we are all knowing why we are here,” North began, standing as he looked around at everyone. “This is very important. We, as Guardians, must protect the children of the world, but also each other. Jack,” he said, gesturing to him, “We have failed you many times now. And we want to do better, but we all have concerns. Why don’t you, Jack, first tell us what you are needing from us?”

Jack shifted uneasily. “Oh. Uh. Okay.” North sat down and Jack cleared his throat. “Should I…stand up, or…?”

“Whatever you want, Jack,” North said with a smile as he sat back down. Jack had no idea how he could be genuinely so chill right now.

Jack glanced at the others uneasily. “Right.” Well, at least they all looked encouraging…except for Bunny, of course, sitting and glaring, arms crossed. Jack stayed sitting. “Right…well. This is really because I want you guys to tell me what it is you’re worried about so I can tell you you’re wrong. I already told you what’s been going on. What I need is for you to be open-minded and for you to know that I’ve…spent a lot of time with Pitch, just hanging out, so I know him pretty well. Before I went to meet him…you guys made it sound like he was pure evil. You literally called him a monster, and sure, we’ve argued, but he’s never hurt me. I wasn’t lying about anything I said when you had me tied up, he’s really…really nice to me. And yeah, he’s nicer to me than any of you, and I know you’re gonna say that’s just so he can manipulate me, but how am I supposed to prove you’re wrong? I can’t. And you can’t prove I’m wrong. So…so we kind of just need to get over it and see what happens.”

Bunny’s eyebrows went up. “Get over it? You want us to just, what, get over him coercing you into Manny only knows what?”

Jack sighed quickly through his nose, his temper flaring already. “Unless you have literally any proof of anything, which you don’t, because nothing happened, then I don’t want to hear about that again. It’s dumb. It just is. Like I get it, you’re stuck on the stupid stuff Pitch said when he was trying to antagonize all of you and apparently it worked. And then he threatened me to come with him instead of just saying, hey Jack, let’s hangout like we’ve been doing. Which was also stupid. But yeah, I do want you to get over it, because it happened to me, not you, and it’s none of your business how I’m handling it.” He groaned. “I’m already exhausted. I just don’t want to have to never talk to you guys again, but what you did was really messed up. How am I supposed to feel safe near you?”

“Just to make sure you all understand,” Pitch added in a dangerously low voice as he leaned towards them. “If any of you ever poses any threat to him such as that again, I will lock each of you up in your own eternal nightmare. Do I make myself exceedingly clear?”

No one said at first, but then Sandy, tapping his hands idly on the table, wilted with a sigh and a check mark flashed over his head.

“All we need to do is find enough common ground,” Tooth offered as she leaned forward against the table, smiling. “I think we can do that. Everybody here just wants what’s best for each other and the kids.”

“That’s the thing though. You don’t give a damn about Pitch. And you should,” Jack countered.

“It’s understandable,” Pitch began cautiously, causing all heads to turn in his direction, “To be concerned about maintaining balance in the world. I will readily admit the last time I was at my height of power, I didn’t see any reason to stop spreading fear or temper my own strength. I just thought you were all being ridiculous and petty.”

Jack listened, fascinated. He’d heard Pitch talk about these things briefly, but never in depth. He got touchy when it came to the past. That was okay. Jack did too. All of them probably did. He glanced briefly at the others as Pitch spoke, and they all had varying levels of trepidation on their face, but they were listening, and that was a great start. Even Bunny hadn’t butted in yet, opting instead to sit there scowling, his ears twitching.

Pitch continued. “That caused quite a lot of chaos. I don’t believe said chaos was problematic, but everyone else seems to think so, and my views have softened over time regarding the matter.” Pitch looked at Jack. “The more time I spend among humanity, the more I resemble it. I’ve had a more human form for quite a while now…I believe the heart’s been a bit slower to respond. Especially considering, humanity has no love for me, certainly. I feed off their fear, but that does nothing for what I think of them as a species. Only proximity and time can do that.”

“And love, right?” Jack added, making Pitch stiffen in his seat.

The others looked at Pitch with tense curiosity. Finally, he sighed and said, quietly resigned, “And love. In this case, that’s irrelevant.”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean it’s irrelevant? It’s not. Humans can love you. It’s kind of…that’s not really the point of what you were saying, sorry, but…I think it’ll be important later.” Jack nudged Pitch’s leg with his knee gently under the table. “I don’t want you to change. I don’t think you need to, I’m not saying that, but if you did want humans to love you or like you or whatever, that’s totally possible. Just for the record.”

Pitch nudged him back. “As possible as it is for you to be believed in?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “…I…maybe. I’m not convinced that’s…a thing for me.”

“Of course it is!” North cried, drawing attention to the head of the table as he banged his fists jovially against it. “Jack, you are very, very charismatic and lovable as a spirit. Just because you have not done something yet does not mean you cannot ever do it, yes?”

Jack half smiled, appreciating the encouragement, but he was unconvinced and a little irritated on Pitch’s behalf. “I guess…” He gestured to Pitch. “What about him?”

It was quiet for a long moment, then Sandy flashed symbols over his head. Jack appreciated that he tried to do them slow, but Jack still didn’t get it, and he felt bad.

Pitch, however, nodded, and Jack didn’t know why, but he was surprised Pitch found understanding Sandy so easy. He didn’t imagine they’d have talked much even if they had technically known each other for a long time. “I completely agree.” He looked back at Jack. “He says you’re a kind person for trying to obtain what you want for yourself, except not for you but for others. You are incredibly selfless, Jack, maybe to a fault.”

Jack laughed and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, I don’t know about that, but thanks I guess.”

“This is fascinating,” Bunny threw out sarcastically, “But I wanna know how you’re gonna convince us Pitch is safe for you to be around. That’s more important.”

Jack sighed and looked at Bunny, exasperated. “What’s fascinating is how worried about me you are only when it comes to Pitch and not, like, crippling depression and loneliness, not being believed in, trauma, disappearing for months, grieving, you know, all that stuff you guys totally ignore on a regular basis.”

Everyone stared at Jack in shock and it took him a second to realize he’d said too much. Being around Pitch so much had gotten him very used to opening up and just being himself and he realized for the first time what using that filter looked like. He sat as far back in his seat as he could, shoulders hunched as he looked at the table and started to freeze to his seat. That was not the sort of thing Jack normally talked about or even acknowledged.

If he refused to ever acknowledge it, why did he expect them to? What would he have done if they did? He knew exactly what he’d have done: he’d have brushed them off, acted like it was fine, no big deal. Jack would have to think about that later.

“Whatever. About what…you said…” He glanced at Pitch uneasily. “I just kind of figured…if you see me spending time with him and I’m totally fine and that’s just always true, you’ll figure it out. I mean, it makes sense anyway, right? Us being friends? So that should reassure you too. It’s not like you all wouldn’t have seen this coming, knowing us both.”

The Guardians stared at him, bewildered, with the exception of Sandy who nodded once enthusiastically before looking at everyone else’s reactions. Then he sat all the way back in his seat, lips pressed together tightly, patting his hands awkwardly in his lap, eyes darting around like he was checking out the Christmas decorations.

Now Jack was the one confused. “…what? Come on, it’s obvious, think about it.”

He glanced at Pitch and saw his lips were pressed together tightly, and when he saw Jack looking at him he turned his head away, shoulders shaking as he suppressed laughter. Jack’s mouth fell open in indignation. “What?!”

“Jack,” Pitch finally managed to say as he looked back at him, grinning. “You’re a sweet tiny little thing, comparatively nearly a child in age, and for all the world the most likable, fun-loving, and kind ball of sunshine there ever was, and then there’s me. Grouchy, cynical, old as dirt, dark and brooding, tall and gaunt. We’re about as different as could be.”

Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “Pfft. That’s dumb, those things don’t matter and you only said bad things about yourself, that’s not fair. We’re natural friends, we both like mischief and fun, have the same sense of humor, we have some similar traumatic experiences…but opposites attract too. You balance me out and make me think, you’re smart and I’m…not so smart. I’m charming, you’re charming. You’re super protective, so am I. There’s a million reasons. You’re the most fun person I know.”

Now everyone, with the exception of Pitch, was looking at him like he’d gone truly mad.

“Him?” Bunny said finally, pointing at Pitch.

Jack laughed. “Ohh yeah. Big time. Sorry guys, no offense. You’re all just too serious and stuffy for me.”

He could see their eyes darting between him and Pitch and couldn’t help but laugh. He laughed even more when Pitch tickled his knee pit under the table and shot him a look. Pitch just looked at him blank-faced and raised an eyebrow like he had no idea what Jack was talking about. Me, Lord of Darkness, fun?

“You guys are just gonna have to trust me on this one,” Jack said, grinning at Pitch. “This might be why you don’t have any friends,” he growled playfully out of the corner of his mouth.

Pitch looked extremely skeptical. “I highly doubt this is the reason,” Pitch drawled as he tickled him under the table again, assuming the others would think Jack and he were merely referring to his bad attitude.

Jack slapped his hands at him laughing, not caring if the others had no idea why he was doing it. “Oh, no, it is. I bet you act like this all the time and that’s the real reason you don’t have any friends. Not cause you’re spooky. Because you’re annoying.”

Pitch smirked, putting a hand up lazily to defend himself from Jack’s slaps “I’ll be sure to take notes. What’s your excuse?” Pitch teased, reaching out and pinching his cheek. “Probably because you get so easily distracted during meetings, one you made me come to, I might add.”

Jack giggle-snorted as swatted him away half-heartedly. “Sorryyy, okay okay…what were we talking about?”

It suddenly occurred to Jack they might have been acting too much like a couple in love and less like friends, but he couldn’t be sure. That was just friend stuff and not flirting, right? All he knew was he was grinning like an idiot and had totally lost track of what was going on. Luckily, Pitch jumped in, flashing him a playful smirk.

“We were talking about ways to prove I haven’t somehow made you my slave, or whatever, I’m not certain, this is all rather ridiculous,” Pitch said, sighing deeply. “A more important question, though, is…”

Pitch turned his gaze on The Guardians sharply, and they cringed back involuntarily. “…how do I know none of you will harm him?” He waved his hand at Jack. “At least when he was with me, it was voluntary. I may not be able to prove that, but I can prove you held him involuntarily, so you’re the only ones that should be scrambling to redeem yourselves.”

“None of us would ever do anything to hurt him,” North said, looking affronted.

“Well, no way round that, mate,” Bunny said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “We already did.”

North seemed upset by this, blinking at Bunny with big sad eyes, and Jack wanted to stay mad, he really did, but…

Jack sighed and stood. “Alright…um. Let me…talk about that for a sec.”

He paused and looked around at them all. Everyone was paying attention and he kind of wished they weren’t. How ironic.

“It’s…I’m not gonna say it’s okay. It’s not. But…listen, I really…always…kind of wanted a family? And you guys are that family.” He looked down bashfully. He could feel them looking at him still, and just pushed on, because this was why he really wanted to meet with them. He had to ask. “I’m not ever going to just abandon you…okay? There’s no way to really know for sure none of us is going to hurt anybody…and I’m not going to stop spending time with Pitch no matter what you do, but is it still okay if…” He looked up at them timidly. “…is it okay if I still…come see you guys sometimes? I know I’m not allowed to come to meetings and…I’m maybe a threat and…stuff, so if you don’t wanna see me that’s fine, I totally get it, but I figured I’d ask cause I just…”

Everyone was quiet and Jack was surprised to see that they were all making a face as if he’d said something upsetting. He wasn’t that pitiful, was he? Eventually, Tooth asked, “Jack?” He glanced up at her reluctantly, and she smiled back at him, her eyes glossy. “Can I hug you now?”

Jack nodded, laughing a little and put his arms out. “Yeah.”

She beamed and flew at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and Jack appreciated that she didn’t seem afraid Pitch would attack her, trusting it was okay if Jack said it was okay. Jack hugged her happily back, realizing how much he still cared about them and missed them despite what had happened. Then again, that was the whole reason he was here.

“You can come see me anytime, Jack. You’re family to us too, we all just…aren’t sure how to be that for you yet,” Tooth said gently as she pulled back and looked at him.

“That’s okay, I don’t know how to do that either, apparently,” Jack said with a quiet chuckle.

Tooth smiled brightly and went back to her seat while the others looked on with conflicting emotions. Bunny in particular seemed uncertain and looked at the others, his ears flat. Sandy looked at him and nodded, flashing some symbols above his head, and Bunny nodded back.

“We can’t trust you, but…but you’re still one of us, you know?” Bunny said as he looked back at Jack. “You get that, right? Don’t have nothing against you personally…”

Jack raised his eyebrows at him. “Really? After everything I said to you?”

Bunny shrugged and smirked a little. “Nah. Under duress, it doesn’t count, everyone knows that. Besides, where I’m from? We can take a bit of thrashing. Not as soft as some of you.”

Bunny winked at him, and Jack was surprised by how much he was moved.

“Oh. Okay…thanks. Uh…”

“Besides, someone’s gotta keep an eye on him,” Bunny said, nodding to Pitch.

Jack smirked a little. “That’s my job.”

“Then someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, mate.”

Jack sat back down as he pointed at Pitch. “That’s his job.”

“Yep, anddd this is why you need to keep coming around, like you said.”

North suddenly got to his feet, his heavy wooden chair screeching backwards. “What if we have all Guardians meetings with both Jack Frost and Pitch Black? Think of it. It’s never been done before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing. We just never had a reason to try, but now? We have a common thread between all of us,” he said conspiratorially, leaning over the table like he was sharing a secret with just them, only very loudly. “And that thread…is Jack.”

Bunny groaned and his head fell over the back of his own chair as he cried, “Just when I think we’re getting somewhere.” He sat up straight again waving his hand at Jack and Pitch. “You can’t be serious. You want Pitch at Guardian meetings.”

Symbols appeared above Sandy’s head at the speed of light and this time Jack was sure no one would have any idea what he said, but was astonished when Pitch smirked and nodded. “Very true. And while I can’t promise to be much help in that regard, I can promise to always assist in ways that benefit Jack or I, and to give you a chance to rectify things before resorting to violence.”

Tooth nodded eagerly. “Warring countries meet all the time to prevent additional casualties and lost resources. I don’t see why we can’t do the same, as long as there are rules in place, of course, like warnings before hugs, what is and isn’t okay to talk about and things such as that. I’ll come up with a list, so let me know if any of you have any ideas, okay?”

Everyone gave some form of affirmative answer. While North asked Tooth a question about a potential rule, Jack turned to Pitch and asked quietly, “Are you really okay with that?”

Pitch looked back at him, examining his face thoughtfully. “Yes. Are you?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, I just…that’s…kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

“Oh, it’s a huge deal,” Pitch confirmed immediately. “As North said, it’s never been done in all our time existing. If everyone agrees, this is not the result of a fluke or a decision made lightly. It’s monumental and I believe it’s just what you wanted, at least for now.”

Jack felt excitement bubbling up inside him and tried to stamp it down, just for a bit, long enough to get through this and make sure nothing happened to mess it up. He did, however, allow himself an excited little fist pump as he grinned up at Pitch.

“We’re doing it. Pitch, we’re doing it,” he hissed.

Pitch chuckled and took his hand. “You continue to thrill and impress me, Jack Frost.”

Jack glanced at the others as he squeezed Jack’s hand and, seeing they were all absorbed in conversation, whispered, barely making any sound at all, “I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

Pitch smirked, stroking the back of Jack’s hand with his thumb. “That elevator ride back down is sounding better than the window right now, I bet.”

Jack nudged him with his foot, but he was still grinning. He couldn’t help it, he was all smiles, and it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to tackle Pitch into the ground right now. “I wonder how common glass elevators are.”

“More common than you’d think.”

“Okay, but…I don’t actually want to scar any kids by accident…they still believe in you.”

“What is your opinion on Las Vegas?”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. That huge casino, kids can’t go there. Or any of them, one of them has to have a—“ It suddenly hit Jack what they were talking about and he covered his face with his hands and doubled over. Pitch just laughed and patted him on the back.

“Jack? Are you alright?” North asked.

Jack nodded and quickly lowered his hands, clamping them between his legs. “Yeah. Yeah, I just…”

“It was a rather good pun, I thought, but some people just don’t appreciate true comedy, I suppose,” Pitch offered casually, which North totally bought and let out a bark of laughter. Jack laughed too, though he was a little out of breath.

“So, um. You guys know I hate meetings and stuff, can we go? Are we done?” Jack asked, considered standing, then realized he wasn’t sure he could.

“There’s one more quick thing, actually,” Tooth chirped, and Jack was actually relieved. That would buy him some time to calm down.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. What is it?”

Tooth leaned on the table as she looked between him and Pitch. “It’s not entirely any of my business, but considering the nature of the situation I hope you won’t mind me asking. Are you and Pitch in a romantic relationship?”

Jack’s face fell. “What? Romantic? No. Of course not.”

Pitch added, oh so helpfully, “I’m only attracted to people that look stupid. Apparently.”

Jack looked at him, mad laughter bubbling up in the back of his throat as he fought back total panic. The fact that Pitch would think of that dumb inside joke at a time like this was absurd. He couldn’t quite remember when that had happened, but there was a brief flicker of recognition, and it was enough to distract him from being able to think of anything to say. “…you’re unbelievable,” he finally choked out, an incredulous smile on his face.

Pitch just shrugged, looking very pleased with himself. “No, we’re not involved romantically. I’m also not fucking him.”

Jack covered his face as he flopped against the table, absolutely mortified. “I hate you.” He dropped his hands onto the table and looked at all of them before yelling, “No, we’re not! Okay? Are we good now?”

Bunny, for one, clearly didn’t buy it for a second. In fact, Jack was pretty sure none of them were buying it, but Bunny least of all, and…well, with Sandy he couldn’t tell because he had fallen asleep and was face down on the table.

“Oi, is that right?” Bunny said, crossing his arms and glowering. “You wouldn’t lie to your so-called family, would you?”

Jack shifted a little in his seat. “Nope. Course not, and I’m not lying, he’s like a…mentor or…something. Pitch isn’t…I don’t think of him. Like that. That’s weird. And gross. Ew.”

Pitch nodded solemnly. “Super weird and gross. Gag-worthy, even. I can’t think of anything more disturbing and I’m The King of Nightmares.”

Jack’s mouth fell open. “Okay. You didn’t have to go that far. But it’s fine, because me dating you is about as likely as…finding the night sky underground anyway.”

Pitch turned and looked at him slowly, eying him up and down. “Or an art gallery with no art.”

Jack smirked. “Walking on the ceiling.”

Pitch raised an eyebrow at him, looking proud. “Or a magic powder that can heal any wound.”

Jack had forgotten completely about what was going on, only that this was fun and he was hooked. “Or me staying still long enough to sleep every single night.”

“Or getting you on your hands and knees to beg me for anything.”

Jack choked. “That’s…the least likely of all, you creep.”

“Brat.”

“Dork.”

“Dick weasel.”

Jack threw his head back, howling with laughter before spilling limp onto the ground out of his seat. “You…! You said it! That’s my favorite!”

Pitch smirked, drumming his fingers on the table as he rested his chin in his hand. “I know.” He looked at Tooth. “Is that all?”

Tooth looked rather befuddled, as did the others, but none more so than her. “Oh. Yes, yes of course. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, except no, it wasn’t.” He looked down at Jack who was down at his feet on his back, trying to catch his breath as he clutched a stitch in his side.

“God, you’re the best,” he groaned.

“You’ve told me many, many times I am the literal worst. You need to make up your mind.” He nudged Jack with his foot. “You also need to get up and say goodbye to your little friends. We’re taking a trip.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he hopped to his feet impressively fast. “Oh yeah. Okay.” He looked around at everyone. “Alright, we’re leaving. Bye. Thanks. See you soon.”

They all said goodbye as Pitch pulled up a portal, but just before they could step inside, North rushed over and ushered Jack aside. Jack was a little uneasy about it and looked at Pitch to make sure he was okay with waiting another minute and when Pitch nodded to him to go ahead, Jack went off with North to the side of the room out of earshot, but he could feel Pitch watching him protectively the whole way. He appreciated that Pitch was trying to give him space despite what had happened.

North’s massive silhouette blocked the others from view as he faced Jack with a mysterious smile on his face. “I have a gift for you. I would ask you do not share knowledge of its existence, but you do what you want.” As Jack tipped his head curiously, North reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a tiny piece of paper with a snowflake on it. Jack thought it looked like a temporary tattoo and found out he was right as North explained. “This special print has a special kind of magic in it only you can use. Put it anywhere on your body and it will not come off until you tell it to.”

Jack took the little tattoo, examining it before looking back up at North. “What is it for?”

North grinned and raised a bushy brow at him. “Ah, that is secret between you and me. If you find sometime you are wanting to visit, you touch this, wherever you’ve placed it on your body, and you think of coming here. And, just like that, here you will be. It makes special use of your snow abilities, so it will always be ready to use.”

“Woah,” Jack breathed, grinning up at him. “That’s so cool, North. Thanks.”

North put his hand gently on his shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze, a warm smile on his face under his luxurious beard. “You are very welcome. Anytime, you can come. I will help you with anything, ever, even if we are not getting along. Does not matter. Understand?”

Jack nodded slowly, his chest tightening. “Yeah…yeah, I get it…seriously, thank you…so much. I will, I’ll use it if I need it.”

North smiled wider and winked at him then removed his hand. “I know. I have faith in you.”

Jack smiled bashfully, nodded, and said bye before hurrying back over to Pitch. He was surprised to find him talking to Tooth hurriedly in hushed tones.

“—if I don’t know that. I am, I just need time.”

“—to get worse, Pitch—“

“Of course, but—we’ll talk about this later, if you must—“

As Jack approached, Tooth looked up at him and smiled cheerfully enough, but Jack didn’t like it. “Hi, Jack.”

Pitch looked at him with a guarded expression that was a red flag more than anything, but what could the two of them have to be keeping secrets about?

“Ready to go?” Pitch asked, gently placing his hand between his shoulder blades.

Jack looked between them, frowning. “What were you guys talking about?”

Pitch opened his mouth, hesitating, but Tooth surprised both of them by playfully punching Pitch’s shoulder. “Oh, don’t look so gloomy. I’m sure you won’t give me a reason to follow through on any of that.”

Jack scoffed and glared at her, but it was hard to be too mad at her. “Were you threatening him? Stop that.”

She smiled apologetically and shrugged. “We’re protective over you, Jack. But of course, that’s no way to behave. Even if it is true.”

Jack rolled his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. He looked at Pitch to make sure he was okay and was surprised a little by how viciously he was scowling at Tooth. It wasn’t like him to bite his tongue when he was that aggravated, and the fact that he was made Jack think he was missing something.

“You okay?” Jack asked softly.

Pitch looked back at him, surprised by the question, then he sighed, but visibly relaxed. “I’m fine. Thank you. Shall we?”

He glanced back at Tooth before looking up at Pitch and nodding. They were supposed to be learning to trust each other. So he would. “Okay.”

Pitch seemed glad to get out of there, putting a protective arm around Jack as he stepped through the portal.

——

“Holy shit. Holy shit, I can’t. Pitch.”

Pitch immediately silenced his protests and wrang a whimper out of him too as he pressed him harder face first into the glass by grinding against his smaller body. He laced their fingers as he pinned his hands above his head, and Jack was finding it increasingly difficult to care about the hundreds of people milling about in the combination hotel and casino lobby below, sitting at tables and eating, going in and out of little shops, checking into the hotel…

Until Pitch’s hand pushed up his sweatshirt, exposing him, and yeah, okay, he was invisible, he’d always been invisible, but that didn’t stop him from feeling every eye on him now specifically because he didn’t want them to see him. If he’d known that’s all it took to make him feel seen, he would have gotten fucked for an audience ages ago.

“Pitch,” he sighed and leaned his forehead against the glass, then he gasped sharply as Pitch suddenly grabbed him between the legs and squeezed.

“Oh Jack,” Pitch scolded quietly by his ear. “This might be the most excited I’ve ever seen you get considering you’ve hardly even been touched.”

Jack groaned and pushed into his hand, making Pitch laugh.

“More then?”

After a second or two, Jack nodded and panted, “Yeah…”

Pitch nibbled on the rim of his ear and Jack’s stomach muscles quivered and tensed as Pitch’s hands undid the ties on his pants. And then they were off, and soon after the sweatshirt, and suddenly just like that Jack was on full display for all these people. He definitely felt believed in right now, they were definitely just checking out the cool elevator with its unique design, wondering why one of them wasn’t working, but it really felt like they were looking at him, some even pointing.

“You’re so cute,” Pitch breathed across his shoulder before biting it. Jack was distracted by that and didn’t notice Pitch was doing something else with his hands until slicked fingers pressed against his entrance. He whimpered helplessly as Pitch’s free hand flicked and pinched at his nipples, while he simultaneously dug his teeth deeper into his flesh then pushed two fingers inside him at once.

Jack wailed, but he couldn’t do much except stay standing and watch the view, even as it felt like Pitch was artfully rearranging his insides, melting them, sending sharp shots of pleasure through his belly that made his thighs start to shake and tendrils of frost dance across the glass wherever his body touched it.

“Oh god…oh fuck,” Jack moaned quietly. They’d only just started and Jack felt like he was going to come soon.

He was thankful that he was able to keep it together long enough for Pitch to hoist him into the air and hold him by his thighs so he could slowly lower Jack onto his dick. Every time he was positive it wasn’t going to fit. There was no way, maybe Pitch had gotten bigger, because the head of his cock just felt so big as it rocked against him and in frustration Jack banged on the glass.

“Pitch, please, put it in…put it in, come on, come on…!” Jack suddenly cried out as Pitch thrust inside him, his eyes rolling back, and oh god, Pitch needed to stop weaving his arm around to rub his stomach like that. He took his time finding room inside Jack for his cock, running his hands over his slender body as he did so. Jack didn’t notice he was making an imprint of himself in ice on the glass yet.

Then they were still. With a dry sob, Jack asked quietly, “Is it all the way in?”

“Let’s see…” Pitch mused, and Jack made a choking sound as Pitch tried to get his dick deeper inside him, jerking his hips against him, but he could feel it, they were completely flush. Moaning and writhing against the glass as he adjusted to Pitch’s size, Pitch decided it was the perfect time for a pep talk. “Show all those people how good you can take my cock…look at that. Do you know how small you must look from down there, how massive I am inside you in comparison? They have to be very impressed. That’s why they’re all staring…right where it goes in, at your soft white belly, your cock, so hard and pink getting cum all over the glass…shameless little thing, aren’t you? You’re even imprinting yourself in frost on the glass, just to make sure they can all see you…”

Jack’s eyes widened and he panted, “Wh…what…?” He looked around at the glass and realized he’d outlined himself getting fucked in ice, like some strange, sensual art instillation.

The talking was effective at keeping him from thinking about how he’d at first felt like he was going to burst, but it was not effective at keeping him from thinking now about how badly he needed Pitch to move. “Pitch…Pi…Pi—AH.”

Pitch slid out of him, then thrust back up inside him and Jack moaned loudly. There was nothing to hold onto or do but…get fucked. So he hung there and let Pitch push him open with his cock over and over and over again until he was bouncing up and down on it hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs, hands frosting up the glass, but not enough to obscure the view of him from the entire lobby. He could just imagine how this would look to anyone out there. Pitch was right, he was tiny compared to Pitch. He held him there effortlessly, mercilessly pounding his insides as he sobbed and begged, his whole body buzzing with pleasure, every pore chanting his name.

He was going to come. He let out a sharp, high noise as he realized it was coming, then let out a little desperate sob and begged Pitch to fuck him harder. Pitch obliged and fucked Jack into orgasm with a bruising force, making him scream as he came hard against his stomach and the glass. Pitch didn’t stop and Jack let out a ragged, feral sound as he felt his cum shoot up inside him, hot and wet and strangely violating, and he was already thinking of how it would feel dripping down his quivering thighs. Pitch kept moving inside him and Jack blubbered and begged, it was too much, he was too sensitive. He slapped his palm against the glass with a hiccuping sob and Pitch was finally still inside him. He panted rapidly, wincing as Pitch readjusted their position so that Jack was laying back against him instead of being pressed against the glass, then he sighed with contentment as he rested against Pitch’s chest, his head on his shoulder, his mind obliterated. Everything was warm and amazing, throbbing and buzzing, and he just let himself go limp, too blissed out to care about a single other thing.

“Pitch,” he sighed happily. “I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you,” he rambled, making Pitch laugh.

“I love you,” Pitch murmured, then Jack let out a high-pitched sound of shock as Pitch pulled out of him all at once.

“Never mind, fuck you,” Jack panted, grinning, and was gratified as Pitch laughed harder. He was already thinking about what fun thing they could do next time they had to meet with The Guardians, but for now he just hoped he could handle another go in time before they fixed the elevator.

——

Returning home was surreal. He could hardly believe he was able to come and go whenever he wanted, finally, and while he didn’t want to travel too far away from Pitch because he didn’t trust The Guardians not to try and hurt him when Jack wasn’t with him, he could travel so far and so fast on the winds he could still go all kinds of places.

Jack visited the kids he’d been missing before he did anything else. He went around to each of their neighborhoods and went to their homes, checking in on them through their windows and heading inside to get a better look when he felt like it.

The little bean sprouts really grew in the short amount of time Jack had been gone and he was reminded of how short their lives were compared to his own, and compared to Jack, who never changed. Even as he felt wiser, steadier, and more experienced over centuries of growth and maturity, he still had a heart that was light and innocent, unchanged by the things he’d done or been through. He learned, but he never stopped believing in others or seeing the world as if it were all new everyday. Jack would have expected himself to become bitter and jaded, and part of him was, he guessed, but it hadn’t changed who he was yet and he hoped it never would. In many ways, he was frozen in time.

It was strange, he thought, how he felt so legitimately a part of Jamie’s life, but so separate from it too. He was with him on his good days, and the bad. Some people didn’t think kids had any right to be miserable or depressed. He’d heard it a million times, adults thinking kids were being cry babies or overreacting, but they were small. They were new, and it was ridiculous to expect them to be as resilient as a grownup. If they were told as kids just to get over it, stop that, go to your room, was it any wonder they didn’t think they could talk to their parents as teenagers? Was it any wonder they didn’t know what to do with their own emotions as adults other than to just try and “get over it” because no one ever taught them? Kids were so easy to understand because they were just people.

His kids were all doing okay though. Jamie and his friends were relieved to have a couple snow days in a row. Sophie lost another tooth, and it wasn’t even because she bumped into something this time. Jamie had his walkie-talkies back and didn’t even seem sour about having them taken away in the first place. It was pretty fair, anyway. Jack told him not to use his mom’s perfume for that “science experiment”, once Jack saw the pricey logo on the bottle, but sure, why listen to the three-hundred year old frost spirit? And, naturally, Jamie and Monty were already up late at night with them again, tapping on the speaker to make noises in awkward morse code to each other. If that was all the trouble they were getting into, Jack was happy. He got into enough trouble now as an adult. If he’d ever been a kid he couldn’t imagine what kind of hijinx would have ensued.

He let out all his emotions with a few particularly hefty blizzards, making sure they were located in places that could handle it. Mostly handle it, anyway. There’s nothing you can really do when your entire town turns into an ice sculpture. Snow day? Jack was gonna give these kids a snow week.

He did a lot of flying, just for the fun of it, taking part in his favorite pastime, something he called “sky coaster”, which involved going just about as high up into the atmosphere as he comfortably could and then dropping straight down, seeing how close he could get to the ground before he stopped. It was a lot of fun.

He laid in some flowers. He climbed some trees, he playfully bothered some wildlife and he did some glacier hopping. A little bit of everything. Then, at last, he came back to The Boogeyman’s Lair.

He was worried he wouldn’t want to go back, like maybe the period confinement would make him hate being here, but as he dropped down into the entrance, saw Pitch waiting there, and flew into his arms, there was no place he wanted to be more than here.

——

Jack woke with a start, snatched his journal out of the bedside drawer and began scribbling frantically. He could not wait to tell that one to Pitch. He was grinning just thinking about it.

…

……

Jack didn’t care who the horse belonged to. Obviously, based on the breed and quality of the equipment, it belonged to someone super influential. Someone with a lot of money. Someone that could take his job, his home, maybe even his life with no consequences…

But you don’t bring a fucking horse back like that.

“Hey,” Jack shouted at the back of the tall man with the dark hair and golden sword on his hip. If he was seriously a golden warrior Jack was even more pissed off. He’d wanted to be a golden warrior his whole life and was turned down because of his background, but you could be a huge scumbag and it was fine? This guy was a disgrace to the royal family.

The owner of the horse turned to him dripping in black leather, gold, and above all arrogance. He would have looked down on Jack at any height, but as Jack approached him he realized that, Jesus Christ, he barely came up to this man’s chest.

Good. It’d be easier to punch him in the dick.

“Is the black nightmare that just came in yours?” Jack yelled as he stalked up to him through the snow. The man’s glittering gold eyes scanned him slowly up and down and Jack wasn’t sure if it was because Jack was probably covered in horse shit (it was the end of the day, after all), the fact that they were in a blizzard, standing knee deep in snow, and he hadn’t bothered to wear anything more than a thin shirt (currently trying to blow off his body), or you know, because of the white hair thing, because he got that a lot.

Finally, the proud man raised a curious eyebrow at him and drawled in a voice that was pleasant, but full of disdain, “Yes. She is.” While he seemed irritated, it seemed like, more than anything, the tall man couldn’t imagine why in the world Jack would ever be talking to him.

Jack could see now that he had to be someone even higher ranking than he thought, and he thought to himself, even better. He was definitely already getting flogged for this, so might as well make it count. He’d always wanted to rip into one of these pompous assholes.

“You can’t bring your horse back like that,” he shouted over the biting winter wind. “She has to be treated for frostbite, you know. She’s dehydrated, her fur is matted and frozen together, she’s clearly been left outside for too long. What’s wrong with you?”

The man blinked at him slowly, then opened his mouth, but Jack could already tell he was going to give him some kind of excuse, and cut him off.

“No, shut up,” he barked at him, pointing back behind him towards the stables. “Don’t do it again. I mean it. You think you can just treat anyone however you want because your parents were rich? Well, we have rules, and I don’t care who you are, don’t ever bring a horse back like that again, do you understand me, asshole?”

Jack was confused by the vicious, delighted glint in the man’s eyes as he looked down his nose at him now, like he couldn’t wait to share an awful secret with him.

“And who might you be?” he said in a dangerously low purr.

“Jackson Overland. I’m here every single day so if you’re looking for a good time to have them come drag me to the post, I’m free bright and early tomorrow morning. I don’t have any money, property, or family, so good luck there. You can have me fired, I suppose, but I’m kind of tired of dealing with assholes like you anyway, so go ahead, take your pick.”

A smirk bled across the man’s face and that was the first time Jack’s fight or flight kicked in. At least, that’s what he thought until the man took a step closer and Jack’s heart did a little backflip. Hey, it wasn’t Jack’s fault his type was ‘spooky tree with narcissism’. He had always had a hard time telling fear and fun apart.

“Allow me to introduce myself, since you’ve been kind enough to do so.” He put a hand out, long fingers beckoning him elegantly, and Jack was just thinking there was no way he was going to shake this bastard’s hand no matter how much he wanted to feel his warmth bleed into him, when he spoke.

“My name is Kozmotis Pitchiner.”

Jack stared at him vacantly. His eyes frantically scanned Pitchiner from head to toe. Ah. Yeah. Now he recognized him. He was so covered in ice and snow and so piled with winter traveling clothes and weaponry he hadn’t recognized that gaunt frame. He’d been trying not to think about his warm, golden eyes, that proud nose and high cheekbones. But yeah, nope. Now he saw it.

Whelp, he was dead.

Jack threw his hands up in resignation, looking around at the snowy grounds of the castle. For just a moment, he had the good sense to fear for his life, but there was no sense in fear, and he quickly tossed it aside. “Great. Well…I’m sure it’s past your bedtime, but I’ve got work to do, so what’s it gonna be?”

King and General Kozmotis Pitchiner raised a brow. “Your punishment for such heinous disrespect towards the leader of our great nation after he’s just returned from days of travel, in a blizzard, soaking wet, starving, and standing here with you instead of with my daughter who’s eagerly waiting for me at home? Let’s see now…”

Jack sighed and just waited patiently, the wind whipping his hair around wildly. Spotting the sword on the king’s hip, he waved at it. “Could use that. That’d be cool.” He waved his hand around them. “Blood in the snow. Very dramatic. Send a message to all the other foolish peasants that aren’t fans of animal abuse.”

And then Pitchiner opened his mouth and hesitated briefly before saying the last thing he’d expected. “Aren’t you cold?”

Jack frowned. He got that a lot. Actually, he was still a little warm, probably from anger and, consecutively, panic. “Nope.”

Pitchiner looked exasperated. “Your majesty.”

“Please, call me Jack,” he joked, flashing him a cheeky smile, because why not.

The king’s mouth fell open then he let out a bark of indignant laughter. “Unbelievable.”

Jack braced himself, trying not to wince as Pitchiner told him what his punishment was going to be. For all his bravado, he was scared to death. He’d heard the stories of people being whipped to death, skinned alive, having hot coals inserted into their cut open bellies…

Finally, Pitchiner said, “Five lashes.” Gathering his cloak around him and turning away he added, “Make sure my horse is seen to properly.”

With that, he turned and continued on through the snowy grounds. Jack watched him go in shock. He was still dying to throw a snowball at the back of his head, but he resisted. Barely.

“Oh, and Jackson?”

Jack froze.

Pitchiner looked over his shoulder at him. “If you ever speak to me that way again, it’ll be fifty.”

Jack shuddered. “Right…” He paused, then added reluctantly, “…your majesty.”

The smirk the king flashed him with made Jack think to himself that he’d gladly behave better if he could get the general to look at him like that again. Suddenly he was very warm. Actually, no. Yep. Jack was absolutely sure, he was…very into the royal general. For a moment, he did nothing except stand there and try to decide how crazy it would be to try and get into the king’s pants. In the end, he decided it was less crazy than plenty of things he’d already done and it was worth a shot. You only live once, after all.

Once he’d settled everyone down for the night, he was going to be having one really weird wanking session.

……

…

Jack snorted with laughter, lightly tossed the journal back onto the bedside table, and flopped back in bed against Pitch. He was readily wound up in Pitch’s greedy arms and almost instantly fell back to sleep, sighing with utter contentment.

Chapter Text

Jack jumped a little as Pitch glided silently up behind him and said, “I had no idea you were such an appreciator of the arts.”

Huffing out a laugh, he turned and craned his head way back to look up at Pitch who towered above him where he sat on the ground, legs crossed. “Oh. Hey. Yeah, uh…”

Jack turned and looked all around the empty gallery. Of the many caverns in Pitch’s lair, even the other empty ones, this one was by far the loneliest.

“I was just, you know…thinkin’.”

“I see. Thinking about what, if I might ask?” Pitch settled in beside him on the ground, looking around at the large, strange empty room.

“Just…I…” He sighed heavily, pulling his knees up and putting his arms around them loosely. “I don’t know. I think a lot about…what you told me was here, and…” He hesitated again, grinding his teeth as he looked off to the side, away from Pitch. “Yeah. I think about that.”

Pitch peered at him, concerned now more than he had been, because anytime Jack tried to get around having to be completely honest about something it was usually because there was something upsetting him he didn’t want to get into.

“And what do you think about it?”

“Just…you know, about memories and…stuff. Forgetting.”

Pitch’s stomach dropped as he realized what specifically was most likely on Jack’s mind, but he kept listening.

“It’s scary that you can…that your mind can fail you and get rid of stuff. Important stuff. There could be…all kinds of things you don’t even know you’ve forgotten, and then how are you supposed to remember it or…whatever, I don’t know. You know?”

Pitch nodded. “Humans, for some reason, always underestimate the importance of caring for the brain. Any other organ gets sick, there’s sympathy, there’s support…the mind goes, and they simply write the person off as mad. As if they’re impervious to losing their grasp on their own reality or their memories or their personality, their ability to even feel happiness at all. But I can think of very few things more frightening than the fact that you can never really trust what’s in your own head. Not your memories, certainly.”

Jack sighed and pulled his knees in, crossed his arms on them and rested his chin there. “Yeah. I feel like I shouldn’t complain about what I don’t remember when so many people have it so much worse. Like…you. You’ve lost so much more than me, I feel…guilty for even getting upset about it.”

“And who are you to quantify what I’ve lost?”

Pitch didn’t sound mad, but Jack jerked his head around to look at him wide eyed when he heard this, alarmed that he’d somehow offended him. “What? No, I was just—“

To his surprise, Pitch actually smiled a little. “Easy, love.” Jack felt his ears getting hot, but kept listening. “There’s no way for you to compare your suffering to mine. We’re not the same person. If you drop a bucket of spiders on someone that studies arachnids for a living and keeps them as pets, they’ll have a very different reaction than someone who has arachnophobia. Their experiences are not equal, and you can make guesses, but I believe you’re wrong. And you can’t prove otherwise.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, tilting his head. “Oh, come on, Pitch. You’re right about the spider thing, but you can’t honestly tell me you think you forgetting your whole life is as bad as me just…never having one.”

Pitch’s eyes widened slightly. “…never having one?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I’m hardly even a person, right? I didn’t come from…anywhere or anything. I never had anything or anyone to lose. I was…” He smiled wryly and glanced around the empty room. “I’m a real dick. Because I…” He glanced back at Pitch sheepishly over his arm. “I was thinking that, like…I wish I’d had…that. Something to lose. A mom and a dad, a big family, maybe. I never got to be a kid or have a place that was actually home, somewhere I grew up and…I’m like this room.”

Before Pitch could react, Jack shut his eyes tight and buried his face in his arms. “I’m sorry, I know that’s really, really stupid. I’m not saying I wish all that horrible stuff you went through happened to me of course, or anything, I just…it makes me feel even more like I’m not…a real…person? Because everyone…everyone has that, and I’m just playing pretend and I’ve always felt like that. I…” He sniffled and Pitch realized in horror that Jack was crying. “I looked. I don’t know why. I know it was stupid, but I looked at the teeth anyway. They weren’t there. Mine, I mean. I feel dumb even saying that. But I thought that…god, I don’t know. I wanted a reason for why I’m…like this. But there isn’t one. There’s nothing to remember. No one that ever missed me. I’m just a…spare. You know?”

Pitch finally cut in, wrapping his arms around Jack in his little ball and pulling him close. “Shh shh, no, no Jack, you are not. You are not a spare. You are real, I promise you, I swear to you, you are just as important…you are the most important to me, do you understand?”

Jack nodded and tipped into Pitch, shuddering as he burrowed against him and Pitch clutched his small form to him fiercely, feeling sick, hating himself.

And then Jack wrapped his arms around his neck and told him he loved him, and Pitch’s heart broke.

____

Today was…wow. Today had been a really good day. Yesterday, Pitch had said he had a lot of things to catch up on today, and Jack could deal with that. He didn’t need a babysitter, he could keep himself busy, and besides, Pitch had spent the whole day with him once last week. He was getting greedy. Let the poor man breathe.

But then today Pitch had changed his tune and said he didn’t have as much to get done as he’d thought and was free again, to do whatever they liked the rest of the day.

They’d spent a lot of it being lazy, doing nothing at all, just talking, and it was great. Jack loved to talk; after all, he hadn’t had anyone to talk to for so long. He told Pitch a lot of corny jokes. It came from spending so much time around kids. A couple of them were actually a huge hit with Pitch, such as his favorite, “Why did the monkey fall out of the tree? Because it was dead!” He’d laughed so hard he’d been wiping tears away by the end of it, even though he claimed it was the stupidest joke he’d ever heard.

They talked about The Guardians a bit, and Jack tried to guess some of their more benign fears: Bunny, apparently, was afraid of heights, which was sort of random, while Toothiana was, more predictably, afraid of cavities, specifically of children getting them and needing their teeth pulled. They ranked the four by who they would most prefer to take in a fight, and who they’d like to go up against the least. Oddly enough, they agreed on both their first choice and last choice, each agreeing that Sandy was basically a benign eldritch god they didn’t favor their odds against, and they both thought they could take Bunny, if they were speaking strictly theoretically and no one would really get hurt, but they couldn’t agree on who would be tougher to fight, Tooth or North.

Pitch let Jack help him in the study. Pitch hadn’t been terribly keen on it, insisting he didn’t want to spend the whole day having Jack running errands for him, but they quickly learned that Jack actually liked running around, being Pitch’s little assistant.

It had started innocently enough.

Jack moved closer to see what Pitch was doing, peering up at his face briefly to make sure he wasn’t bothering him. Pitch paid him no mind and so Jack watched as he mixed herbs and things together, grinding them into a paste. He was mesmerized.

“I didn’t know you could do stuff like this before we became friends,” he murmured, bright eyed with enthusiasm after learning more about what Pitch actually did in here. He was impressed. He knew he worked with herbs and other weird ingredients and mixed them together to make any number of gross, creepy, cool, or downright disturbing things, but he didn’t realize a lot of what he did was basically magic, although Pitch said it was more like alchemy.

“I mean, I know a little bit of stuff too, but not like this. This is…really cool.”

The corner of Pitch’s mouth turned up into half a smirk at that. “Really cool?”

“Yeah, totally,” Jack enthused, too focused on Pitch’s hands to either catch the sarcasm or care.

Pitch rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem displeased. His face remained relaxed and his mien easy, which made Jack feel fluttery and light. Like they were hanging out or something. Being seen and tolerated by anyone always made him quite giddy, even if he hid the feeling deep in his chest, but Pitch didn’t tolerate anybody. It felt especially good, and it was fascinating to see this side of him. He was clearly busy, but always had time and room for Jack.

“I know some stuff,” he insisted again suddenly as he watched Pitch use the mortar and pestle, as if Pitch had denied it.

Pitch raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?” He sounded doubtful, but genuinely curious.

“I know I’m short and spend a lot of time with kids, but I’m old as shit too. Not as old as you, but…I know things. I mean…mostly about what plants are safe to pick and eat, but…other stuff too. I’d be a pretty mean apprentice.”

Pitch smirked fully at that. “Is that so? A Guardian an apprentice to The Boogeyman. How interesting.”

Jack flushed and looked away. “I just meant hypothetically. It’s…interesting.” He threw an annoyed look back at him as Pitch seemed to finish what he was doing and turned towards Jack. “And I’m not a Guardian.”

“Ah, yes, that’s right. You’re just their errand boy.”

Jack frowned. “I hate you sometimes.”

“You ought to hate me all the time, starling. Now let’s see…” Pitch said, looking at the table. “Mm. If you please. Do you recall the location of those little black beetles?”

Jack’s sour face immediately smoothed over as his eyes brightened with interest. “The one’s in glass that turned rainbow all crushed up?”

“Ah-ah,” Pitch scolded in a patient, silky tone, lightly grasping Jack’s chin in his fingers. “What did we say we were going to call them from now on after our little incident?”

Jack pouted, glancing away, mostly out of embarrassment. It was really stupid, that was true, but it wasn’t fair. The powder was so pretty, and he’d thought it would make cool eyeshadow so he swatched some of it on his wrist like the beauty gurus online did. The internet was such a cool invention. Also, he was absolutely right. It would have made killer eyeshadow.

“The…Incredibly Toxic Beetles That Aren’t Eyeshadow?”

“Good. Do you remember where they are?” Jack nodded the small amount he could while in Pitch’s grasp. “Would you please go in there and fetch the little black wooden box?”

Jack nodded again and he released him and Jack zoomed off to the cabinet where the beetles were that they should have called the Give Pitch A Panic Attack Then He Gets Really Mad Beatles.

After digging around, carefully, through the cabinet, Jack found the box and hurried back to Pitch’s side with it. He handed it to him and practically purred as he was rewarded with fingers in his hair instead of Pitch taking the box from him. “Good boy. Now, open it and eat one.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that the poison stuff?”

“If I kept things organized that way, half of these things would have to be in one cabinet, at the very least.”

Jack squinted at the little black box suspiciously as he opened it and saw it was full of what looked very much like raisins. “…so these aren’t poisonous? This isn’t some…teach Jack a lesson thing?”

Pitch looked extremely unimpressed, an expression which always made Jack feel like a real lout. “You think I would poison you intentionally. Noted.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue, but to be fair Pitch had never so much as given him something that gave him indigestion. He sighed and picked up one of the raisin wannabes, wondering if it was a dried fruit or a bug, then he popped it in his mouth. Then he stared Pitch in the eye and ate two more just to prove a point. He wasn’t entirely sure what that point was, but hopefully it at least proved he didn’t think Pitch was poisoning him. It wasn’t like he’d ever actually denied it.

Pitch’s eyes widened when he saw him do this, which, not gonna lie, kinda worried him. He was even more worried when Pitch put the back of his hand to his mouth, turned away from Jack and leaned against the table, as if any of that could hide the maniacal laughter that poured forth.

Jack shut the box and quickly set it aside before tugging on Pitch’s arm. “Uhhh, Pitch?” he called loudly over the laughter. “What the hell are those? Why are you laughing?”

After taking a deep breath, Pitch turned and smirked at him as he soothed, “If I assure you they are in no way poisonous, harmful, painful, or deadly, would you, by any chance, like to just wait another minute or so and find out for yourself?” His smirk somehow grew even wider.

“Are you serious right now?” Jack cried, annoyed and a little nervous, but not genuinely upset. “You suck, Pitch.”

Pitch hummed softly in thought then purred, “If that’s really what you’d like…”

“What, am I gonna turn blue or something?”

“Or something.”

“Is it gonna ruin my hair? Is it gross?”

“I wouldn’t say ruin your hair, but it is going to make a mess of it. And the outcome could be considered gross, but it’s nothing you haven’t experienced before.”

Jack groaned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about…it’s not going to make anything…weird come out of my ass, is it? Cause that’s really frickin’…oh lord, Pitch, hey, hello? Why are you laughing again? …come on, this is…this is so…”

Jack paused, feeling a little strange as Pitch turned back around and he looked up into Pitch’s mirthful face. “P…Pitch…”

“You’re alright,” Pitch soothed, reaching out and playing with his hair affectionately. Jack liked that. He liked that a lot, actually, moving closer and leaning into the touch. “I was trying to give you a reward for helping me today. Luckily, the effects are relatively short lived, but unfortunately since you decided to be a brat, they will also be three times as intense.”

Jack wasn’t really listening. He was thinking about Pitch’s hand in his hair. He was thinking about how his sweatshirt felt odd against his skin, really soft but also that seemed like a lot more friction than normal. Was his skin getting more sensitive? Was it getting hotter?

“My…my…I feel hot,” Jack groaned.

“That’s normal, love,” Pitch assured him, very amused still, but also sympathetic. He removed his hand, but Jack snatched it back, except this time he put it to his mouth and pressed the knuckle of one finger between his lips, testing the way it felt with his mouth before running his tongue over it experimentally.

“You’re really…tall,” Jack mumbled around Pitch’s finger as he looked him up and down.

Pitch chuckled. “I am.”

“I like you.” He paused. “It. I like it.”

Pitch hummed happily and beckoned him closer. “Come here, little frost spirit.”

That sounded like a really good idea. Jack moved closer and wrapped his arms around Pitch, craned his head back to look up at him and rested his chin flat on his chest. “Warm…” He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, hands wandering Pitch’s body idly. “Mm. Everything feels so good. But you feel, like…really good. Really, really…” He opened his eyes, frowning. “I need…I feel…”

Jack gasped as Pitch put a hand on his waist and the other hand lightly between Jack’s legs. His head hung forward and he whimpered pitifully, pressing into Pitch and rocking his hips. “Ohh shit…shit, that feels good…shit shit shit…”

Gradually, Jack became more uncomfortable with the situation, panting as he continued grinding on Pitch shamelessly before whimpering more loudly, “Please, Pitch…touch me, I need you to touch me. Fuck…”

Pitch nuzzled his face into Jack’s hair and although it hadn’t been exactly what Jack had in mind, he melted as Pitch pulled him closer and began running his fingers up and down his back in alternating trails, pushing his fingertips firmly into his skin and letting his nails graze him. Jack didn’t remember taking his clothes off, but he was so relieved they were gone. He wished he’d thought to take them off sooner.

Pitch pressed his lips to the crook of his neck, and when he started sucking and biting him Jack felt his legs tremble, thinking for a moment he would fall. When Pitch’s hands slid over his hips and gripped him, his legs really did go out from under him with a cry. Pitch must have expected this because he caught him, wrapping his other arm around him tightly and fully supporting his sagging weight as his mouth and hand continued to work without pause.

Jack cried out again, voice cracking, as he stared helplessly at the ceiling. His body vibrated with pleasure anywhere it was touched and he writhed against Pitch impatiently.

He must have gotten the message across because he heard a clatter and looked over to see Pitch sweeping everything on the massive table to one side, and then Jack was in the air, and then on his back, choking as Pitch moved between his legs and pressed up against him.

He had no filter. As Pitch ran his hands hungrily over his body, every breath was a gasp or a whimper or a plea. He arched his back in a luxurious stretch as Pitch came down to kiss him, licking into his eager mouth, and Jack was drowning. He never wanted this to stop, not ever. He would have felt that way anyway, but now the thought of Pitch not touching him made him whine and cling to him.

“I’m here, starling, you’re alright,” Pitch whispered against his lips, picking up on his unease.

“I want…can you…uh…the…” He groaned in frustration; he couldn’t concentrate. All he could think about was the need inside him. All he could think about was Pitch.

Pitch pressed his lips against his softly again for just a moment then leaned back. He thought he was stopping, but as Pitch began kissing down his chest, then down his stomach, leaving trails of fire, Jack began to gasp each time he got closer as he realized what he was doing. And, oh, he loved Pitch desperately in that moment for not teasing him, he couldn’t stand that right now. No, he hardly had a chance to thrash under Pitch’s firm hand as he planted it against his stomach, tongue swirling over the head of his cock eagerly before Pitch took him completely, mouth flush against his skin at the base.

Jack keened shrilly as Pitch gripped his hips tightly in both hands and began moving his head at a steady pace. If Pitch hadn’t held him down, he would have been out of control. Instead, Jack touched himself anywhere he could reach while he hooked two of the fingers of his other hand in his mouth and began sucking and drooling on them. It never once occurred to him to be embarrassed. All he cared about was how amazing everything felt, how he needed to come, how he felt like he was melting into Pitch’s mouth and disappearing. Then, stars burst behind his eyes and he realized suddenly he was coming. It was being ripped out of him, leaving only pure ecstasy behind, and he screamed, slamming his hand against the table hard. He laid there twitching and writhing for a while as Pitch sucked the life out of him, throat and tongue working furiously around him.

Better. He felt better, he thought to himself in his state of bliss, his body finally relaxing. It still buzzed pleasantly, his mind was hazy, but it was better. It wasn’t completely gone though.

He gasped sharply as he slipped out of Pitch’s mouth and he licked him clean, and he realized then, as Pitch looked up at him, that it wasn’t over. How could he still want more? He was spent. That was it, wasn’t it? But no, his body disagreed. It said more. It chanted Pitch’s name.

“Pitch,” he whined, sounding pathetic and he knew it and did not give one single little fuck.

Pitch seemed to care though. He leaned over him, looking serious, and took his face in his hands tenderly. “What’s wrong, starling? How do you feel?”

“Mm…” He looked up into Pitch’s eyes feverishly, wrapping his legs around him tightly again. “Good. But it’s not…can we…”

Understanding, Pitch’s face relaxed and he nodded before leaning down and kissing him gently. “Of course.”

Jack’s face melted into a goofy, lovestruck smile as he hummed and kissed Pitch back, running his hands over his chest, his neck, anywhere within reach. He was content with this, for now, but he could feel a desperate need already on the horizon, crawling under his skin and making his hips slowly rock involuntarily.

He groaned with satisfaction as Pitch pressed his palms flat against his inner thighs, pressing him open as they ran back and forth over the delicate skin. He felt like this had to be as good as it got, but then his breath got stuck in his throat, eyes flying wide open, as he felt something hot and wet against his entrance.

Looking around in a heated daze, he realized Pitch had sunk between his legs again and this time his tongue was pushing inside him. He arched his back and gasped, goosebumps shooting all up and down his body as Pitch moved inside him, pressing aside the quivering muscles and lapping at him greedily. Jack stuck out his own tongue as he writhed, trying to writhe in Pitch’s grip, but unable to. He let out a high-pitched sound of sudden pleasure as one of his hands found his own dick and began to touch it, but Pitch grabbed his wrist and pinned it hard to his side. That was no good because Jack’s other hand was already occupied, and he didn’t want to take his fingers out of his mouth. He let out a needy whine in protest, but forgot all about whatever he’d been upset about as his attention turned again to the forceful rhythm of Pitch’s tongue.

He felt so vulnerable spread out on the table like this, hardly able to control his legs as they moved about restlessly, his skin so soft and delicate compared to the wood beneath them. He glanced down at himself, staring at the pale, flat expanse of skin, the sensitive places that were flushed from touch, his white thighs spread with Pitch between them and the contrast of his stunning dark skin against his own.

As if sensing his gaze, Pitch leaned back slightly and glanced up at him. Jack smiled as their eyes met, hypnotized by those layers of warm gold.

“I love you,” Jack insisted emphatically, as if Pitch had denied it. “...so much…fuck, I love you so much…”

He wasn’t sure if he’d started crying first or if Pitch had taken him into his arms first, but either way he was hovering over him now, gathering him into his arms and kissing his tears away, murmuring sweet, soothing things. Jack let out a hiccuping little sob and wrapped his arms around his neck, realizing then that Pitch was completely naked as well. This adequately distracted him from his sudden swell of emotions as he, instead, did anything he could to get into more contact with Pitch’s skin.

“Holy shit,” Jack breathed, going from vacantly staring at the ceiling to staring at Pitch with stars in his eyes, blue shimmering with awe as he looked at the most beautiful thing in the world. He wanted to tell him that’s what he was because he wasn’t sure whether or not Pitch knew that, but he couldn’t quite get the words out.

Pitch seemed to understand anyway. He loved Pitch so much. He took Jack’s face in his hand and leaned his forehead against his as he breathed, “I love you, Jack Frost. More than I can ever possibly say, and I will always love you. My beautiful, precious star.”

Jack shut his eyes tight as they prickled with tears again. “I…me too,” he finally managed to whisper then added in a whine, “Fuck me. Please. Pitch. Pitch. Pitch…!”

He recited his name like a prayer until Pitch was fully sheathed inside him, then he screamed, writhing and bucking on the table until Pitch had to cradle his head in his hand to stop him from bumping it against the table so many times. Jack swore and begged until Pitch started moving, then clung to him, clawing at his skin in pure desperation, every breath out a sigh of ecstasy and every breath in a gasp. He couldn’t control any part of himself, he was completely lost in pleasure and the seeking of it, his limbs acting of their own accord, the loud, humiliating, shameless sounds he was making feral and hardly even feeling his own.

He came so hard he swore he blacked out. It was just building and then all of a sudden it hit him hard, the absolute ecstasy just tearing him to pieces, shooting through him like a million shooting stars and burning him up, and when he became aware again, Pitch was still moving inside him. Instead of being overstimulated, Jack was relieved and moaning, begging, trying to rock his hips into him again. One hand reached down, smearing cum into his stomach. If he could have seen the way he was drooling on himself any other time he would have been embarrassed. He would have seen his fevered, tear streaked face contorted with pleasure and been mortified, but as it was all he cared about was how hot Pitch felt inside him, the explosion of sensation inside him every time he moved, and he was trying to beg him to fuck him hard, but he couldn’t form even a single word. His mind was melting.

When Pitch came inside him, smashing their hips together, Jack sobbed as the fever finally seemed to break and he came again hard on his stomach and chest. It was enough, it was finally actually enough. Pitch held him against his shoulder with desperation that was surprisingly equal to Jack’s own.

“It’s okay,” Jack slurred, absolutely fucked out of his mind, but somewhere in there he was still worried because he’d never seen Pitch cry before when they did stuff together, and he wanted to make sure he was okay too.

Pitch just buried his face in the crook of Jack’s shoulder as he scooped him limply into his arms and carried him to bed to rest.

——

Jack was amused but touched as Pitch continued to insist he rest later on when dinner preparations started. Despite not needing to eat, it turned out they both had a casual but steadfast interest in cooking, so they’d been meaning to have a…Jack refused to think “date night”, but that’s essentially what it was…for a while, mostly because Jack really wanted to see Pitch in action. He let Pitch do most of the heavy lifting and decision making because he honestly just really liked the chopping, the peeling, the measuring of ingredients out into little dishes and mixing, all things he was wondering now, in retrospect, if he enjoyed because it made him feel useful. Either way, Pitch insisted it was unnecessary and that he didn’t want him to be sore despite the, uh…medicine he’d insisted on giving him afterwards that should take care of most of that. But Jack was having too much fun and after giving him the big innocent puppy dog eyes and a sweet little, “Please, Pitch?” he’d let it go, despite Jack distinctly remembering Pitch claiming Jack’s charms didn’t work on him.

They settled into a companionable routine, and Jack felt kind of bad for having been worried they might butt heads. They’d done a little baking before, some breakfast type things during which Jack had spent most of his time face down at the center island while he listened to sizzling and the soothing drone of Pitch’s sporadic hum.

This was more of an ordeal though and he was excited to get involved, despite anticipating Pitch’s reluctance. Now he was rethinking where those thoughts had come from because, looking back on it, while Pitch could be impatient and sullen, he couldn’t think of a single time he’d ever griped about Jack wanting to participate in things. Even when it was something Jack knew nothing about or it was important or potentially dangerous, Pitch had always trusted Jack enough to be able to handle himself and follow instructions. He’d never assumed Jack would mess it up, or joke around the whole time, or anything like that. It was always a smile or a patient calm as he welcomed Jack’s involvement wholeheartedly. If anything, he seemed bewildered and fascinated by Jack’s interest in the first place.

No, the only reason Jack had expected that was because…that’s how The Guardians had been a lot of the time. Not always, though. North liked for Jack to help him sometimes with testing the toys or decorating the workshop, the kinds of easy, distraction type tasks you might give a kid. Bunny let him paint eggs one time, but had gotten frustrated with him and never let Jack touch anything ever again. And Tooth, she was great, but had everything so tightly under her control there wasn’t really anything she would want or need his help with, which was understandable. Even Sandy had let him help form dreams with his ice, but Jack quickly realized that even though it was fun and Sandy was happy to have him there, Jack wasn’t actually really helping. Mostly he was just making a mess, so he ended up telling Sandy he was tired, which he totally understood, and bowed out.

But this was…different. When Jack asked if there was any way he could help, Pitch said, “Certainly,” and handed him a giant knife then rattled off a list of instructions that made Jack feel excited rather than overwhelmed. When he was finished, he showed Pitch he was done, apologizing for this or that because honestly even though he liked cooking it wasn’t like he had a ton of experience or anything so it was probably too messy or done wrong or whatever. But Pitch just told him he did an excellent job and kissed the top of his head because his hands were messy and just like that Jack felt like they were actually working together. He was doing as much work as Pitch, he wasn’t sitting around watching him half the time, he was…he was involved. It felt amazing. It hurt. Everything that felt good always hurt.

Pitch caught his attention as he stopped and sighed heavily at the counter, looking annoyed. He went to his side to see what was wrong and saw him scowling at some apples it seemed he’d attempted to cut up to look like little birds. They weren’t all…bad. One of them did actually kind of look like a bird…sorta.

“Huh,” Jack breathed, his fingers feeling strange, his heart tight, but he shook it off and looked up at Pitch gently. “…mind if I try?”

Pitch waved his hand at the remaining apples in resignation, clearly frustrated, and trying to direct it elsewhere other than at Jack. “Be my guest. I certainly used to be able to do this, but apparently not anymore.”

Jack smiled brightly at him and hopped up on a clear space on the counter then picked up an apple and the paring knife, already sticky with juice. “Not gonna lie, socky, I’m stoked about eating those though,” he said, gesturing at the rejects on the cutting board.

Pitch’s irritation smoothed into surprise before he looked at him indignantly. “What did you call me?”

Jack flashed him his sweetest grin as he began working on the apple. “Socky? You’re my evil sock puppet, remember?”

Pitch scoffed and rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter next to Jack. “If anything, you’re the puppet. Perhaps that’s what I should be calling you.”

Jack snickered and flashed him a playful smirk, keeping his attention mostly on the sharp object in his hand. “Don’t you dare.”

“No? Even though I put my hand inside you and make you sing?”

Jack turned bright red, but after taking a moment to recover countered, “At least I’m not a sock.”

“Jack Frost, you are an absurd creature, and—“ Pitch stopped, staring at the apple in Jack’s hand in amazement.

Jack paused and looked at Pitch when he stopped talking abruptly. “Oh, yeah. I dunno,” he said with a small shrug as he continued working, easy as anything. “I just felt like I could do it. I’m not trying to one-up you or anything, I’ve never actually done this before, I just…I must have seen someone do it once or something. I don’t remember. It just looked fun.”

They both stared at amazement at the beautiful very thin fanned out slices Jack had maneuvered out of the apple to make it look like wings, along with tiny, tiny triangular cuts in just the right spots to shape it, clearly, into a bird. He felt strange looking at it. Like it wasn’t him that had done it. It was a lonely feeling he couldn’t place.

“As I was saying,” Pitch continued in a playfully affectionate tone, “You, Jack Frost, are a wonder, and I have been so lucky to know you.”

Jack beamed and set the apple down as he shoved Pitch away. “Stop that, that’s so nice! You’re so cheesy.”

Pitch moved closer to him again with a sly smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. “You don’t approve?”

Jack smiled nervously as Pitch got closer and closer until he finally slid his hands along Jack’s thighs lightly and stepped between them. “I…didn’t say that, I just…”

Pitch chuckled darkly, resting his fingertips featherlight on Jack’s cheek as he leaned in and softly kissed him.

Jack sighed in satisfaction across Pitch’s lips as Pitch pressed a hand to the small of his back and held him closer. The kiss was slow and lazy and made words completely unnecessary. He couldn’t stop smiling.

For a while they both forgot about whatever else they had been doing in favor of this, Jack taking the opportunity to run his fingers through Pitch’s thick dark hair for a change while Pitch ran his thumb slowly back and forth over his jaw. Jack was so happy and relaxed he felt fit to burst. He shouldn’t even be allowed to have this, someone he cared about so much who felt the same, who just got him perfectly, but it didn’t matter if he deserved it or not because Pitch was here and he wanted him and he was holding him and kissing him like Jack was all there was.

He was dazed as Pitch leaned away, just enough to look at him as he cradled his cheek. His voice was soft, dripping with adoration as he murmured, “I love you, Jack Frost. You know this?”

Jack was surprised by his own reaction. He’d expected to grin like an idiot, kiss him and say, “Of course I know, Pitch, I may have a low self-esteem, but I’m not completely blind.”

But that wasn’t what happened at all. It was like it hit him hard somewhere inside, in an organ he didn’t even know he had. First his breath got stuck in his throat, then he winced. He wanted to close his eyes, to turn away, but he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed as he admired Pitch’s eyes, then nodded once, blinking away tears.

“Yeah…yeah, I knew that,” he whispered. “I…definitely…love you. A lot, actually. It’s…really scary.” He let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, smiling as Pitch cradled his face in both hands and kissed him again and he must have been pouring so much emotion into it because Jack felt it, hard. It was as if they had tapped into the same vein of darkness in each other and Pitch was using this connection to flood Jack with his feelings for him. And Jack was drowning in it. He was filled with such a sweet ache as he felt what Pitch was trying to say: I see you, I love you, I believe in you. It was perfect, and too much. Jack gasped and ducked away from the kiss with a sob, his heart aching.

Pitch shushed him gently and pulled him into his arms, rubbing his back. “Shh. You’re alright, my star.”

Jack wrapped his arms around his back and laid his head on his shoulder, still letting out little hiccuping sobs and gasps. It was just too much. Pitch cared about him so…so—….he couldn’t possibly describe the feelings of existential bliss washing over him to realize that someone loved him that much, that he could be so close to someone and seen by someone when he once thought he was completely lost and broken beyond repair or forgiveness. But that people could love each other like this at all? That the heart was capable of it? It took his breath away.

Pitch’s little chuckle in his ear brought him back down to earth a little bit and he opened his eyes. “I was trying to keep this all light and fun. Instead, I’ve made you cry. I think, perhaps…I may not be very good at this.”

Jack let out a small burst of laughter and wiped his eyes. “No, no, you’re great at this. Really. Seriously, I’m just…I’m small, Pitch. I can’t fit all that inside me at once.”

Pitch raised his eyebrows at him and Jack knew it was too late to take back what he said. “You think so, Jack? I thought it would be no trouble after seeing how you took my entire cock in your tiny little—“

“Pitch,” he moaned. “God, I would…love…love to go again, but I think it’ll kill me, and, you know…besides, we’re working with perishables here.”

It was Pitch’s turn to burst out laughing, leaning back so he wasn’t right in Jack’s face as he started laughing too.

“My apologies,” Pitch finally said, smirking broadly as he stepped back. “But that was entirely your own fault.”

Jack grinned as he hopped off the counter. “True.” He looked up at Pitch, and realized he actually was the happiest he’d ever been. “What’s next?”

They continued cooking together and it turned out way better than Jack thought it would, to be honest. It was an incredible meal, actually, and they’d made way too many different dishes, half of which Jack still couldn’t pronounce. Dessert was his favorite part, of course, except when Pitch was the first to suggest they save the clean up for later. It was unlike him, but he knew Pitch had to be tired from fucking his brains out, so it made sense.

Jack tended to stick closer to a more human sort of schedule, though not always. It came from spending so much time with humans pretending he was one, he guessed. It was nice not needing to sleep all the time, but sometimes when it got late it felt like a good time to do it.

Pitch snuggled him close in his favorite armchair and read a book as Jack laid against him, just relaxing and soaking up the sort of contact he’d gone without for so long. He considered whether or not he should straight up ask Pitch what this was all about, cause it was starting to make him nervous, but he didn’t want to blow his cover if there was some reason he was acting like it was their last day on earth. Pitch was smooth, but he wasn’t that smooth, and Jack wasn’t that dense.

It was a close call though, he’d give him that. He didn't suspect anything right away. Whatever it was, good or bad, he was sure he’d tell him when he was ready.

Still, he thought, eyelids growing heavy, he was worried. It was hard to worry too much about anything as Pitch tightened his arm around him, gathering him closer into his side. He was willing to bet when he woke up he’d miraculously be in bed.

——

“Jack…”

Jack shut his eyes tighter, trying to go back into the dream he was having. He felt so cool. He wished he could feel like that all the time. Guess super powers ain’t everything.

“Jack…?”

He went very still as his brain suddenly registered what was strange. Where’d he fallen asleep where there would be children?

“Jack!”

He gasped and sat up in the armchair, clutching his chest as he looked around and tried to get his bearings, head frantically darting about. He was alone. Where had Pitch gone? The cushions were cold. There was a shiny thing on the table, but first he had to figure…figure out…where the…

“Jaaack…”

He felt strange. Not just because the voice of the little girl was coming from the gold box he finally realized was one of Tooth’s memory boxes, but because he recognized it. Because it hurt to recognize it. He knew that voice.

Heart twisting painfully, he slowly slid out of the chair and stepped over to the box, scared to look at it, yet never having wanted anything more than to just grab it. Because he knew that voice, he definitely knew that voice.

“Hello?” he called out, feeling stupid.

He got no response.

He looked around the room anxiously, wondering where Pitch had gone, and…maybe he should ask him about this first? If he put it there, why? If he didn’t, who did and was it dangerous? It had to be some kind of weird trap, right? Because…because he didn’t have…

He approached the table, eyes fixated on the box. It really was beautiful and yes, it had a little picture of him on it, with brown hair and brown eyes, but that was him alright. These were his memories.

“…but…but I wasn’t anybody before I was Jack Frost,” he told the empty room and realized he was shaking. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the tiny image of himself as he whispered, “…right?”

He took a breath, held it, then reached out and picked up the apple—he was in a tiny kitchen, holding an apple.

“It’s super easy, I’ll teach you. Here, yeah, like that. Just don’t get cut or Mom will kill me.”

He wiped tears and snot off on the rough fabric of his sleeve like a damn kid, cursing himself, and Nathan. Apparently a kid was all he was, would ever be, for expecting anything different. What did he think was going to happen, anyway, they were going to run off together? And then what, get married? Stupid. So stupid. When he finally climbed back in through the window to his bedroom he was grateful for the dark, but not the quiet.

“Look, I tried, I just, I was tired after yesterday and I thought I’d be able to look after them better if I took a quick—“ “No, Jack, that doesn’t work this time. You see this? You see what you’ve done? How are you going to replace the sheep that were lost, huh? I’m supposed to do that for you too, am I?” “I know…I know, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I’ll…whatever you want, Dad, okay? Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. And Mama too.” “And Mary! She’s still in her room crying, Jackson, after seeing all that blood and guts, she’s not used to it like us. She’s not supposed to be used to it.”

Especially after the sort of year they’d had, Jack knew there was no way he could ask for ice skates for Christmas. No way, he didn’t even need to look at the price tag, these would cost a fortune, and as they loved to remind him, he wasn’t a kid anymore. He should be thinking about finding a wife, buying land, and most importantly Mary, because it was almost Christmas and she was still just a kid, after all. And he was thinking of her, kinda, because she always wanted him to go with her and he had to just slip around in his shoes when they went. By the time she’d been old enough to learn, his old pair didn’t even come close to fitting him anymore, and he tried to teach her, but it just wasn’t the same, and she always ended up frustrated and crying. But…if he was being…completely honest…he just wanted them for him. He wanted them so bad. He could get really good at it, he was sure of it, and he’d always loved winter and the cold, it would be so much fun. And, god, these skates in the shop window…they were just perfect…

“Jack, I’m scared!”

“-really proud of you, Jackson. So proud. You’ve done so much better with the sheep lately. You know what I think? I think you’ll turn out to be a mighty fine shepherd.”

“It’s okay! You’re-…you’re gonna be okay, just…uh…”

Mary grinned and held up something that almost kind of looked like a bird…sort of. He ruffled her hair and grinned. “Good job, pip.”

It was hard to be scared of the dark when it was so much fun. Nighttime was the best time: it had the coolest animals, the least people telling him what to do, the starry sky, and okay, maybe he liked being scared a little bit and so maybe he still, even as an adult, played that one game by himself, facing his back to the pitch black woods just to see how long it would take him to get too scared. It wasn’t that he wasn’t scared. He just liked the feeling, most of the time. He liked the way the warm wind blew like breath on his neck, the rustle of leaves became footsteps, and the shadows loomed tall. None of it could really touch him, but it was fun to get scared. As long as his family was okay, he was fine. That was his only real weakness. So who cared if he still believed in The Boogeyman? He could have this bit of freedom, at least, and no one had to know he took the long way through the woods at night on purpose because it made him feel less alone.

—the last time. He didn’t care if Mary would be sad, he didn’t care if Nathaniel wasn’t coming with him, he was going. He had his favorite horse, his pack, and the light of the moon. The cool night air felt soothing on the red sting of his face, and it was going to be alright. He’d ride until Lucy got tired and then they’d find somewhere to spend the night. But he wasn’t going back to that damned house. Ever. Mary would be fine, she was always the favorite anyway. She wasn’t “odd” like he was, she liked boys like she was supposed to. She’d get over it eventually. He clung to this as he got to the top of the hill and stopped. Lucille nickered uneasily as she picked up on his sudden desperate fear as doubt crept into his mind. Because no matter where he went, he would still be him. And that was the problem. He couldn’t run away from that, now could he? He sat in the quiet, catching his breath and sniffling as he wiped away tears, then he turned and headed back home.

—wasn’t sure if he really deserved them though. Mary must have told them. Yeah, he’d been doing good work, no major incidents, but he still messed everything else up, as his mother loved to remind him. As his dad still expected him to do, even when he was trying to be kind. Nobody believed in him. Well…at least now he could take Mary ice skating properly. But they were right. All of them, the people in town, his parents, Nathan. It was time to grow up. It was time to stop being afraid. At this rate, he was as bad as his kid sister who still believed in The Boogeyman.

…

She was too panicked. As soon as the ice started to crack, Mary froze up and couldn’t do a thing. She shook from head to the wobbling blades of her ice skates. He’d never seen her so scared. She didn’t even know how to use them yet.

Swearing under his breath, Jack took his beloved ice skates off, ignoring the cracks forming under his own feet, and carefully set them aside. It was never going to hold. If he scattered immediately, sure, he would probably make it to shore, but he couldn’t go now. No. Mary first. Mary first, and he’d worry about everything else later.

“We’re gonna play a game instead.”

“No, we’re not!”

If he could loosen the grip terror had on her heart, despite his own feeling like it was entombed in ice he was so out of his mind with fear, they could get through this. It was fine. He just needed her a little bit closer to him.

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes! You’re always playing tricks!”

He smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, well, not this time,” he assured her with a shaky laugh.

If he stayed calm and showed her she didn’t have to be afraid, they would be okay. He could do that. God, he couldn’t believe he’d ever considered leaving her behind. She was his kid sister, but she was his best friend too.

“Do you trust me?”

At first, Mary didn’t seem to buy it, but slowly, her eyes went round, she remembered how to breathe, and he was so damn proud of her as he watched her find the strength she needed to overcome her fear. But she wasn’t going to have to do it alone. She believed in him. He would show her there was nothing to be afraid of.

“It’s just like hopscotch, like we play everyday,” he said, grinning. “It’s just…one.” He took a step, flashed her a mischievous smile and dramatically pretended he was losing his balance, arms cycling wildly. “Wooaahhh!”

Mary let out a puff of startled laughter, like she could hardly believe she was laughing now, of all times.

“Two…”

He just needed her to be brave enough to take a few more steps forward. There was no way the ice would hold if he got any closer, but she was small. She could totally do this.

“Three. Now you try.”

Here we go. Please.

“One.”

She took a step, and the ice immediately cracked more. Her eyes shot up to him fearfully, searching for reassurance, and he nodded, encouraging her forward, both of them knowing the danger she was in.

“Two…”

He might be leading her right to her own death and he’d never been so scared in his life as he was right then. The fear he’d once relished wasn’t fun anymore. But she believed in him so he had to believe in himself.

Just one more…

“Three.”

He snatched her off the deteriorating patch of ice and flung her towards the safety of the shore. She slid haphazardly across the ice until she finally skidded to a stop.

They looked at each other in disbelief. He let out a breathless laugh as relief flooded his body. She smiled at him, hardly daring to believe everything was going to be okay, and then her smile turned to shock as Jack plummeted through the ice and was instantly submerged. She was reaching for him, and all he could think was, oh, please god, don’t try to help me, get away. Get somewhere safe.

As for him, as soon as he was hit by the freezing water, his body spasmed involuntarily and forgot how to move correctly, let alone swim. Instead, he floundered frantically, breaking the ice further and sending him further down into the depths of the lake. There was nothing anywhere within reach to pull him back towards safety. Even if there was, he was panicking too much to tell up from down because his spasming chest was trying to force him to gasp and breathe in the ice cold water and, god, it burned already, what would it feel like inside him?

Somebody, please…!

The light was getting further and further away. He managed not to take a breath, but his body shivered so violently there was nothing he could do but sink. Terror began to devour his heart in a way he didn’t even know was possible as he realized, for certain, he was going to die. No one was going to save him. There was no one at all. Even if Mary tried, there was nothing she could do and she was just going to get herself killed if she tried.

He was going to die.

Maybe because of that realization, the acceptance, what the cold was doing to his brain, and the fear, maybe that was why he hallucinated being cradled by something warm when he needed it most. Hands held him in the dark as he took his last breath, and, feeling safe as he looked into golden eyes, he let go.

…

…

“Who are you?”

“Pitch. Pitch Black.”

“What? That’s…that’s not funny.”

It sounded like the man was smirking as he began running the fingers of both hands alternatively through his hair. He shivered violently, forgetting whatever he’d been unhappy about a second ago.

“I don’t know,” the man purred, “It’s a little bit funny. You don’t think so? …And what is your name, little spirit?”

“You haven’t even told me your real name, why should I tell you mine?”

“I’ve told you my name.”

“Seriously? Pitch Black?” He paused, considering this, then couldn’t help but smile…just a bit. It felt foreign on his face. After all, he’d never smiled before.

“…alright, that’s a little funny,” he finally admitted softly.

-

“...it’s not everyday a corpse comes back to life simply of its own free will.”

Jack really did pull away from Pitch now, clawing at his own chest as he stared, eyes wide and unseeing into the darkness. He felt dangerously off-kilter.

“Jack? Am I Jack?”

“I don’t know, are you?” the dark echoed back to him.

-

An arm settled heavily around him, locking him into place before the fingers of the other hand ran slowly up his neck and into the hair on the back of his head, cradling it. “You’re alright,” Pitch’s voice purred from just over his head.

“I’m so scared,” he whispered.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, but was still relieved when he heard Pitch murmur gently into his ear, “I will look after you. You have my promise, Jack.”

He liked it when Pitch said his name.

-

A hand took his chin firmly and made him look up. “Make no mistake, Jack, you are mine…you wander anywhere in the dark, afraid, and think I cannot find you?”

“Yours? I’m not yours, what does that even mean?”

“Did you not call for me? Boy, you have so much fear inside you, you don’t know what to do with it.” He stroked his thumb along his jaw and Jack shivered with heat rather than cold as Pitch added in a dangerously low purr, “But I do.”

“S…so anytime I call for you, you’ll come?”

Pitch released him in disgust. “No. I’ll come when I’m in the mood to or when your fear is appealing enough to me.”

“But you did come.”

“Pardon?”

Jack grinned. “You’re sooo busy, but you still came. Does that mean you wanted to see me?”

“Are your ear canals frozen shut? Yes, because I love nothing more than to spend my downtime babysitting whiny corpses, it has nothing at all to do with the fact that you’re such an easy target all I have to do is appear and you throw yourself into my arms so I can feast on your fear.”

Jack went stiff then after a moment of shock pulled away, chest aching like he’d fallen from a good height and couldn’t catch his breath.

“...an easy target,” he muttered, half to himself, dazed. Of course he was. Suddenly, he felt incredibly foolish for even suggesting Pitch might actually want to be here. Why would anyone want to be here, dealing with him? A corpse. He felt dazed and humiliated.

He wasn’t sure if he actually heard guilt in Pitch’s voice or not, but it was much gentler and contained a note of apology as he quietly reassured him, “...Jack, I am not going to leave you here. And I don’t particularly mind coming when you call either. If you call for me, I will come. I don’t need your fear, and that’s not why I come when you call my name. Satisfied?”

-

“You said…you knew what this was like.”

“I do.”

“So this happened to you?”

“I control the shadows. But before I controlled them, they controlled me…and I was lost to them for a long time, reliving my worst nightmares over and over, repeatedly gaining awareness and then losing myself. Truthfully, this isn’t even close, but I have a bit of a bleeding heart for those finding themselves lost in the dark in this way.”

He was suddenly terrified that because he had asked, made Pitch talk about this traumatic thing, he wouldn’t want to deal with Jack anymore. Too much trouble. Most people decided he was too much trouble. He made a mess of everything. Maybe some kids didn’t deserve the birch rod, but he did. He just knew it. Because if he didn’t deserve it, then what did that mean?

“I don’t think you’re too much trouble, or I wouldn’t be here. You didn’t make me do anything, Jack. You realize this, don’t you?”

…

He tried to play it cool. He really did, but already a wicked smirk was cutting across Pitch’s stupidly handsome face.

He actually did look like a king. He was intimidating as hell, he gave off an aura of unending confidence and mischievousness that made Jack’s insides melt.

Pitch put his hand out, palm up, an offer, and it seemed a lot more daunting now, but they’d been doing this all along and it was totally fine and obviously Pitch didn’t mind. So, finally, Jack reached out and put his hand in his. He looked at their hands with fascination, because this wasn’t supposed to feel this good, so warm and comfortable, it wasn’t supposed to make his heart hurt.

It was all just going to hurt a lot more than he’d originally thought it would. But…maybe he should just be grateful and take what he could get.

Besides, Pitch had said he was his, right?

-

“Here, I’ve got you,” he whispered as he took him into his arms like he was going to carry him to bed, like this was just routine. Despite how mercilessly they’d been teasing each other, Jack felt instantly safer.

Pitch whispered soothing little nothings back to him, nuzzling into his hair as they sank back down into the dark. Jack was surprised to find he didn’t mind. The dark reminded him of Pitch, of his hands, his gentle words.

-

Pitch heaved a great sigh, sounding impossibly burdened, maybe even afraid.

He must have been further gone than he’d thought because he had no idea what that meant.

-

“I haven’t the foggiest. Shall we go see? Or does sleeping beauty need a moment?”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful? You’re not too bad on the eyes either, your majesty.”

-

“You’ll do much worse things that will genuinely infuriate me in the future, rest assured.”

“You…I…wait, what? You…are even going to give me a chance to piss you off more in the future?”

“...perhaps once I take you with me after, then,” Pitch drawled, but nonetheless smiled a little before pressing a kiss this time to Jack’s palm before letting it go.

“You think I would do all of this only out of pity? Let me be perfectly clear, Jack: I like this. I like you.”

Pitch then leaned in and kissed Jack lightly on the cheek, then the jaw, then the neck before finally releasing him, and Jack couldn’t imagine how he’d ever been cold in any part of his body ever.

-

“…my hair is white? That’s…that’s insane, I…I must look so stupid!”

Pitch couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, absolutely. Everyone has a type; mine is people that look stupid, apparently.”

“What’s my type, then? Giant, evil sock puppets?”

He was half worried Pitch would be mad, but he just cackled.

-

What if something went wrong and these were his last moments with Pitch? Should he tell him how he felt more directly? Was it stupid for him to feel like this?

“Pitch. I…”

“I know, you’re alright. You–...” Pitch went quiet abruptly, reading Jack’s fear, and Jack winced, embarrassed. “Jack,” he breathed, brushing hair from his face. “...you needn’t be afraid of that.”

He felt the heat of Pitch’s breath before he felt his lips pressing into his, chaste but insistent, burning. Jack’s eyes fluttered closed and for an instant he was too knocked over the head by bliss to remember he was meant to respond, and then he leaned eagerly into the kiss, lips parted as he let out a helpless little sound. The hand that gathered his face closer was familiar and comforting, but the way Pitch tilted his head and kissed him like it really could have been both the first and the last time made Jack’s head spin.

Any concentration he had left began to slip away from him then, and he let out a soft whimper of protest because this was the only place he wanted to be and he was being dragged away.

Pitch hummed against his lips, placed several more small kisses to them, and whispered, “I’ll see you soon, Jack.”

…

……

He clutched his head in his hands, falling to his knees and gasping for breath. He knelt there on the stone, skinned, raw, shaking head to toe as he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep the shattered pieces of himself together.

He wanted to scream, it was trying to come up like vomit, but it kept getting stuck somewhere and all that came out was a pitiful little whimper of, “No.”

Pitch knew. He knew all of it. He caused all of it. All this time when he was holding him and claiming to love him, every time he fucked him, before and after every apology, he knew what he’d done. He’d stalked him, he’d killed him, he’d abandoned him and then he’d lied about all of it.

With a wave of dizziness and nausea, he was suddenly staggering to his feet and screaming Pitch’s name in a mixture of rage and desperate terror. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. He grabbed his staff, but already, even without it, the ice was spreading from his feet, fractals bleeding across the room as they looked for a way to escape the closed in space, crackling up over the walls and the furniture. His mind felt fractured. Somewhere deep down he recognized he was too far gone for there to be any hope of talking this through, but he still needed Pitch and he needed him now.

And then Pitch was there, his face a mask of agony as he strode towards him across the room. He reached for his hand with a soft plea of, “Jack…please, let me–”

He felt Pitch’s hand on his and jerked out of his grasp, falling in his haste to get away from him. His hip hit the stone hard before he scrambled back, fear swimming in the whites of his eyes. His back hit the leg of the table and he sat there, staring up at Pitch, his chest heaving.

“Don’t…don’t touch me…”

For the first time he was actually genuinely afraid of Pitch because he realized he was so completely out of his depth. He had no idea who or what he was really looking at. He could see the handsome, worried face of the man he’d fallen in love with and now he was pretty sure, not only did that man not exist, but he’d never even been real. The man Jack had known all this time, who loved him and cared for him, kept him safe, and let Jack see him at his most vulnerable, that man would never…ever do this. Not then, not now, not ever.

He was terrified of the way he wanted, even now, for Pitch’s tortured expression to be genuine, for him to pull Jack into his arms, hold him, and say it was all a misunderstanding or a trick somehow, but he knew it wasn’t. All he knew for sure now was this Pitch Black, this thing, could twist Jack up into whatever he wanted and he couldn’t fight and he couldn’t run or hide and he’d never been so afraid in his life because it hurt and there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

He sat there, leaning back on one hand, the other shaking out in front of him as if it was any sort of self-defense when the problem was inside him. He wanted to tear it all out of him in bloody wads of memories he didn’t need anymore, throw it all at Pitch, make him take them back.

“How could you do this?” he sobbed, and rather than fierce, his voice just sounded broken. “How could you…you said you…I believed you, I believed you and you killed me. You took everything from me and then you abandoned me. And then you lied, and…” His voice fell away and his face crumpled. He pulled his knees up to his chest and put his arms over his head to hide then let out a cry of grief before whispering to himself over and over again, “I knew it, I fucking knew it, I fucking knew it, I fucking knew it…”

“Jack, please, I wasn’t trying to do you any harm,” Pitch insisted, sinking onto his knees in front of him. “I swear it. I–”

Jack covered his ears and shut his eyes tight. “Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up…!”

How much longer would Jack play the fool everyone knew he was? He had to think.

Pitch made sure he came to Jack when he was at his most vulnerable, and now Jack didn’t even know, were his own feelings even real?

If a monster looked like a monster, it wouldn’t be a very good one. It would probably go hungry. It would probably starve. It wouldn’t live for thousands and thousands of years, going undefeated, surviving however it needed to. Wearing whatever disguise it needed.

What’s a better source of food when you eat fear than something that refuses to leave your side? Because now Jack was properly scared of him, wasn’t he?

“You’re a monster,” Jack whimpered, looking up at Pitch, seeing him for the first time. “They were right. They were all right, and I didn’t listen…” He took a deep shuddering breath and looked up at the ceiling as tears ran down his face.

Pitch was speaking, but Jack couldn’t hear him. He was falling inward, spiraling, trying and failing to concentrate because this might be his last chance. What he did now would change everything, it was all riding on this and he couldn’t think, not with Pitch looking at him like that and pleading with him. Even now, he was hoping Pitch would force him to stay. He wanted to be wrong, he wanted to let Pitch convince him his remorse and worry were real, and sink into his arms. If he’d only walked away from this in the beginning it would have been so much less painful, but did he still have a chance of surviving this? Did he even want to? Maybe it wasn’t even worth it. Maybe being Pitch’s pet was a better fate than trying to live, knowing what he’d lost.

It was that thought, and the fact that he was actually considering it, that made Jack panic, clutch his wrist to his chest, and silently beg North’s tattoo to take him away from here.

Chapter Text

He wouldn’t tell them. He couldn’t. It had been a while since any of them had seen him, but he’d seemed well, he’d seemed happy, and it was one thing for him to be a wreck over some fight or something, but he wasn’t even Jack anymore. He wouldn’t talk to them. He wouldn’t even look at them, he just wanted to be left alone, for days and days. He refused good dreams, he refused food, company, anything he might have once found fun or that made him feel safe. He didn’t want it anymore.

All he wanted to do was lay there and think about all the things he’d lost and pretend they were his again.

But it was about time he grew up, wasn’t it?

“Jack?” Through the crack in the door to the random workshop guest room he’d claimed, Tooth called for him, and got no response. The door creaked open and she hovered into the little dark bedroom, closing the door behind her tentatively. She could tell he was still in the bed in the dark, facing the wall on his side just how she’d seen him last time he was here.

They kept asking him about Pitch, because that was all they really knew. They wanted to know if he was hurt. They saw the bruises on his neck and shoulders, he knew they did. He knew what they thought had happened to him. Let them think it. It didn’t matter.

“Jack, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but is it okay if I talk to you for a while?” She paused, waited, and continued when she got no response. Jack stared at the dark wood paneling a foot or so from his face.

“We really missed you, you know, when you were gone down there. We’ve all been so worried about you…we still are. Maybe now more than ever. We understand you’re not ready to talk about what happened…and that’s okay, because you’re safe with us again. You know that, don’t you? That’s what matters and no matter what, we’re here for you.”

She paused for a while, her anxiety floating in the air like a mist. “I…think we haven’t been here for you. That’s right…isn’t it?” It didn’t really sound like a question. “There’s…no excuse. We’re always busy, so much that we forget how important friendship is. How important love is. I love the kids, but…it’s different, the way I love you, you know? You’re right here in front of me. I know you, I see you, you’ve made our strange, hectic immortal lives so much better and happier since we met. When you came around, it was like this little light went back on that we didn’t even know was out. It’s made such a difference…really. I feel…” There was another pause, and Jack realized she was crying as she spoke again and her voice sounded thicker. “I feel like…we haven’t given you…nearly as much as you’ve given us. And then when you trusted us, you ended up in a situation just like this, in one of these beds. We really let you down, huh? …yeah. I feel so…responsible for whatever happened to you. The only person who’s fault this isn’t is yours, Jack. You’re not to blame for any of this one bit. There was nothing you could have done different. Pitch is smart. He’s ancient and he knows how to get what he wants. That’s why we work as a team…but somewhere along the way…we shut you out. And I’m so…so sorry, Jack.”

There was more sniffling in the silence that followed as she sat beside him and cried, and he cried too.

I loved him, he wanted to say. Even more than that he wanted to say the truth: I still love him. But he didn’t. He stayed silent.

“We love you, Jack. And we are here for you now, truly. All of us. We’ll get through this together, okay? You’re being really brave and we’re so proud of you, but you don’t have to do it alone.” She moved back up off the bed. “I’ll be back later, okay, Jack? Just call any of us if you need anything, okay?”

She waited a while then he heard a sigh, then the door open and close again, and once more he was alone.

…

He didn’t keep track of time, didn’t even try, but eventually North came to see him. Jack didn’t feel much other than despair or numbness at the moment, but there was room for a faint bit of surprise that North seemed so quiet and subdued as he entered, pulled up a chair beside the bed, and sat in it.

“Hello Jack. It’s good to see you again, but I wish I could be seeing more of you. But I know you are having a hard time so please do not be worrying about what I want. I only say this because I want you to know that you are wanted. Right now, it is time to think about you, and how we can be helping you.” There was a heavy sigh. “Has seemed very quiet around the workshop without you, you know. Even with all the hustlings and bustlings, I’ve always liked a little bit of, ehhh, chaos? Keeps me on toes. Is a very good thing, keeps yetis on toes too. I think it is good for them.” He chuckled and was quiet for a time.

It was odd to be in the same room with North and have it be so silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not anymore than it was when Jack was alone, anyway. He wished he could talk to North, but what would he say? He didn’t even know how to begin explaining.

He’d followed Pitch back to his lair of his own free will; yes, he’d been threatened, but he’d been relieved he had an excuse to go with Pitch at all. Something was going on between them and he wanted to know what it was. Then he’d been imprisoned, had his staff taken from him, and been psychologically tortured until his mind broke. Then he’d been painstakingly cared for and seen a side of Pitch he’d never seen before, one that was kind, gentle, and remorseful. He’d given Jack so much trust and made himself vulnerable by returning his things, opening up to him about his past, and making real change and then…Jack had the chance to see the real Pitch even more, he’d thought. He’d been happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. And then he’d loved him fiercely, and for the first time ever felt truly loved and seen and believed in. And then…and then…

Why did Pitch even give those memories back to him? To taunt him? Jack was a strong ally to have, so why ruin it? Did he expect him to come back?

“It may cheer you up to know,” North cut into his thoughts, “That we have been working on big plan to launch counterattack on Pitch, take his nightmares, and stop him once and for all from—“

“No.” Jack’s voice was hoarse from disuse, and as unexpected by him as by North, who was abruptly silent. He swallowed and tried again. “Don’t. That’s…you don’t have to do that.”

When North spoke, his voice was filled with sympathy and Jack hated it. “Jack…”

“Just…just leave him alone. I know, the kids. We’ll find another way.”

North paused, and Jack felt sick. “You still care for him.”

Jack didn’t respond.

“Well, Jack, we are still caring for you. If there is any way, any way at all we can help, please tell us. Any of us, and we will do everything we can. You are one of us. You are family, and everything? It will turn out alright in the end. Of this, I am absolutely sure.”

After the heavy part of the chat, North continued on with things more lighthearted, simply telling Jack about workshop operations, new projects of his he thought Jack would like, such as a sled shaped like an airplane North was designing to fly for a short while a small distance off the ground, and stories about yeti drama, which was actually pretty complicated and Jack would have found it interesting if he wasn’t busy being miserable. He appreciated North’s attempt to talk to him about silly things, since everything was just way too much all of a sudden. He almost remembered when things used to be simple.

Once North was gone though, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said about Pitch. They were going to do something awful to him.

Good, he thought. He deserved every bit of it. The person Jack loved never even existed. It was just lies on top of lies on top of lies. He fiddled with the snowflake tattoo on his wrist, wishing he had one to bring him to Pitch so he could warn him, afraid for him, hating him, wishing he’d never heard the name Pitch Black.

But he had. He’d known Pitch’s name before he’d even known his own.

He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask him if any of it meant anything to him, but if he’d lied to him for so long how could he even know anything he said was true now? He could just lie the way he lied about everything else. But he couldn’t stop thinking about it all, going through everything over and over, and he wondered, for how long? How long before the accident at the lake did Pitch follow Jack? He couldn’t prove it absolutely, but he could see the connection between everything now that it was all laid out. The way his sister had just suddenly been too scared to move, he knew it was him, and he knew Pitch was doing it just to get to him. But why? Revenge because he stopped believing in him? He would have known the one thing that would scare him most and that was anything bad happening to Mary. Jack was positive that’s what happened.

He gripped the comforter on the bed tightly and willed himself to just disappear, wishing he had a tattoo for that.

——

Jack hadn’t gotten out of bed once and after all that time, his already pale complexion looked washed out and sickly. His hair and eyes were dull and matte. He wasn’t even sure he could get up anymore. He wondered if this was the only way a spirit could truly die, by letting themselves just fade away.

He felt like he was dying.

He’d cried a lot at first. He sobbed until his throat ached, until his pillow was soaked, twisting his hands in the blanket, writhing in grief, and that was the one and only time he knew exactly what message to send Pitch, imagining there was any chance of being heard. He sent him that feeling. The twisted, agonizing mess of grief and betrayal. The knowledge of what Pitch took from him, and how it was breaking him. He wanted him to know that. He didn’t know if it worked or not. He didn’t get a response.

Eventually, grief turned to an aching numbness that made it impossible for him to cry. He tried. He brought himself back to that one perfect moment and imagined Pitch holding him and saying, “I love you, Jack Frost,” looking at him with those golden eyes, so soft as they gazed at him like he was the world. But even then he couldn’t cry. He just laid there in the dark.

Sandy came to visit. At least it was quiet, but when he opened his eyes and saw the sand that reminded him so much of Pitch’s nightmare sand, of his nightmares, like Mora, he was sure he was going to cry then and he almost did. His eyes glistened with tears, but not enough for them to fall.

Sandy offered him a sad smile as he sat next to him in a chair he’d conjured made of golden sand and just stayed there for a while. It should have been awkward, but they were on the same page, and it helped that Sandy didn’t look uncomfortable at all. Just sad.

Finally, Jack muttered, “Sandy, if you have something to say can you just…just do that?”

Sandy shook his head a little and made a little model of Jack appear above his head.

“If I wanted to talk, I wouldn’t be in here, now would I?”

Sandy winced and nodded in understanding. Jack sighed and closed his eyes, wanting to feel guilty and only feeling the familiar numbness that was his new normal. “You…want me to talk about what happened. I don’t know what happened. I…went through some fucked up shit, but most of it was g—“ Abruptly, he found the tears he’d been looking for all at once and they were trying to come up in his throat, but got stuck and he couldn’t speak. He closed his eyes tight, swallowed and tried again. “Good. So good. I was so happy, Sandy. I know that sounds weird, but I’m…you know, part of me wants to forget him completely, and the other part is just so grateful I got to be that happy at all. Like maybe I could just…just keep that, you know? And…”

He clawed at his chest, making a small noise of distress and Sandy reached for him, worried, but Jack pulled away. Instead, Sandy respectfully let Jack have a moment, resting his hand sympathetically on the bed as if to say, I’m here.

When Jack opened his eyes, Sandy flashed a picture of Pitch over his head as he made a fist and punched his other hand, his intentions clear.

It wasn’t Sandy’s fault. It really wasn’t, the images were just how he talked. For him, it was like saying Pitch’s name, and he couldn’t blame him for not realizing how the glittering golden model of Pitch’s solemn, handsome face, standing elegantly with his hands neatly clasped behind his back would tear him open.

Jack let out a short, ragged cry and curled into himself before blocking his face with his arm, less so that he couldn’t see the figure of Pitch and more so because he was ashamed.

“Just…just…no. I don’t want that.” He rolled over as all the strength went out of him.

After fretting over him for a while helplessly, Sandy left, and Jack thought about how good Pitch looked in gold.

Jack fell asleep, and he dreamed. Maybe Sandy had tried to give him a good dream, but in the end Jack would decide he preferred nightmares.

…

……

He really was trying his best not to pass out. He knew that made her even more angry, first of all. Second, he didn’t love the idea of what she might do to him while he was unconscious, like throw him in with the horse shit or the composting worms, or tie him outside naked again. At least he wouldn’t freeze to death this time. Ha ha.

And, lastly, he was just a stubborn little bastard that didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

Reminding him of that helped him perk up a bit and he opened his eyes to look around and see why her steel toed boots weren’t digging into his ribs anymore. He was stunned and horrified when he saw who his boss was speaking to.

Jack forced himself up onto one hip, spat out some blood, then craned his head back to look up at the two of them. If he didn’t at least try and nip this in the bud, he’d be lucky to avoid living in the pit for the next month.

Jack forced himself to his feet, staggering and wobbly, but he made his way over to the two of them and offered King Pitchiner a tremulous smile. “Hey…hey, it’s…your highness, I mean, I uh…” He could feel himself drooling and wiped his chin on his sleeve. It came away red. His head was killing him. “It’s not a big deal. I totally deserved it this time, really, I…I’m fine. It looks bad, but this is just…you know…”

Shit, he was having a hard time thinking straight. His head was swimming. The barn was moving all around them. He drifted to the side a little, but caught himself.

Pitchiner didn’t seem to like that. He wasn’t sure what it was he’d said wrong, but the look he was giving the two of them now made the stable boy want to hide behind his boss who’d nearly beaten him to death, but was much larger than Jack and therefore stood the best chance against Pitchiner.

“Got into a bit of a spat with one of the other stable hands, you know the type, always scrappin’, messin’ about,” his boss added quickly. “Poor little guy. Don’t worry, kid, we’ll get you fixed right up.”

Yeah, right, Jack thought.

“So this is something that happens often?” Pitchiner asked, gesturing to Jack, who was barely staying on his feet, covered in blood, snot, and bile.

“It’s…” his boss stammered. “It’s…rarely, your eminence, they know better. I tell ‘em to keep these things out of work, but no, just every once in a while…this one, he’s a real problem around here, your highness, always causing trouble.”

Jack, who had not been adequately following along with the lie being spun, agreed readily, “No…yep…I uh…ask anybody, sir.”

“Your highness,” his boss hissed viciously.

“No need to be so formal,” Jack mumbled reflexively, his eyes sliding closed. He was trying to keep his gaze focused on the king, gauging his reaction to all of this, but there was blood and sweat in his eye and he couldn’t really tell what kind of face he was making.

“See? He never learns,” his boss muttered with clear disdain.

“Will he even be able to complete his duties like this?” Pitchiner asked.

“Oh yes, your highness. He’s a tough one.”

“Oh yeah, shoulda…seen me last time I pissed her off, that was…thought I was gonna die and I was back the next day. Ha ha…nah, I totally got this…” Jack said, his words slurring together.

It was dead quiet. Jack didn’t notice. He did notice one of his teeth was loose, which he did not love.

“Last time,” Pitchiner said quietly. “Do tell.”

Jack, who thought he was doing an excellent job covering up for his asshole boss, continued proudly, “Oh yeah, this is nothin’, she…I was tied up for days, till I cried and pissed myself.” He thought she’d appreciate him humiliating himself by adding that little detail. He chuckled weakly. “I was…I was so scared...” His smile slowly faded.

There was an awkward pause, his chin quivering. He hoped they were done. He really didn’t want to talk about last time anymore. Jack cleared his throat and tried to push forward. Why was he doing all the talking? “A-...Anyway…the…what was I saying?”

He looked between the two of them, suddenly fearful as he tried to read their body language through his daze. His boss looked angry. Why did she look angry? He couldn’t remember what he’d said. He then turned his attention to Pitchiner, who didn’t look very happy either, but honestly it was hard to tell.

Nervously, Jack took a step back. “I’m sorry,” he said, cursing himself when his voice came out as a pathetic whimper, and just hoped his apology would be enough.

“It’s alright. You’re not in trouble, Jackson,” the king said, his voice surprisingly soft as he took a step towards him. “Come with me. We’ll get your injuries checked out.”

Jack tried to nod and immediately regretted it. He lost his balance and his knees buckled under him. To his astonishment, Pitchiner rushed forward and caught him before lowering him carefully to the ground. He propped Jack up with a warm arm around his back and began exchanging low, angry words with his boss, but Jack wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying.

“I’m fine. I’m—“ He tried to sit up.

Pitchiner turned on him abruptly, the command of his voice quickly halting his protests. “You are not fine. Stay. Jack, look at me,” he ordered, holding Jack’s face in his hand to gain his attention as his eyes continued darting around the rafters in pain and panic.

Jack looked at him, breathing heavily as Pitchiner’s honeyed voice steadily soothed him. “I’ve got you. Just breathe, trust me.”

Foolishly, Jack did. He opened his mouth to say something signifying he agreed, and instead panted, “So warm…” All he could think about was the heat seeping into the cold skin of his cheek and as Pitchiner looked back at him he found himself staring up into blazing golden eyes. Jack stilled, then breathed, “Beautiful…” His hand gripped at the soft black fabric of the man’s shirt, then moved up to the hand cradling his cheek, holding it there as his own hand shook. He didn’t want him to go. Everyone was warmer than Jack, but this man positively scorched, and he was so gentle, so graceful and strong. Maybe he just had a concussion, but Jack was pretty sure he was in love.

“You’re Jack Frost,” Pitchiner posed inquisitively, no doubt in response to his icy body temperature. Most people just avoided touching him altogether.

“Yeah, I–...oh!”

Pitchiner stood, scooping him up effortlessly like a princess, and Jack’s heart hiccuped.

“Oh…you’re strong,” Jack gasped. He didn’t know where they were going, but he didn’t really care because he was laying against Pitchiner’s chest and he was so warm and solid beneath him and his hands and words were kind. Totally worth the beating.

‘Course, maybe next time he’d still think twice about filling his boss’ canteen with horse piss.

Feeling more than a little loopy as he was carried away, Jack grinned and rested his arms around the general’s neck loosely.

“Can I put my arms here?”

“No.”

“What if my shoulder’s dislocated?”

Pitchiner glanced at him skeptically and oh boy their faces were close… “Is it?”

“How should I know?”

“You do know who I am this time, yes?” Pitchiner griped, but didn’t make him move his arms. Jack was distracted though as he tried feverishly to remember how to flirt.

“Are you a frozen pond? Because I’m falling for you.”

Jack thought that was actually pretty good for someone that just got hit in the head, but Pitch ignored him so Jack redirected his attention to the castle grounds. He let himself go limp so he could look at them upside down and smiled, deciding he liked them better this way.

Jack giggle-snorted and swung his feet a little, starting to finally relax as he accepted he was just temporarily out of his gourd. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Oh yeah. She got me good.”

Pitchiner just rolled his eyes and continued ignoring him.

“Woah,” he mumbled.

Pitch hoisted him as he started to slip with a grunt, growling in frustration, “Would you…? Just…”

“Woop, blood.”

Pitch’s eyes widened and he gathered Jack up to his chest, rolling Jack’s head back onto his shoulder as he paused to make sure he wasn’t about to bleed to death. Jack’s head lolled against him without resistance, and he looked up into Pitch’s eyes. He watched as Pitchiner examined him. Pleased with the attention, Jack hummed in appreciation and cuddled into his shoulder. Blood from his mouth had dripped into his eye while he was upside down, but they were still that shocking, crystal clear blue and he was happy as long as he could see Pitch just fine.

“Hi.”

Pitch sighed patiently, refusing to admit the stable boy was cute. But he was. He was cute. Adorable, actually. The strange white-haired boy was just so small and sweet, so easy to hold, so vulnerable and responsive to everything Pitchiner did or said. It was impossible not to enjoy the way he hid against Pitchiner like he was his only shelter when they’d hardly met. His small, cold hands clung to his clothes, his arms, seeking any small comfort. How had the boy survived this long when he allowed himself to be so soft?

“Don’t do that.”

“Say hi?”

“Don’t hang upside down.”

“How am I supposed to hang upside when you’re hugging me?”

“I’m not—“ He sighed heavily. “Just be quiet.”

“Wow, okay, that’s rude…you smell nice.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are we going?” His eyes slid closed, but when Pitchiner didn’t answer right away he tensed and they flew open. “Where are we…?” He started trying to wriggle out of the man’s arms, but he didn’t stand a chance.

“Settle, Jack, I’m just bringing you somewhere to rest,” he cooed.

It was enough to bring Jack’s struggles to a halt, but he was still in a bit of a panic. “I won’t do it again, I swear, I—“ His eyes darted around. “Where’d she go?”

“Away. Don’t worry about her.”

Jack’s arms tightened around Pitch’s neck a little more as he peered over his shoulder, his eyes locking into the barn and stables as they faded into the distance. He was so fucked. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t go back, she’d kill him. Worse, she’d make him wish she had. Fifty lashes sounded like child’s play. She liked mind games. She’d only tied him up, naked, outside, because the bitch knew he’d almost frozen to death and wanted to fuck with his head, and it had worked. At first, the worst of it had been the humiliation of being beaten and stripped as he screamed, but by the end of it his mind was gone with fear.

“She’ll be gone by the time you get back,” Pitch assured him quietly.

Jack’s head whipped around to look at him, eyes wide. He took a few deep breaths and opened his mouth to protest, but all at once, probably because he’d been struggling, the strength suddenly fled from his body. His limbs weren’t working the way he wanted them to then his head rolled back as his whole body slowly went limp in Pitchiner’s arms.

…

When Jack awoke he was immediately so confused he didn’t even try to figure out what the hell was going on. The only things he knew for sure were, first of all, he was in the most beautiful bedroom he’d ever seen. Second, he hurt. Everywhere, but especially his head. And three…

Jack let out a luxurious, indulgent moan, writhing on the bed with satisfaction as he decided this was definitely the most comfortable thing he’d ever laid on. He definitely wasn’t fucking anyone with this much money, so that wasn’t why he was here, and that only left that he must have been sick. Honestly, he didn’t really care why he was here, holy shit, this was–

He opened his eyes again and there was someone standing at his bedside, and yeah, now, of course, without all his winter gear like the first time they’d met, all cleaned up and perfectly groomed, he recognized the goddamn king. Or, rather, the general, as he preferred to be known.

After only a few seconds of consciousness, he hadn’t realized what he was doing here yet and became worried, asking, “Are you sick too?”

Pitch blinked in surprise. “What? No. Why?”

“Your face is red.”

Pitch pursed his lips. “No, it isn’t.”

“Just because you’re the king doesn’t mean you can just say things.”

“It kind of does, actually,” Pitch said with a smirk. “How are you feeling, Jackson?”

Jack groaned. “Do you have to call me that? It’s Jack. Your highness.”

“Oh, we’re on a true first name basis now, are we? And do you suppose you have the right to call me Kozmotis?”

His tone was half teasing, but there was a dangerous gleam on the edges of his words too that almost made Jack shiver. He watched Pitch’s self-satisfied face carefully for a moment. Finally, he said, “No. I’m calling you Pitch.”

“No, you’re not. It’s Kozmotis.”

“Fine, if you’re gonna twist my arm, Kozmotis then.”

Pitchiner blinked at him. “You really are a shameless little thing, aren’t you? I’m going to consider your insolence an effect of the concussion and let it slide for now.”

“You literally just TOLD me to call you Kozmotis.”

Pitchiner opened his mouth to protest, then paused. He sort of did. That hadn’t been his intention. “...are you going to answer my question or not?”

“Which one, Kozmotis?”

Kozmotis sighed. “Forget it. I don’t care how you’re feeling, why do I even bother?”

He turned to leave and Jack sat up so fast he nearly made himself vomit. “Wait,” he pleaded. “Wait, I’m sorry, your highness. Don’t…don’t go yet? Please?”

Kozmotis looked back, saw the true panic in Jack’s eyes, and paused. He liked to think he understood fear rather well, better than most, if not all. He considered himself a bit of an expert on the matter, really, and something about the feverish light of true horror in Jack’s eyes drew him back. Jack’s expression only betrayed a wobbly, nervous smile, but a person’s greatest fears, that was something he would always know, and he was quite sure, already, he’d put his finger on the pulse of Jack’s.

He stepped slowly back over to Jack’s bedside and wordlessly put his hand out.

Jack clasped it tight, shaking as tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. “Sorry. Sorry, your…highness, I just…”

Kozmotis ran his thumb lightly over the back of his cold hand and insisted softly, “Call me Kozmotis…Jack.”

Jack’s eyes widened a little, his heart stuttered, then he laughed as more tears escaped, turning to ice as they clung to his neck and chin. “Right…Kozmotis.”

……

…

All Jack’s time from then on was spent trying to fall back to sleep.

——

“Alright, mate, listen up, okay? Bout to give you some tough love,” Bunny’s voice said, followed by the scraping of a chair being pulled over.

Jack ignored him, but Bunny kept talking anyway. He did, however, sound less confident than usual.

“Now…now, I know you’ve been through hell, but we’ve all been there once or twice. You can’t just lay here forever, mate, now can yah?”

“…so you want me to leave,” Jack muttered at the wall.

“You know that’s not what I mean. We just want you to be okay again, but we can’t help you do that if you don’t let us. Now, I don’t know what these other bums have been telling you, but the truth of the matter is you can’t stop feeling the way you’re feeling by laying there. The only one making you feel like this right now is you. You have to get up and get out there, mate. You gotta help us take care of Pitch. Who knows what he’s out there schemin’. You want him going out and hurting more people like he hurt you? We need your help.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jack bit back quietly. This was about what he’d expected from Bunny. He did seem genuinely worried, and the fact that he was hovering at his bedside and forcing himself through this awkward conversation at all showed he cared, but so what? That didn’t change anything. It didn’t change that he was always against Pitch from the beginning, and against Jack too. He’d probably never forget the awful things he’d said the last time they were in this position.

“So help me understand,” Bunny implored, sounding frustrated, but more desperate than anything. “If I’m off the mark, mate, all you have to do is tell me. I’m right here, I’m listening. It’s not like we didn’t all know you had some kind of soft spot for Pitch. If you’re worried about shocking us with that, lemme tell yah, we know. We are very aware that for some reason you’ve always thought Pitch could be better. My guess is, now? You’ve realized you were wrong.”

Jack shut his eyes tight. He wanted to plug his ears, but didn’t want to give Bunny the satisfaction.

“You’ve figured out what we’ve been trying to tell you from the beginning, and you always thought we were the problem when really, all the time, you were becoming Pitch’s plaything.”

“Shut up,” Jack barked at him over his shoulder.

“But we’re here for yah, mate. You’ve been a real idiot, but whatever this is? You didn’t deserve it. You’re a good enough kid, you’ve got a good heart. You were trying to help. I get that. But now it’s time to accept that you messed up and get back on your feet. Help us show that monster that he doesn’t mess with The Guardians or their kids. It’s time to stop holding onto this idea that Pitch deserves better, and fightin’ for him, when he’s never given a damn about you.”

Jack turned around and pushed himself up on one hand to stare Bunny down with his dull, lifeless eyes as they gained just a little bit of spark. “That’s not true.”

Bunny’s brows went up incredulously. “Oh yeah?” he challenged. “What’s all this then? Hurting you, using you, abandoning you…he’s not getting away with this either, oh no. We’re taking him down with or without you, but you should be there, mate, this is your fight.”

Jack thought he was going to lose it then. He really did. Instead, he surprised himself by hopping out of bed and staggering towards the door, his legs stiff and painful after not being used for so long. He nearly fell, but caught himself on the door frame. His whole body ached and felt twice as heavy as it should have.

“I’m only going to say this one time, so I want everyone there,” he said quietly from the doorway before heading out into the hall.

He heard Bunny following him and was about to snap when Bunny reached out and offered him his staff.

“Forget this?”

Jack froze, staring at it for a moment before looking up at Bunny’s playful but encouraging face. The sympathy also lingering in his expression was unmistakable and told Jack, more than anything else, that regardless of how little The Guardians understood what was going on, they did care, and they did want to help, even if they didn’t know how. Jack didn’t know either.

After another awkward pause, Jack staring at his staff, still unsure he even wanted it, he told Bunny to lean it against the wall and back up. After hesitating, he finally reached out an unsteady hand and took it.

As he’d half expected, Jack fell to the ground with a jolt, toppling to his knees from already unsteady legs. Gasping for breath, he doubled over, then choked back a sob. It was wrong. It felt wrong to feel this way, as if everything was okay and normal, to feel strong when none of that could have been further from the truth. He wasn’t strong. He wasn’t even Jack Frost anymore. He didn’t want sympathy and he didn’t want strength. He wanted…he wanted…

Bunny offered him a paw to help him to his feet, drawing Jack’s attention out of his own mind, and he realized then he was gasping like he’d been plunged into an icy lake. He shook his head, refusing the help, and after catching his breath for a moment he dragged himself up, using his staff for support. He could have asked the winds to carry him, but it just didn’t feel right to fly anymore. He could feel the cool winds nipping at his bare ankles, like they wanted to help, but he ignored them.

Once everyone was gathered in the usual meeting area, Jack stood in front of them as the rest of them sat at the table, watching him expectantly.

He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready.

“So…” No use beating around the bush, and he didn’t have the energy for it anyway. His voice was muted as he began, and he was leaning heavily on his staff, but they just had to be able to hear him. “I know you all want Pitch gone or…whatever. I know you all think I want that now, after what happened, but…but I don’t.”

Bunny started to interrupt but without missing a beat, Jack pointed his staff at him, the crook of it sparking. Without even looking at Bunny, he said coldly, “No. I’m talking. No one else talks until I’m done.”

They all looked shocked as he lowered his staff, but he didn’t care, and he leaned on it again, exhausted already. He caught his breath then continued as if he’d never stopped speaking. “I don’t want him to hurt anyone. I don’t want anyone to hurt him either. I don’t care if you agree with me, that’s how it’s going to be unless you get rid of me first. I’m not a Guardian. I don’t want to be a Guardian. I just…”

He paused, gathering himself. He felt like he should at least tell them something. He just wasn’t sure how much he was ready to share. Recalling what there was to say at all broke his heart all over again.

“Me and Pitch are…friends. We’ve kinda been sort of friends before I left the palace with him. Actually, I uh…it turns out I met him a long time ago first and didn’t remember until I got all my memories back. I’ll explain that later…but…yeah, so, that might explain why I’ve always felt like I wanted to know more about him.”

He took another deep breath and let it out in a sigh. He really wasn’t looking forward to trying to explain this part. “While I was there…I know what you’re all thinking. It’s not like that, he never hurt me…everything we told you before was true. And after that…it was really good. He was good to me. But he lied and…” Jack paused, steadying his voice and taking a deep breath, but he still couldn’t look at them. “I…was somebody. Before I was Jack Frost. And he knew. He promised me no more lies, and then he hid all of that from me, all this time. He…he used me. He used me because I let him, because I believed in him and I cared about him, so I let him use me over and over. Because I was desperate, and lonely, and pathetic. But you all already knew that. You were…all right, about me. And him. But…”

He gripped his staff tightly in two hands and grit his teeth as he turned his head away, forcing the words out. “But I don’t regret it. Because I was so…happy.”

He swallowed and looked at the ceiling, blinking back tears. Almost done. Just one more part. “I know you’re still going to fight him. I know what I said, and I’m not…I won’t fight any of you. I know I can’t stop you from fighting each other, it’s gonna happen eventually, but when you fight I’m going to be there to make sure nobody gets badly hurt. Defense. I still…care about him. That’s just the way it is. That’s what I’m going to do.”

He thought about it. That seemed like everything, but there was so much not being said it felt like he’d hardly said anything at all. “You can talk now.”

It was quiet. They glanced around at each other.

Bunny was the first to speak up. “You get how this looks, right? You’re in rough shape, mate, and you were kidnapped, tortured, clearly, no matter what you call it…it makes absolutely no sense that you’d become better friends with him after that, or that you’d come back in this state if you were supposedly friends. How are we supposed to believe that?”

Jack looked at him. “You’re not. But it’s the truth. You probably all think I’m brainwashed or something still, but if that were the case I’d be attacking you right now or something, wouldn’t I? I’m as much on your side as his.”

“Unless we’re meant to have our guard down.”

“Then we just never have our guard down,” North crowed, though no one really seemed to agree.

They looked at Sandy as images flashed above his head rapidly in response to that. Jack caught almost none of them. He would swear it was just some kind of telepathy he couldn’t figure out how to utilize because how in the hell would anyone ever get anything sensible out of that?

“But we need Jack’s help against the nightmares,” Tooth added, looking very concerned. “If he’s concentrating on keeping everyone safe, won’t that be dangerous for him and keep us from making any sort of progress?”

“Dangerous for him, what about us?” Bunny cried. “Our only hope now, the world’s only hope, is supposed to be hoping Jack gets distracted long enough for us to take out Pitch?”

“Alright,” Jack cut in, cracking his neck. “Let’s get something totally straight, cause like, I thought I did that already, but apparently not: you’re not getting to him, unless you kill me.”

“Ah, yep, there it is,” Bunny said, waving his hand flippantly at Jack. “That’s the angle then, isn’t it? He’s trained himself a guard dog.”

“Sure did,” Jack muttered, hating himself, but holding Bunny’s gaze evenly as his eyes went round in surprise. Maybe he’d expected him to immediately get angry, deny it, but why should he? He wasn’t wrong. That was probably exactly what Pitch had done. He’d curated poor lonely Jack’s loyalty with attention and affection, feeding him a mockery of love and chaining him to Pitch with the fear of being alone again and memories of them together.

And it worked. He wasn’t proud. He was disgusted with himself, but no matter how much time he’d spent laying there trying to convince himself it had all been a lie…

He couldn’t. Even if it was, even if every kind word Pitch ever said to him meant Pitch had to hold back from gagging, Jack loved him. He couldn’t watch him get hurt and do nothing, even if he was just a tool. Even if this was Pitch’s plan all along, he would rather choose to believe in Pitch, to love him and be wrong, than to turn around and hurt Pitch back.

Jack waited, absorbing the looks of well-deserved scorn they were no doubt showing him, his own gaze focused on the floor. He could at least give them their moment to silently or openly mock him. He did, then he turned and headed back up to the level of the workshop where his room was. Hell, if this was how it was going to be, if he was going to be his dog anyway, maybe he should just let Pitch chain him up in his lair somewhere after all. At least then Pitch would probably reward him now and then with fingers through his hair or a hand on his cheek. Actually, and the thought made him sick, but Pitch did genuinely have a good time with the sexual things they’d done. Pitch might even fuck him when he was bored, if he was lucky.

A wild cry of pain tore out of him as he slammed his back into the nearest wall, banging his fist on it once as hard as he could before sliding to the floor and burying his head in his hands, great ugly sobs racking his chest.

Tooth was the first one there, and she immediately dropped to the ground beside him and pulled him to her chest. She rocked Jack as he curled up tighter, still sobbing moments later when the others arrived and gathered around. They all waited together for the storm to pass, no hint of mockery insight.

——

Later that night, Pitch was bewildered as he wandered ghost-like into the library and found, on his desk, a cutesy piece of stationary decorated around the edges with blue sky and fluffy white clouds, slightly damp as if it had traveled through rain, on the winds, he realized. The note was short. He’d recognize that shitty handwriting anywhere. Clutching it to his chest, he breathed in sharply and sank onto one knee, leaning clumsily against the side of the desk as he shut his eyes tight and told himself again, for the millionth time, that he didn’t deserve to cry.

When his eyes were mostly dry again a while later, he looked back at the slightly wrinkled piece of paper in his hand and read it again over and over:

They want to hurt you. Might try when I sleep. Stay safe. Jack.

Pitch swallowed and clutched at his throat, grimacing.

All of that. The explosion of pain Pitch had received like the detonation of a bomb in his mind, the memories he’d returned to him showing how he’d actively influenced him and his sister, essentially killing him, his abandonment, torturing him in isolation and lying to him on top of all of that, every last thing Pitch had done, and Jack still…he still wrote him…a note like this. To try and save him.

Stay safe.

Pitch suddenly burst with a feral scream of self-hatred and misery, letting it out with every last bit of force from his lungs, his body shaking with it as he slammed his fist into the side of the desk, then he collapsed against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

He truly, truly didn’t deserve Jack Frost and never would, not in their very first lifetime together or the last, and there was nothing he could do to fix this.

An hour or so later, sitting in the same place, it occurred to him that he could write him back. He could, but he wouldn’t. Absolutely out of the question. How could Jack ever move on if he didn’t leave the poor boy alone? No. That wouldn’t help at all.

Was there anything at all he could do?

He sat there for another hour before deciding there wasn’t and going back to bed. The least he could do was have the decency to be as close to dead as possible.

——

They couldn’t convince him otherwise, so when the fighting began and The Guardians rushed out to the given location on the globe, Jack was there with them, ready to fight on behalf of nobody. That hadn’t been anybody’s plan. Jack didn’t care.

The sky was dark, made darker still by the nightmares looming in the distance, approaching in a wave. Among them somewhere, Jack knew Pitch was riding one of them, leading the charge. He couldn’t tell where his dark form was from here on the black backdrop, but he felt him as much as he knew logically he must be there. It took all his willpower not to reach out to him, but that didn’t stop him from wishing he would reach out to Jack instead.

At the same time, though, he was terrified Pitch would. If he did, he could only imagine it would be to ask him to join him, and if he did, if he told Jack he still wanted him and needed him on his side, he honestly didn’t know what he would say. He was quite sure the others didn’t know either, and didn’t trust him at all.

Didn’t matter. He didn’t need them to trust him. He just needed to stay focused. He was far outnumbered and even looking away for a second could mean death for someone. In a way, it was a lot like being the shepherd he’d never gotten to be. Keep your eyes open. Keep everyone alive. After all, he didn’t trust them either. No one was actually looking for neutrality here except him.

They were close in the sleigh now and Jack could see the individual glowing eyes of many of the nightmares glittering back at them from their dark mass. Somewhere among those sets of eyes was Pitch and his golden gaze, looking back at them. He’d have no problem picking out Jack, if he wanted to, distinct among the riders in the sleigh, one small hovering speck in the sky compared to their many.

It felt as though there should have been some loud rush of sound as the nightmares descended upon them, but there was nearly none, and it was all the more unsettling. The wind was blowing around them, carrying away much of what sound there would have been way up here among the clouds, and their approach was already nearly silent.

Jack hopped into the air, readying his staff and terrified for all the wrong reasons. “I’m gonna see if I can spot him! Signal like we talked about if you need help, okay?” he yelled down to the others. They called back in affirmative, North shouting back up to him and clutching his sabers tightly, “Be careful, Jack!”

He definitely would. He’d rarely ever been as scared as he was now, feeling responsible for the lives and well-being of each one of them. If anyone got seriously hurt or even killed, that would be on him, as far as he was concerned. Preventing that was his only reason for being here.

It always seemed like a nightmare was coming right for him, and then suddenly it would dart away, completely avoiding him at the last second. It took a few charging him for him to realize this, but he was relieved, because already he was sick over the ones he’d killed while he’d thought he was genuinely defending himself.

Jack finally spotted Pitch when he wasn’t expecting it and his stomach lurched. He stopped abruptly, staring at Pitch as he appeared at just about level with him, riding on Mora with his massive scythe in hand. He truly looked as though he was in his element and for just a second or two Jack was overwhelmed by emotion. Pitch was confident and fierce, moving forward with purpose and a plan and he looked terrifying and regal in equal measure.

Jack was here to mess all that up. “Pitch!” he shouted as he shot towards him, and was satisfied by the alarm he saw on Pitch’s face as he recognized Jack’s voice, his head whipping around. He turned Mora around to face him and she reared, beautiful and terrifying in her own right.

There was a moment in time in which neither of them reacted at all, but they were acutely aware of each other, and they both knew it. Pitch eyed Jack, his expression unreadable. In Jack’s own mind, he was rapidly cycling through every single thing he wanted to say and feared he would never get another chance to say, so rapid and many that in the end it just equated to static. He had to do something. He had to say something.

He moved forward and just like that Pitch had disappeared into shadow again. The hurt Jack felt at that was absurd, but it had him reeling nonetheless. Of all the things, Pitch just not wanting to talk to him on the battlefield in the middle of a battle seemed like it ought to be too low to even be included on his list of grievances and yet it took his breath away. It was his one chance and Pitch looked him in the eye, knowing this, and left him there.

It was stupid, but he did really kind of think maybe he could talk Pitch out of this. Maybe he could get him to call this all off. That was a fantasy, he was sure, but one he just couldn’t quite let go of and didn’t he have to at least try? But now he was gone again.

Jack swore and moved back towards The Guardians as they began to directly engage with more nightmares and he was relieved to see that they were holding their own. The other three were working together while Sandy was nearby doing most of the work, beating back the dark with his own unflinching light. Everything was okay so far. They were just fending off an attack.

He had to try and find Pitch again, if not to talk to him then to at least keep an eye on him. He was cunning and practically invisible among his nightmares and shadows. It would be incredibly easy for him to wait for the right time and then make a move that could mean tragedy.

Far too much time was passing for Jack not to have spotted him yet and it was making his skin crawl. Pitch was definitely up to something specific. Well, they were a team for a reason after all, so he flew back to the sleigh to ask the others if they’d seen him anywhere.

And then Jack spotted him, circling back around the sleigh on Mora with his scythe ready. As Jack approached, Pitch spotted him again and stared, hesitating, his expression contorting into something unreadable.

Jack was about to call out to him when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Bunny aiming his boomerang, then he let it rip right at Pitch’s head with obscene accuracy. He never missed, they all knew that. Jack’s eyes widened in panic and he was just close enough that he thought he could make it so without thinking he sped forward to block the shot.

There was some vague thought that he might be able to knock it out of the way with his staff, but there just wasn’t time. It was too close and he hardly had the chance to even begin lifting his arm. Instead, the boomerang hit him square in the ribs and Jack doubled over in the air with a scream of agony, hand shaking violently as it hovered around his chest, wanting to grab it instinctively, yet flinching away at the same time. For a few seconds his mind was gone, not allowing him to experience anything other than the way his breath was knocked out of him and wouldn’t come back, the way his bones shifted incorrectly inside him and felt wrong, the tears whipped away by the wind as they fell.

He heard Tooth’s high voice cut through the wind and snapped out of it enough to recognize he had to get back to the sleigh. He aimed for it, still gasping with pain, and was relieved when the sleigh made a beeline for him, catching him safely inside.

Jack slumped onto his back on the bench of the sleigh, feeling ill. North kept them dodging nightmares while Bunny and Tooth hovered over Jack fretfully.

“I’m sorry, mate, you know I wasn’t aiming for you. You know that, right? You’re outta your mind!” Bunny cried over the rushing wind.

Jack would have spit at him if he had the energy. “No…f…fuck you, I told you…I told you….”

“Just stay still, Jack. Don’t move yet,” Tooth ordered gently, but without room for argument.

“Sandy!”

They all looked up at North’s cry to see Sandy was struggling with the number of nightmares targeting him, and they sped in his direction to help. The route wasn’t smooth or direct however, as nightmares and shadows seemed determined to block and attack them at every turn. Maybe it was because Sandy was struggling to keep them back like he had at the beginning, but they seemed significantly thicker.

“Can you help me sit up?” Jack grunted, realizing laying down was a big mistake as something about the angle didn’t allow him to sit up without an excruciating tearing sensation along his side. Tooth slipped her arm around him and carefully pushed him into a sitting position, and he was grateful, even as he grit his teeth and bit back another cry of pain. There was no time for that.

Jack picked his head up and looked around at the chaos as the sleigh jerked expertly this way and that, dodging attacks from every side, but it was clearly getting dire. Wincing, Jack raised his staff over his head and blew back a mass of nightmares and shadows coming down on them from above, crystallizing the dark into a strange glittering black and blue snow that scattered along either side of the sleigh. The others cheered him on, and he continued icing nightmares left and right, but he lacked the maneuverability his body had in good health and was crippled by grief and rage every time a nightmare or a shadow was obliterated. The Guardians cared absolutely nothing for the darkness they were destroying, not knowing or caring that they had names or personalities or desires of their own. They were just obstacles. Light was good, dark was bad.

Breathing heavily, he swore and flew up over the sleigh again. “This isn’t working, we need to help Sandy! I’ll get rid of ‘em!”

“Be careful, Jack!” Tooth yelled after him. “Don’t let them sneak up on you!”

“I won’t!”

Jack moved higher, trying to untangle himself from the dark mass enough to get a good view of all of them at once. He was relatively sure they wouldn’t hurt him, but he couldn’t be sure.

Once he had a better angle outside of most of the discord, he aimed his staff and created an icy shield around the sleigh. It bled across the air in a spherical shape like frost crawling across a windowpane, and it was only ice, but it could take some real damage for a short time before it cracked and fell away.

That’s what he thought anyway, but as the sleigh took the added defense as an opportunity to get closer to Sandy, the nightmares descended upon it, and already the shield began to crack. Grimacing, he refocused his attention and energy on maintaining the shield. It would be disastrous if it shattered now and it was taking all his concentration to make sure it didn’t so it took him too long to realize he’d lost sight of his primary objective: to keep his eye on the greatest danger and that was Pitch, and he had absolutely no idea where he was, and he realized with a wave of dread that had to be intentional.

Breathing heavily, he pressed his hand gingerly to his chest as his head darted around in a desperate search. Surprisingly, it was easy to find him, because he was oddly still atop the mass of shadows he commanded. Like he was aiming.

“No!” Jack shouted as he followed Pitch’s gaze to Sandy, who had his back turned. He’d never make it to him in time. “Sandy!”

He rocketed towards him, and as the dark missile of nightmare sand shot out of Pitch’s hands, Jack instinctively allowed himself to be swallowed by the shadows, effortlessly placing him where he wanted to be, just like Pitch had done with him plenty of times. He didn’t even know that was an option, but because of it he had just barely enough time to see Sandy’s golden back and throw his arms around him protectively before he felt the impact between his shoulder blades.

The hit knocked the breath out of him and his eyes went wide. It was sharp and burrowing and burning all at once, and the pain was quickly getting worse, becoming more than he could stand. Sandy spun around to stare at him in shock as Jack choked out a cry of agony. His shaking hands moved to his chest as the nightmare sand ate through him, spreading and fusing with the ice inside him, creating a strange vortex at his center that crackled with small bursts of frost lightning as it dissolved his very being. Terror blocked out all else. Everything he’d ever feared coming to pass was true, every insecurity realized, everything that had ever brought him hope or happiness was gone.

There was a static crowding at the corners of his mind and as it grew, everything that made Jack Jack slipped through his fingers, along with his staff, and he stared uncomprehendingly at Sandy’s horrified face, his reaching hand, before plummeting backwards out of the sky. He fell immediately into the darkness swirling around Sandy before passing through it into the open air. He watched as his tears were carried up and away into the sky, expansive and empty and beautiful, the wind whipping around him as he writhed in agony and there was nothing he could do. It all felt so strangely mirrored to his first death, sinking helplessly through the water, that he was certain he would die again, and this time there would be no second chance.

As the nightmare sand ate away the last of his consciousness, he felt a thump and was sure he’d hit the ground, only to look up and see wide golden eyes peering down at him. His body was cradled, secure and warm. Arms held him and desperate words were spoken to him that he couldn’t understand, and as loving hands gathered him close, he felt safe and, thinking maybe he was really ready this time, he was able to let go.

Chapter Text

It took a beat for Pitch to realize what had happened, because he just couldn’t believe it. There was no way, it wasn’t possible that it was Jack hovering there where Sandy had been only a second ago. It had to be a hallucination of some sort. Had he fallen asleep? Was this a nightmare? No, that just couldn’t be.

As Jack fell, he finally reacted, rocketing towards him on Mora. He barely had the wherewithal to snatch Jack’s staff out of the air as he passed it, tucking it under his leg before swooping under Jack and catching him out of the air.

Jack was sobbing, hands useless with tremors as they formed shaking claws hovering over the swirling, dark hole in his chest, screaming whenever he had the breath for it. He didn’t even seem to be aware that Pitch was there and he probably wasn’t.

“It’s okay,” Pitch gasped as he clutched him protectively to his chest. “Gods, I’m so sorry, it’s okay, I’ve got you—get back,” he suddenly screeched as The Guardians approached. Pitch redirected every single shadow to their defense, forming a barrier around the three of them as he turned his attention back to Jack. Because it wasn’t too late. It wasn’t.

Pitch pressed his hand over the growing hole as the blue over Jack’s eyes was overtaken by black, swirling sand, blinding him, and then they both screamed as Pitch took a deep breath and used every ounce of his power and focus to rip the nightmare sand out of his body. He wouldn’t get it all. He couldn’t, he knew that, but he was going to try, he was going to give it everything he had inside him because he would not, could not, lose Jack, especially not like this.

His muscles and mind strained as he curled over him, voice like thunder as he roared, drawing the darkness out of his chest back into his own palm and gradually the hole became smaller, painfully slowly, expanding not the entire width of his narrow chest, but shrinking to less than the size of Pitch’s palm. It glowed with a cool, white and blue light, but the light was dimmer now.

“No no no no no, come on,” Pitch chanted, snarling as he let out another cry, dizzying himself as he broke out into a cold sweat from the effort. “Come on, damn it!”

The nightmare sand had withdrawn from Jack’s eyes and returned to him, along with most of the rest of it, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to be enough, Jack would have to do the rest himself and in the state he’d left Jack in? What kind of hope could he possibly have that Jack would be able to overcome what the nightmare sand was doing to his mind?

It was as good as done.

Realizing he’d done all he could do, Pitch gazed at Jack’s limp and twitching body in his arms and let out a shattered cry of agony and grief. Again. It was happening again.

“Jack, I’m so sorry…please,” he begged as he clutched him to his chest, cradling his head so that it would lay against his shoulder instead of limply lolling backwards. “My star…please, I will do anything. I will be anything, come back…I need you, darkness, I need you…please…”

There was no response.

——

Warm.

Jack’s eyes opened. Or maybe they’d already been open, he wasn’t sure, but he blinked the bleariness from them and saw only glittering nightmare sand, swirling all around them like a tornado made of galaxies. That was when he became aware of the fingers in his hair and the rapid rise and fall of the familiar body he laid against. He was almost comforted. Almost, except he was more afraid of that comfort than anything else.

His hand brushed against something and he knew what it was instantly. It was his staff.

Even just being near it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, because he knew he was desperately unstable, but strong, maybe stronger than he’d ever been, but different. Changed. He felt like he could hurt someone. He felt like he wanted to, because he was afraid and angry and what did he have left to lose?

Jack snatched up his staff and threw himself out of Pitch’s arms, shooting away from him as fast as he could through the air to the only place he could think of where he had a chance of not hurting anybody, ignoring the multiple voices calling his name.

——

He wasn’t falling for it. He would never care again. He would never hope again, and he would let fear show him what he should have known all along: it’s better to be alone and whole than lose yourself convincing other people to stay.

Sleet pelted him in the face as he tore through the sky, crowned with gray clouds, over the open ocean. The little bits of ice stung, but he hardly felt it.

There was no point in trying anymore. All he had to do was get as far away from everyone and everything as possible and what better place than the barren icy landscape he was fast approaching? There wasn’t a soul to be found anywhere. No more reminders of what he would never have. No more guessing people’s intentions or confusing conversations or betrayal. Just white. White white white…it seemed to go on forever, once the dark swath of the ocean was broken at the shore.

No life anywhere to be seen. Not a single drop of green. That was okay, as long as she was safe. He just had to get her away from here. He would do anything for her.

“Please. Please, you have to–” He gagged, bracing himself against the wall. She cowered underneath him as he shielded her with his body, vomiting darkness in thick splatters just out of reach of her boots. All he wanted to do was hug her tight and tell her everything was going to be okay, but he’d used the very last of his light to infuse his ice and make a small barrier between the general’s daughter and the shadows, and that light was dying. The only reason the shadows hadn’t bursted through it and devoured Seraphina was because they were currently burrowing into his back, crawling up his legs. He gagged again and darkness dribbled from his mouth.

“RUN,” he sobbed as he collapsed onto one knee. “Garden…go to your garden…!”

“Jack,” she cried, bravely lurching towards him to help, but Jack shoved her away hard as the last of his light winked out forever.

“I can handle it, but not if I’m worrying about you, now go,” he begged, his voice garbled.

That finally got her attention, thinking she might be a burden. With a whimper she turned and took off at a sprint, slipping on the debris from some broken palace furniture before catching herself and running off, disappearing around the corner without looking back.

Jack sighed with relief and then he fell down onto the snowy top of the glacier and wasn’t surprised that he didn’t feel any better. All he felt was this gaping thing inside him, eating away at everything, taking every good thing from him he ever had, every feeling, every memory. He was losing them. Good. Good good good. Take them. He didn’t know what was real anymore.

He walked.

He just had to stay far enough away from Pitch long enough to let it finish. He didn’t want any of this anymore.

Jack paused, going abruptly still. No. He did want Pitch…didn’t he? He loved him, didn’t he? He didn’t want to get rid of that. In a brief moment of lucidity, his eyes widened in terror and he clutched at his chest as he realized what was being stolen. Pitch.

Pitch, help me. Please, Pitch, oh god, take it out.

Jack howled in agony as he convulsed on the floor, tearing at his face with his dull fingernails. He sobbed and begged for mercy as the shadows violated him, wriggling around under his skin. No matter how he sobbed or begged, they moved deeper. They took more, and he’d never felt so helpless.

When he felt them in his soul, that was when the shrieking turned to hysteria and he forgot everything except stop, no no no–

“PITCH.” His voice was shrill and unrecognizable. “NO, OH GOD NO, PLEASE, HELP ME! PITCH! PITCH! PITCH!”

He wasn’t coming. Jack kept screaming, as hard as he could, shredding his throat to pieces.

He didn’t even feel the sword in his chest, but he felt the shadows receding and sobbed with desperate relief. Half mad, Jack looked up and saw Pitch. He reached for him, but his arm was so, so heavy and it dropped back to his side. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care, because he was free.

Pitch was screaming.

Pitch.

Jack turned and walked back towards the ocean. He walked about ten feet before turning back around and continuing farther into the tundra where hopefully no one would ever find him. He had to let it finish. He would feed himself to it, and then everything…everything…would be better.

Normally, somewhere like this would give him strength. Now, it did, but it also hurt. Being strong meant the darkness had something to feed on. The darkness within each grain of nightmare sand burrowing into his soul further and further like little ant tunnels and sometimes he dropped to his knees and clawed at his skin, desperately trying to get it out, he didn’t want to forget, it was taking him. It was taking Pitch. He gnawed at the snowflake on his wrist like a fox in a trap, unable to remember what it was for.

He remembered what Pitch had said about not being able to remember his daughter’s face and he panicked, screaming at the mountains in the distance, pulling at his hair, get out. He banged his head against the ground once, twice, he was dizzy. Get out, stop. Please.

There was blood in the snow. Panting, he grabbed his staff and took off into the air again, rocketing through the growing blizzard. His heart pounded, but felt unsteady. He was scared. If Pitch didn’t find him soon, he wouldn’t be scared anymore. He wouldn’t be anything.

Pitch.

“Jack,” a voice shouted from the air behind him and Jack, stunned, turned over on his back as he flew, but didn’t stop. Now he could see Pitch, however, quickly gaining on him, riding Mora. Jack’s eyes widened in shock and horror.

“Go away,” Jack screamed back, before flipping back over, facing forward, and flying away as fast as he could.

“Jack, it’s not real,” Pitch insisted, his voice fading away in the wind.

He had to hide. A glacier below had cracked, forming a deep crevice, and he dove inside, shoving himself back into a corner. He sobbed breathlessly and pulled his knees in, trying to make himself as small as possible. It was very quiet.

Please don’t find me. I’m so scared, I need you, I’m here, I’m still here, I’ve been here, where were you? Jack buried his face in his hands and rocked himself, forcing back a small whine. This was the worst he’d ever felt. He just needed it to stop, he’d do anything to make it—

“It’s okay, Jack,” Pitch’s voice said softly from the opposite end of the gap in the little tunnel of ice.

Jack pretended he hadn’t heard it, rocking and whispering nonsense to himself.

“Jack? I’m not going to hurt you, star, I’m here to help. Don’t…run. Please,” Pitch murmured, his voice carrying in the otherwise absolute silence.

Jack’s head shot up. “You…no,” Jack whispered, feet skidding on the snow as he tried to push himself back into the wall of ice where there was no more room to go. “Get away from me. You’re a liar. You always hurt me.”

Pitch paused only briefly, with a soft gasp of pain, then continued towards him carefully. “I know…I know, but I still love you and want to help. And I’m here, and that is true. That will always be true, Jack.”

Jack stared at Pitch, wide-eyed. He was getting way too close, fingernails bending as he dug them into the rock hard ice wall behind him. He was trapped. “No,” Jack cried, feet scrambling again. “Don’t. Stop. Don’t move! Don’t…”

When Pitch didn’t stop, Jack shrieked, “STOP,” and they heard a deep rumbling as the massive chunks of ice all around them began to slowly crack and shift.

Pitch froze momentarily, his eyes widening as he assessed the danger of the situation, then he continued forward. When Jack sobbed, gripping his head, and the ice boomed like thunder as some portion deep below their feet, maybe millions of years old, came apart, Pitch didn’t even flinch.

“I know you’re scared,” Pitch said gently, “And I know I hurt you, all those years ago, but I was trying to protect you.” His voice broke and he took a deep shuddering breath before continuing. “I couldn’t let the shadows take you,” he pleaded, breathing through the tears trying to strangle him into silence. “And I won’t let them take you now. But this time I’m going to let you fight them. Because I know you can do this, you’re strong enough, but I’m here with you too, Jack, and you’re going to be just fine.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jack breathed, shutting his eyes tight. “I don’t…believe. In anything. I don’t believe in you, or hope, or dreams, or…I just want it to stop. I want to stop feeling like no one ever believes in me no matter what I do. I–”

Wait. Wait, that was it. That was it, if he was believed in then–

Pitch sensed something was amiss as Jack suddenly went very still and quiet, his eyes open wide and Pitch quickly moved forward, reaching for him, but with a violent, thundering boom the ice around them broke, causing the crevice to collapse in on itself. Pitch wasn’t fast enough and it came down on top of him.

Jack stood once everything was still, breathing heavily, and whispered, “Wind, take me home.”

——

Pitch was cursing himself for having such a foolish end, thinking in a panic, moments before he was crushed, that now there would be no one left who could possibly help Jack if he were gone, but then it was quiet. He lowered his arms and looked around to find he was encased in a stunning display of ice infused with darkness. It must have made the ice stronger, because the thick barrier of it surrounding him was enough to protect him from being crushed. Still, it wouldn’t do to dawdle. He could hear it creaking ominously and knew it could cave at any second.

As Pitch moved through the darkness to where he thought he might find Jack next, his heart ached with fondness, because despite everything Jack had protected him when he needed it most, just like he had then. He wasn’t even sure, as mad with terror as he was, if Jack knew he’d done it, but Pitch loved him fiercely for it. This time, he was going to protect Jack.

Cold and dark really were beautiful together.

——

Already, as he blew into town, the storm was in full swing. He could hardly see for all the snow and ice coming down, and as he moved further into town, darting between the houses on little suburban streets, he coated each one in a thick layer of ice along with every branch of every tree, every street and car, and anything else that didn’t know better than to get out of his way.

He would make them believe. He’d made blizzards before, but not like this, oh, not like this. It would go down in history. They would finally all be forced to recognize there were supernatural forces at work here. He knew the name of everyone in this damn town, his town, and yet not a single one of them knew him.

But maybe if they finally did, it could change everything. It could change him. If he did something that made him worth being believed in, perhaps that too would make him worth being loved. Really loved.

Not like The Guardians. Not like Pitch. Pitch who didn’t really love him, except that he did and Jack knew that, he knew that better than he knew anything, deep down. The fact that Pitch didn’t love him was obvious. He probably hated him, actually, deep down, under all his false professions of love, because what person that loved you would hold you in his arms like you were the world and tell you about their dead daughter and believe in you when you didn’t believe in yourself—

Jack looked at the downed telephone poles and streetlights. It had to have just happened. He sort of remembered doing it, except he wouldn’t do that.

He looked around slowly, barely able to see the buildings a block away as the freezing wind whipped through the air sideways. He’d killed people with blizzards, not on purpose, but he had, but it wasn’t like he wanted to, but a blizzard like this? The damage it could inflict?

“Pitch…” he said under his breath, staring around in horror. He couldn’t breathe. Where was Pitch? Wasn’t he just right there?

He called his name louder, spinning in circles as he peered into white on white, up and down empty streets. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t recognize these streets.

“Pitch,” he finally screamed at the top of his lungs.

He saw movement and turned only to see North. “Jack,” he yelled back to him as he barreled towards him with his sabers out as if he could cut through the wind and snow. “It is okay, you are okay! I’m here to help you. Everything’s going to be—“

Jack shot him with a blast of ice so hard North skid down the street on his back a few yards. He didn’t know why he did that, and he ran to help him up, but stopped, both because North was already getting to his feet on his own, and because he was afraid he would hurt him worse.

“I’m sorry. Stay away from me,” Jack shouted and flew down an alleyway only to run into Tooth, with Bunny at her side and a large hole in the ground beside them.

“Jack!” Tooth cried, happy, but exuberant eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay?”

Jack shot backwards away from them both in a panic back out into the street, and North was nearly close enough to grab him. He didn’t try, but Jack let out a yell as if he had and propelled himself further down the road, spotting Sandy overhead just behind him. He let out a wild scream of emotion and swung his staff through the air at Sandy, forcing him to fall back.

Jack fell to his knees as he came to an intersection, gasping for breath. He was exhausted. He was strong, but not infinite, and more and more of his ice came with black streaks of darkness in it whether or not he meant to do it simply because he didn’t have enough of himself left.

“Stop,” he begged no one as he staggered clumsily to his feet, fell flat, then pushed himself up again. He took a few steps, but already he heard their voices behind him.

Jack turned, watching fearfully as he slowly stepped back, staff out in front. As their silhouettes appeared in the storm, they called for him and he shouted, “Get away from me. Please get away from me, I can’t…!”

“We’re not going to hurt you, Jack, we’re your friends and we’re only here because we care about you,” Tooth yelled back as they continued closer.

But that wasn’t the problem, Jack thought. He knew they cared. They didn’t understand. As they approached, Jack tried not to show how bad he was struggling even just to stay standing and hoped they couldn’t see the way his legs shook from this far away. He forced them back with a burst of frost lightning, and they stopped trying to get closer, looking to each other at a loss for what to do.

“Just don’t…get any closer,” Jack ordered, eyes wild. “Please…I just want to go home.”

“You are home,” Bunny shouted back. They were standing in the center of the town he’d claimed as his own so long ago. Even as buried under layers upon layers of snow, this was his hometown, and about as home as you could get. He must have been too disoriented to know where he was.

“No,” Jack insisted angrily, staff sparking, but the anger quickly drained away and was replaced by fear. Fear was replacing everything. He had to go, now.

Pitch stepped out from the storm down the center of the street, and as Jack spotted his inky black form gliding through the blizzard he hardly dared to believe what he thought he was seeing. The Guardians looked on with matching expressions of shock as Pitch stepped between them, then passed them, and made his way towards Jack.

“Pitch,” North hissed, trying to warn him, but Pitch paid him no mind. “It is dangerous, do not go closer.”

“Don’t move,” Jack shouted, taking a step back as his staff crackled with sparks of blue and white. “Stop…stop.”

He continued yelling at Pitch, but it was like he couldn’t hear him. Pitch’s slow and gentle approach made him feel cornered, despite standing out in the open. When Jack shot frost lightning at him he didn’t try to dodge or block it, in fact he didn’t even pause or slow his gait. Jack’s fear peaked, whipping the blizzard around them into a frenzy.

“I said, STOP,” he screeched as the air around them changed, like an abrupt increase in pressure, and for an instant every snowflake and bead of ice stopped in mid-air before blasting away from him. The snow on the ground hovered briefly in the air as if the entire earth had jumped and the wind’s howl became deafening. Each of The Guardians and Pitch were knocked to the ground, while Jack instead floated several feet into the air without even trying. As Pitch pushed himself back up he looked at Jack and saw that his eyes had turned completely white. That beautiful blue was gone, all of it was gone, as if touched by the storm like everything else. They glowed faintly, but ominously, and tried to form a glare, but he still just looked more scared than anything.

“Get away from me. This is all your fault,” Jack screamed, his voice breaking. “You left. You abandoned me. You killed me. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to look at you.”

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t really Pitch’s fault he’d been killed by the shadows. It didn’t matter that the second time was an accident. What mattered was that Jack had trusted him. What mattered was that Jack had called for him and he never came.

In his shattered mind, Jack had a sudden, brutal moment of clarity as he stared into Pitch’s agonized eyes. It was quiet.

“…you were trying to save me.” Jack took in a deep, slow gasp of air and the snowfall around them slowed to a gentle flurry. “…you did come. You saved me from the shadows. You..” You took them instead.

Pitch shut his eyes tight for a moment, breathed in sharply, then breathed it out in a quiet sob, and nodded as he looked back at him, tears streaming down his face. His voice was soft as he called to him, but it carried easily on the wind as if the wind knew how badly Jack needed to hear it.

“…yes. I knew what having them inside me was like and I thought it would be better. Death was what I wanted so I thought I could at least give that to you. But listen to me, Jack. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry. I should have believed in you. I should have given you the chance to do what I couldn’t. If anyone could have expelled the shadows it was you and I never gave you that chance. I’m giving you that chance now, but let me be there for you. Let me stay by your side and help you fight. Please.”

“No, you won’t,” Jack yelled, feeling like he was breaking apart inside with every word he heard or spoke. “You won’t be there.” He shook his head. “It’s too late, just get away from me. I just want it to be over, I can’t do this anymore.”

He shot another blast of frost lightning at Pitch, a much stronger one, filling the air with a deafening crack.

Pitch didn’t even flinch. So Jack did it again, every blast seemingly so wild and unpredictable, but inexplicably missing Pitch completely every single time, leaving gouges in the earth instead.

The others watched Pitch’s progression in amazement as he came so close that if Jack lashed out it would be impossible for him to miss. They stared, horrified and bewildered as, instead of attacking, Pitch dropped slowly down onto his knees right there in the snow.

Jack’s power was draining quickly away from him. He grit his teeth as he looked into Pitch’s eyes, tears streaming down his face and quickly freezing solid on his chin and jaw. Finally then, slowly, he sank back onto his feet. They stared at one another, Jack blinking through a flow of tears he couldn’t control.

“What are you doing? Do you think I won’t? After everything you did to me? This is your last warning, leave me alone!” Jack pointed his staff right at Pitch’s heart.

But they both knew Jack couldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t, and Pitch knew that. He trusted him enough to put everything on the line, to be vulnerable, to get close. Pitch looked so exhausted, but so determined, and his expression was filled with so much love that Jack could hardly stand to look at him.

Jack felt something inside him cracking as his breath hitched. He had to choke down sob after sob that wanted to burst out of him. How? How could he believe in him so much when Jack didn’t even believe in himself?

“Come here, little star,” Pitch coaxed softly and put his arms out. “It’s time to rest. Let me take you home.”

Jack stared, hands shaking, but otherwise he was very still. The wind and snow around them slowed to a gentle flurry gradually as Jack stood frozen in place and his eyes became, once more, a wide and teary blue.

They focused on Pitch, unable to look away. He was certain that right now he was absolutely filled to the brim with as much fear as he could stand. Somehow, his brain was trying to convince him that turning around, flying off, and never looking back was the better option compared to Pitch kneeling before him in the snow, spilling over with as much love as Jack had fear inside him. Running off, letting himself be consumed completely, was certainly the easier option. Letting the static take him would be so easy, and was any of this even worth it? Was Pitch worth it? Was protecting children with a spirit so uniquely his, being the Guardian of Fun, worth it?

Even if it was. Even if it was worth it, could he do it? Could he find a way to make it worth all the suffering he’d endured and the suffering Pitch was asking him to endure now? It was so much. It was too much, he wasn’t good enough, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t like them, he wasn’t strong or smart or brave. He was just Jack. He was Jack Frost, and he had one believer named Pitch Black who, for some reason, continued to think that yes, he could do the things that were important to him if he only stuck around and kept trying. He thought Jack Frost was more than good enough.

Jack dropped his staff, abandoning it on the icy street, and with the last of his strength ran to Pitch. It was quiet and peaceful enough in the square that they could hear his footfalls crunching in the snow and the small sob he let out as he closed the distance between them then threw himself into Pitch’s arms, practically collapsing. Pitch caught him readily, wrapping his arms tight around him and gathering him close and it felt so familiar and good that for a moment Jack could have forgotten where they were and why. He clung to Pitch tightly, like he could hardly believe he was here, then they all heard as he let out a string of loud, wailing sobs into Pitch’s shoulder. As Jack buried his face against him, his tears began to thaw and melt away into Pitch’s robe.

“I love you so much,” Pitch whispered as he scooped Jack up into his arms effortlessly and stood. Jack wrapped his arms tightly around his neck as Pitch turned back towards The Guardians and walked over to them. A brief explanation was due.

They looked at him in shock as he approached, though he stopped a cautious enough distance away. The snow and wind had almost completely stopped. “I’ll be taking it from here.”

“Like hell you will, after what you did to him?” Bunny shot back fiercely and immediately. “You’re the last person that should be anywhere near him. I don’t know what the hell that was, but that doesn’t give you any right.”

Pitch just looked at him, then at the others, deciding there was no point in talking to Bunny, apparently. “I removed the nightmare sand, but it’s not an easily reversible process. It’s too deeply rooted. He has to remove the rest himself.”

“Can’t you get to the bit that’s deeper somehow?” Tooth asked, eyes wide as she looked between Pitch and Jack’s back as he hid against him.

“Not without killing him.”

“That’s mighty convenient,” Bunny growled, looking like he’d like nothing better than to crack Pitch like one of his googies.

“What can we do?” North added, also deciding not to engage Bunny’s line of discussion, at least not yet. “How can we help?”

Pitch looked at him, considered the offer genuinely, only because he was truly desperate, then shook his head and looked at the silvery white hairs fluttering at the back of Jack’s head, his gaze soft. This was far from over. “Nothing. I’ll update you if anything changes. He needs rest.” He glanced at Bunny at last, his gaze much more stern. “And he needs not to be antagonized.”

“Or in other words, you don’t want us asking any questions,” Bunny responded, predictably.

Pitch just sighed and rolled his eyes. “Oh, go suck an egg, rabbit.” He looked at all of them. “Standing here and speaking to you at all is a courtesy gifted by his love for you and nothing more…I’ll be in touch.”

With a sweep of the shadows, he summoned Jack’s staff to him and spirited it and the two of them away back home.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know why he was here, but he didn’t want to be awake because eventually he would remember.

He’d never felt so weak. It felt like he was dying. It felt like the rot in his soul had been exposed to the open air, the cause of all his problems revealed to everyone so they could see that he was the problem. He was made wrong. He was meant to be alone, because look, look what he’d done, what he was, deep down. He had no roots, no home, no family because he didn’t deserve those things. He didn’t deserve anything except having the pit of him scooped out and discarded.

There was so much stagnant, muddy water inside him.

Someone was holding him and rocking. He was sobbing. He was sitting on something soft. He couldn’t breathe. He was scared. That’s all he knew, and then he was gone again.

Chapter Text

“--again. Not again, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…why? Why does this keep happening? I don’t understand…it’s not fair to him. What has he ever done? Leave him be…whatever I’ve done wrong, do not make him pay for my sins. I beg you.”

“--in your hair. Unfortunately, I’m not quite as good at them, but it’s still…” There was quiet sobbing. “It still looks very nice on you. You should wear flowers more often…I think they suit you. I can improve…she would be embarrassed of my efforts now though…”

“–quiet without you.” A deep shuddering breath. “...so…so quiet. I forgot how quiet it used to be. How I used to enjoy the silence…Jack…it’s time to wake up now…please. Please. I won’t be without you again…I’m here, I’ve got you, and I won’t let go. Don’t let go of me, Jack. Hear me. Don’t you dare give up on me, Jack Frost.” A pause, and then a terrified whisper. “...you’re so warm.”

“—bad I’ve hurt you, but you have a home to return to. You have people that love you. I love you. I know, I know I’ve lied to you and hurt you and broken your heart, but please live long enough to hate me. Wake, and you shall have your revenge on me. You can wake and know everyday that I am somewhere paying for what I did to you or…or you could…you could stay. If you wanted to.” His voice dwindled down to nearly nothing, shuddering and breathless, but it still felt so loud in the silence. “You could stay with me…Jack. My beautiful star, how I need you. But the world…it needs you so much more. I believe in you, and I know they will too. Stay here. Believe.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes Jack opened his eyes and saw Pitch crying. Sometimes he felt tears on his face like rain, accompanied by fervent whispers he couldn’t understand.

Especially after the incident with Antarctica and after, he was so tired. He’d given all he had to give to that storm and to the one still inside him, and left very little for himself. Being awake was hard. It seemed like it was getting easier, but the static crept up on him and took him back to oblivion every time. He never got to stay, and that was fine with him. He had a feeling that should scare him.

Chapter Text

Jack kept coming back. Each time he gained a little more awareness, a little more of himself, and the nightmare sand was still there, eating him alive, but he was alive, or as alive as a spirit could be, and he began to want to stay. He didn’t, but he almost did.

“...Pitch?”

Immediately, there was a flurry of motion and the sound of someone forgetting how to breathe properly. He opened his eyes and saw Pitch kneeling on the bed beside him, leaning over him as he looked down into his face desperately for any signs of life. Finding his eyes open, Pitch’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Jack. Jack, can you hear me?” he gasped.

Jack blinked slowly, sleepily. “...course I can.”

Pitch put his hand over his mouth as he closed his eyes and forced himself to regain his composure. Once he was calm, he looked back down at him, brushing the back of his hand down Jack’s cool cheek. “Do you know where you are?”

He didn’t.

“I’m tired,” Jack mumbled instead, closing his eyes again. He didn’t want to fall asleep again, it felt like he’d been having a nightmare, but he didn’t think he had a choice.

Immediately, Pitch panicked, grabbing his face in his hands and pleading, “Hey, hey, no, Jack. Don’t. Stay awake. Stay here. Jack.”

Jack opened his eyes again reluctantly, half way. “...” He’d had something to say, but suddenly, searching his mind, it was nowhere to be found. In fact, there was very little going on in his mind at all, but before he closed his eyes again he smiled a little and nuzzled his face into Pitch’s hand. His last thought was that it was so nice and warm.

——

Jack opened his eyes and looked around, immediately noticing a weight on his chest. After a brief assessment, he realized it was Pitch’s head. They were cuddled up together in bed like they often were, and it was weird, but he was pretty sure he’d been having an awful nightmare just a second ago. He was going to give Pitch a piece of his mind about that for sure. What gives? Sleeping with The Nightmare King ought to have its perks, right?

Jack watched Pitch sleep for a while peacefully. Even in sleep Pitch, though, had lines in his face from tension. Did The Nightmare King have nightmares? He didn’t want to wake him if he was finally getting some rest, but he certainly didn’t look comfortable or happy. He knew Pitch would want him to wake him.

“...hey, Pitch?” he finally whispered.

Pitch’s eyes shot open and he turned over to face him properly, looking at him, once again, like he could hardly believe it.

“Jack,” he whispered, eyes scanning him rapidly. “...how do you feel?”

“Gross,” Jack mumbled, but he was already comforted by the sight of Pitch and his pretty golden eyes as they stared at him. He just wished they didn’t look so haunted. “...heavy. I…had a really awful nightmare, I think, I feel weird. Like I’m still kind of half in it, you know?” He paused, suddenly uncertain. Where was he again? He knew this. He’d forgotten for a moment, but he knew this.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“I…” He swallowed and looked around. “Home?”

Pitch blinked in surprise, his eyes widening slightly, and Jack was nervous for a moment, but then Pitch’s face dissolved into a warm smile. “…yes. That’s right,” he said as though he hadn't expected his answer, but was very pleased by it.

“Um.” Jack swallowed, hit by a sudden wave of dizziness. “You probably have stuff to do, but can you like…can you stay here for a minute?”

Pitch settled down on his side and pulled Jack in close again. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you much, much longer than a minute.”

Jack smiled a little shyly, feeling kind of silly, but warmed by Pitch’s promise. “...kay. Thanks. Sorry, I just…it’s the weirdest thing, it’s like–”

Suddenly, Jack went quiet, his body tensing. Pitch noticed and immediately began rubbing his back slowly between his shoulder blades. It was soothing, but not enough to keep Jack from realizing that he was pretty sure that hadn’t been a dream. He was scared to ask, but finally did.

“That wasn’t a dream, huh?” he murmured.

“No, it wasn’t,” Pitch answered back softly. “But you’re alright now.”

“I don’t feel alright. I…this is…” Jack looked around the room as if he’d just heard a strange noise. Did he imagine that? It was like a–

“Jack,” Pitch said suddenly, forcing his attention onto him as he took his face in his hands. “Listen. I know I said it was okay to be afraid. But not right now. This is different. There’s nothing to be afraid of, do you understand me?”

Actually, after thinking about it for a moment, Jack realized he…didn’t understand. His brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching as he asked tentatively, “I thought…but there is. There’s plenty to be afraid of. I can’t just…”

“You can and you will,” Pitch insisted, his eyes fiery, and Jack wasn’t sure how he could ever possibly deny him…but he’d find a way, because he was Jack, and he didn’t like to make a habit of blindly doing what anyone told him, even Pitch, if he was wrong. And he was. For now though, he listened as Pitch continued fervently, “You have to reject the fear. Don’t think about it. Don’t focus on it at all, do everything you can to push it out of your mind and it will go away.”

Jack stared at him, bewildered and a little annoyed. Maybe even kind of hurt that he’d lie to him like that. “...but it won’t. Fear is important and happens for a reason, that’s what you told me.”

Pitch dropped his hands with a growl of frustration and Jack’s eyes widened. Pitch took a deep breath and closed his eyes a second before looking back at him patiently. “I know what I said. I know. But the nightmare sand is a parasite, you can’t feed it, under any circumstance or it will eat you alive. Everything you are, it will be gone.”

“Are you sure? I mean, are you sure it’s a parasite?”

It was Pitch’s turn to look bewildered. “Of course I’m sure.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully, glancing off to the side as he considered this. He really wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to worry Pitch anymore than he already was. Poor guy kind of seemed like he was at the end of his rope.

He looked back at Pitch with a sigh through his nose and nodded. “Okay. I’ll try.”

Pitch nodded eagerly and took each of his hands in his. “Yes, good, Jack.” Jack felt that familiar tingle of happiness at being praised by Pitch and relaxed a little. Maybe Pitch was right. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Jack nodded once. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he repeated obediently.

“Very, very good,” Pitch enthused, pulling him closer and holding him against his chest as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Everything’s going to be fine. I won’t let a thing happen to you. Ever.”

Jack smiled a little and closed his eyes. “I know.”

——

Quiet humming drifted through the air as Jack slowly began to wake and already he realized Pitch was right. Almost immediately, Jack felt very much like himself again. He couldn’t remember everything right away, but the fog veiling his mind was much thinner, and he could see through it to much of what had happened and to a better understanding of what was happening now. He felt less confused and raw, and he recognized quickly it was Pitch humming a tune nearby, although he was pretty sure he’d never heard him hum or sing before. That low, silky voice could be no one else.

The pleasing sound tempted him to open his eyes and he looked around to see Pitch sitting beside the bed with a swath of darkness in his lap. It took a moment for him to realize he seemed to be knitting fine strands of darkness together like a spider creating a web, beautiful and tedious work done over and over everyday. What he appeared to be creating didn’t seem as though it should have been possible for a number of reasons, but nonetheless the threads obeyed his careful hands and added themselves to the growing bit of fabric in his lap, defying physics as they pieced together like magnets. It was fascinating to watch.

“Good morning,” Pitch offered softly, his hand still moving as he looked up at him.

Jack watched him, mesmerized. “Is it really morning?”

Pitch paused at that and looked up at him, making the odd expression again that made Jack feel as though he’d said either exactly the wrong or the right thing and he wasn’t sure which it was. Finally, Pitch responded, “I have no idea.”

Jack just hummed once in response then turned his attention to the rest of the room and himself. His whole body ached, but he’d felt worse pain loads of times. What was much less bearable was the creeping sense of dread crawling up the back of his skull trying to tell him that this peaceful room was not all that it appeared to be.

And then his stomach lurched. He remembered.

He remembered all of it.

Pitch stopped then and with a wave of his hand, what he’d been working on had gone away somewhere. He watched the horrified recognition settle onto Jack’s face with caution. He seemed to be waiting for the questions.

“The…what are the bandages?” he choked out at last, turning his attention to the gauze on his hands just for something to look at. It was the easiest question to ask.

“You’d been scratching and biting yourself,” Pitch explained softly. “I expect you were hallucinating something or another, or were simply so distraught it seemed like the best way to cope, which is perfectly understandable. It would appear you also banged your head against something hard, or hit yourself. Your ankle was a bit swollen, but nothing terrible. By the time I arrived, you were bloody and your sweatshirt was in tatters, either by accident or from you tearing at it, or both. Your clothes were ruined so I discarded them.”

Jack stared. “Are you serious?” He didn’t remember any of that. He’d hit his head on the ground once, actually, now that he thought about it, but the rest of that didn’t sound familiar at all.

He remembered making the ice crack. He remembered thinking that he was surprised how hard you had to bite before it actually drew blood. Jack looked at his hands again and felt like there had been blood under his fingernails at one point, but there wasn’t now, although some of the nails were badly broken. His wrist was bandaged thoroughly where the snowflake tattoo had been placed.

Pitch still had a very cautious look about him, and Jack wasn’t sure if that had to do with whatever was wrong with Jack because of the nightmare sand, or if he was wary now because Jack had remembered why he left in the first place.

That being said, he also looked relieved. Had he thought Jack might not wake up?

“You’ve been resting so your body could repair the worst of your injuries, but you still need plenty of rest,” Pitch explained. “I have medicine you’ll need to take, but let me know if anything hurts or feels wrong immediately. If you need anything at all, you must call for me and I’ll come, but you’re not to leave this bed. Do you understand?”

He nodded slightly. Pitch’s face softened and Jack relaxed a little as Pitch stood and came over to the bed then reached out and ran his fingers through his hair. “Good, Jack. Don’t worry, it’s just for a little while until you adjust. It will get easier. It won’t be like last time.”

He tilted his head slightly in the direction of Pitch’s hand. “Is everyone else okay? I didn’t hurt them, did I? North. North, I hit him, is he…?”

“Everyone is unharmed. He’s tough, he was perfectly fine. I’ve told them you’re alright and that I’m taking care of you.”

He winced, glad, but still remorseful. Still, he was a little amused by the thought of The Guardians seeing what took place between him and Pitch. They must have hated that. He remembered the way he’d thrown himself into Pitch’s waiting embrace then clung to him like a child as Pitch explained to them what was going to happen. He remembered hearing Bunny’s furious voice as Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch’s neck and hid his face against him, trying to pretend like none of this was happening. Whatever they believed about their relationship with one another, and whatever had happened between them, there was nothing that could have pried them apart right then. Jack didn’t know where they were going to go from here, but right now it was very easy to sink into their old, comfortable patterns. He needed something comforting and familiar right now.

“I’m…sorry I…” But before Jack could finish, Pitch put two fingers to Jack’s lips to silence him.

“All of this is because of me. My desires, my fear, my arrogance. I’m the one that hit you with nightmare sand. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“It seems like all I do is make things difficult for you though,” Jack insisted.

Pitch couldn’t help but chuckle quietly and his hand moved to cradle Jack’s cheek. “Your presence makes me irrational because I’m in love with you like some rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, idiotic teenager, but that’s the only real difficulty you bring. It is maddening, but it is not your fault. Besides, you make it sound as though my life was ever easy or simple before you. Truthfully, it’s just a lot more interesting.”

Jack grimaced and shut his eyes as if in pain, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. All of that was exactly what he needed to hear and it felt like a soothing balm directly on his soul, especially now, not just because of the nightmare sand, but because after getting back his memories he still feared he’d been nothing but a pretty little bird flying around Pitch’s lair that had overstayed its welcome.

“You…so you…want me? I mean you–” He shook his head, feeling stupid. He couldn’t think straight. He felt like he was still only half awake. “Pitch, you killed me,” he said desperately, looking up at him as he tried to understand. “If you love me so much, then why…what did I do? To deserve what happened? Is it…because I stopped believing in you? Is that why? …how could you?”

Pitch opened his mouth, grimaced, and closed it again before finally, after a long pause, he murmured, “I know you want answers. And you’ll have all of them, I promise, but I can’t just give you them all right now. The nightmare sand is wreaking havoc on your mind, your very essence. It will be too much all at once and we need to–”

“No, tell me now,” Jack suddenly demanded, his voice much louder than he’d meant it to be, the sound easily filling the large room. “Tell me in case I die, Pitch, in case you end up killing me again. Haven’t I earned that much at least? Don’t you think? Then again, third time’s the charm! Unless there are other times you murdered me I don’t know about.”

They were both startled by his sudden burst of anger, and it was silent. Pitch stared at him, horrified, but Jack didn’t care. Pitch should be upset, it was his fault they were in this position in the first place. The least he could do was listen to the brutal truth of what he’d done. As Pitch struggled to find the words to respond with, Jack thought to himself that he should have Pitch write him the longest apology letter ever, then burn it in front of him without ever reading it.

Finally, all Pitch managed to choke out was a shaky, “…third?”

In his befuddlement, some of Jack’s anger dissipated, just a little. “…what?”

“Third time’s the charm…that’s…what you said.”

Jack just glared at him. “Yeah? And? You made me fall through the ice, that’s one, then the nightmare sand…and the…the…” His voice trailed off. Irritated, he looked away. “…okay, so I’m not the brightest bulb in the box, we get it.”

“No, it’s—“ Pitch shook his head. “Never mind. You’re right, of course you are. I’m not going to put you in more danger by explaining everything to you. No matter what, Jack. But I will tell you, it was an accident. I didn’t—“

Jack’s chest was suddenly killing him, but he didn’t care. “It wasn’t a damn accident, it was your fault! You–”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Pitch insisted.

“My sister, whatever, same thing. And that makes this okay? That’s worse, Pitch are you fucking kidding me? You could have killed her,” Jack shouted, rage building in him exponentially by the second.

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t my intention, you asked me a question so listen to the answer,” Pitch yelled back at him, trying and failing to stay calm. Jack could see him trembling, but the sound of cracking ice and splashing water, of his arms smacking wet and useless against the chunks of ice all around him, filled his ears and made it too hard to think. He couldn’t breathe, it was getting dark around the edges of his vision and everything he’d ever hated was staring him in the face.

“Nothing you could say to me can fix this,” Jack cried, his voice breaking. “It doesn’t matter, you took everything from me for nothing, and—“

“I was trying to stop you,” Pitch shouted over him suddenly, and Jack went quiet. He stared at Pitch, uncomprehending, as he continued, “You rejected fear so thoroughly in your effort to ‘grow up’ and not believe in The Boogeyman anymore that you forgot how to be afraid altogether, so you went ice skating when the ice clearly wasn’t thick enough, and it broke, and you drowned. I was trying to stop you, and I couldn’t, and instead…”

Pitch’s voice faded away. Jack felt sick, but all he could do was listen as Pitch continued explaining that brutal truth Jack, only moments before, had wanted to air out so badly. “I was trying to frighten you, but your sister wanted so badly to go skating one more time before the end of the season, and you wouldn’t listen, and I…I should have known better than to let her hear me, but I couldn’t…stand the sight of you staring through me, not hearing me desperately telling you to you to go home, the ice was too thin, it wasn’t safe, and I panicked when it started to crack and I screamed at you, and then she panicked and then…and then you drowned, Jack. That’s what happened.”

Silence rang in his ears. The darkness was gone, but his head was throbbing and the burning in his chest was only getting worse.

“It was an accident,” Pitch said again urgently, because it was an accident after all, but not one caused by Pitch. Jack could feel Pitch staring at him even though his own gaze had dropped to the bed, and wanted to disappear. He didn’t want to see those kind and forgiving eyes, trying to love him through all his sins after Jack said such awful things to him when really…it was his own fault. “I didn’t mean to make her panic. I didn’t mean for you to…Jack, you didn’t know. It’s not your fault,” Pitch continued insistently. “It wasn’t–”

“It was my fault,” Jack whispered, as if he hadn’t heard anything Pitch had said. “I could have killed her. Just to have a little fun? I…that’s…I’m supposed to be a Guardian, of fun, how could I have…? Am I just…I was really just…”

Made wrong.

Jack stared, eyes wide, vacant, and glistening as the understanding settled in, little pieces of information falling into place inside him, and as they came together the whole thing came tumbling down. The pain was so monstrously intense Jack choked on it and could no longer breathe, but as he collapsed forward, Pitch was there, falling onto the bed in front of him before Jack had the chance and catching him in his arms. He gathered him up as Jack’s neck strained from the force of his scream. He was stiff and contorted in Pitch’s arms, clawing at his own chest where inside it felt like every organ was trying to grow itself back. He writhed and wanted to die, and was briefly aware of the solid warmth supporting him on all sides, holding him together, but only barely. Only barely.

Jack’s arms shook as they held onto Pitch, tense, hands clawing with the desperation of a drowning man. The sand was killing him. He was going to die, it was too much feeling, too much guilt and sorrow and hate and love and fear, and the nightmare sand was feeding on all of it.

He realized finally that Pitch was speaking.

“—with me, in this room. You’re here, I have you, and you’re safe. Right now, you are okay. Right now, all that matters is that you are right here with me, and you are okay, Jack, listen to me. Breathe. You need to breathe again for me, okay? Jack? Can you do that? Breathe.” Pitch placed a hand flat against his chest and Jack gasped, expecting it to burn, but it didn’t affect the pain one way or the other at all, so he took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes, good. Again, Jack, take a deep breath in. Slow, slow…that’s it. Let it out. Again. Deep breath in slow, listen to me, feel the air going in, feel my hand on your chest. Good…yes, excellent, Jack. Again.”

After coaching him through his breathing a while longer, Pitch cradled Jack’s cheek in his hand and murmured, “Well done…wonderful, Jack, you did very well. I know it still hurts, but soon it won’t. It’s already getting better. Yes?”

Jack nodded a little, shaking all over, but he was right. The pain was already less than it had been. He wasn’t even really sure why he’d been so upset in the first place, but he decided it was better not to think about it. He couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about exactly, and he let out a soft little sob, shutting his eyes tight, because underneath it was still there, like a corpse at the bottom of a lake, and he could almost see it, its face peering up through the ice, but he didn’t want to.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Pitch whispered as he gathered him closer to his chest, their bodies hopelessly tangled together as he slowly rocked him. “I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well…there we go, Jack…just relax…just relax…good…”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Jack spit out suddenly, forcing his heavy head back so he could look up at Pitch. “I don’t think you’re a monster,” he said again as his head fell sideways onto Pitch’s shoulder and he blinked up at him through tears.

Pitch stared at him, stunned momentarily, but he blinked it away and continued soothing him, “That’s…thank you, Jack…truly, but you need to rest now. Can you do that for me, starlight?”

Jack made a small, stubborn noise of protest, but he was running out of steam and they both knew it. Pitch opened his mouth to tell him that was enough now and began moving him gently back into the pillows, but even though Jack’s eyes closed briefly, he forced them open again and looked up into Pitch’s eyes, his body shivering from the intensity of the emotion he was feeling as it desperately tried to escape. He clung to Pitch; he needed him to understand. Nothing was more important than saying this, and he made sure to look him in the eye as he did it.

“They’re wrong. About you. You did bad stuff, I know that, I’m not stupid, but you were suffering for so long and no one cared.” He squeezed his arm tightly, shaking it a little as Pitch stared back into his earnest face, stunned. “No one helped you, and you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t, and I’m so sorry.” Jack suppressed a small hiccup of a sob, his face screwing up, but he pushed on. “And it’s not okay, the things you did, I know that, but I’m so proud of you for how you keep trying to be better. So many times, after the shadows…everything.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t feel his hands. They felt very far away. Pitch felt very far away, even though Jack was nearly face planted in his chest, unable to sit up right on his own. “I forgive you. For all of it. Because even though things have been harder, I am…the happiest I’ve ever been. I’ve never been better at…being me…and I love you. I want to live. I never really wanted that before, you know? S’the first time I actually…really…”

“Jack,” Pitch insisted quietly, laying him back on the bed, and there was nothing Jack could do about it. “It’s alright. We’ll talk when you wake again, okay?”

Jack’s words fell clumsily and heavily out of his mouth like marbles, but he just had to get them out. “I would do it again.” He watched as Pitch went still and looked at him as he slowly faded away. “I’m going to protect you…and them. So don’t fight anymore. I don’t think I can…” He let out a hoarse little laugh. “...heh…I don’t think I can take another hit like that.”

When Pitch spoke, he was on the very edges of consciousness and it dragged him back. He pried his eyes open one more time and saw Pitch gazing at him with a look so soft it made the nightmare sand inside him go quiet, the pain fading to nearly nothing.

“I will never…ever let you go again,” he whispered. “You are mine…but I’m yours, clearly, and I’m done with this war.” Never looking away from Jack, as though he were hypnotized, he took his hand and kissed it. “Truce,” he murmured, flooding Jack with warmth and contentment, and he finally let his eyes close.

“Truce.”

—-

He slept. Jack slept a lot. It took longer than he’d hoped for him to get better. Sometimes he actually thought it was getting worse, but it was just too hard to tell.

He actually didn’t have nightmares because Pitch made sure that he didn’t, but he rarely dreamt either. Mostly, it was just a whole lot of nothing, so he really appreciated what few dreams he did get.

Those odd dreams that felt a little too real always hurt. They poked and prodded at something soft and vulnerable inside him, but it was really an intense melancholy than anything, and he craved dreams that made him feel so much. Right now, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, but it was getting to the point that he didn’t care.

…

……

“Well, this is embarrassing.” Jack lowered his favorite stick, unable to look at the general. Sighing, he stuck it into the snow, still a little out of breath. He almost never had people bothering him in this part of the woods. He wondered if Pitch was trying to get away from people too. “I, uh…”

“What is it you’re doing exactly?” Pitchiner asked, staring at him hard, because he knew exactly what he was doing.

Jack glowered at the snow, fidgeting with the stick. He didn’t have to rub it in. “Nothing, I was just–”

“I let you get away with quite a lot, Frost, but do not lie to my face,” Pitchiner growled back.

Jack glanced up at him reluctantly before straightening up and obediently lowering his gaze. “I was…practicing. I was practicing.”

“And what, exactly, is it you think you’re practicing?”

Jack winced, his shoulders hunching, but he answered immediately, “I’m going to be a golden warrior, sir.”

“Is that so?” Pitchiner said, raising a brow.

Jack finally looked back at him, glaring now, and he opened his mouth to snap back at him, king or general or whoever, it didn’t matter, but stopped as Pitchiner stepped towards him.

“Your posture is all wrong, and your wrist should be bent at first, but then straight. Here,” he instructed, and Jack’s eyes widened as Pitchiner stepped up behind him, had him hold it like he had been, and then began adjusting Jack’s grip on his stick as if it were a sword. He was so glad Pitchiner was behind him because his face was bright red. Pitch really just…enveloped him. He was so much taller, his limbs were so much longer, his hands were so warm, his breath was hot, his body was so close up against his back–

“Focus, Jack,” Pitchiner demanded, and Jack quickly brought his attention back to his hands instead of how close Pitch was to his ass.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Sir. Uh.”

“Don’t talk, just pay attention.”

Jack opened his mouth to say ‘yes sir’ but stopped, because technically that was talking.

He shamelessly swooned when Pitch growled out a low, but very pleased, “Good, Jack…”

Eventually, he was able to actually focus on what Pitch was telling him, because he actually did care. This was important stuff. The general didn’t just go around training new recruits, and definitely not people that weren’t even actually in training, especially not people from his background, but that’s exactly what was happening and he needed to take advantage of it.

It was fascinating, actually. Eventually, Jack got bold enough to ask questions, once he was prompted the first time, and assumed thereafter it was acceptable to talk as long as it was relevant. When Pitchiner’s attitude remained easy and encouraging, he continued with the questions, becoming more and more enthusiastic, eyes bright with excitement as he followed every instruction to the letter, frantically memorizing everything so he could practice it later.

He’d completely forgotten about his massive fucking crush on the general until Pitchiner was quiet, his hand on the small of Jack’s back. He could hear him breathing, could see his warm breath from over his shoulder, and as Pitchiner stepped around to look him up and down his hand slid around from his back to his waist. Jack’s eyes slid half shut as he barely bit back a groan and he was so glad he was only wearing the thin, loose shirt he wore for training. He could easily feel Pitchiner’s heat seeping into his skin through the fabric.

“Do you understand?” Pitchiner said.

Jack blinked, then swallowed thickly and admitted, “I, uh…I got distracted, I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” Pitch said, and for a moment Jack thought he was angry until he added, “By what?” And then he was just confused. What did it matter?

“Oh, uh, the…” Fuck, he really didn’t like to lie, and he liked Pitch. He definitely didn’t want to lie to him, even if he was going to get his ass beat, but what was he supposed to say? “The…uh…warm,” he stammered.

Pitch blinked, narrowing his eyes in confusion. “Warm?”

Jack nodded a little and looked down, flushing as he choked out, “You. You’re…warm. Sorry. I’ll pay attention.”

Pitch stared at him for much too long, until Jack was ready to practically beg him to look anywhere else, but finally he continued with the drill. Jack thought, though, his voice was a little softer.

They moved onto something a little more difficult and again Jack found his concentration refocusing on what he was learning. It was fun, actually. The motion involved a sharp bit of foot work and a little hop and normally that was no problem but the snow had mostly melted and was slippery in some places so he had to be cautious of the mud and ice, which was kinda distracting.

Inevitably, he slipped, but found Pitch was right behind him, and he fell against his chest. Jack burst out into laughter and leaned against him as he regained his footing. To his surprise, Pitchiner didn’t scold him, but he did mutter, with a smirk in his voice, “Jack Frost, bested by a bit of ice…how embarrassing for you.”

“Shut up, your majesty, this is hard!” he defended, still giggling as he stood up straight again. “Okay, okay, no, I got this. Let me do it again.”

He practiced a few more times and, believing he wouldn’t fall again, Pitchiner stepped back to let him try it without guidance.

Maybe Jack was trying to show off a little bit because immediately he overshot and ended up landing flat on his back in the snow. To his relief, he wasn’t the only one laughing. Pitchiner continued chuckling as he came over and scooped him up under the arms then set him on his feet.

“That was rather spectacular, whatever it was,” he teased, and Jack tipped his head back to grin up at him upside down.

“Oh yeah, you like that? I got more where that came from.”

Pitchiner didn’t let go. In fact, his arms lay around him, as if he thought Jack might fall again, except obviously that wasn’t the case. Jack hardly noticed. God, he was so handsome, it was unreal, and those eyes. He was just trying to figure out whether or not Pitch’s eyes were literally glowing when he realized it had been quiet and the both of them still like this for way too long.

“What’d you say? …sorry, I…got distracted again…” he mumbled, though he didn’t bother to lift his head from Pitchiner’s chest. He didn’t seem to mind, his long arms were still wound securely around him.

“I didn’t say anything,” Pitchiner murmured back, his gaze soft.

Jack swallowed. “Oh.”

The motion of his throat seemed to attract Pitch’s attention as he then moved his hand up and laid it gently around Jack’s throat. Jack knew he whimpered then and Pitch wouldn’t have heard it probably, if his full attention hadn’t been on Jack, except it was. Deciding he could probably die happy after this anyway, Jack laid back flush against Pitch with a lazy smile. He was surprised when Pitch let out a small responding hum of approval. As his hand slid up further and his fingers moved through Jack’s wild silvery-white hair, Jack moaned openly, and couldn’t find it in himself to care. Pitch obviously knew he had feelings for him big time. He shouldn’t be surprised if Jack reacted this way when he manhandled him. Jack, however, wasn’t sure what Pitch was getting out of this, except he had the distinct impression he was enjoying holding Jack close as much as Jack was.

He didn’t feel embarrassed. He felt vulnerable, but he didn’t feel afraid like he probably should have. He felt comfortable, tingling and warm all over, as if this was something they’d always done, and he couldn’t say why, but he just felt like Pitch felt the same. His hazy, contented expression didn’t shy away from being vulnerable either and suddenly Jack was pretty sure if he didn’t kiss Pitchiner right now he was going to die.

So he did. He turned around in his arms, stood on his tip toes and kissed Pitch with reckless abandon, because if this was the only time this ever happened he was going to make it count.

But somehow he’d known Pitch would kiss him back. He didn’t hesitate. Pitch just pulled him closer, cradled his face and kissed the breath out of him, so Jack responded by winding his arms around his neck.

Jack melted. His mind faded away and he lost all sense of time or anything else as he parted his lips and Pitchiner licked slowly into his mouth, passionate, but unhurried. His tongue and his breath was so hot Jack could hardly believe it. Pitch had to be warmer than most people.

At some point, they parted, mutually, almost sleepily, their foreheads resting together and Jack wasn’t even sure he could open his eyes. He felt drunk. Finally, though, he pried them open, and he gazed up at Pitch, blissful, but more vulnerable than ever. His eyes were questioning, confused as his hands slid down to rest on Pitch’s neck and shoulder. He swallowed, trying to find something to say.

Pitch beat him to it. “If you want to be a golden warrior…”

“I do.”

“...then it’s highly inappropriate for me to feel the way I do about you,” Pitch murmured.

Jack pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, his eyes lighting up, because all he could hear was that Pitch felt some kind of way about him enough for it to be a problem, and he liked that very much. “And…what way is that?” he asked, a playful lilt to his voice as he smiled innocently up at him.

Pitch chuckled softly and brushed his fingertips back through some of Jack’s hair. “...strongly enough that I don’t know that I care if it’s inappropriate.”

Jack beamed radiantly, outshining by far the sun glittering in the snow around them. “I’m undecided. I think you better kiss me again, just to make sure and all.”

And that was how Jack’s life became a weird fairy tale, for a little while.

……

…

Jack woke sobbing. Even though it was, by all measures, a wonderful dream, and even though he had Pitch there to hold him and soothe him and tell him he was right there, everything would be alright, Jack couldn’t shake this horrible gnawing ache that told him everything would not. It would not be alright. Not for a very long time. Not until Pitch found him again. It took a while, but eventually, as Jack shook the dream off, he realized Pitch had already found him, and was glad to no longer be dreaming.

——

Jack loved the smell of pine. Of standing in a snowy field, every inch glittering in the sun, bathing in brisk, cool air, taking deep lung after lung full and feeling like the luckiest man on earth.

He liked squirrels. A lot of people would have said that was silly, but there were actually a lot of different types of squirrels and they were so much fun to watch. They were hilarious, honestly, always busy, with those serious little faces…until they found a pile of sunflower seeds in the garden, thought about it, then flopped on the pile flat on their bellies in absolute heaven. Bird watching, squirrel watching, following feral cats around, it helped him pass the quiet days by.

And the kids. God, he missed the kids even if they didn’t miss him. He missed Jamie and Sophie and Monty and Cupcake, and everyone else. Obviously they couldn’t see him. Obviously. But he still watched them grow up, he still had fun with them and he still loved them. They were all he had. He got attached, wanted to be there for them and couldn’t, watched them get old and die knowing they would never know him. Every time he stood at a fresh grave he told himself, Jack, never again. Not ever again. But there always was. And he was always, always alone in the end. He’d accepted that. It was fine.

He’d never realized how all of those things had made such a huge difference in what he was able to bear. Thinking about them now was helping, but only for so long and soon he was going to run out of things to keep him sane.

And then, just like that, he was out.

Things moved in the dark, he was positive they did. Nightmares, The Guardians, there were kids trapped in here with him, he saw bugs crawling around, he saw himself, he saw Pitch, he was in a forest, he heard birds and he was shaking all over as voices ghosted across his ears. He slapped his hands over his ears, but he could still hear them, just not what they were saying. Bugs crawling on him. In him, burrowing. Hello? He smelled baked apple pie, he tasted blood, he tried to scream and could not, he tried to beg and could not.

On his knees, curling into a ball and sobbing, he finally called for Pitch, screaming, and in an instant Pitch burst into the room. He seemed startled and unhappy that Jack was on the floor, and rushed over to him before pulling him into his arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay…you did very well, Jack. Can you hear me? You’re alright,” he soothed as he placed him back in bed and laid heavy blankets over him.

Jack clawed at Pitch’s robe and shoulders, tugging him closer until he could wrap his arms around him and then he refused to let him go. Pitch may have said he did well, but he already knew, even half-mad as he still was, that he had failed the exercise horribly.

“I’m sorry, I tried,” Jack breathed. “I tried so hard, but I couldn’t—“

“I know, love, I know, put it out of your mind.” Pitch climbed into the bed with him, slipping under the covers, and held Jack close, tucking Jack protectively under his chin. Jack’s slender chest rose and fell deeply and unevenly against Pitch, and Jack shut his eyes tight as he tried to remember how to breathe normally again. If Pitch wasn’t here…

“How…long?” Jack asked finally.

“It’s the act of it that matters, Jack.”

“How long,” Jack insisted, leaning back to stare up at him, red, teary eyes as stubborn as ever.

Pitch looked at him neutrally. “Eight minutes and thirty-four seconds.”

Jack shut his eyes tight with a whimper then let his forehead fall against Pitch. That was it? He was only alone for that long and he couldn’t handle even that?

“It’s not about—“

“I know,” Jack cut him off sharply. “I know, but I should be able to do this. Why won’t it just go away? I tried, I really tried…damn it!”

“Pushing yourself isn’t the point. Jack.” The way he said his name prompted Jack to look up at him. “You should not be able to do this. That’s the point. You can’t do this. You can’t be alone, you can’t get rid of the fear…yet. And you made another step towards that goal. What could you possibly have to fault yourself for?”

Jack’s mouth opened and closed, as he felt suddenly uncertain. That…made sense, but…he was afraid. “What if I can’t do it?”

“You will,” Pitch said firmly, taking his cheek softly in his hand.

“But if I can’t.”

“Asking me that is only your fear speaking and answering it won’t help you. Don’t entertain it. Think of something else. Anything.”

Jack closed his eyes and groaned. “Like—…?”

Jack’s eyes flew open again as Pitch’s warm mouth suddenly pressed against his, and Jack’s mind went blank. Closing his eyes, he leaned into Pitch closer, tilting his head as he eagerly parted his lips and sank into the kiss. He did exactly what Pitch told him to do before he’d left the room earlier: be mindful and focus on the good things, pay attention to every tiny detail. Jack made a small, needy sound as he focused on the wet heat of Pitch’s breath, the slick surface of his tongue and the inside of his mouth. The more he had the more he wanted. He was briefly afraid that Pitch was only doing this to help him and not because he wanted to, but then he refocused with a gasp as Pitch’s tongue plunged into his mouth, taking his face in both hands as he devoured him, sending shivers up and down Jack’s spine. His possessive confidence always got to Jack immediately, sending heat right down into his belly where it quickly gathered, making him squirm.

Pitch leaned away and Jack was in enough of a stupor that he didn’t immediately protest, but just stared up at him, love drunk and exhausted. Pitch’s affectionate smile wasn’t helping matters.

“I need you to rest for me, Jack. Can you do that?” he murmured.

Jack stammered a bit, his cheeks pink. “…oh. Uh…I…guess. If…I have to.”

Pitch laughed quietly and kissed him again, but only briefly. “You’re not well enough for any of that.”

Jack pouted, but Pitch was right. Already, at the corners of his mind, he could feel disorientation and fear trying to push its way in. Who knows what would happen if he got overwhelmed in the middle of things? And he almost certainly would. Right now, he was overwhelmed doing anything, good or bad.

“Okay,” he mumbled sadly, glancing down. He thought for a moment then looked back up at Pitch hesitantly. “When I sleep will you…are you going to do the thing?”

“Yes,” Pitch promised as he closed his eyes and started running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be there. You’re safe.”

Jack didn’t say anything. He just nestled into Pitch’s embrace and let out a heavy sigh, exhausted completely even though he’d hardly spent any time awake at all. Soon…soon he would start to feel like himself again…

But not right now.

Chapter Text

Why didn’t they cancel school? They were supposed to close, people were supposed to stay home, no one was supposed to…

Jack sprinted down the icy street, long abandoned by the wind. It stopped working for him as soon as the storm was over. The Guardians had been there with him at the intersection. They'd tried to tell him that Pitch was dead, but that was no excuse for killing innocent people. He'd had no idea what they were talking about, but now he did. It was like they’d always known he’d turn out to be a monster too.

Pitch wasn’t dead though. Right? He wasn’t. Just because he never came that day, just because Jack hadn’t seen him didn’t mean he was dead, right?

It was honestly just meant to be a snow day. It wasn’t even a blizzard different from any other, it was hardly a blizzard at all. It was a damn Friday, for crying out loud, they couldn’t give the kids a long weekend?

Cars that once held families burned on the side of the road. He could hear screaming, but every time he search a car there were only charred and blackened bodies, and burnt dolls or electronics in the backseat. Where were the kids? Maybe none of them had gotten hurt. Maybe, for some reason, they’d all had to stay home and the parents still had to go to work and so they were all at home playing right now—

And then he spotted the school bus that had crashed into the fountain at the end of the street and tipped over. The windows were smashed. He could see a tiny hand sticking out, waving as more children trapped inside screamed and cried.

He ran as fast as he could down the road, but it was so slippery, and he wasn’t used to these damn ice skates yet. He was only close enough to tell now that the bus actually was on fire, in the front. The bus driver was dead and the fire was moving from front to back, he had to—

“Jack,” Pitch shouted as he snatched him around the waist from seemingly out of nowhere.

Jack stared up at Pitch wide-eyed, tears pouring down his face, weak with disbelief. “I knew it…I knew you weren’t dead,” he gasped, grabbed Pitch by the arm and started pulling him towards the bus of screaming children. “Help me,” he begged. “We have to get the kids out before—“

Jack stopped abruptly, staring in shock at the fountain where the bus was parked, completely fine. No screaming, no fire. The bus was just parked with its stop sign out and letting kids off to meet with the cheerfully chatting parents grouped nearby, holding steaming coffees for them and cocos for the kids. Jack kept walking towards them in disbelief, mind numb, but he stopped as Pitch pulled him back.

“It just a nightmare. You’re having a nightmare, Jack. No,” he scolded as Jack started to turn away from him again, coaxing him back. “Listen to me. You’re having a nightmare right now. I am interfering. Now this is just a dream.”

Jack was about to argue, that was ridiculous, when Pitch pulled a white peony out of thin air and handed it to him. Jack blinked and slowly took it. “Oh…wow, it…really is.” He paused. “Does that mean we can do weird sex stuff?” He paused again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Pitch was grinning at him wolfishly. “Quite alright. You’re bound to feel strange. Any inhibitions you would normally have are unlikely to matter right now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Jack looked around. “But…it is just a dream…right? So no one can get hurt?”

“That’s right,” Pitch confirmed, closing the last of the distance between them so they were flush together as he fussed with Jack’s hair affectionately.

“So…if we did it right here…that would be…fine,” Jack surmised, his cheeks pinking up. He faintly felt as though he should be ashamed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care enough. It was just a dream. All he felt was excitement. If it was a dream, they could do anything they wanted.

Pitch raised a brow at him and smirked, tightening his grip on Jack’s hips in a possessive way that made Jack lose his breath. “That’s correct. Why, Jack? Is that what you’d like to do?”

Jack grinned. “Yeah. Let’s–”

He stopped as the world began to dissolve and reform all around them in a blur of motion. It looked like they were going to wind up at North’s workshop for an instant, but then they were in the forest. It changed again and they were on a mountain top. They lingered there a moment longer than the others before everything changed again and then suddenly they were at the—

Jack grinned as he looked around. He didn’t recognize this place at all, but it was beautiful. He’d been all around the world, but he’d never seen anywhere more opulent. The grand staircase seemed to go on and on forever, splitting off into different directions as it connected to a second and third floor. The ceiling seemed to go on forever. Everything was gold and marble and silk and he—

“Pitch?” Jack’s face fell with worry, everything good draining out of him as he saw the look on Pitch’s face. He was horrified. As Jack leaned back towards him, worried, Pitch snatched him tightly by the arm, looking all around.

“Jack.”

Jack stared up into his face fearfully. He was starting to get freaked out. “What? What’s wrong?”

Pitch glanced at him, then looked back around, his mouth moving, trembling, but never quite forming words. Finally, he croaked, “This…this is…Jack, do you know where we are?”

Jack frowned then took another look around. “Uh. It looks like a castle or something, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Brains are weird, huh?” He flashed him a playful grin. “I could never come up with this when I was awake. You look really handsome by the way. Like royalty. It suits you.”

Pitch looked down at himself, too stunned to speak. “…Jack…Jack, w-we…we…”

But Jack wasn’t listening. Laughing with joy, he ran off, relieved to be unburdened by the effects of the nightmare sand in his dream state. He felt so light and free. He felt brand new, centuries of hurt undone. Tooth had helped Sandy explain to him once that dreams were for healing. In this moment, he understood what they’d meant perfectly.

Jack ran off to explore as people with blurred faces began appearing all around them, creating the general feeling of hustle and bustle. They got in Pitch’s way as he tried to follow and he called after Jack, but he was having too good a time to notice.

He burst through the first doors he came across and found himself in a very busy, very large kitchen full of people focused on their tasks. They moved around him seamlessly as Jack recklessly galloped through the congested space. Pitch was close behind.

“Woah! Look at all those ovens! Look at that pie…what the heck is that?” he said with a laugh, eying a large dish being carried passed by two people, and he couldn’t recognize a single food on the platter. He dashed underneath it and ran out another door at the side of the room.

He popped out in a massive dining room with a long table covered in food. This space was clearly meant to hold a hell of a lot of people.

“Wow,” he breathed, examining the shining silverware curiously just as Pitch caught up with him.

“Jack,” Pitch cried as he ran up to him. He looked like he was about to scold him, but went quiet as Jack beamed up at him and took him by the hand.

“Relax, Your Highness,” he teased. “It’s just a dream. Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

Pitch staggered along behind as Jack dragged him along. “Late? Late for what?”

“The party. You said I could have all the fun I could stand, didn’t you? Well, it’s only what, day three?” The hall echoed with his laughter. “No way am I tired out yet. You're gonna have to do better than that. Come on, you’re so slow, old man.”

Before Pitch could protest, Jack pushed open the double doors into a massive hall, full of people dancing, talking, eating, laughing. The domed ceiling high above was glass, revealing a dazzling swath of the galaxy. Jack didn’t recognize any of the constellations though. It looked nothing like the Milky Way. He even spotted several larger objects, planets or moons maybe, hovering in the near distance.

As Jack gawked, Pitch finally untied his tongue. “Jack, we really should go. I know being awake is difficult right now, but this is…this dream is…I don’t think it’s a good—“

“Wow, you’re trying to peace out from our own wedding celebration?” Jack scolded playfully as he pulled him down to the space where everyone was dancing. “If you don’t show my peasant ass how it’s done, I’ll find someone who will.” He chuckled shyly as he moved close to Pitch again, hesitating. He fiddled with Pitch’s hands, looking suddenly uncertain. “…are you embarrassed? Do I look silly? …I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted with a sweet little smile.

Pitch let out a deep, shuddering sigh and took Jack’s face in his hand, murmuring delicately, “No, love, of course not. You look stunning.”

And he did. He looked…he looked just like Pitch remembered. It seemed so easy to remember when his memories were standing right in front of him, after all. Later he was sure he would forget. Dreams were funny like that, so he tried to take in every detail while he had the chance. Jack was dazzling in his white and gold and while he surely found such a well-fitting suit uncomfortable, it made him look absolutely angelic. Pitch couldn’t have denied him anything.

Jack pressed his lips together, pivoting back and forth in place as those big blue eyes gazed at him, bashful despite the impish smile on his face. “Then…aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

Pitch released a helpless breath. How could he possibly say no? Jack deserved this reprieve and Pitch…he couldn’t possibly walk away from the illusion, no matter how it burned.

He took one long stride back from Jack then bowed deeply before offering him his hand. Positively giddy, Jack bowed back, as slowly as his excitement would allow, just vibrating the whole time, then he took his hand and was surprised to find that he knew how to dance.

Jack laughed breathlessly as they moved gracefully across the floor. “Oh…wow, those uh…’dance lessons’ paid off, huh? Even if a lot of it wasn’t really…dancing. You know, because you’re a dirty old pervert.”

Pitch couldn’t help but let out a little huff of laughter, and held Jack by his waist a little closer than strictly necessary as he said, “Shut up.”

“I want you to rail my ass like you’re breeding me. In front of all these people,” Jack said suddenly and casually, making Pitch sputter and laugh loudly. He knew Jack couldn’t help it in this state, but it really was so much fun. Jack didn’t even seem to realize he’d said anything unusual. He just smiled up at him.

“No, seriously, like maybe in a few dances? You could just…take me up on that pedestal over there and show everyone I belong to you, you know? I want you to spit in my mouth and make me cry. God, that’s hot.” Jack moaned and laid his head against Pitch’s shoulder. “I want everyone to see you use me. See you own me. I’m yours, aren’t I?”

Pitch groaned and held Jack tighter, gripping a handful of Jack’s hair. “Yes…fuck, Jack.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea,” Jack teased, giggled, and moved his arms around Pitch’s neck. “But first, I wanna dance. This is fun.”

So they danced, Pitch letting out a heated sigh as he calmed himself down enough to focus on this. He didn’t want to miss a second of holding Jack like this, dancing with him so close to his body. Jack’s feverish desire seemed to fade in favor of being cradled sleepily to Pitch’s chest as they moved around the dance floor.

“I know it’s all going to end,” Jack murmured quietly into Pitch’s neck. “…but I’m really glad I got to see this. I’ve been having a lot of weird dreams lately, actually…and now all these nightmares…”

Pitch hummed gently and nestled his face against the top of Jack’s head. “It won’t be forever.”

Jack just laughed a little. “Yeah. Nothing is forever.” Jack’s fingers dug harder against him. “When this song ends let’s go look at the stars.”

“Your wish is my command,” Pitch purred, leaning down and nibbling happily at Jack’s neck. Jack burst into giggles, squirming a bit, but not moving away. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Pitch’s jaw.

Jack was quiet a moment. He could still feel him smiling as he suddenly said, “I don’t want to die.”

Pitch froze abruptly. Soon, everyone on the dance floor was still as stone.

“What?” Pitch breathed. “You’re not—“

“Don’t let it take me.”

Pitch leaned back to look at Jack, holding him by the shoulders, and when he saw the black fluid oozing from his mouth he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. “Jack,” he cried in a total panic.

Jack’s head lolled weakly to the side as he coughed up more gunk onto his white suit, his face contorting into a grimace as he sobbed, “It hurts.”

“Wake up,” Pitch pleaded. Broken glass and screaming could be heard from somewhere not too far off. “Jack, wake up.”

“Daddy!”

Pitch was completely paralyzed. He couldn’t look at first, but eventually he had to and his head turned on his neck like it was in a rusty socket.

And there she was, running towards them in her little green dress, shoes kicked off and abandoned somewhere, hair as wild as she was. She’d clearly been crying. If Pitch hadn’t been holding up Jack, who’d started convulsing in his arms, his knees would have buckled.

He expected her to disappear or turn into something else, but she didn’t. She ran right up to them and grabbed onto Pitch’s jacket, her face flushed and grim.

“Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

Pitch stared at her, so disoriented he could barely understand what she was saying let alone wrap his head around how it could be true. He hadn’t been sleeping, had he? Weren’t they in Jack’s dream?

“What?” he gasped, and Seraphina just huffed, puffing her cheeks out in frustration.

“Honestly, Dad. You’re the King of Nightmares and you don’t know when you’re having one?” She stood up on her tiptoes and stretched way, way up to press her tiny hands into his cheeks. Her hands were freezing cold. There was a strong breeze all around them. “Listen, if you wake up and you cry I’m going to be very upset with you. I know you said it’s okay to have big feelings, but this time I will be really unhappy because Jack is in danger and don’t you think you’re being quite silly?”

Pitch attempted to stammer a reply but she shook her head and planted her hands over his mouth. “Uh-uh. That was called a rhetorical question, Daddy. The answer is yes because this is what happens when you don’t sleep enough. You fall asleep when you don’t want to. You big dork. Now wake up.” She cupped his cheeks again, her fingers ice cold like…like…

“Wake up. Pitch. Pitch, wake up!”

Pitch’s eyes shot open with a gasp and he found himself looking into bright blue instead of deep, dark brown. He blinked in shock, felt dampness on his eyes, and for some reason immediately felt guilty for crying.

“Oh thank the winds, you scared…the piss out of me, Pitch,” Jack sobbed before laying down on his chest. Numbly, Pitch settled his arms around him, soothed by the feeling of Jack’s cold weight pressing down against him.

“…I’m sorry,” he whispered in a stupor. “What…I…”

“I was dreaming, and you were there, and then I was dancing with someone that looked like you, but he wasn’t you, and I woke up, and you were making these noises, so I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t and…”

Jack broke down sobbing and Pitch wrapped his arms around him tighter, hushing him gently and running his hand slowly and soothingly up and down his slender back. “It’s alright, you’re alright…it was just a dream.”

“No, it wasn’t, what happened?” Jack insisted.

Pitch swallowed, staring at the ceiling as he tried to gather his thoughts. His hands were shaking still, but he couldn’t really remember what he’d been dreaming about just before he woke.

“I—…it seems I fell asleep while accessing your dreams…I must have just…just been tired and lulled into a dream state and…then…”

“I honestly didn’t even know you could have nightmares,” Jack said thickly through sniffles. “You never talk about them.”

“Usually I find my nightmares more constructive and fascinating than genuinely distressing to the point I wish I didn’t have them…I suppose I…like a dream with a good story, pleasant or unpleasant.”

“So then why…? Because of me?”

Pitch wasn’t sure how to answer, but in the end decided on honesty. “Yes. Whatever you were dreaming seemed to…trigger something…I…” He swallowed, deliberately keeping his gaze trained on anywhere but on Jack’s earnest pools of blue until he decided Jack deserved his vulnerability. He looked at him and whispered tremulously, “I think I was dreaming about her. Seraphina. I think she…” He shut his eyes tight in a grimace. “…I can’t remember.”

Jack whimpered and buried his face against Pitch’s neck, hands digging at him as they tried to get him closer. “I’m so sorry. I…do you…what did…?”

Pitch shook his head a little then suddenly turned his face into Jack’s hair and crushed him to his chest, enveloping him in both his arms and legs. “I don’t know, starlight…I just…feel her. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Pitch was just preparing to cuddle Jack until he forgot everything that had ever bothered him when Jack said quietly, “You always protect me, or try to do what’s best for me, even if it’s not…it reminds me…of the way you can’t remember. Like your mind is protecting you. Maybe. I don’t know…but I think you could remember. I don’t think they’re gone. I think…the shadows hold things.”

Pitch looked down at Jack incredulously. Because Jack was absolutely right, but for some reason he just never thought that would apply to him. If he was going to remember, he should have remembered by now, so his memories of that life, if he didn’t have them already, were probably lost forever. That’s what he’d figured, and never thought much more about it.

But that was ridiculous. The shadows didn’t forget. Eons of knowledge, of pain, of hope, was locked up inside them and he was the only one with the key.

Until Jack, apparently.

“…yes,” Pitch finally whispered. “They do. Jack, you’re brilliant.”

He felt Jack smile into the crook of his shoulder a little. “Shucks…”

“Truly. That’s…you’re absolutely right.” He leaned back enough to look at Jack and Jack did the same, already eagerly anticipating the kiss. Their lips met with a relieved sigh from both, and they stayed this way until some of the tension left their muscles.

“You don’t have to help me with my nightmares anymore,” Jack said gently, with a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s not worth it.”

Pitch gave him a stern look. “Jack. I will be stepping in to interrupt your nightmares. For you, it is worth the minimal risk. I’ll have to be more careful about how long I stay. I…admittedly got a little caught up in your dream.”

“Yeah, that place was really cool, wasn’t it? I should write a book or something if I can come up with places like that.”

Pitch didn’t correct him.

“Ignoring it…I don’t think it’s working,” Jack complained quietly after a while, rolling onto his back again and staring morosely up at the ceiling. Pitch’s hand slipped down his forearm and wrist until their hands were resting with their fingers laced comfortably together. Jack rolled his head to the side to look up at him.

“It will,” Pitch assured him.

Jack stared at Pitch as Pitch stared at the ceiling. He just knew…somewhere in his belly, as North would have put it, that he was lying, and not particularly well, either. Which, honestly, worried Jack more than anything else. Maybe Jack was just getting better at reading him over time. After all, Pitch had done more than his fair share of lying, meaning Jack had seen plenty of it. It wasn’t too outrageous to think he’d be getting better at picking it out.

But if Pitch couldn’t even lie his way through this one, what chance did they really have?

Jack looked back up at the ceiling as well, his stomach curdled. “Yeah. Maybe.”

——

Jack slept more than he was awake over the next few months. He slept for long periods at a time, and at first could hardly remember much of what occurred during the rare times when he had been awake. It broke his heart how happy Pitch always was to see him…how relieved he was that he’d woken up at all. The older spirit tried not to show how worried he was, or how serious the situation remained, but Jack could tell. Even if Pitch appeared calm, he could see the stress just under the surface, barely contained for Jack’s benefit. He tried to tell himself it was just the nightmare sand making him worry so much, but he knew better, deep down. He just knew.

Regardless, soon he was still able to stay awake for more time than he used to. He remembered more and felt more like himself. His physical injuries had mostly healed, although sometimes Jack found new ones and couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there. He stopped asking about them. Frequently, he was still sore all over, and realized he was stiff from how much time he spent unconscious. The only thing that really bothered him anymore was his chest, which always hurt at least a little.

Jack woke up and found he was alone. There were candles peppered throughout the room providing a soft, warm glow, and the door at the opposite corner of the room was cracked open. He really appreciated both gestures, remembering the last time he’d been trapped in a room here, only now he wasn’t trapped. There were no more secrets.

He continued taking in the rest of the room. Nothing much had changed: the armchair was pulled up right next to the bed and there was a table and chairs against one wall. He’d been surprised when he’d first seen Pitch’s room how extravagant it was, thinking he was a down to earth, practical sort of person, but this actually suited him much more, with all its mysterious nicknacks, books, and unsettling, but beautiful decorations. All of it looked about the same as far as he could remember.

He looked down at himself. Still naked. He didn’t mind, and he knew most of that came from his own lack of consistent awareness that anyone else could see him. Being perceived at all was pretty darn new to him. Anytime he wanted his clothes off for any reason he just…took them off. Ironically, he mostly only got kind of shy about it when it came to Pitch, for a little while, until it became like second nature again.

Lifting his knees under the sheet to rest his arms on, he examined his hands and forearms. Pitch was treating him for the scarring, but they didn’t hurt anymore. He could tell he’d reapplied the medicine a couple times while he was asleep, which was sort of disconcerting, but he was getting more and more used to the feeling of waking up and being the last one to know what he’d been up to. He didn’t mind, mostly. He imagined Pitch manhandling his unconscious, nude body, looking him over thoroughly for injuries or scars, and flushed. Okay, maybe he minded…a little.

He was just examining the fading crescent scar cutting straight through the snowflake tattoo on his wrist, wondering what North and the others were up to, when the door creaked and Jack looked up to see Pitch. As usual, even if he had to step out, he was back within a few seconds of Jack waking up.

“Hey. Guess I slept for some time this time, huh?” Jack greeted as he watched Pitch glide across the room.

Pitch came over to the bed, looking him over for a moment before sitting beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty okay…sore, just a little bit. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Jack shivered a little as Pitch’s eyes roamed up and down his body before their eyes met again. “I’d like to do a brief exam, if you please.”

Jack’s eyes widened a little in alarm, suddenly becoming bashful, which was ridiculous, of course, but Jack had even less control over his emotions than he’d had before. Right now, for him, unpredictable was an understatement.

“Uhh…” he began, but relaxed a bit when Pitch simply put his hands out and asked him to follow the movements of his finger without moving his head. He had him touch his nose and move his head around into different positions, then he asked Jack to give him his arm.

Jack obeyed, watching shyly as Pitch held his arm with one hand while running his other hand along it, pausing at the joints or where there was scarring. It was embarrassing, but the truth was Jack thought he was probably enjoying this a little more than he strictly should have been. Having this amount of attention on him at all filled him a small warmth all on its own, but watching Pitch’s skilled, elegant fingers glide across his body was surreal when he’d been so sure he’d never have this again. His emotions were heightened and, jeez, Pitch really did have beautiful hands and they moved with the utmost confidence just as Pitch did.

He repeated this process with the other arm, and by the time he was done Jack felt almost sleepy he was so hypnotized by the slow caress of his fingertips. If Pitch noticed, he made no mention of it, but Jack had the sneaking suspicion, especially on the second arm, he didn’t have to move his hand back and forth quite so many times or quite so slowly.

Next, he placed one hand on each side of Jack’s rib cage, squeezing lightly. “Does that hurt?” he murmured, eying his chest as he poked and prodded.

Jack shook his head, hoping Pitch couldn’t tell he was breathing a little faster, cause this was just supposed to be a medical exam, you weirdo. “No.”

Pitch nodded and stood back up. “Come sit on the edge of the bed for a moment, Jack. You’re doing very well.”

Jack pressed his lips together, shuddered pleasantly at the praise, and nodded before scooting over to the side of the bed. He sat there, letting his legs hang over, then watched in confusion as Pitch crawled onto the bed with the graceful movements of a panther in such a way Jack was certain he could never duplicate. Jack thought he was about as graceful as a coconut falling out of a tree. He’d fallen out of a lot of trees, actually. He swallowed as he felt Pitch settle in behind him, one long leg on either side of him.

“Mm. You are rather short, aren’t you?” Pitch teased from much closer to his ear than he’d expected, as if he hadn’t noticed and commented on this a thousand times before, but it was hard to be annoyed after he let out a dark little chuckle in his ear.

He opened his mouth to give Pitch some kind of flack, but stopped when he felt Pitch place one hand on his chest, the other on his waist. The touch was scorching and he was suddenly very aware of how intimately close they were, Jack’s bare backside slotted right against Pitch who continued to pretend like he hadn't noticed.

Pitch leaned over his shoulder and said in a way that was either meant to be soothing or make it so Jack would have to cover his lap with the sheet again, “Now, I want you to take a deep breath in and then let it out.”

Jack did as he was told, very aware of Pitch’s hands holding him, of how close he leaned in to listen, and yeah, now being naked seemed like a bad idea, but Pitch didn’t seem bothered or distracted by it. If anything, Jack was the only one tense. Which was even more embarrassing.

He was proved to be correct when Pitch gently pulled him back against his chest. “Relax,” he murmured, sounding amused. “Do it again.”

He was too flustered to be genuinely annoyed so he just did what Pitch said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Pitch had him continue this for a while, and Jack realized he was desperate for this not to stop. He was intensely aware of Pitch listening to every breath as they pushed out of him, hands moving with the motion of Jack’s narrow chest and it was awkward and too intimate, but somehow had him burning. He really should yank the sheet back over himself, but that would make his predicament kind of obvious. Wasn’t he still supposed to be mad at Pitch or something?

And yet, right now he was so soothed by the feeling of them breathing in sync, and he felt nothing but peace and arousal too intense for him to ignore. He was sure this was going on for longer than it was supposed to, he’d definitely never seen a doctor do this with their patient, but he didn’t care. He so, so didn’t care. He wanted Pitch to touch him. He wanted him to slide his hands down and pry his thighs apart then whisper awful things into his ear until he thought he’d come just from that. He wanted–

“Good,” Pitch purred into his ear, brushing some hair back from his face affectionately before he moved back off of the bed, to Jack’s dismay. He looked Jack up and down with a knowing little glint in his eye and asked sweetly, “Do you need a break, Jack?”

Jack glared at him playfully and pulled the sheet back over himself. “No, I’m fine…you mean there’s more?”

“Legs, salve on your back since I couldn’t do that while you were sleeping, and we’re done.”

Jack nodded, not wanting to be a pain, but wanting to make sure he didn’t seem too okay with it either. I mean, it was stupid anyway, to be embarrassed about this after the things they’d done with each other. There should have been no shame left to feel. Pretending he didn’t want Pitch to shove him back on the bed and just absolutely wreck him was ridiculous, Pitch knew he wanted that, he could see it all over his face. Maybe he would. Sure, Pitch was worried about the nightmare sand or whatever, but Jack could handle—

“Jack.”

His eyes widened. He’d spaced out. “Huh? Oh, oh yeah, sorry. Still…tired.” Legs. Sheet.

Blushing a little, he gathered the sheet up on his lap so that Pitch could get to his legs and patiently tried to not pay attention as Pitch got on one knee and began checking him thoroughly, making sure things moved like they should and just generally making sure everything was as it should be.

Jack couldn’t help but glance back to watch what Pitch was doing, and there was just something about the way he was so careful and attentive that made Jack’s heart race even more than it already was. He paid special attention to his right ankle, asking Jack how it felt. Maybe Jack was a little distracted, but he was pretty sure it didn’t hurt.

Pitch moved upwards, resting a hand just above each of his knees and massaging them gently.

“How does that feel?”

“Good,” Jack said immediately, then corrected, “Fine. It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

Pitch nodded once and ran his hands up his thighs, rubbing and squeezing lightly, and Jack just felt like after everything he’d been through if Pitch decided to blow him for all he was worth right now that really wouldn’t be so wrong. He could certainly think of less helpful things. Pitch’s hot mouth actually seemed pretty high up on the list of helpful things he could imagine.

Pitch finally released him and stood, going over to a nearby dresser and reaching into the top drawer, and Jack decided he was definitely fucking with him. “That’s that, then.” He pulled out a very stout, round glass container and brought it back over to the bed. “Lay on your stomach, please.”

Jack squinted at him, wondering if he should say this or not, but he’d never been good at biting his tongue. “…you’re doing this on purpose.”

Pitch raised an eyebrow. “Doing what? Caring for injuries that are my responsibility in the first place?”

“No, you know what I mean!” he cried, grinning a little as he grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him.

Pitch caught the pillow, smirking broadly and tossed it onto the foot of the bed, out of the way. “Are you saying you don’t want to?”

Jack stammered, looking between him and the jar. “Well…that’s…no, but I’m just sayin’—“

Pitch cut him off as he leaned in close and ordered in a dangerously silky voice, “Then roll over onto your stomach for me, Jack.”

Jack was going to argue that he could just as easily turn around and have him put it on sitting up, but…

This sounded like more fun.

Unable to even hide how flustered he was at this point, he just gave up, feeling totally ridiculous as he flopped onto his stomach. He’d been tempted to just sit there stubbornly and say, “Make me,” but decided against it at the last second, and he was glad he did.

“Such a good boy for me, Jack,” Pitch purred as he settled onto the bed beside him, and Jack had to shove his face into the bed to disguise the choking noise he’d just made. Pitch had definitely been saving that one.

Face very, very warm, Jack rested his cheek on his crossed arms and pouted, making sure to position himself so that he was at least looking in Pitch’s general direction. He told himself this was so that he could keep an eye on him.

Pitch started by kneeling next to him on the bed at first as he rubbed the viscous substance into his lower back. Jack ended up closing his eyes, thinking to himself that he’d never had a massage, but he’d kind of imagined this is what it would be like. It was really soothing. Sometimes when Pitch was trying to comfort him he rubbed his back and Jack liked it, but this was better. He told Jack to tell him if there were any lingering sore spots, and he pushed hard into the muscles, making Jack grunt and groan quietly once or twice, despite his best efforts.

“I have a few presents for you when we’re finished, although admittedly some are hardly that. But I think you’ll be happy,” Pitch murmured casually as he lightened his grip and felt gently around his shoulders and neck like he was checking for something.

“Ohh, cool,” Jack breathed out, as if he was totally unbothered by any of this. “Can I guess? Will you tell me if I’m right?”

“No.”

“Psh. That’s lame…will you tell me if I’m wrong?”

“Maybe.”

“Is it that sweet Boogey ass? Cause if not–”

Pitch smirked. “No.”

“--then I don’t want it.”

Pitch chuckled. Jack glanced back at him and asked, “Are you done yet?”

Pitch pressed him firmly back into the bed as he started to get up, shooting heat through Jack’s stomach. “No, I’m not done.” His hands continued moving and Jack was thinking he was probably going to smell like this crap forever. It wasn’t a bad smell, just kinda strong.

“It’s not ice skates, is it?” Jack asked, smirking a little.

He heard Pitch scoff. “No. It is not ice skates.”

“Good, I hear it’s pretty dangerous. Maybe you shoulda got me a snorkel. Is it a snorkel?”

He heard sputtering and glanced back to see Pitch was laughing with his face tucked in the crook of his arm. Jack felt rather accomplished and wondered, not for the first time, how many other people got to see The Boogeyman laugh. Other than that maniacal cackle he couldn’t seem to contain anytime he was being especially evil and spooky, of course.

“Jack,” Pitch scolded, though he could hear the smirk in his voice. Jack chuckled, but soon after that he had to bite back a groan, shutting his eyes tight as he melted in response to whatever awesome thing Pitch was doing with his hands right now.

“Are you alright?” Pitch asked quietly, the pressure lightening, and Jack opened his mouth to answer, but then Pitch moved to kneel over him instead so he couldn’t even see him anymore, and Jack was distracted as he began massaging the rest of his back. Instead of answering, Jack’s mouth just fell open helplessly.

Pitch paused, and no no no, that wasn’t good. “Yes, yes, it’s fine, sorry.”

“Are you sure?” Pitch’s voice said gently as he pressed his thumbs between his shoulder blades.

“Yes,” Jack gasped then breathed, with a little laugh, “Okay, okay, I’m not mad at you anymore.”

Pitch’s laugh sounded wonderful and Jack closed his eyes, letting Pitch do whatever he wanted. Seriously, fuck it. Who needed pride or decency?

Not the Nightmare King, apparently, Jack thought as Pitch’s hands ran shamelessly down his ass, like this was totally normal. Jack pushed his face into the bed and tried to pretend he wasn’t affected by Pitch massaging his hips and butt like it was his fucking job. He let out a short high-pitched noise as Pitch’s hand dragged down his backside and his finger pressed down between his cheeks invasively. Jack continued swearing and complaining into the bed, and Pitch laughed.

“I couldn’t resist. You’re so cute,” Pitch murmured before pinching his butt and climbing off of him.

When Jack realized he was moving away, his head shot up and he looked around, eyes wide and fevered.

“…you’re done?” was all he could think to say.

To his surprise, Pitch seemed genuinely hesitant. He glanced over Jack’s body, his hopeful face, and then at the empty room before sliding off the bed as he said cautiously, “My greatest concern is you getting better and feeling cared for. I don’t want you to feel like this attention was all…a fun little distraction,” he said pointedly, looking back at him.

“I don’t think that,” Jack insisted, though shyly. “You’re obviously taking care of me, and have been for a long time.” Jack paused, heart fluttering at his daring, then he added, “Has it occurred to you that maybe I WANT you to take advantage of me?”

Pitch froze in his retreat, staring at Jack heatedly, eyes lidded as he considered this seriously.

Jack felt like he needed to give him a little more motivation because Pitch seemed dangerously close to possibly putting his foot down and maybe Jack was just feeling particularly needy after everything that had happened, but he needed this. He needed the attention and affection and the pleasure and he didn’t think Pitch could possibly comprehend exactly how bad he needed it, so he decided to make it very, very clear.

Mortified, Jack raised his hips, moving so that he was on his knees while his front half was still pressed into the bed, then he shifted his legs apart. Swallowing nervously, he dared to look back at Pitch, humiliated, silently pleading, and he was relieved to see Pitch was staring at him like he’d never been so turned on by anything in his long, long life.

Relieved, Jack buried his face in his arms as Pitch climbed back onto the bed, swearing breathlessly as he leaned over the winter sprite and wrapped an arm around his waist. “You really know how to play me like a harp, Jack,” he breathed as his hand traced lazily between Jack’s legs.

Jack let out a yelp and realized then, oh, the nightmare sand really was heightening all of his emotions. Pitch hummed in response and kissed his shoulder as he gently massaged Jack in his hand.

“Change your mind?” Pitch whispered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder.

Jack whimpered and shook his head vigorously. “Oh, god,” he puffed out, realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Pitch hands were already slick and as he pressed two fingers inside him, Jack wailed into the bed, swearing and pleading. Pitch didn’t rush though. He wouldn’t hurt him, and he’d never given into any of Jack’s begging to get on with it when Pitch could tell he wasn’t ready yet. Now was no exception and Jack had very little outlet to vent his feelings. He bit his knuckle, but Pitch apparently didn’t like that, maybe because he’d been working so hard to heal him after he’d just bitten these hands, and he took Jack’s hand, lacing their fingers as he pinned him into the bed. Jack shook his head and let out a dry sob as Pitch continued moving inside him, stretching him and curling his fingers in a way that made Jack’s eyes roll back.

“Please please please please—“ Jack chanted quietly, canting his hips involuntarily.

He moaned in complaint behind his lips as Pitch removed his fingers, but knew what that meant and gasped with relief before it even happened.

“I love you…I love you, fuck, please please ple—“ His words cut off with a cry as the head of Pitch’s cock disappeared inside him. Jack lay there with his mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Pitch forced his way slowly inside. Jack was used to Pitch’s size now and he was always careful so all Jack could think about was getting it in.

When Pitch was almost all the way inside, Pitch thrust into him hard the last of the way. Jack let out a quick, high-pitched sound of shock and he was glad he was face down because his tongue even stuck out a little. This feeling of being so easily overwhelmed reminded him a little of being drugged that one time. He couldn’t control the sounds he was making, or what his face looked like. All he knew was he needed Pitch, he needed more of him, now.

Jack let out an even louder cry as Pitch started fucking him, grabbing tight onto his hips. He sounded so pathetic, even to his own ears, whimpering and whining, but he didn’t care in the least. He just lay there mostly limp on the bed, letting Pitch use him as he was completely flooded by relief from the way the pleasure and love he felt pushed out every other emotion. All he could think about was how amazing it felt, how it wasn’t even fair that Pitch could target that spot inside him over and over and over without even trying.

“It’s a shame you’ll never see yourself from this angle,” Pitch panted.

“Come on…fuck me…fuck, yes,” Jack rambled nonsensically. “Ah! There there th—AH.”

“You’re so little, but you’re taking every last inch of me…good boy,” Pitch growled under his breath against the back of Jack’s neck, and Jack sobbed, feeling like he was being bred like an animal and praised for it. He whined sharply and bit his lip hard at the thought, thinking sometime he’d like to have Pitch chase him down through the woods and just absolutely fucking maul him, but it was pretty easy to imagine that was the case right now. Like Pitch had caught him, Jack had lost, so now he was pinning him down and fucking him until he begged for mercy.

“Please…please…please…!” Jack chanted, his voice growing shrill with desperation because, fuck, he was so close. He was so—

He wanted to beg Pitch to do it harder, but Pitch already was and Jack went quiet except for gasping repeatedly until finally he wrapped his hands in the sheets and shut his eyes tight. A feral, involuntary cry pushed out of him and then he was just frozen, mind lost in ecstasy. The feeling of Pitch still moving inside him was maddening. He shivered hard and cried out again as Pitch came inside him. To be honest, it was just a lot of pure sensation after that and he wasn’t really sure what was going on until he was laying still on the bed in Pitch’s arms, and that only lasted a few seconds before, as Pitch would tell him later, he passed out cold.

Chapter Text

When Jack awoke, he was surprised to find Pitch already awake and staring at him fretfully. In fact, he seemed relieved just that he was conscious.

“Jack,” he whispered tenderly, moving some hair from the waking spirit’s face. Jack could tell Pitch was holding back on the swarm of questions he had for him, until he woke up a little bit more.

Jack glanced around nervously. “...hi? Uh, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Pitch said unconvincingly as he continued doting on him. “How are you feeling?”

“Uhh, fine? Kinda…I feel sorta…like…you know when you’re missing skin and you poke it?” Pitch’s face went slack with panic immediately and Jack quickly explained, “Well, no, like, I just mean I feel more sensitive than I…should…in a bad way…” He looked around the room again and suddenly remembered and felt kind of silly. “Ah. Right. The…yeah. How long am I going to keep forgetting stuff for?”

“It’s only because you’re so close to sleep. It’s temporary.”

“Cool, that’s super not what I asked.”

Pitch looked like he was frantically reminding himself Jack wasn’t well so he wouldn’t strangle him and Jack realized with alarm how damn rude that was.

“Jesus. Sorry, I didn’t…”

Pitch just shook his head a little, seeming to quickly forget all about it. “Are you in pain anywhere?”

Jack shook his head, still feeling a bit sheepish. “I feel okay other than just…like I could very easily not be okay in half a second.”

Pitch nodded in understanding, briefly touched his forehead to Jack’s affectionately, then sat up. “Nightmares?” Jack shook his head, so Pitch went on. “How much energy do you feel like you have?”

“Um…not a lot, actually. I’m still tired. Might go back to sleep for a little while.”

Pitch’s eyes immediately widened and he started to say something, but he stopped, closed his eyes, and controlled his facial expression before opening them again (which Jack didn’t like one bit) and saying calmly, “That’s fine. Is there anything else you need?”

Jack frowned, his heart stuttering with quickly intensifying panic. “No. What? What’s wrong? Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird, Jack, I’m just worried about your health given I shot you. This is a pretty standard reaction, I’d say.”

“It’s not, you’re totally being weird. Is it bad that I’m tired? How long have I been asleep?”

Pitch hesitated, sighed, then looked away. “Jack…”

Immediately, Jack’s fear skyrocketed. Again with this? “How long have I been asleep? Are you serious? Did I get kidnapped again, am I actually dying, what the fuck? Why was I asleep for a weird amount of time again, why does this keep happening? Tell me!”

“You were asleep for a couple days, it’s not a big deal, Jack, you know how I worry. That’s all.”

He considered this. Two days wouldn’t be bad if he’d been awake for more than two hours or done anything super strenuous, but he hadn’t. He’d done practically nothing, and okay, they had sex, but he practically just laid there. He got a massage and then he fucking…

He thought he was getting better. Was he not getting better?

“--about, then don’t, because you’re doing very well, Jack. I promise.”

Jack hadn’t been listening. He blinked at him. “Huh? …oh. Right…right, okay…” He tried his best to act normal, but immediately he could feel the fear tapering off and instead he felt like he was made of cement. His chest hurt. This wasn’t fair, he was finally supposed to be free and able to get out and do things. Was he ever going to just have a reasonable chance at being happy? Why did these things keep happening to him? Did he deserve it? And poor Pitch.

He desperately tried to think of anything that might cheer Pitch up. He couldn’t stand the way Pitch was looking at him, and then he remembered, lighting up a bit. “Hey.” He grinned, batting his lashes at him playfully. “Didn’t you say you had a present for me?”

Pitch opened his mouth hesitantly, looked Jack over, then let out a helpless laugh and sat up. “Yes…yes, I do.”

Jack sat up too, genuinely excited now. He’d never gotten a present before, but he didn’t want to tell Pitch that cause it seemed like a lot of pressure, so he just watched as Pitch conjured a small portal of darkness. He took something from it, then walked over to the dresser with his back to him and started to do something Jack couldn’t see.

Jack hopped to his feet and went over curiously, but before he could decide whether or not to try and peek, Pitch turned back around and came to him instead.

To his surprise, Pitch looked suddenly a bit awkward…uncertain maybe? His golden gaze seemed to avoid direct eye contact quite intentionally and Jack was a little worried simply because his demeanor was so unusual for him, but then Pitch started speaking so he tried to focus on his words instead.

“I’m aware this is a bit…unnecessary. The timing isn’t…I only thought that, perhaps, if this was something you had wanted, I might as well play along, and the idea certainly appeals to me, only I would have done it a bit differently. This is likely the closest thing to the human tradition and since you were human once I thought you might appreciate a sort of…ah…”

Oh my god…was Pitch rambling?

Pitch sighed, rolling his eyes at himself in exasperation as Jack grinned, then his grin turned to a look of surprise and confusion as Pitch got down on one knee in front of him before presenting him with a small black box.

Tentatively, Jack took it, nervous thanks to the nightmare sand, but mostly just dying of curiosity. At first, he thought the box was empty and it was some kind of joke, but then he realized that of course The Nightmare King would give him a black box that was also black inside with something very black in it. In fact, it was so black that he could see the object inside not because of any subtle light reflecting off it, but rather because it was even darker than anything else, seeming to swallow light without effort, at least until he got it out of the box and got a closer look.

Fascinated, he reached in and felt around, quickly finding what felt like—

Jack pulled out a strange black ring, satisfyingly smooth and breathtakingly beautiful. As he turned it, the ring began glittering like a starry sky.

He was looking at it closer, mesmerized by the strange antimatter look of the thing, and about to say thank you when he realized something, and looked at Pitch in bewilderment.

“…why are you on your knees?”

“One knee,” Pitch corrected.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Okay, why are you on—“

Jack went abruptly silent. He looked at Pitch, searching, now uncertain himself. “…wait.”

Pitch seemed embarrassed and he looked away for a moment before looking back at Jack and taking his hand. That was when Jack finally realized what was happening. Immediately and involuntarily Jack said, “Shut up.”

“I want it to be very clear that I’m choosing you, in favor of any goals relating to The Guardians, or plunging the Earth back into another Dark Age, or however you’d like to put it. If you’d like…” Pitch looked down at Jack’s hand, so Jack did too. “…this would make my intentions clear to them as well. And to you, if you should ever find yourself worrying that I don’t want you by my side. I do. And that’s more important to me than…assuming I always know best. I trust you.” He looked up into Jack’s wide eyes as he stared down at him, frozen still. His heart stuttered as he realized in disbelief that Pitch wasn’t uncertain, he was nervous. He was nervous because he was proposing. “I know you’re not in your right mind just now…but I thought it might actually help. A constant visual anchor. But of course, especially given everything that’s happened recently, if you ever change your mind, and you decide you’d rather—“

“Do it,” Jack whispered, placing the ring back in Pitch’s hand, heart beating out of his chest as he stared in starry-eyed disbelief. He was pretty sure the dude was supposed to put it on him, right?

Pitch stared back at him for a beat with enough intensity that Jack almost believed he would tackle him instead, but he didn’t. Jack watched as Pitch slid the ring over his finger, fitting comfortably to his finger once it passed the knuckle as if it were stretchy rather than made of its strange material more resembling stone in all other ways.

Pitch had, indeed, put it on the ring finger of his left hand, like an engagement ring. Now there was no other way Jack could possibly take it, no matter how in denial he was. He stared at it, very still, as his mind tried to process.

Pitch was watching him closely and, looking concerned, opened his mouth, but before he could speak Jack threw his arms around him. He pressed as much of his body against him as he could, and Pitch immediately put his arms around him too and pulled him in close. Jack’s eyes were shut tight. He was very aware of the feeling of the ring on his finger, smooth and slightly warmer than his own body temperature.

“…thanks,” he said finally, very quietly, and Pitch couldn’t help but laugh. He pulled back and started to get up, but then Jack suddenly put his hands on his shoulders, quickly saying, “Wait wait wait wait! Hold on, stay there. Just a sec.”

Pitch sank back onto his knee, giving Jack a strange, but curious look, and Jack flushed. After a long pause in which he did nothing he finally mumbled, “Close your eyes.” Pitch raised an eyebrow at him, but Jack insisted, pleading, “Come on, just close your eyes a second,” so Pitch did.

“No peeking,” Jack ordered, sounding to Pitch as though he was stepping back. He waited patiently. “…okay,” Jack said, sounding terrified, and Pitch’s eyes immediately flew open. He was worried until he saw Jack down on one knee in front of him, very pink in the face.

Jack’s mouth scrunched up in embarrassment and he immediately shot back defensively, “What? You’re tall! If you stand up and I’m…I mean…” Jack closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to refocus and not imagine that scenario too closely. He was very easy to distract right now, even more than usual.

Looking back at Pitch with determination, he presented him with a small, crystalline box made of ice. Pitch stared, his eyebrows receding up into his hairline, as he carefully took the box and opened it. Inside, he found a ring devised of ice and darkness. So far, nothing fortified in this way had melted naturally. They’d had to clean up the gallery by hand, for example. Jack didn’t expect this ring to ever melt, but he was a little worried, just because…just because.

“I…um.” Jack swallowed nervously as he watched Pitch examine the ring, totally floored, as he ran a delicate fingertip over the ring’s surface, admiring the elegant, clear ice and the perfectly paired beauty of the glittering dark mixed within. It wasn’t perfectly smooth, and the texture caught the light in a dazzling way Jack honestly hadn’t anticipated. “I know…I’m not…I was really upset. I’m still upset. I’m…” He took a deep breath. He was fucking this up and he knew it, but he pushed forward anyway. “I’m devastated, honestly, by…everything. We have to talk about it. When I…when I can talk about it. But I know I’m not…ever going to not want you. I don’t see the point in pretending like I won’t be there for you if you ever need me, cause I will, and I want everyone to know that and know how much I care about you, and what I’m willing to do for you. And I really…really want…I mean…”

Jack hesitated, watching Pitch’s face with worry, but Pitch was making it hard to worry when he was staring at Jack like he was the universe revealing all its secrets and it was never going to repeat them. He took a deep breath, letting Pitch ground him. He wondered if, just by proximity, Pitch was helping him chase away the fear, because it seemed so much quieter all of a sudden, right when it seemed it should have been the loudest.

“Like, besides all that practical stuff, I just really more than anything want to be…on your team? Like, I want to do stupid stuff with you for a long time from now, like do dishes and nap and crack up at stupid jokes that really aren’t funny. You know? I never had that, except with you, and I really like it, and I really like…you and I want…you. To be with you, or know I can be with you when I’m not. And have someone to talk to that gets me and sees me and…and believes in me. And I believe in you too. And I think that’s enough. I think that’s…love, honestly. That sounds cheesy, but…”

Pitch offered Jack his hand, smirking, and if he thought Pitch looked like he was going to pounce Jack before, he definitely did now. “Go on, then.”

Whatever had made the winter sprite less afraid a second ago got pushed aside as he looked at Pitch. He nodded, then took the ring and tried to get it on Pitch’s finger, feeling like his own fingers were numb. He dropped it, and his heart stopped, but he was dexterous enough and expecting it enough that he managed to snatch the ring back out of the air. He laughed at himself, feeling like he was going to just die all over again, then he finally managed to slide it on.

“Hold on,” he said softly, holding Pitch’s hand in his as he adjusted the ring and its size. It wasn’t exactly magic and practically sentient the way Pitch’s was. He looked up at Pitch searchingly. “Is…that okay? Does it feel alright?”

Pitch nodded, and instead of pouncing Jack, in his slightly more delicate state, he plopped onto his butt and pulled Jack into his lap, snuggling him close as he buried his face against him, curling around Jack’s much smaller body with ease.

Jack wrapped his arms around him, getting as close to Pitch as he could. After a few seconds, he was able to take a deep breath and settle down, smiling to himself as he closed his eyes. Whatever he’d been worried about seemed so incredibly far away.

For a long time, they didn’t do a single other thing. Jack felt so cozy and safe and warm here, it was hard to imagine how he’d ever been scared or unhappy about anything. How could he be when he had this?

Pitch shifted a little so he could reach up and run his fingers through Jack’s hair, and Jack leaned back a little, smiling up at him sweetly. “Sooo…” He cocked his head in a way that Pitch would never admit was adorable enough to probably get him to do anything at all. “What are my other presents?”

“Unfortunately, that would require that I let you up and that’s just not happening.”

Jack pouted. “Then give them to me like this then.”

Pitch just flashed him that charming, insufferable little smirk and scratched his scalp lightly. “No.”

Jack grinned gleefully up at him. It was impossible to even be annoyed. “Wow, I thought we were having a moment, and now you’re giving me all this attitude,” Jack teased, moving his arms to lay around Pitch’s neck as he pushed against him more forcefully, as if he actually believed he could push him over.

As he pressed against him, he felt Pitch smirk against his neck as he seemed to catch on to what he was trying to do. “Were we? I thought you were having a moment and I was planning the interior decorating.”

Jack tried to think of a comeback, but it had been a tough week…month, honestly, and he couldn’t really think of one. So instead–

Pitch froze. His mouth fell open suddenly and he held Jack at arm’s length with a look of utter incredulity on his face. “Did you just pinch my butt?”

Jack pressed his lips together as his eyebrows tried to escape into his hairline. “Nope. Definitely not.” He paused, soaking in the sight of the other’s stunned and indignant face, then sealed his fate because he just couldn’t help it because of course he couldn’t. “It was probably the other frost spirit in here within butt-pinching distance. Not cool. You should probably—“

Jack let out an entirely disproportionate and unnecessary scream of terror as Pitch stood, holding him like he weighed absolutely nothing, then chucked him at the bed. Jack bounced a little and rolled off the other side by accident, laughing like a maniac.

Finally, he called out from somewhere over there on the floor, “Oh noo…Pitch, I think I got a boo boo.”

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately not to smile. “A boo boo.”

“Uh-huuuh. I think I got rug burn, and you’ll never believe where it is. I think I need you to come kiss it.”

“Hm, you know? I don’t think you need your other gift quite so much after all.”

He pulled himself up so that his arms were crossed on the edge of the bed and he flashed Pitch his sweetest doe-eyed smile. “Aw, come on. I’m already on the top of the naughty list and I don’t have a birthday. Cut a guy some slack.”

“You have three seconds to be standing in front of me.”

He was there in half that, no longer caring he was naked. The novelty of it had long since worn off and it seemed much less intimidating. Pitch raised an eyebrow at him.

“I underestimated you. Next time it’ll be two seconds. Now stay still.”

He didn’t know why he was staying still, but he did it anyway. After waiting a while he realized that as he stood there, a shadowy version of his old clothes was building itself around him. It was all black, but he highly doubted it would make him look as cool as Pitch. Still, as Pitch finished and Jack moved closer to him to see in the mirror over the dresser, he was floored.

At first, he thought it was exactly like his old sweatshirt only in black instead of blue, but he realized quickly that there were a few key differences. First of all, it had a zipper. Awesome. Second, when he unzipped it to figure out what it was he felt going on underneath, he saw he was also wearing a sleeveless shirt. He immediately fussed with it to make it sluttier, letting the sweatshirt slip down his bare shoulders, and holy shit, he looked hot. He flashed himself a grin in the mirror and gave the mirror versions of himself and Pitch a thumbs up, and realized the sleeves narrowed, his thumbs poking out of little holes on the sides. It gave the illusion of fingerless gloves, which he thought was somehow both cool and adorable.

He looked down to figure out why his legs felt different and saw that although the pants looked pretty much the same, there was material layered over his pants from just under the knee to just barely covering the top of his foot. The ties that had always been there were still there, as if keeping them in place, but it was all one piece. As he stepped from side to side they felt totally secure and no more or less fussy than his old pants, even if they felt a little different. Actually, if anything, he thought the band of material going around the arch of his foot would help him get a better grip on things. Sometimes supernatural abilities just didn’t totally cut it.

He was just trying to decide if his favorite part of the new look was how awesome he looked or how soft and comfortable the material was when he looked back in the mirror and saw that all along the inside of the hoodie, frost had spread across it in a stunning contrast to the black. It spidered out from his hands up the sleeves a short ways, along the zipper, pockets, and up from the bottoms of his feet and now…now he was positively giddy. He bounced up and down and looked up at Pitch, grinning gleefully.

“I love it!” he cried. “This looks so good. You made this? You’re amazing! I can’t believe this, look at this!”

Pitch smiled, looking him up and down with great appreciation. “As you wear it, the shadow will mimic you, as it tends to do, and form something very similar or even identical to what you had before, if you felt it suited you. If not, you may find the end product changes a bit. As I’ve said, shadows are actually quite loyal, sentimental creatures.”

“This is what you were making,” Jack said incredulously as he looked over Pitch’s work in awe. Pitch nodded and Jack let out a little huff of amazement. “That’s…Pitch, this is amazing. You know this is amazing, right? You’re so…” He turned and looked up at Pitch like he was seeing him for the first time, which was something he did quite a lot. Unfortunately, he was so lovestruck, he forgot whatever it was he was going to say. He stammered helplessly, but the shine in his eyes said all he needed to.

Pitch smiled down at him, his heart clearly melting as he looked back at Jack fondly.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, fussing idly with Jack’s sweatshirt collar a bit. “You can also add as much frost as you like, if it pleases you. That’s something I’d imagined, but could do nothing about. I’ll say, you did a much better job than I’d even envisioned.”

“But wait, so…you’re basically…gifting me shadows,” Jack confirmed tentatively, as if he might embarrass himself by being wrong. “Which are like, sentient.”

“That’s right.”

“So…I mean…is that really okay? To give them away if they’re…living and loyal and…is it what they want?”

Pitch stared at him, cocking his head a bit as if he’d said something strange, then to Jack’s surprise, he laughed. “Jack. You came here already knowing every awful thing everyone else told you about the shadows, and myself, and you thought we would make excellent friends. You were born in shadow. You are shadow. They already belong to you.”

Jack considered this silently for a while, looking down at the shirt. It made him feel safe and he wondered if that was just because Pitch had given them to him, or if there was more to it, but he was too distracted to fully form the question in his mind.

“What are you thinking, Jack?” Pitch asked softly.

Jack continued staring at the cuffs of his sleeves as he said quietly, “I think…you, and the shadows…you trust me way more than The Guardians ever did…way more than I trust myself.” He turned big blue eyes back up to him and they remained a whirlpool of emotions as he stared at him, vulnerable and confused and…grateful.

Pitch hummed affectionately and put his arm around him before scooping him up into his arms again. “I think this has been enough excitement for you.”

Jack laid his arms around his shoulders comfortably and nodded a little. He was spent. He didn’t want to rest anymore, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. He couldn’t have said how long he’d been awake, but knew it was definitely even less than the last time.

Just before Pitch put him back in bed, Jack looked at him and said innocently, “There’s no tie on these pants.”

Pitch laid him down as Jack beamed up at him, refusing to cooperate and let go of Pitch. “Correct,” Pitch said with a little smirk.

Jack grinned, staring up into his eyes adoringly as his hands clung stubbornly to his neck and shoulder. “I like it…thank you.”

Pitch leaned down and they both closed their eyes as they bumped their foreheads together. “Of course.”

“I’m still not letting go of you, though.”

“Jack.”

Jack wound his arms around his neck tighter, practically hanging from him now as he hunkered down stubbornly. “No.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I just have to make sure your medicine…is…”

Pitch’s voice faded as Jack nuzzled his face against his neck affectionately before Jack muttered, “I’ll bite you.”

Pitch rolled his eyes. “Oh no.”

“I’m sick, you have to be nice to me. Those are the rules so lay down with me until I fall asleep or I’ll cry. I mean it.”

Pitch leaned away from him enough to look at him incredulously. “Jack Frost.”

Jack just glared back at him stubbornly, a little pout on his face that clearly threatened tears. “So you’re not gonna?”

Pitch closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh. Normally, he would never give in to such behavior, but maybe…maybe just this once. Besides, they both knew that really Jack was scared. He just wasn’t so cruel as to point that out.

“Okay,” Pitch said finally, opening his eyes. “Okay.” With Jack still clinging onto him, Pitch crawled over him onto the other side of the bed then laid down and pulled Jack in close. Jack hid against his chest as Pitch curled around him protectively, as if that could ever protect Jack from what was inside him.

——

Jack staggered down a long dark hallway, led along on a rusty chain by a metal collar around his neck. He couldn’t see up ahead, but he could see the gray hand holding the chain and it motivated him to continue moving forward. He didn’t have his staff. He was completely naked. It was so quiet except for the rattle of metal and light footsteps.

They wandered through the caverns until they got to Pitch’s bedroom. It looked just like he remembered and he felt like he was home. He’d never really had one of those before and the sight of the rich colors, the dark wood of the furniture, even the clean, cedar smell flooded him with relief. He was finally safe. He looked back through the door, thinking he heard someone calling him, but Pitch closed the door, and now all Jack’s attention was on him. He had all of Pitch’s attention too, finally, eyes roaming over him hungrily and he wished Pitch would just get on with it. He wasn’t a huge fan of this part. It was always the same thing.

“What do you want me to do to you, Jack?” he purred as he disrobed.

Jack met his golden gaze uneasily. “Whatever you want.”

Pitch shook his head, tutting softly as he circled him. He tried not to flinch away from Pitch’s hand as it caressed him, dragging lazily against his chest, but he couldn’t. It hurt, but he needed it. “I want you to tell me what you want. And be honest. I’ll know if you’re lying, Jack.”

Jack sighed, pain spidering out of his heart like electricity as he considered the question. Pitch waited patiently. “...I…want…you to tell me you love me.”

“Mm-hm. And what else?”

“And…hold me, and look at me like you used to do, like I mattered. I want you to make me feel so good I can’t think anymore, and…call me nice things…”

Pitch smiled, and it was almost kind, but it was just an illusion, and Jack’s stomach curdled at the malice he sensed underneath. “What things?”

Jack winced and looked down. He couldn’t. No matter how bad he wanted it. “I…never mind. It’s not important.”

Pitch approached and took his chin in his hand affectionately. “You mean like…love, starling, my star. Those things?” Jack blinked away tears and nodded in response and Pitch kissed him softly. “Good boy, Jack.”

Jack whimpered and turned his face away, but his captor coaxed him back with a gentle hand along his jaw and kissed him again, and this time Jack kissed him fervently back. This was all he was going to get, he had to make the most of it. He needed something to think about when he was alone again. He would always be alone again, but right now it was so easy to pretend, and he would, as hard as he could.

He was on the bed on his back while the other spirit hovered over him kissing and biting his neck, making him writhe and grind up against him. After a while he stopped, took Jack’s face in his hand and just looked at him, and Jack knew what was coming next. Pitch’s expression was soft, spilling over with adoration, and Jack soaked it up, trying not even to blink, tears streaming down his face into the bed.

“My Star. You know I love you, don’t you?” Pitch crooned, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, and Jack nodded, biting back a sob. He did. He did know that.

When Pitch was fucking him, he clung desperately to those words, to the way Pitch looked at him. Because he loved him. He loved him so much. Jack put the back of his hand to his mouth as the pleasure spiked, shooting up through him like lightning as Pitch moved inside him. The Nightmare King grabbed his hand away from his mouth and laced their fingers, forcing Jack to let everything out, but instead of gasps and moans, Jack’s keening wail was a mixture of half ecstasy and half grief. He sobbed and clung to Pitch and when he came inside him Jack’s eyes rolled back as he shook with silent tremors, pleasure rolling like thunder through his body.

Pitch pulled him into his arms and kissed him gently. “I love you, starling.” He wiped tears from his face and cradled him to his chest as Jack sobbed and begged him not to take him back. He felt so strangely beloved and abandoned both. The love felt real. The soothing whispers into his hair felt real and the adoration in Pitch’s eyes felt so, so real, but before Jack had a chance to really lose himself in any of it Pitch got to his feet and took the chain in hand.

Pitch stood and dragged Jack thoughtlessly to his feet, making him trip and stagger, then he led him back out into the hall, his thighs slick. Jack followed, dazed and sore and swallowing down hiccuping sobs as they tried to escape. Some part of him thought maybe if he was good, if he didn’t make a fuss, Pitch would see that this wasn’t necessary. He would see that Jack really could be good for him, he wouldn’t cry or fight or run if Pitch just let him stay. So he choked down every sound and did his best to struggle along at Pitch’s quick pace so he didn’t drag behind, even as his legs shook.

It seemed like they were there much faster than they should have been, but suddenly Jack realized they were already there as he spotted those heavy stone doors.

Jack dropped to his knees right there in the center of the room and begged frantically, “Pitch, no, please, please, you don’t have to. Really, I promise I won’t do anything. I won’t leave, I…you said I was a good boy for you, didn’t you? I am, I can be, please, Pitch, please…”

Pitch rolled his eyes and yanked him to his feet, but Jack wouldn’t stay on his feet. He fought and tried to pull in the opposite direction, screaming as he fell onto his back and was dragged the rest of the way by his neck then thrown into the small, dark room. There were bugs everywhere, attracted, he assumed, by the dead children sitting all along the walls in the dark, staring at him accusingly.

“See you soon, Jack.”

Hysterical screams tore from his throat and he clawed at his face, mad with fear and grief. And then he just kept screaming.

“Jack–”

He wanted Pitch. He wanted Pitch. He hated Pitch.

“JACK.”

Jack opened his eyes, chest heaving rapidly.

Pitch was hovering over him on all fours with his shoulders in a death grip. Looking into Jack’s eyes and seeing the recognition there, he let out a breath of relief before sitting back and pulling Jack into his arms in a protective embrace, rocking him slightly.

“There we are, it’s okay…you’re okay, Jack, I’ve got you,” he soothed, “It was a nightmare. I fell asleep, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, it wasn’t real, you’re safe now…”

Jack buried himself in Pitch’s chest, clinging to him hard enough to bruise as a stray sob shuddered out of him. He was shaking violently, terrified that at any second Pitch would bring him back to that room. That he’d been awake the whole time. His chest burned.

“Please don’t…please don’t,” Jack begged breathlessly. “I’ll do better, I promise…please.”

“It’s all the nightmare sand, love,” Pitch cooed as he gathered him closer into his lap and Jack continued shivering. “Remember? Just a nightmare. I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m not going to harm you. None of it was real, I promise you.”

When Jack eventually calmed down enough, he glanced around the room to see they were in Pitch’s bedroom…their bedroom. This made him uneasy because of its similarity to the dream, but he had a feeling everything was going to make him uneasy for a while. He looked up at Pitch hesitantly, stray tears slipping down his face. He was embarrassed now.

Pitch held his head under his jaw in both hands, thumbs resting on his cheeks as he slightly tilted his head back and looked into his face like he was checking for something medically that might be wrong. Jack let him, patiently allowing himself to be manhandled as Pitch looked into his eyes carefully, then his mouth. Then he felt his forehead and cheeks. Finally seeming to conclude something, he smoothed some of his hair affectionately then he let him go.

“Just think of how different things would have been if you’d come after me,” Jack murmured, totally out of the blue. He didn’t know where that thought had come from, but it was persistent all of a sudden and it hurt. Maybe it was having Pitch take care of him this way that made him think, wouldn’t it have been nice to have had this all along?

Pitch stared at him wide-eyed for a moment then sighed and looked away with a grimace. “I do, all the time.”

“You were watching over me,” Jack summarized quietly, trying to set everything straight in his scattered mind. He still felt not even half himself, but it was something. “All that time. You were with me.”

Pitch nodded, but it seemed like he was having a hard time looking at Jack again. “I should have been there, with you. Holding you like this. If I’d been stronger maybe I could have gotten to you before you had to come find me. Or if I’d…befriended The Guardians somehow, as you did, if they told you to come to my domain, where The Man in the Moon had no power, maybe then…but I couldn’t—…I never figured it out. I’m so sorry.”

Jack shook his head a little, glancing down sadly. He’d been let down by everyone, but at least Pitch tried. “It’s not your fault. I just…” He swallowed then after a moment shook his head again and closed his eyes in a wince.

“...the thing that...that really gets me is that none of it ever had to happen. There was no point to it at all. I suffered not to…help anyone, or change something. I’m certainly not better off for it. So…just…that’s it. It never had to happen. And it did. Just because. And nothing good came out of it. I’m like this, for nothing. An accident.”

Pitch brushed some hair out of Jack’s face out of habit and Jack looked up at him. “I don’t know if you’re a better version of yourself or not because of your suffering, but I know it happened, and I know the person you are is someone I love dearly. There are no improvements to be made on this version of you…I only wish you hadn’t been made to suffer to get here as much as you have. You being ‘like this’, as you say, may be a difficult thing, but it is not a bad thing to be.”

Jack felt his eyes welling up again. He hated this nightmare sand shit, but who knows, maybe he would have been crying anyway. Things had been really rough lately, to say the least. He still felt as though whatever he wanted to do least in all the world would be required of him in two minutes time, his heartbeat violent in his chest, and the dread was exhausting. “So you didn’t get rid of me on purpose.”

“I let you go on purpose. God knows I wanted to keep you, Jack, and I can’t say I ever really succeeded at letting go of you either. But Jack, listen to me. Okay?” Jack nodded tentatively, staring up at him with big, cherubim eyes. “We’ll talk about this more when you’re well, but you need to keep in mind that your grievances with me are many and valid. I know you have the desperate urge to simply write away as many of my wrongs as you can to make everything as it was, but I don’t have to go just because you’re upset with me. Anything you’re upset with me about can be worked out while you continue to spend time with me, if you choose. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, and you’re the one who decides whether to be around me or not at any time. You’re in control. I have been awful to you. That will not and cannot be ignored. But however you choose to address what I’ve done, it will never affect how much I care about you. Never fear that. Do you understand?”

Jack’s emotions bubbled up in his throat again and he swore the person crying wasn’t him. It was completely involuntary, pistoning out of his body as he shook and collapsed into Pitch again. Apparently, this was relatively expected given the situation because Pitch seemed not the least bit surprised and immediately held him to his chest again as he settled in against the headboard and pillows, rubbing his back.

God, he wanted to hate Pitch so bad, but he made it very…very difficult. It was sort of amazing to him that anyone hated him actually, if this was how he was going to act. Could it really be possible that he was the only one privileged to this side of him? Then again, they’d known each other a rather long time, hadn’t they? The others had as well, though, as far as Jack could understand. How strange that he could be clinging to Pitch so tightly and have Pitch be holding onto him just as tight if Pitch was supposedly just a monster.

Pitch was right. There were a lot of things he wanted to rake him across the coals for, and he would, but maybe he didn’t have to do it now, and maybe not all at once. Maybe it didn’t have to mean he never saw him again. He couldn’t tell right now how much of that was fear and wishful thinking or a realistic plan, but as far as he could tell all that meant was exactly what Pitch said next.

“Right now, love, all you have to do is rest. That’s all you can do and…and,” he emphasized, taking Jack by the chin, suddenly looking stern. “You must tell me when you need assistance. Not if. When, because you will need help recovering from the nightmare sand and there’s nothing wrong with that. You may be lucid now and feel capable, but that won’t always be true. You are not doing this on your own. If not me, then someone else, but if you need help you will ask for it and I will find a way to provide it. Do you understand?”

Jack nodded slowly, although he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of help he meant, or when he might need it, but he was way too tired to get into that right now. He was sure he’d figure it out.

“Very good. Now. I broke your heart and nearly killed you. Just because we slept together…just because you love me, that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to share a bed with me. You are in our bed at the moment. I recommend this be where you sleep for the time being regardless of where we stand romantically because you’ll need someone there for the nightmares. I am the best at detecting these nightmares as soon as they occur, so I’ll be the one looking after you when you sleep. If you’d like comfort from someone other than me, that can be arranged, but regardless I will need to be here.”

Jack shook his head a little, too drained to be self-conscious as he murmured, “No. I want you.”

Pitch pressed his lips together for a moment then nodded stiffly and looked down. “That’s—…right. Okay. Good.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile a little at that and he took Pitch’s hand and squeezed it. He was sick, after all, he needed affection to stave off the effects of the nightmare sand, right? Right.

“...Pitch, I practically begged you to fuck me not that long ago. Like, super recently, actually. We’ve been sleeping in the same bed for…weeks? Since then? You really think I have a problem sleeping in the same bed as you? Also, you’ve told me…multiple times it was ‘our’ bed. So unless I didn’t get the memo…”

Pitch actually looked a little flustered, which was adorable, though Jack kept that thought to himself. “I just didn’t want to…assume…besides, you’re not well. What you want may change drastically minute to minute, which was why I was hesitant to…but if you’re sure this is alright…”

Jack stared at him a while before closing his eyes. “God, I fucking love you.”

Pitch winced. “Jack,” he insisted, pushing his fingers back through his stubborn black hair and looking distressed. “That’s…yes, but…”

Pitch practically flung himself out of bed all of a sudden and began pacing. Before Jack could react much, though, Pitch wheeled back around on him and cried, “Why?”

Jack blinked in surprise. Pitch almost seemed angry and that was…confusing. “What? Why what?”

His face contorted into a mask of pain and he gestured wildly with his hands, pointing at some unnamed culprit. “How could you possibly be okay with sharing a bed with me when you have nightmares like that? Doesn’t it make you sick? Don’t I? Because it should, Jack. I—“ Pitch put his hand over his mouth as if he really was going to be sick and turned his back on him again.

Jack thought he might be sick too. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get enough breath. He tried again. “Y…you…”

What was he supposed to say? If Pitch had seen his nightmare, what the fuck could he possibly say? ‘Sorry I dreamt about you kinda raping me.’ Or maybe, ‘Look at the bright side: at least now you know you can do basically whatever you want to me and I’ll put up with it!’ Or how about, ‘Well, it’s definitely not the first time I had a nightmare like that.’

“I…I’m sor—“

Pitch spun back around on him and spat, “Don’t you dare apologize. Don’t you dare. You…I…I should have known, I’m sorry.” He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I didn’t think of that. Sleeping next to me, of course you’d have nightmares about me, about what I did.” He dropped his hands and simultaneously dropped to his knees by the bed. “I am…I am so sorry. Jack, you know you don’t have to—“

Pitch reached for Jack’s hand, but as soon as his fingers brushed across the ring Pitch had given him, Jack threw up his leg, pushing it into Pitch’s chest to keep him away. He stared, wild-eyed as he cradled his hand like a wounded animal.

“NO,” he shrieked, realized Pitch was still within grabbing distance of his hand, and leaned backwards, holding his hand as far away from him as he could. “Stop it. Pitch, don’t.” His voice turned pleading as he whispered, “Please.”

Pitch stared at him for a long moment, swallowed, then nodded and looked down. “Okay.” He looked back up, blinking away tears. “Okay. I won’t try to take it, I promise.”

Jack’s face screwed up with a mixture of ‘how could you?’ and ‘damn right you won’t’ before he lowered his leg. Pitch put his hands out to him as a peace offering, then gently tackled Jack into a hug, tipping him over on the bed in the process. Jack was more than receptive, welcoming him with open arms and clinging to him as they fell over in a heap.

He didn’t have any more nightmares.

——

Jack may not have had any nightmares, but when he woke he was also in a very different mood than he’d been in before. It was like everything he’d been pissed off about had a chance to settle to the bottom of his psyche like sludge in a cup and now he was trying to cough it all up into Pitch’s face at once.

The problem began when Jack woke and realized he was alone, which annoyed him for some reason, and, secondly, he realized that he was completely naked again, which considering all of the remaining scarring was only on the top half of his body, seemed entirely unnecessary.

Pitch walked in then and seemed to sense immediately that he was going to be chewed out as he slowly closed the bedroom door behind him then walked to Jack’s side of the bed, an air of caution in his gait.

“Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Yeah, well, that makes one of us. Why am I naked?” Jack snapped.

Pitch’s face showed nothing but patience as he answered, “I needed to make sure the nightmare sand hadn’t physically manifested itself again like it had in the beginning.”

Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah? And you needed my pants off for that?”

Pitch glanced him over calmly, not minding his sudden temper in the least. He just seemed genuinely glad he was awake. “Yes, actually. It can manifest anywhere on your body.”

If anything, Pitch’s serenity just pissed him off more. Unfortunately, he had nothing else to complain about right now. “Fine. What did you find out?”

“Physically, you’re doing very well,” Pitch reported as he met his eye again. “You can get dressed again, if you like. You need only call those particular shadows to you.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

“The ring will assist, but concentrating on the clothes reforming on your body will do the trick.”

Jack didn’t actually even care that he was naked, it was just the principle of the thing. He huffed. “Whatever. Not like I’m going to have any visitors anyway,” he muttered bitterly.

Pitch’s brows went up a little. “Did you want visitors? That can be arranged.”

Jack clicked his tongue in annoyance. Obviously, he didn’t actually want visitors, but it would have been nice to be missed. He glowered at Pitch sideways as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Oh yeah. Let’s call up Bunny and see if he wants to hang out, play some parcheesi. Sounds like a real hoot.”

Pitch smirked a little at him playfully, as if this were some joke they were in on together, or maybe he was just trying to cheer him up. “As much as I realize you’re being sarcastic, personally I think it actually would be a hoot. I’ve been dying to have him over for dinner ever since he broke your ribs…I don’t think he’d taste very good though, so I haven’t sent the invite yet.”

Normally, Pitch being so readily protective of him would have felt really good, if not a little embarrassing. Now, though, all he could think about was the hypocrisy of it all and he responded, “Oh, ha ha, yeah, coming from the guy that literally shot me.”

“Fair enough. Now, I’m aware you’re feeling a bit prickly–”

“Fuck you.”

“—but I need to examine your chest and have you tell me if any–”

“Ohhh, no no, I know what you mean by examination. Think you’re so smooth. I don’t really feel like letting you cop a feel at the moment. So yeah, no thanks, let’s skip that. Next?”

Pitch sighed through his nose. His patience was beginning to wear thin, Jack could see it, and if he was being honest, he wanted to crack him like an egg. “Jack. Not all injuries present themselves immediately and I need to feel what’s going on while you’re awake so you can tell me where anything may hurt and how much, particularly in your chest.”

“No.”

“We don’t have time for this, Jack. This isn’t a game.”

“Good, because I’m not playing right now and if you touch me I swear to fuck, Pitch, I will–”

Pitch must have realized trying to have a conversation with Jack right now was a losing battle because Pitch suddenly grabbed him by the wrist and pinned him into the bed then climbed over him at the same time in one fluid, effortless movement. And, just like that, Jack was effectively neutralized.

Jack started to fight him, immediately boiling with rage, so Pitch pinned his other wrist into the bed as well, settling his superior weight as he kneeled over him and pushed him into the bed with it.

“Stop,” Pitch ordered sharply. He didn’t look genuinely angry, but he did look ready to deliver consequences.

Jack stared up at him in shock and indignation. “What do you even care?”

“Well, you make a pretty sorry hostage in this state. What makes you think I want damaged goods?” Pitch joked, looking faintly annoyed as he leaned in to take a better look at the areas around where he’d been hit by the arrow…which, by the way, Jack thought had been way too big to be called an ‘arrow’.

“Tell me if you feel any pain.”

Out of pure stubbornness, Jack didn’t fight him when he let go of his wrists, but he did make sure his expression stayed as neutral as possible as Pitch poked and prodded at him. Especially right now, as his temper flared, Jack’s chest was burning, so of course Jack did everything possible to pretend like it absolutely did not feel like he’d swallowed pure acid.

After a while, Pitch hummed thoughtfully and retracted his hand before giving his ribs a particularly firm jab. Jack let out an involuntary gasp and squirmed underneath him. Pitch then had the nerve to roll his eyes at him.

“Ouch! What the hell, Pitch?”

“Why are you so determined to be your own worst enemy?”

“Don’t be so modest, you’re doing a great job of that already,” Jack countered, wincing up at him, voice strained.

Pitch raised an eyebrow at him. “Flattered, but if you’re this friendly with all your enemies I’d advise you to use a little more discretion.”

Jack’s tone sharpened and he looked away as he muttered, “Yeah, well, that was my mistake.”

Pitch sighed then after some consideration offered, “If you’re going to continue sulking, wouldn’t you rather just spit it out?”

Jack’s head snapped back and he shot him a withering stare. “Spit out what? Which part, Pitch? The part where you got me killed? The part where you kissed me and then abandoned me for three hundred years, or the part where you lied about it? Or tortured me? Or the part where you tried to kill my friends, shot me, and then kidnapped me?”

“Whichever part is making you act like a brat.”

Jack’s mouth fell open then he spat furiously, “I fucking hate you.”

Pitch just looked down at him calmly. “Are you done yet? This is really important, Jack, I need to know if you’re hurt. I won’t have you bleeding out on me or something equally unpleasant, like having your entire being dissolved by nightmare sand, just because you’re cranky.”

“I dunno, might be easier for everybody, don’t you think?”

“No. No, I don’t,” Pitch responded, deadpan, and apparently seemed to decide his best course of action was to just wait it out, assuming his patience was greater than Jack’s. He would have been right, if it came to that, but fine, if Pitch wanted him to spit it out, he’d spit it out.

“You know what? That’s the messed up part, isn’t it? I don’t hate you. I want to, but I don’t. You’re the one that hates me. You must, because nobody would ever treat someone like this if they loved them, you fucking asshole. What did I ever do, huh? What did I do to make you hate me so much? Because I stopped believing in you? Do you want an apology? You want me to beg? What do you want from me, Pitch? Because I really don’t fucking know anymore, but whatever it is, you can fucking have it, I don’t even care anymore. I just can’t stand looking at your fucking face.”

When Jack looked back up at Pitch, he was surprised to see that he looked genuinely stunned and hurt for an instance before he stuffed his emotions away again. Part of Jack said, good. Another part of him was embarrassed for acting like a child, and another part really felt somewhere deep down that what he’d said had to be true. Yet another part just felt guilty because, deep down, he knew Pitch didn’t deserve this. He’d already suffered so much. But Jack hadn’t deserved anything he’d done to him either. A tear slid from the corner of his eye as he looked away, turning his face into the bed.

“I never hated you,” Jack murmured. “Not once. I fought with The Guardians about you over…and over again, because I hated the way they treated you, but I never hated you, and yeah, I guess I’m naive and stupid and whatever else you want to call me, but I never, ever want anyone to feel the way I felt when I was forgotten for all that time, by the world, by you. I used to ask myself, why doesn’t anyone care about me?” His voice broke and he looked at the ceiling, gathering himself before looking back to Pitch, who was still frozen. “Wondering what I did to deserve it. But I still cared about you, not remembering anything, and I didn’t even have a choice in that. But I bet you’d…just forgotten about me, and I was so pathetic I still…I still…”

Pitch took a deep slow breath in and held it, looking to the ceiling before finally looking back down at him and whispering, “I never forgot about you, Jack. How could I? Of course not. There was always an empty place at my side where you were meant to be. I was always acutely aware of that.”

Jack shut his eyes again, chest hitching as he choked back sobs. “Stop. Please. I don’t need you to lie to me just so that—“

“Jack, look at me.”

He shook his head, refusing at first, but when Pitch stayed silent he couldn’t help himself. To his surprise, Pitch’s expression was agonized as he cradled Jack’s face in his hands and suddenly Jack felt horribly guilty for how he’d been acting. What was wrong with him? How could he say those things to Pitch, who wasn’t even sleeping in case Jack had a nightmare, who was always there, who handmade him clothes thread by thread as he sat at his bedside day in and day out, all the while gripped by terror that he might not wake up? Pitch, who’s ring he was proudly wearing. Pitch, who was proudly wearing his ring.

Pitch brushed away some of Jack’s tears gently, even as they continued to fall in a now steady stream. “I swear to you, I tried. Right up until you appeared in my lair, I tried to get to you and yes, I tried to keep The Guardians as far away from you as I could because I was scared. I was so scared I was going to lose you again, that they were going to take you from me, and I couldn’t do it, Jack. I need you.”

Jack could hardly breathe and suddenly all that fear came rearing back up all at once because this was everything he’d wanted to hear since he got his memories back and if it was a lie? He didn’t think he’d survive it. His spirit couldn’t take anymore and surely Pitch would know exactly how to break him if he wanted to. Was that what this was all about? That’s what he’d thought when he’d first gotten his memories back and he still didn’t know what to think as the nightmare sand continued sowing doubt in his heart. All he could think about was the feeling afterwards of utter betrayal, the thought that all of it had just been a game to Pitch, or a weird sort of revenge, or a means of turning him into a weapon like everyone else seemed to want to do. If he let himself believe what Pitch was saying, it would be so easy for Pitch to break him if he wanted to and Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to give him the chance.

“Pitch,” he croaked, weakly pleading with him for mercy. It was all he had left to defend himself with.

But Pitch just continued venomously, “The Man in the Moon knew you were mine and he stole you from me because he knew what we could be together. We’d be strong. Unstoppable, and he was afraid, and I know…I always know a person’s greatest fears. You can’t imagine how destroyed I was after being trapped in that moonlit lake and forced to watch you fly away, screaming your name, pounding on the underside of the ice until the very bones in my fingers gave way. And then to be unable to get anywhere near you for all those years, living vicariously through whatever shadows could escape his notice because of the way you were drawn to them. Of course I wanted you, Jack, I never forgot about you after The Man in the Moon chose you. Even when you forgot me I selfishly wished it had never happened. I wished that…”

Pitch hung his head with a sudden deep exhale, hands planted on the bed on either side of him. After a moment of tremulous silence, he added quietly, defeated, “You don’t have to be afraid, Jack. I would not humiliate myself just for some strange, centuries long scheme to entrap you. If I’d wanted to trap you, manipulating you into having feelings for me would not have been my first choice of method, and I could have done so far more simply if I wanted to. I had so many opportunities to lure you to me, times when you were at your most vulnerable, your most desperate, and instead I pushed you away because I knew it was best for you. I knew that if you ran away that night, you would regret it, and so I shepherded you back home with fear. I did not appear to you the night you found out your first love was planning to marry the girl down the street. Instead, I sat in the dark and I listened to you cry and only held your hand when you finally fell asleep, ensuring you had no nightmares. There is no reason for me to pretend now, Jack.”

Jack took a deep shuddering breath before throwing his arm over his face, covering his eyes with his elbow and letting out a helpless, shattered sob. He only sobbed more when Pitch laid down beside him and gathered him close, shushing him softly as he began rubbing his back. He was so much smaller than Pitch it just felt like he was being swallowed up by him, and that was exactly how he wanted to feel right now so he buried himself in his chest, letting Pitch wrap him in his arms and entangle his legs around him. It reminded him of the memories he’d gotten back, and it hurt even more knowing he hadn’t felt this safe and loved since all the way back then, up until he met Pitch again centuries later.

As he lay there pressing his face into Pitch’s chest, he knew with absolute certainty that he believed in Pitch and that belief had changed his cynical view of the world. Life had taught him that he had to accept he would always be alone and letting go of that was hard. It was the only way he’d managed to survive. If he’d spent three-hundred years waiting for someone to see him, he would have gone mad. Of course he gave up.

Maybe he was wrong to believe in Pitch, but right now he was reaching out and grasping onto the hope for something better. He had to give it one last try, believe one last time, and allow himself to trust. He couldn’t hide away inside himself forever.

He cried himself out, hating the sounds, grateful for them to end only for them to well back up like vomit. Pitch was patient, murmuring nothing in particular to him in a steady, gentle voice and it really did help. He thought he’d never have this again.

Jack sniffled and rested his forehead against Pitch’s shoulder. All that excess feeling felt lanced, and he was grateful. Pitch started running his fingers back through his hair, making him shiver pleasantly.

Now that he felt a little more like himself, he was embarrassed by the things he’d said and felt horribly guilty. It didn’t seem fair at all that Pitch should have to listen to that and now stay and take care of him besides.

“Um…” he began, but Pitch gently cut him off with his own quiet murmur.

“You need to rest and I’m conveniently exhausted. So I’m staying here to look after you and we’ll try this again in a little while.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay. You don’t…have to.”

“Little frost spirit, there’s nothing you could do to make me do anything.”

“Mm, I dunno. Did a pretty good job of getting you in this bed.”

“Not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“Because I didn’t have to do that. If the lair was on fire, I assure you I would not be doing this.”

Jack laughed softly, feeling pleasantly warm inside and out, despite his body’s efforts to fight any good feelings trying to come his way. “Alright, I get it.”

“Rest, now, I beg thee,” Pitch murmured with a playful hint of sarcasm.

“I don’t hate you,” Jack whispered, glancing up at Pitch worriedly, and saw his eyes were closed.

“I don’t hate you either,” Pitch whispered back and Jack blushed as Pitch nuzzled his mouth against the top of his head.

He slept.

Chapter Text

As promised, Pitch examined him when he woke a short while later, and was pleased to not find any additional trauma. Jack could tell he remained incensed by the injury Bunnymund had caused and Jack didn’t really blame him. Pitch nearly killed him, and Jack wasn’t going to just forget that, but that didn’t mean Pitch didn’t still have feelings and an obviously protective nature that made him want to wring Bunny’s neck.

Jack watched from the bed as Pitch prepared the salve for his injuries with his back to him. Sometimes, Pitch did find places where the nightmare sand did indeed try to manifest, looking much like burns on his skin, but Pitch was diligent about both the medicine he made him drink and that he applied to Jack’s body. He could hear little clinks against glass and a drawer being opened and closed, and made him remember how much he’d enjoyed helping Pitch in his study. He really hoped he could get back to that soon.

“It’s okay if you’re angry. He’s an asshole,” Jack offered gently. “I mean, so are you, but that’s…I’m just saying. I won’t be mad if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Pitch said immediately, not pausing what he was doing, which was exactly the kind of reaction that told Jack he was definitely mad. Jack couldn’t help but smile. Because what was he doing? The mighty King of Darkness had halted a major battle for Jack’s sake, a battle he’d been winning, and despite being livid and thirsting for revenge, he was here, making medicine to ease Jack’s pain instead of appeasing his own need for slaughter.

“I love you,” Jack said quietly. And he meant it. He could feel the ooey-gooey face he was making at Pitch’s back and everything.

At that, Pitch did stop and turned halfway back to him. He stared at Jack sitting there under the blanket, against a million pillows looking so small in his bed, and his face softened drastically. “I love you too, starling.”

Jack’s chest fluttered and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the litany of damage that had been done to it recently. Trying to pretend he wasn’t shy, Jack played with a tassel on the nearest pillow and said quietly, “You know, this is…pretty embarrassing, I guess, but I thought you were calling me a bird this whole time. Like, until…kinda recently.”

Pitch’s eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows flying up, then he let out a hearty laugh. After leaning against the dresser a moment, he brought the salve over, grinning toothily down at Jack, a mirthful gleam lingering in his eye. “I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that’s what you would think. I suppose you do remind me of a bird, but more of a star, certainly.”

Jack chuckled and obediently laid back into the cushions so Pitch would have an easier time with the medicine. Jack was totally used to the smell by now, but he hoped they wouldn’t keep finding reasons to use it.

“Really?” He hissed as the viscous gel with little bits of plant in it made contact with his chest and Pitch gently began rubbing it in. It felt weird.

“Yes, really. Although I really don’t think you’ll like to hear me describe why.”

Jack pouted up at him. “What? Why not? Come on, tell me.”

“Well, for starters, did you know universes revolve around stars?”

“Oh, cool. No.” Jack paused, confused. “What does that…?”

Pitch made eye contact with him and smirked. “Why don’t you tell me, little star?”

He frowned. “The universe…” Jack stopped, his face going blank before he covered it with his hands. “Oh my god, stop,” he complained, voice muffled.

Pitch just cackled. “Should I go on?”

“There’s more?” Jack groaned.

“They’re bright, they’re beautiful, powerful. You make wishes on them, too, and I’ve made wishes looking at you more than once or twice.”

Jack made an overly dramatic choking sound into his hands, making Pitch laugh more. “Stop, oh my god, stop, I’m gonna gag,” he groaned, dropping his hands onto the bed and revealing he was very, very flushed.

Pitch hummed, still smirking wickedly as his fingertips made gentle, warm circles in Jack’s skin. “Mm. I knew you’d react that way. That just makes it all the better, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll be honest, I gained no small amount of joy from Sanderson’s reaction to hearing me call you that…”

Jack cocked his head a little, blinking curiously up at him. “Why Sandy more than the others? …now that you mention it, I’ve never seen him blush like that.”

The look on Pitch’s face was one of pure, unbridled, wicked pleasure. He paused his hands and as he looked at him Jack couldn’t help but grin, seeing the maniacal gleam in his eye.

“It’s a cultural difference I fear I won’t be able to properly explain, but think of it like this: even if I told you a word from another language was a slur, you wouldn’t have such a visceral reaction of repulsion to hearing it like a native speaker would. Someone that grew up hearing the word from bigots, being taught all their lives never to say it. ‘Star’ and ‘starling’ are similar in that it may be just a pet name to you, but anyone where I grew up would have understood exactly what you are to me with that one word.”

Jack was already feeling a bit bashful, but he pushed on anyway, ever curious, especially about their shared past. He wanted the same inside knowledge Pitch and Sandy shared. “What am I then?”

“Everything, starlight. It means everything. Creation. Destruction. Your beginning and your end. To call someone such would mean they…it means you are the point to which I always return, in every life, always. I suppose it’s similar to the sentiment of a soul mate, but I still feel that’s lacking.” He shrugged. “In any case, it’s impactful enough that when Sanderson heard me call you ‘star’, well…he didn’t need much more convincing after that.”

Jack whined and shut his eyes. “That’s so embarrassing…man, can't believe I ever thought maybe you secretly hated me.”

“Oh, I can’t stand you.”

One corner of Jack’s mouth quirked up in a smirk, though he didn’t bother opening his eyes. He wasn’t gracing this clown show with an audience. “Right.”

“Sincerely. Why…” Pitch’s voice was suddenly a lot closer and he felt his smirking lips on his neck as he growled, “The very thought of you makes my skin crawl.”

Jack squirmed and laughed, pushing him away, but only hesitantly, partially because he would have preferred to pull him closer and partially because the vibrations of Pitch’s voice tickled his throat. “Hey, this is not a fair fight. I’m crippled.”

“You know, Jack?” he began, pressing kisses along his neck up to his jaw. “I think if I detested you any more, I might have to kiss you.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack peeked up at him with an impish smile. “Anything I can do to make that happen then?” he asked playfully, heart thrumming wildly in his chest as if they’d never kissed before. Nightmare sand, he thought to himself frantically. He was absolutely hooked by Pitch right now, melting underneath him over nothing, over a cutesy nickname and some flirting, because of the nightmare sand, and that was all.

“Maybe,” Pitch purred as he hovered over him, breathing against his lips. “Give it your best shot.”

Jack looked over Pitch’s face, hardly remembering how to breathe as his eyes darted first to the other’s lips, then his golden eyes. They were so beautiful…all different shades of gold layered together in glittering flecks to make one perfect color. It was surreal to Jack that of all the incredible wonders of the world, Pitch’s eyes were the most beautiful thing on it. The most beautiful thing in existence was right here, in this man, glowing out of his face down here in the dark at Jack, and that was so weird to him. Just existentially, like, why would the most perfect thing be this? Be here? What was the point? He thought that was odd.

Everything about Pitch was stunning, really. He was just working himself up more, but he couldn’t help it. The older spirit was like a sculpture, it was unreal. Pitch had told him once that he wasn’t human, but that Jack would have likely believed him to be human once. That lined up, but he wondered if everyone where Pitch came from had such perfect, high cheekbones and a prominent nose that somehow made him seem so regal. Jack’s nose, by comparison, was just a cute little button, and it definitely didn’t make him look noble or particularly handsome like Pitch’s did. Seemed kind of unfair. His pointed ears highlighted the severe angles of his face and made him more intimidating, but prettier as well, like some majestic sort of animal. He wondered if Pitch would mind him saying he was beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” Jack breathed, practically slurring his words as he smiled up at Pitch in a daze.

For some reason, this made Pitch’s eyes widen, then he smiled radiantly and chuckled as he seemed to realize the nightmare sand was loosening Jack’s tongue. “Thank you, Jack.”

Jack just grinned, eyelids feeling heavy. “No, seriously, you’re…jeez, Pitch…you’re actually the most beautiful and smart and interesting person…you just…know things, and understand things, and you’re spooky and, god, I love that so much. I love you so much.”

Pitch took Jack’s face in his hands, his own face positively glowing with happiness and affection, even if he was simultaneously trying not to laugh. “I love you so much, Jack. Please don’t cry.”

Jack’s eyes were glistening with tears, but they didn’t fall. He couldn’t stop smiling, though. He was such a mess. “I’m just so happy. I’m so happy you’re here with me and I’m not alone. Out of everyone that could be with me right now, it’s you when you’re the one person I always want around the most…how lucky am I? To be here with you…to have you care about me. To love me? Ha…that’s…”

Jack reached out, resting his hands on Pitch’s neck like he was making sure he was even real before sinking his hands back through his hair. He ran his fingers through it a few times and was hypnotized by the way Pitch closed his eyes and made a humming sound in his throat very close to a purr.

“Stay with me forever,” Jack whispered, pleading, euphoric, with stars in his eyes like he was asking Pitch to run away with him. “Seriously. I know you’re thinking, like, oh, Jack’s just really emotional right now so he’s flirting with me, no, I am actually crazy about you, I mean it.” Jack held Pitch’s face in his hand with reverence and continued passionately, “Stay with me forever. I am…so fucking in love with you, you know that? Who cares what anyone else thinks? I want everyone to know I’m yours and you’re mine. Finally, it’s you and me. I waited so long. I’m not wasting another second. I’m yours…I’m yours.”

Pitch gazed at Jack hungrily, completely mesmerized by his blissful ramblings. Even if he knew Jack’s emotions were intensified by the nightmare sand, the fact that these were things Jack would ever feel in the first place was intoxicating. He was drinking down every word, heart bursting at the sight of the brightness in Jack’s eyes, the color in his cheeks, and the unmistakable lovesick smile on his lips. He didn’t want to break the spell, but he did want Jack to settle down. The medicine he’d applied would help with the pain, but only so much, and it wouldn’t stop Jack from making it worse by moving around too much. The fact that nothing else seemed to be bothering him at all now was a testament to how powerful a drug love could be.

“Careful, my light. I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” he murmured, easing him down into the pillows fully to discourage him from sitting up any further. Jack, however, stubbornly wrapped his arms around Pitch and buried his face against him, preventing Pitch from pulling away anymore than he already had.

“Then come here,” Jack mumbled into the side of his neck. He leaned back just enough to gaze up at Pitch, hopeful, but suddenly shy.

Pitch looked at his sweet face helplessly, brushing his fingertips along his cheek. As their lips slowly came together, Jack let out a sound of relief like he’d been holding his breath. He allowed Pitch to maneuver him bonelessly onto the bed, his head spinning. Jack was surrounded by the feathery down of pillows and Pitch’s warmth above him, and it was absolute heaven, but soon he started to squirm from the way his body was lighting up under Pitch’s touch.

Jack parted his lips and made a needy sound, brushing his tongue along Pitch’s bottom lip. The sprite let out a string of broken moans as Pitch licked into his mouth, swallowing them all down. His longer tongue slicked over Jack’s possessively and began moving rhythmically in a way that soon had Jack squirming and pressing his thighs together with want. Was it just him or was Pitch even better at this than usual? Heat was already pooling in him as if they’d been making out for ages and it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes or so, right? That didn’t stop his body from responding. God, he was on fire. He was hit with such sudden and intense need, it reminded him again of those shriveled up berries Pitch had gotten him to eat that made him feel like he was in heat.

He was sure Pitch wasn’t going to let things go any further, probably insisting he rest, but when Pitch pulled away, leading a small strand of saliva briefly between them, it was to pull the blanket aside and move down between his legs.

Jack watched him, riveted, already squirming and breathless, and began to whimper as he watched Pitch move lower. “You’re so hot, Pitch…holy fucking shit. I love you. I love you so much, god, please, please, how are you so perfect? I’m all yours, Pitch, please, seriously, do whatever you want with me, come on, fuck—“

Jack’s voice cut off with a gasp as Pitch’s mouth engulfed him, his eyes rolling back as he let out a shrill cry. It was already almost too much and he started to squirm even more, canting his hips involuntarily as Pitch’s mouth started moving around him, causing Pitch to have to hold him down. In response, Jack let out a loud, ragged moan and twisted his hands in the blanket like he was dying. It felt like Pitch’s tongue was everywhere, melting him with its wet heat as licked and sucked him with passionate dedication. Tremors of pleasure shook Jack’s body mercilessly and his hips frantically tried to buck, but Pitch kept them pinned firmly as he swirled his tongue around the head of his cock. Jack would have begged, but he couldn’t even form words. Instead, he sobbed and writhed. His back arched up off the bed with a feral cry as he became totally frantic, gasping hard and clawing at the bed. His voice broke and then—

Jack let out a loud, ragged cry as his mind whited out. He completely lost control of his body, screaming as he came harder than he thought possible and just kept coming until he just sort of lost track of time. His mind was lost in ecstasy as he went boneless on the bed. As he lay there stunned and catching his breath, Pitch appeared back over him only to lean down and lick Jack’s stomach clean. Jack whimpered, stomach muscles quivering under the Nightmare King’s tongue. He really didn’t have to be so thorough, but god, that was hot.

When Pitch was done, he moved back over Jack, looking down at him with a loving and sympathetic smile. Jack was sobbing quietly he was so overwhelmed, so Pitch carefully gathered him in his arms and pulled the blanket back over them both.

“Oh, star, you’re alright…poor thing. Just rest a moment. You’ll feel better soon. It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Pitch cooed softly.

Jack’s breath hitched as he nodded, but he was slowly calming down. He was really sick of crying, but after so many years of locking everything up inside as much as possible, it made sense for it to come pouring out of him now.

Pitch kissed his temple then lay next to him, running his fingers slowly through his hair without saying a word.

Sure enough, Jack calmed relatively quickly, but his emotions were still running high, and he rambled near nonsense to Pitch in desperation as he started to slip into sleep. “Everything…I wanted…because of you. I would die for you. The most perfect…person, I never want to leave you, never want to…I love you. Pitch…anything for you…”

Pitch hummed affectionately into his hair. “Live for me,” he whispered.

Jack smiled a little lazily. Shortly after that, he slipped right back into sleep.

——

Jack’s moods continued to change rapidly from second to second, and normally it wasn’t a problem. The problem was more that, as Jack had figured out by now, his baseline state was one of fear. It was always there lingering just under the surface, and then sometimes, all of a sudden, it would grip him tightly and senselessly, and when that happened all he could do was remind himself that it wasn’t real. It was going to pass. Sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn’t.

When it didn’t, it spiraled out of control rapidly and before Jack knew it he found himself in all manner of strange and perilous situations.

On the more benign end of the spectrum, there were incidents like the one where Jack came out of a total panic to find himself hiding in a closet, huddled in the corner and shivering violently enough to nearly hear his bones rattle. When Pitch opened the door, softly calling his name, Jack froze, then broke down in tears, sobbing with relief. He tried to get up unsteadily and Pitch bent down and pulled him into his arms, scooping him up and sweeping him away back to his room, telling him everything was alright. He was like a little feral animal, but a sweet one.

But not always.

“—it, but I’m your friend, mate.”

Jack couldn’t breathe. He was breathing as hard as he could, but his lungs wouldn’t fill anymore. They were tight and painful, and there was something heavy on top of him and he couldn’t breathe. In a panic, he screamed for Pitch.

Bunny’s fur was soft, but the muscles underneath it pinning Jack down were strong. He was saying something, but he couldn’t understand. Bunny looked afraid even though he was the one crushing Jack into the ground.

Jack struggled and bucked, arching his back and throwing his head back as he tried to scream again, but couldn’t get enough air for it.

“Get off him,” Pitch’s voice snarled from somewhere above before Bunny was thrown back off of him like a child’s stuffed animal. Jack’s vision was dark and there was screaming back and forth. He couldn’t make it all out. He smelled cedar and musk, but also the fresh, wild smell of an icy tundra clinging to Pitch’s clothes and tried to focus on that as Pitch shielded him with his own body.

“—don’t care, I’ll put you in an everlasting nightmare, you—“

“—attacking me, he was out of control! I didn’t want to—“

“—filthy paws, I’ll cut them off—“

“—did this to him, how is this my fault?”

“Pitch,” Jack whimpered desperately, and immediately Pitch leaned back from where he was thrown protectively over him and pulled Jack into his lap. Jack was gasping for breath and flinched as Pitch’s hand fanned out over his chest, coaxing air into his lungs as he gently shushed him.

“You’re alright, shh…good, breathe. Slow. Slow…good. You’re okay. You’re safe, Jack…”

Jack stared up into Pitch’s eyes, slowly calming down enough to realize where he was: he was at The Warren. He just didn’t know why he was here. Blinking away tears, he peered around in a daze. His fists were killing him, but particularly the right one.

“What…? I…what’s…?” He went quiet as Pitch ran his fingers back through his hair. Jack closed his eyes, shivering pleasantly and after a moment laid his head on Pitch’s chest, realizing he was exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he blacked out. Later Pitch would tell him that he’d simply gone missing and the older spirit had managed to track him down at The Warren, where he’d found a badly beaten Bunny pinning Jack down, accidentally suffocating him in his panic. Jack was not looking forward to apologizing to him, but knew he would have to as soon as he could.

Hopefully, in the meantime, Pitch would keep a shorter leash on him. In retrospect, he didn’t blame Bunny for looking scared; Jack was scared of himself.

——

Jack was crying so hard that North couldn’t understand what he was saying, so when North finally asked him if this had to do with Pitch, all Jack could do was nod. North nearly called for the other Guardians, but Jack managed to stop him at the last second. He didn’t suddenly regain the ability to communicate, but what he did do was grab onto North’s coat as he began to stride from the room, then he refused to let go. North turned and looked down at him kneeling there all covered in tears and snots and with little more than a brief glance back at the doorway, he turned back around and got on the floor with him, crossing his legs.

Seeming relieved, Jack fell back on his butt, frantically wiping his face off on the silky black cuffs of his sweatshirt, breath hiccuping helplessly all the while. North had asked the elves to grab some tissues and hot chocolate when Jack first arrived, and with perfect timing they appeared. Jack took some of the tissues and thanked the elf as he set them on the floor. Looking uncomfortable, the elf stiffly turned around and sped away. Jack actually laughed a little as he wiped his nose, sniffling a bit.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Jack. Whatever is wrong, we figure it out together, yes? But first, how about icing the coco and giving it a try?” North offered, a warm smile on his face. He didn’t look at all put out by Jack showing up randomly at The North Pole in this state. The fact that the snowflake tattoo worked at all still with the scar passing through it stunned Jack, but here he was.

“It’s good,” Jack choked out, nose stuffy as he sipped at his coco, tears still slipping down his face.

“It is secret family recipe, but I let you know at least one ingredient: there is chocolate in it.” North looked pleased when Jack laughed a little then he continued, “So why don’t you tell me why I have the pleasure of seeing you?”

Jack could tell North was way more worried than he was readily letting on, probably not wanting to upset Jack anymore than he already was. Although, the fact that he was sitting with him on the floor could have told him that. Jack opened his mouth, but hesitated. This was a terrible idea.

“You say it is Pitch?” North prompted gently, leaning towards him.

It wasn’t fair.

Jack immediately started crying again, but managed to whimper, “I don’t know what to do…I…what am I gonna do?” He leaned his elbows on his legs and hung his head, burying his face in his hands.

North’s voice was low, but firm as he leaned towards Jack and tried to coax something out of him. “We’re here for you, Jack. Whatever it is you need. You may not be a Guardian in your mind, but to us you are always a Guardian. And even if you were not, we would help you. You are family to us, as you’ve said, and we care about you. We’ve been very worried. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

“You say that, but it’s not true! It’s not true,” Jack cried again, accusing, suddenly as angry as he was miserable. North reeled back as Jack stood and compulsively kicked his mug of coco off to the side. “Why do you say that when you don’t mean it?”

North stared, blinking in surprise for a moment before he recovered, looking very serious as he stood and persisted. “Why are you saying this, Jack? What’s happened?”

“You’ll do anything? Yeah? Then why can’t any of you just listen to me for once? About this one thing? If you don’t respect me…you don’t think I’d be a good Guardian, you don’t even really want me around, fine, but don’t say you care when you don’t. And you don’t care. You don’t, because if you cared about me, you would know why I’m upset, you would know Pitch would never hurt me on purpose. He cares. He’s the one that’s been there, that listens, and I can’t even…I’m not even allowed to care about him too without it being this big fucking thing. Oh, Jack is corrupted, Jack’s a puppet. I’m the only one who….”

Jack suddenly fell back against the nearest wall in despair, sobbing again. “It’s not fair…it’s not fair, he’s not doing anything wrong. He’s suffered so much. I just want…if I’m going to die, I just want all of you to know first. I want you to hear it from me…I want to know you won’t tear him apart as soon as I’m gone. I’m scared, I’m scared of you, not Pitch. But I need to tell you.”

“Then tell me, Jack,” North insisted, approaching and clamping his hands into his shoulders. Something about the pressure was soothing. “Whatever it is in your heart, tell me. I do want to hear it and I promise you, Jack Frost, I will listen to you with my whole heart. It is only you and me here, yes? That is my promise.”

Jack sobbed breathlessly, hanging his head. “It’s…the…I want…” He shut his eyes tight and shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t, because if I don’t die, and I won’t, I refuse, because I finally have him and I won’t do that to him again, and I tell you, then you’ll never…how will I ever make you believe that I…? It’s just going to make it worse if…”

Jack’s words broke down again at that point and he sobbed harder, open and unguarded in his sorrow, but before North could do or say anything, a tendril of shadow wrapped around his waist and tugged him back, throwing him to the opposite side of the room from Jack.

When Jack opened his eyes he was surprised and confused to see Pitch rushing in. He pulled Jack into his arms, cradling him protectively. “It’s okay. It’s okay, shh,” he whispered, pivoting back and forth in place as he held him. “Easy, let it out…there you go…you’re safe…”

Jack’s chest stuttered as he let out high pitched gasping sounds, trying to convince his body to stop crying, but it was just shaking from the force of it and this was the best he could do. Slowly, it was getting easier as Pitch held him, and he burrowed into him, hiding against his chest. Once he’d calmed down a bit more, Pitch got down onto one knee in front of him, carefully holding both of his hands. His face was serene and gentle as he looked up into Jack’s eyes and kissed the backs of his fingers.

“Very good, my star. You’re doing very well. Now, all I need you to do is breathe. Can you do that for me?”

Jack nodded slowly, tears still pouring down his face, falling and freezing on the surface of a floor that he realized suddenly was already frozen over entirely. When Jack got distracted by this and started to get upset again, Pitch gently nudged Jack’s chin, coaxing him to look at him again.

After a while, Pitch said softly, “Are you hurt?”

Jack shook his head a little and said thickly, his voice hoarse, “I don’t think so…what…happened to…?”

Jack’s eyes suddenly flew open wide as he spotted North standing there with his sabers at the ready. Jack immediately threw himself between him and Pitch, trying to shield as much of Pitch with his much smaller body as he could, his arms out to either side.

“NO,” he shouted, his hands sparking with frost lightning and his blue eyes blazing with an unearthly light. “Leave him alone.”

As North stood there, just staring at the two of them in shock, Jack felt Pitch’s hand on his waist, a light touch that comforted him instantly. He listened as he heard Pitch get to his feet before saying softly, “It’s okay, Jack. If he were going to hurt me, he would have by now.”

Jack wasn’t convinced, afraid to even take his eyes off North, but eventually he did after Pitch said his name a few times. He looked up into his eyes as Pitch held his face in his hand. “We’re safe. North doesn’t want to hurt us.” He looked up at North. “Does he?”

North readily nodded and stammered, “No…no, see?” North put his sabers away and put his hands up. “Is a force of habit. Everything’s alright.”

North made eye contact with Pitch as he nodded approvingly then he peered down at Jack. “I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Count slowly, in and then out, like we practiced. Understand?” Jack nodded. “Go on.”

Once Jack was hidden against Pitch’s chest and his eyes were closed, Pitch ran his fingers into the soft, fluffy hair on the back of his head and looked up at North. “The nightmare sand makes his emotions much more intense than is safe. We’ve been working on coping skills. Luckily, I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. You’re lucky this is all it took today.”

North nodded slowly, staring at the back of Jack’s head in wonder and at Pitch’s hand running slowly up and down his back. “And still no luck with removing the last of it, I see.”

“Correct. Like I said, it can’t be removed by anyone but him.”

“How would he do this?”

Pitch sighed quietly and looked down at Jack for a moment before looking back up at North. “He would have to stop being afraid.”

North stared at him, his expression extremely solemn. “But…”

“I know,” he said, sounding frustrated, then he took a breath and tried again. “I know. Everyone needs fear.” He paused, hesitating. “Once, though, he did overcome fear. He stopped being afraid altogether.”

North’s eyebrows went up. “Really. Interesting. And that went well for him?”

“Of course not,” Pitch muttered, his gaze falling to the floor. “...he died.” He paused briefly then looked down at Jack. He didn’t care if North noticed the way his voice softened into something that clearly could be nothing but love as he murmured, “Jack…” Jack glanced up at him to meet his eye timidly. “Well done. Are you ready to return home?”

Jack nodded a little, looking embarrassed, which, really, was for a lot of different reasons at this point, but the number of reasons increased as Pitch wiped Jack’s face on his sleek, dark sleeve. “Eww,” he whined. “That’s nasty!”

“Well, they don’t call me The Boogeyman for nothing.”

Jack laughed so hard the ice encrusting everything around them dissolved all at once into a soft powdery snow that was swiftly carried away on the wind. “I hate you. No, I hate you, don’t speak to me,” Jack said, still laughing as he shoved Pitch away from him. “Ever again.”

Pitch smirked, looking very pleased with himself indeed as he offered Jack his hand. “You’re just jealous you’re The Guardian of Fun and you’re not as funny as me.”

Jack snorted. “Right.” He went to take Pitch’s hand, remembered why he was here, and looked around to find North. He made eye contact with him and smiled sheepishly. “Uh…sorry about…sorry. I’ll…see you soon. And explain. Okay?”

North, surprisingly, had a big, rosy-cheeked smile on his face as he watched them. “Of course, of course, it was my pleasure. Don’t worry about a thing, we will see each other again soon. I look forward to it.”

Jack smiled a little more as he clasped Pitch’s hand. “Right. Awesome, okay, thanks. See yah.”

Well, it could have gone worse.

——

Once Pitch had decided there would be no unexpected physical side effects from the nightmare sand, he had begun allowing Jack to roam freely in the lair like he had before. It seemed like a risk, but Jack was doing better in terms of unexpected bursts of emotion and was much less volatile. Sometimes, his body and mind didn’t work as well as they did other times, but if he rested a lot he almost felt okay. Pitch even trusted him enough to keep the nagging to a minimum, which Jack appreciated, and he made sure to check in with Pitch regularly to ease Pitch’s mind, but it also eased his own. In fact, he was starting to think it was more for himself than Pitch.

Jack burst into the library and walked quickly down the center aisle between the shelves to get to the back, not to hide, he just liked it because it was quiet and there were corners he could sit in that made it so it was impossible for anyone to sneak up on him. It was usually reasonably well-lit, it was comfortable, and the library was somewhere Pitch loved so he would often find him there, which made it even safer. The plush carpeting was a lot more comfortable on his butt than the stone so he could sit in the corner for a while before he had to get up and move around. There were a lot of shelves something could hide behind, but it wasn’t…that creepy…

The point was, he wasn’t running. He wasn’t running because he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t prey, and there was no predator, and everything was fine, there was nothing chasi–

“Jack?”

Jack threw himself backwards into a shelf, letting out a yelp of pain as he connected and dropped his staff uselessly to the floor. He stepped on it as he was staggering away from the shelf, clutching his side, and fell pretty spectacularly as the staff rolled out from under him. He landed flat on his back with a gasp and froze, the pain apparent on his face, but too acute to make a sound.

Pitch was on the floor next to him almost as soon as he hit the ground, swearing and pressing a firm hand to his shoulder. “Stop. Stop, don’t get up…wait. I know, I know it hurts. Wait.”

Jack obeyed, eyes watering as he stopped struggling and just stared into the dark far above. He was breathing heavily, but not too heavily, because even though he knew it wasn’t true, it felt like there had to be splintered bone piercing straight through the skin of his chest, but this wasn’t the first time he’d had that thought and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Especially not if he kept pulling shit like this. Supposedly, the broken ribs were long since healed, but sometimes it felt like he was being pierced straight through where the nightmare sand had hit him, randomly or from something as simple as bumping it, and sometimes something like this.

“I’d like to ask you what the hell that was, but I’m pretty sure I know,” Pitch grumbled, gently rubbing Jack’s shoulder as his breathing gradually steadied.

“Yeah…I…yeah,” Jack said lamely. “I just…you startled me.”

“I believe it was a bit more than that…why, it’s almost as if you believed I was The Boogeyman.”

Jack pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh, but in the end it burst forth anyway, loud and wholehearted. He put a hand to his chest, but he couldn’t stop. “You suck…! Ow! That’s…so stupid…” He kept laughing, the fact that he wasn’t supposed to laugh only making it worse. Pitch’s dark, quiet laughter joined him and Jack thought he looked pretty proud of himself.

“Think you’re…so funny,” Jack wheezed.

“It was pretty funny.”

“It was.”

Pitch sighed, fussing with Jack’s hair idly. “Can you sit up?”

“Why?”

Pitch frowned as if he was scandalized by the thought of anyone willingly remaining on the floor. “Why? You can’t just stay on the floor, Jack.”

“You can’t just stay on the floor, Jack,” Jack mocked in the dumbest voice possible.

Pitch stared at him, eyes half closed in exasperation like he was going to just fall asleep because Jack was so exhausting.

Neither of them spoke for a while then Jack sighed dramatically. “What? I like the floor.”

“Don’t be difficult. Why were you running through the library like you had hellhounds at your heels?”

Jack’s mouth made a hard line across his face. “Alright, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, Pitch, I was walking fast, at best.”

“Then why were you walking fast?” Jack frowned, weighing his options and Pitch added, “Do not lie to me, Jack Frost.”

Jack groaned quietly then looked away, embarrassed. “I just…I was…walking and…it’s not like I actually think there would be something in your lair stalking me, obviously, but I couldn’t stop thinking it and…nothing happened, I was…I was scared of…I was just scared.”

After a pause, he glanced back up at Pitch, wincing, and was relieved to see he didn’t look amused because, of course, he was afraid of Pitch thinking he was stupid or childish. He had this fear despite the fact that Pitch often encouraged him to state what he was feeling, since he seemed to think that would help. Instead, Pitch just reached down and rested his hand on Jack’s forehead before petting it back through his hair. “I’m not going to make you leave the library. That doesn’t mean you have to lay on the floor.”

Jack stared at him for a moment, feeling called out, but then his face broke into a grin as he realized something. “You were telling a joke to make me less afraid.”

Now it was Pitch’s turn to look embarrassed, looking away as if this whole conversation was suddenly beneath him. “Perhaps. That is irrelevant.”

“You’re cute,” Jack oozed happily. “Are you single?”

“At least sit in a chair,” Pitch implored, looking back down at him.

“Can I sit on you?” Jack winked at him.

“No.”

Jack sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun…okay…um…can you please…?”

Pitch helped him to his feet then fetched him his staff. As he handed it over Jack thanked him and added, “You know, normally when a guy handles my staff, he buys me dinner first.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Not just you, any guy that—“

“Oh, I heard you. And that’s incorrect.” He put his hand to his own chest. “I do not buy you dinner before ‘handling your staff’ and as the only man who has done so…”

“Hey, there were a couple other guys who…”

Pitch put his hand out to stop him. “Is your name not Jack Frost?”

Jack opened his mouth to ask him what that had to do with anything, realized what he meant, and closed it again.

“Also, you’re as bad as me if you consider that a joke,” Pitch added before turning and walking towards the entrance of the library.

Jack’s eyes widened and he followed him in alarm, all his playfulness immediately disappearing. “Where are you going?”

“To my study.”

“But…” he stammered, trying not to sound too frantic. “But that’s not fair, you said you wouldn’t make me leave the library.”

“And I’m not. You may stay as long as you wish,” Pitch corrected him, but as he put his hand on the door handle Jack’s fear climbed to a panic and he screamed, “WAIT.”

Pitch turned to look at him and Jack flushed. Swallowing, he knocked his staff back and forth from hand to hand to appear leisurely, but his hands were shaking. “You…do you…have to? I just…you know, I thought we could…”

When Jack failed to complete his sentence, Pitch put his hand out to him, palm up. “Would you like to come with me instead?”

Jack eyed his hand uneasily, raising his own with trepidation, but keeping it close to his chest. Being with Pitch was safer than any other option, but what if he left? What if Jack got lost? What if…what if…

The seconds ticked on and Pitch patiently waited, only offering eventually, “You realize there is nothing that could ever possibly get into my lair without my knowledge, yes? And you are the only one mad enough to come here who also has the means to find it. There is nowhere safer for you in the world, I assure you, with the one exception being my collection of various toxins, but you handled them rather well last time, for the most part, and I think you learned your lesson. I have full confidence in you.”

“That makes one of us…the only one…in general, actually,” Jack replied sadly under his breath. In the end, though, he did take Pitch’s hand with a sigh, then he squeezed it tightly. “Fine…but please don’t leave me.”

Pitch kissed the back of his hand and they headed out into the hall. “It’ll only take a minute.”

They made their way through the winding halls together, and Jack did feel safe now, but fears still grew inside him of the more existential kind: what if Pitch is getting annoyed by me? What if he does leave me? What if he dies? What if he stops loving me?

As they entered the study, Jack’s eyes began curiously roaming as they usually did. Whether or not Jack was with him, Pitch was always up to something in here, but it appeared not much had changed lately. His hand remained interlocked with Pitch’s, although he didn’t have it clutched in a death grip anymore, his fingers casual and loose.

“I noticed your clothes haven’t changed at all since I gave them to you. I’m glad you like them,” Pitch said conversationally as he pulled down a large tome from the shelf and began flipping through it.

Jack hummed an agreement, sticking close as his gaze wandered and their hands swung lightly between them. “I do, they’re really cool. Honestly? I shouldn’t be surprised. Your fashion sense is killer. In my opinion, anyway, but what do I know? Since they’re my clothes though…” He looked back and up at Pitch grinning. “I’d say that’s all that matters, and I love ‘em.”

Pitch rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb. “Almost as handsome as me…and yet,” he teased as Jack wandered from his side to ogle a particularly disturbing taxidermy of a large spider about to devour a moth, “Somehow you still look like a teenager that just rolled out of bed.”

Jack glanced back at him, flashing him a mischievous smirk. “Aw, don’t act like you don’t love it. You probably see this shitty little grin and this whole just rolled out of bed thing and as soon as I start causing trouble you wanna bend me over the nearest table and teach me a lesson or something.”

“Of course,” Pitch agreed, looking unmoved as he wrote in his book. “Personally, I think it’s a waste for you to even wear pants at all. Just the sweatshirt would do. It’s not as if you’ll be cold.”

Jack’s mouth fell open. He was speechless. His sweatshirt, the way it was, was already falling off his shoulders.

Pitch chuckled when he glanced up and saw the stunned look on Jack’s face. “What? It would be very cute…unfortunately, this cannot be implemented today or anytime soon because I worry about your condition. The things I would do to you would be much too rough for you to handle at the moment.”

“B-but…you…we did some…stuff,” Jack stammered, and as Pitch raised a brow at him, looking him up and down, he smirked.

“Jack, what we did was practically medicinal. You know as well as I that the way I would fuck you is sloppy and debauched and unkind, and as much as I love draining you dry or rutting like a couple of animals to get the job done, I can think of much better ways to spend our time. And those ways, I’m afraid, would break you.”

“…oh,” Jack said finally, then he turned back to the cupboards, quietly going through his task with surprisingly sudden diligence. After a while, Pitch paused and smirked.

“You’re hard, aren’t you?”

“…no,” Jack mumbled stubbornly, without turning around.

Pitch just shrugged with a chuckle and they carried on with their task. It was pretty monotonous and Jack calmed down eventually, but jeez, sometimes Pitch just came out of nowhere with these things and it went straight to his dick. He didn’t think pestering Pitch with questions about strange things in jars would hold his attention enough for him to stop thinking about what Pitch had said, but it actually did the job quite nicely, and the time passed rather fast.

Eventually, they ended up back on the loveseat with Jack laying between Pitch’s legs as he read aloud the most terrifying, fucked up book they could find. Occasionally, Jack found himself getting distracted as he worried about how the eventual conversation would go with The Guardians, but all he could really do was tell them the truth, answer whatever questions they might have, and hope for the best. Until then, he had to convince Pitch to be one-hundred percent on board with his plan, start implementing that plan, and then…oh yeah, the small matter of telling The Guardians he was alright without them totally freaking out…and of course, all this while wearing what was, essentially, an engagement ring, when they didn’t even officially know he and Pitch were together so he’d have to figure out how to hide that because he was not taking it off…

“Ow,” Jack complained as Pitch pinched his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to hear a story, not mope about in your own morose little fantasy world,” he scolded, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, alright, sorry. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“I’m not subjecting you to their idiocy until you’re well. Then you can tell them whatever you want, but until then there’s no point going over and over it in your mind, you’ll only spontaneously speak from your heart regardless, if I know you at all.”

Jack pressed his lips together. He was so right. “Yeah…right. You’re right. I wish I could just get it over with though.”

Pitch raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you? How much exactly were you planning on telling them? Because if I can imagine what will likely come out of your mouth with any accuracy, from that conversation forward they will likely be trying to reconcile the idea of us being romantically involved and what that might look like. So unless you’re really that eager to put those images in their minds, I suggest for your own sanity you take your time.”

Jack had his hand over his face as Pitch finished. “Boy, you sure have a way with words.”

“I’m aware. Now are you ready to settle down or should we discuss each Guardian in turn to determine what their reaction will be?”

“Nope. Nope, I’m good. Please. Continue, really, I’m paying attention. Promise.”

Pitch eyed him skeptically for a moment before continuing, and Jack relaxed into him again.

He almost asked him about it then, why Jack seemed to remember details of a whole other life they’d lived together. It was killing him, but he really wanted to give Pitch the chance to tell him on his own. He’d promised no more lies or tricks. Right now, Jack desperately wanted to believe him, more than he wanted answers, but eventually he would need to know. He needed to know why centuries of loneliness hadn’t caused him to create delusions after all, but rather, it had given him a glimpse of memories he nearly had from The Golden Age.

——

“Ohh, I see. So being around me is so tiresome that you’d rather die,” Pitch spat back, barely managing to disguise any of his vitriol.

Jack had his back to Pitch, so he felt safe enough rolling his eyes, but that still meant it was easy enough to hear it in his voice. “Pitch. Come on. Don’t be a drama queen, I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t?” Pitch shot back, and Jack turned back around to look at him, trying to retain a neutral expression. This was probably the first time Pitch had ever raised his voice in the library, which Jack still didn’t get, by the way. It wasn’t as if there was anyone else here but the two of them. Pitch…was just teasing him about what he’d said that one time about waking the books, right? It had to be the nightmare sand, but he found himself nervously glancing around at the books, trying to pick out which ones seemed most likely to attack.

“Because that’s exactly what I heard,” Pitch continued. As he looked back at Pitch, Jack could see the stress in every line of his face and, honestly, that told Jack what he needed to know more than anything else did. This was all exhausting for Jack, but if it had been the other way around and Pitch had been the one dying, he was sure he wouldn’t be as composed as Pitch had been for his sake.

Jack wanted to throw back at him, ‘well get your ears checked then’, but he didn’t. He just took a breath and looked back at Pitch patiently. That’s what Pitch would do for him. “It’s not realistic for me to stay attached to your hip forever. You can’t babysit me twenty-four seven, Pitch, come on. You must know that.”

“I know no such thing,” Pitch spat at him, face contorted into a snarl of frustration as he started to pace. “If our only choice is for me not to leave your side, that’s what must be done, and I’m happy to do it. Your self-hatred is all that’s making you think it cannot be done, but it can, and being in your company is not a price to pay.”

Oh my god, Jack suddenly realized as he watched Pitch storm back and forth, crackling with anxious energy…this was what it was like for Pitch to speak to Jack when Jack was being unreasonable. Normally, it was his job to be emotional, to need comforting, to go overboard, but as he watched Pitch, his frantic gait, the way he couldn’t even look at Jack all of a sudden, the way he was hunched over like a gargoyle, Jack realized he was speaking to a person he could not reason with, not because it couldn’t be done, but because he didn’t know how.

He would just have to be Jack, then. That usually worked pretty well, with Pitch, anyway.

Jack stepped over to him quietly across the carpet, and as he paced by in front of him, Jack gently put a hand out and touched his arm to get him to stop for a second. He looked up into Pitch’s face, and his heart twisted as he saw the frantic pain in his eyes staring back down at him.

“Hey…it’s okay,” Jack said quietly, hands moving up Pitch’s arm like he was gently pulling him in by a rope, and Pitch let him, wrapping his arm around his back. “Alright, if that’s what we’ve gotta do…heh, I was alone for three hundred years, and now I’ll never be alone again. Ironic, isn’t it? Could be worse.”

Pitch’s face smoothed over as he gazed down at him, not with relief, but despair. He shut his eyes, maybe hoping Jack couldn’t see it, but he had. He had seen it, and he felt it too, because even as he relished the feeling of Pitch crushing him against his chest, he knew they couldn’t do this forever. They’d already learned how poorly Jack did when he was tied down or confined in any way. He needed to make snow days and hang out with the kids. He had to soar in the winds and wander aimlessly. He needed Pitch, but he also desperately needed to be alone with himself sometimes. Eventually, Pitch wouldn’t be there. Even if it was accidental, or if, Manny forbid, Pitch got hurt or in some other way couldn’t be by Jack’s side, but it would happen and when it did, the nightmare sand would take him. He’d never made it longer than ten minutes on his own at the absolute most.

They both knew it, but Jack realized there was no point in making Pitch say it. He didn’t have any idea what to do any better than Jack did.

Actually, Jack thought maybe he himself knew better than anyone else could. He knew himself best, after all. Pitch got him better than anyone else and he could draw Jack’s attention to things about himself he’d already known, but wasn’t paying attention to, but there might not be anyone else that could do this other than him.

That was exactly what Pitch had said, anyway, wasn’t it? Pitch couldn’t do this for him. Jack was the only one that could get rid of the nightmare sand. Maybe Pitch didn’t even know that much. Maybe Jack really wasn’t meant to get rid of the nightmare sand at all. Pitch would have a fit if he knew Jack was thinking things like that again, but Pitch wanted him to believe in himself, didn’t he?

“Pitch?” Jack murmured quietly from where he was tucked against Pitch’s chest. Pitch hummed an acknowledgement. “Would you read the last bit of that book to me?”

Pitch was quiet for a moment, like he knew, but then all he said was, “Of course, starling.”

——

Sometimes, when Jack fell asleep, Pitch could steal a few minutes to attend to something that absolutely could not have his involvement, such as something regarding the shadows that would be dangerous, or fetching something from a particularly insidious portion of the lair, one the shadows actively kept Jack out of to protect him.

Even though he knew Jack would call for him if he was needed, if it had gotten to that point, the situation was already too dangerous for Pitch’s liking, so hurried back to the library as soon as he had the tome tucked under his arm that he’d had to fetch, hoping there’d be some clue in it that could help. He walked quickly to the back of the library to the little red and gold loveseat they both enjoyed so much, where he expected to see Jack slumped over, fast asleep like he’d left him, only he didn’t. He didn’t see him there because he wasn’t there.

Pitch paused, momentarily stunned, then he walked quickly towards the empty loveseat before breaking into a sprint. He shouted Jack’s name, spinning around, looking everywhere. He’d made a mistake, Pitch must have left him sleeping somewhere else and in his rattled state he’d just forgotten they’d been sitting somewhere else. He had to have done so, because there was no way….there was no way…

He let out a short cry of anguish before disappearing in a flourish of darkness.

Chapter Text

He was just gone. He wasn’t anywhere. He wasn’t amalgamated into the rest of the nightmare sand, Pitch would know if he were, then where in god’s name was—

Finally, he’d gotten the right location. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected this would be where Jack would go, of all places.

The air was thin here. It was relatively close to where Pitch had taken him for that silly little picnic under the stars, and it broke his heart to realize Jack also considered that one of his fondest memories, and it would appear he also considered this his favorite place, for him to come here for the last time he’d have any awareness as himself. This was where he wanted to be.

But why had he come alone?

He screamed for Jack again as he climbed higher up the mountain towards the observatory. He could feel him, but it was taking too long. How long had it been? A half an hour, at least, closer to an hour, he thought.

It was lightly snowing, a dusting of white on the ground in every direction. Off in the distance he saw a domed, gray building against the dark sky, like an oddly shaped bottle cap a child had dropped. The stars were beautiful. Motion detected in the corner of his eye drew his attention to the presence of some lost cow, he suspected, or an intrepid tourist, but instead—

“Jack,” he screamed, rushing towards him. He was laying there in a sheer carpet of snow on the grass, eyes entirely white, body convulsing as dark veins grew under his skin, creeping and pulsing as they feasted, crawling up his neck and the edges of his face, down his wrists and hands and peeking out on his stomach where his sweatshirt rode up.

Panicked, because he knew he was far too late, Pitch collapsed onto his knees beside him, sobbing weakly. “Why? Why did you leave, Jack?” He reached out and put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, but jerked it back as Jack gasped loudly as if burned. To his astonishment, Jack’s face turned towards him, as if he could still see him, like he knew he was there, when he shouldn’t have been aware of anything.

“D…d…on’t…le…let me,” he choked, chest spasming with the effort of speaking.

“Jack,” Pitch gasped, hands hovering over him, shaking. “I can still do it…I can take it out, I can…”

He couldn’t. They both knew he couldn’t. Pitch let out a shuddering, grief-stricken breath of defeat and fisted his hands in the frosty grass as he hung his head. “I’m so sorry…!”

“Just…w…wait,” Jack gasped, staring vacantly up at the sky, looking for all the world like a corpse as his already pale skin seemed even paler compared to the darkness inside him. He could have nearly blended right in with the snow. “Let…me.”

Pitch watched in disbelief, completely at a loss. Jack shouldn’t have been able to speak or move at this stage, he should have been a mindless corpse ages ago, but even as he twitched, Pitch could see in Jack’s face that he was aware. He was experiencing this, and it was painful, and he was terrified, and Pitch desperately wanted to rip it out of him, but it didn’t work like that, he knew it didn’t work like that, but he couldn’t just sit here and watch as Jack became nothing.

But Jack had such a look of determination on his face that Pitch quickly decided to resign himself to helplessness. If anyone could do this, he believed Jack could. He waited at his side, sick with worry, muttering frantic encouragement under his breath, knowing he was struggling much more than his exterior could ever possibly show. His face, normally so expressive, was steadily becoming slack with exhaustion.

Pitch thought to himself that he should have just been grateful he’d been given this chance to say goodbye.

And then Jack laughed. The corner of his lips tugged up in a tiny smile, and he let out a little, “Ha…”

He closed his eyes and went still, and Pitch froze in terror.

He waited. He watched for any sign of change at all, other than Jack’s body going limp and quiet in the grass as it suddenly had, and he waited. His eyes were blue again, but completely vacant and unseeing.

“Jack.” His voice barely made any sound at all.

It was so quiet.

From now on, it would always be this quiet.

The open space on the mountain suddenly felt impossibly vast and foreboding.

“Jack,” he pleaded, a little louder, voice tremulous and weak. He was alone again.

No.

No.

No.

He scooped Jack into his arms and clutched him to his chest, despite feeling viscerally repelled by how limp he was. It sent shivers down his spine. Jack’s head lolled back as if his neck were made of wet paper and Pitch gathered it to his shoulder with a sob so breathless it was more of a spasm than anything. Almost completely silent, choking on his loss, the muscles in his neck and chest strained to express his grief and horror, but it would never be enough. The world would never care enough about what had been lost, not even if he screamed and cried, not even if the wounded, agonized sounds tearing out of him made him sound more like beast than man. It would never be enough.

He did it anyway.

He thought the wetness was his own tears, or melting snow, but he realized with a jolt it was thicker, spattering and dripping down his neck like paint. Startled, he leaned back and looked at Jack, trying to figure out why he’d be bleeding because that must have been it, certainly, but when he looked into Jack’s glossy, crystal clear blue eyes, they blinked.

There was black fluid leaking from his mouth and, in a state of faint hysteria, Pitch laid Jack back on the ground with a helpless sob of confusion. All he could do was reach out and try to wipe the darkness away from his mouth, pleading nonsensically under his breath, but Jack beat him to it. He froze, watching as Jack lifted his hand and casually wiped the back of his hand across his face. It smeared the substance Pitch now recognized as pure darkness across his bleached white skin, and then it absorbed into his cheek like it had never been there, like it would have on his own skin only because of the many years he’d been a shadow. Pitch thought he had to be hallucinating.

“…ow,” Jack choked out, wincing, but definitely, definitely conscious and aware and alive. “That…really sucked…”

Pitch stared in shock as Jack’s head rolled slightly to the side and he looked up at him, meeting his gaze and smiling weakly. He limply waved his hand at him in a tired dismissal and murmured, “Don’t get too excited…might be a cynical bag of dicks like you now. Start…cackling evilly. Scheming…alphabetizing dead leaves or…whatever…”

“Jack,” Pitch whispered, tears streaming silently down his face. Slowly, he reached out and cradled Jack’s cheek in his hand, very carefully, as if he were made of paper mache. Jack leaned into his hand, and Pitch’s breath hitched because dead people didn’t do that.

“Kind of uncool to say I told you so,” Jack muttered and closed his eyes, exhausted beyond belief. “But…I—“

“Jack,” Pitch sobbed and laid over him, cradling Jack to him with enough desperation that he inadvertently lifted him a few inches off the ground. He held his head and buried his face in his hair and Jack could feel his warm stuttering breaths on his scalp.

“How did…how did you get rid of…?”

“I didn’t. I just…” Jack winced, then opened his eyes. Every single little action and word took all his effort and concentration, despite how easy he made it look comparatively. “I just sort of…figured it out…”

“What?” Pitch breathed in disbelief as he sat up, holding Jack’s limp body in the sort of desperate, fearful way one does only when they’ve nearly lost what was most precious to them. “Fi-…figured it out, what does that mean?”

Jack smiled up at him weakly. He wanted badly to reach up and wipe the tears from Pitch’s strained face, but he couldn’t manage it. The last of his strength was gone. He hoped Pitch could at least tell from the look on his face and the tears in his own eyes that he was the reason Jack fought so hard.

“It’s like you told me before…fear…it’s just trying to help. Oh, which reminds me…got a…present for you. My pocket. Can you…?”

Pitch reached between them into the pocket of Jack’s sweatshirt and felt electricity spread up his arm as his fingers carefully closed around what he knew to be a locket on a fine gold chain. He slowly extracted it from his pocket then held it aloft in one trembling hand.

He ran the pad of his index finger delicately over the locket before looking back at Jack, mouth agape. He’d recognize this anywhere.

“H-how…did…?” Pitch stammered, to which Jack just let the corner of his lips turn up in the tiniest smile.

“The shadows. They were keeping it safe for you.” Pitch breathed in sharply then listened as Jack continued quietly, “You said…you lost something. I wanted to get it back.” He closed his eyes. “I realized it when I was laying here…maybe…they didn’t want you to destroy it. Maybe they were…keeping it safe…for you. So I asked them. I asked if I could have it back…if they would trust me, to get it to you…and they did.”

Pitch thought back to their conversation. He remembered it clearly and had thought of it many times since, wondering if he’d said too much or not enough or if he was being selfish, and he remembered explaining to Jack that he’d found something he’d lost, and how it had helped him find himself again. Pitch surprised himself by laughing breathlessly and as Jack forced his eyes open again to look at him, Pitch cradled him to his chest.

“You were the thing I lost,” Pitch murmured into Jack’s ear as his head rolled weakly onto Pitch’s shoulder, his arms dangling limp and useless.

Jack tried to look at him, but couldn’t even turn his head. He opened his mouth to say…something, he wasn’t quite sure, but all he did was let out a faint whine. Hushing him lovingly, Pitch held him close and brought them home.

——

Jack groaned with satisfaction as he closed his eyes, settling back into their big plush bed with way too many blankets and way too many pillows. Pitch seemed to think if he hid Jack among enough soft things, the darkness wouldn’t be able to find him. Jack wasn’t complaining. He’d even let Jack refer to it as ‘The Boogey Bed’, something he’d been banned from doing a long time ago, so he was feeling pretty great, personally.

He was worried about Pitch, however. Jack opened his eyes and looked around to see Pitch at his bedside, staring fretfully at him as if he would die at any second, and Jack didn’t blame him one bit.

“Hey,” Jack called softly, weakly putting his hand out, palm up on the bed. “I’m alright. Really.”

Pitch folded his hand into Jack’s. “You can’t possibly be alright.”

“I feel alright. Tired.” He paused then squeezed Pitch’s hand. “I’m sorry I ran off.”

Pitch sat on the edge of the bed slowly, never taking his eyes off him. “I thought you’d decided it would be better to let it take you.”

“I gotta be honest, I wasn’t entirely planning on coming back. I wanted to, but…I didn’t know if I would or not.” He closed his eyes. “It felt like if I wanted to I could let it…help me instead. I just had a feeling.”

“What do you mean ‘let it’?” Pitch asked gently as he moved to lay beside him, now that he was a little more certain Jack wouldn’t crumble away right before his eyes.

Jack turned towards him slightly, shifting under the blankets, so it was easier to look at him. “Mm…” He wasn’t sure how to put this. “You know how it feels when you use…the dark or the nightmare sand…I don’t know if it’s the same, but the ice comes from…not from my body, but from me, you know?” Pitch nodded, so he continued tentatively, “I let it…be…also that. I stopped trying to push the nightmares out. It’s part of me.” He paused. “Are you scared all the time?”

Pitch contemplated the question. Finally he said, “If I’d always been afraid, how would I know any different?”

Jack hummed in agreement and leaned his head against Pitch, prompting him to gather him protectively into his arms. “I think I’m always going to be afraid now, or have all of these feelings a lot closer to the surface…something like that. I’m still me. I think you’re so used to fear it’s different for you. I think…if I keep trying…it’ll take, a crazy long time probably, but I think I could learn how to live with it in a way that won’t hurt so much, eventually.”

Pitch’s hand ran slowly up and down his upper arm soothingly as he asked, “But it hurts now?”

Jack nodded a little. “I feel…raw. It’s hard to explain. If I focus on it too much, I feel this dread…hopelessness…but if I focus on it just enough,” He peered up at Pitch, anxiously seeking reassurance, “I think it could really help me. Better than ignoring it would, anyway.”

Jack closed his eyes again as Pitch pressed a kiss to his forehead. “That’s…” Pitch let out a little huff of surprised laughter. “I always think I’m certain you could do anything, but then you surprise me so much I always end up feeling as though I’ve underestimated you somehow.”

Jack smiled shyly and ducked his head, hiding his face as he mumbled, “Stooop…”

“I let you down, Jack. I’m so sorry,” Pitch whispered, surprising Jack so much that he looked up at him, confused.

“What? No, you didn’t, I was just—“

“I should have thought of that, being an expert of fear and all,” Pitch explained, quietly and dejectedly. “Instead, I encouraged you to do completely the wrong thing.”

“Well, that’s it, isn’t it? You know how strong fear is, but I know what fun can do and I just…you couldn’t have known that would work, how could you? Has anyone ever done it before?” Pitch shook his head. “Besides, that’s not fair. You were so scared for me, of losing me, you weren’t thinking right, and it was all up to me, in the end, anyway. You said so, didn’t you?”

Pitch’s eyes flickered fondly. “Goodness, you’re this worn out and you still have so much spice, little frost spirit,” Pitch teased quietly, ducking his head and nuzzling his nose against Jack’s cheek as Jack laughed.

“You’re going to watch me sleep like a creeper now, aren’t you?” Jack asked as he closed his eyes again. He could talk shit all day long if he was conscious, but soon he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Oh, certainly,” Pitch purred, making Jack giggle. He was so glad to be back and entirely himself still, somehow, despite everything.

If he was honest, he actually felt even more like himself now than he had before. He wanted to be what other people wanted him to be because he was afraid of being alone. If he wasn’t cheerful enough, helpful enough, fun enough, maybe they would decide he was too much trouble. Now, though, he realized he’d survived it all. His worst fears had all come true and he was still here, able to smile and laugh, and yes, he was still afraid, but it was okay.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Pitch offered quietly, and Jack realized he’d let his mind wander.

His mouth hung open slightly, eyes dancing across the bed like they were searching for the words he needed, until at last he laughed and said with a grin, “I’m just glad. Apparently, this is my reaction to everything I fear. And it’s not what I expected. I didn’t let it take me and turn me into something I can’t stand, and I’m not going to pretend I’m not afraid. Because I am. I’m terrified and I’m exhausted, and I’m just so glad…I’m so glad I didn’t stop trying to be better, even when I was positive it wouldn't make a difference. Seems like it all…made a weird kind of sense, in the end.”

His eyes sank closed as he rambled, but then suddenly he pried them open again. “Wait…I…remembered something…before, on the mountain, you said…you said I was what you lost.” He blinked slowly up at him, eyes only opening halfway as he mumbled, “Is that…what you said? I don’t understand…”

Pitch sighed softly, reached into his robe, and pulled out the locket, holding it out to Jack carefully. “Here,” he murmured, smiling a little. “Why don’t you open it?”

Jack blinked sleepily down at it, uneasy, but after looking between it and Pitch’s serene expression he finally took it. He was terrified he was going to break it somehow.

“You’re not going to break it,” Pitch reassured him, and Jack laughed a little.

“Alright, alright,” he said quietly, and very carefully pried open the locket.

Jack stopped breathing, didn’t even gasp, couldn’t, because he was looking not at a picture of just Pitch and Seraphina like he expected, but there was a third person there too: a young man with an unmistakable head of white hair, mischievous clear blue eyes, and a radiantly happy smile. He was tucked against the side of a stunningly handsome, slightly younger looking version of Pitch with tan skin and those same glittering gold eyes. He had the posture of one who was arrogant, and the warm smile of a man who loved his family more than anything…a man that wanted to be nowhere more than he wanted to be right there with the white haired boy and the young girl standing in front of them both. The beaming child was unmistakably Pitch’s daughter. She looked exactly like him except for her large dark eyes, but her wavy black hair, complexion, her high cheekbones, her jaw, the confident curve of her smile all pointed unmistakably to her father. There was a vibrant flower tucked into her thick, dark locks, a type of flower that Jack didn’t recognize. One small hand reached up to cover Pitch’s as it rested on her shoulder while the other was in Jack’s hand, holding it happily. And it was Jack. There was no way it couldn’t be Jack.

But it couldn’t be Jack.

He gazed at the picture until he was dizzy with confusion before finally looking back up at Pitch, eyes glossy and bewildered. “What…what is this…?”

“Time, for whatever reason, echoes,” Pitch murmured softly, a sheen of emotion glossing over his own eyes as well, as he gazed down at the locket in Jack’s hands. “Most people won’t notice it in their short lifetime, but being as old as I, you start to see patterns. I don’t know…why, or how. I don’t think it would matter if I did. But Jack, you unmistakably are someone I have loved for much, much longer than just your last life.”

Jack stared up at him for a long moment then swallowed a lump in his throat and looked back down at the photo with a sniffle. “Um.” He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand with a wet little chuckle and carefully handed the locket back. “So you’ve been stalking me for millions of years, huh?”

Pitch hummed in amusement. “More or less…you have lived many lives. I’ve always kept my distance to protect you from the shadows, but once they finally gained my trust, I found you again. And I will always find you, Jack.”

Jack laughed and covered his eyes with his palm, crying even more now; he knew he was right. When he lowered his hand it was just in time to see Pitch leaning over him. Jack blinked shyly up at him as he cradled his cheek in his palm and pressed a slow kiss to his forehead. Something about the careful gesture made Jack blush.

“Okay, okay,” he complained quietly, smiling, lacking the energy he needed to be truly contrary, and anyway, in truth, he was quite pleased with the attention. It soothed him in a way the pillows and the medicine and the rest could never do. It made the fear within him silent and docile, more pet than predator.

After being fussed over a while more, Pitch smothering him into the pillows as he pressed kisses to his face and nuzzled into his hair as Jack laughed, Pitch leaned back, leaving Jack blinking blissfully up at him. “…this is…” He turned his head slightly so his eyes could find the locket clutched in one of Pitch’s hands. “…this guy, in this photo…this is really me, huh? Why does he look like me too?”

Pitch smirked. “A curse, we’d thought.” He gazed back down at the photo in the locket fondly, musing, “When he was a child, he was found wandering the wild, battered and dirty, a haunted look in his eyes, so they say. The family that found him made sure he wouldn’t die, but once his injuries healed and there was meat on his bones, they told him he had to move on. They couldn’t afford to provide for him. And so, he grew up on the streets alone.” Pitch glanced upwards as if he could see it all playing out in the shadows on the ceiling. “He told everyone something different. A curse. That he was actually an old man. That he was a sorcerer. A monster in the forest scared him so horribly that his hair turned white.” Pitch smiled, huffing some laughter out of his nose as he looked back at Jack. “…the poor thing nearly froze to death in the forest, only to wake with white hair and an invulnerability to cold.”

Jack stared at him a moment, lips parted slightly in shock, then he muttered, “An echo…that’s…” He closed his eyes, paused, and with a little huff of laughter clarified, “Actually, I uh…I wasn’t really dirty…or hurt, either. Or haunted. But I was very naked.”

Pitch blinked, squinting at him in confusion and Jack murmured softly, “Um…could you…grab me my journal from the drawer?”

As perplexed as ever, Pitch obeyed. He took it out of the bedside table and handed it over, then watched as Jack flipped through it. Finally, he handed it over, pointing at the page. “Read this…the next one too.”

Pitch gave him a strange look, but obeyed, murmuring now and then under his breath as he read aloud. “…like Winter was inside me…Pitch, standing in a blizzard…only he was…” Pitch’s eyes widened as he realized what was going on. “…I kissed him…people were mad about it, and I got in a lot of fights…I feel bad I dreamed about Seraphina, that doesn’t seem fair. I wonder if he dreams about her…flowers…in her hair…and mine…and…” Pitch took a deep breath, blinking away tears. “...we were so happy and then something really, really bad happened…”

“Wait,” Jack cried suddenly, snatching the book from Pitch before looking at him apologetically. “Don’t. Don’t read the rest. I thought it was just…I thought it was a really bad nightmare. But it wasn’t, was it?” He paused. “Pitch, do the shadows…? You said they’re…sentimental. And loyal, do they, like…? I never actually asked about it much…what they can do.”

Pitch swallowed thickly then cleared his throat. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple as he said quietly, “They…they are sensitive. They remember, but to remember this much…I suppose, but why they would influence you to remember such things and yet I cannot remember…”

“Maybe you’re not ready?” Jack asked softly, taking Pitch’s hand as he peered up at him with obvious worry drawn across his face. “Or maybe…maybe you have to ask? I dunno. Or maybe it has nothing to do with them, or maybe I just…I dunno. Pitch, how come you didn’t tell me about any of this before now? Before the locket?”

He tried not to sound hurt, but he knew he did. Because he was hurt. Once again, Pitch had hidden something from him. And okay, Jack wasn’t always completely honest with Pitch either, they were just people, but not bringing up a whole other life you had together…that was kind of a big deal. Pitch had even blatantly lied to his face and said he didn’t know about the documents he’d found in the library.

Pitch took one of Jack’s hands in both of his. “It’s…complicated, I…it seemed like too much after you’d just learned about your last life as Jackson Overland. You haven’t had even half a chance to come to terms with that, what right do I have to dump a million years of baggage on you even more than I already have? It seemed selfish and I am so very tired of being selfish, but I’m afraid I might have been trying to protect myself more than you. I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore. All I want is to do right by you, and yet…” He breathed out a sharp sigh and held Jack’s hand to his cheek as he looked away from Jack’s intent gaze. “I am, at heart, such a selfish creature, Jack. I...”

He closed his eyes, but only for a moment before suddenly looking back at Jack and meeting his wide blue eyes. He leaned in closer and released Jack’s hand in favor of cradling his cheek and as Jack leaned into it, Pitch continued, “I need you to know, Jack Frost, that it’s this you I want. This one, right in front of me.” His thumb began slowly stroking his cheek and Jack nearly whimpered at the tenderness of it. “I was afraid you would feel pressured to be this other person. I have loved every iteration of you and I will continue to do so. You already struggle with these feelings of needing to prove yourself, to please me, to seek approval and love and to atone for sins you haven’t even committed. You’ve never believed yourself good enough or worthy of any sort of love of attention, you bleed the fear of abandonment and rejection, and you can do nothing without wondering what other people are going to think, I–”

At the wounded look that crossed Jack’s face, Pitch hissed impatiently at himself and dropped his hand from Jack’s face as if burned. “I’m sorry.”

Jack shook his head a little. “No, no, you’re…ha. You’re dead on, I’m…yeah. I do all those things. And you’re probably right. I’m still…I’m jealous, I guess? This guy seems like he was probably really something…a golden warrior, your daughter loved him. You loved him. You looked so happy. It’s…a lot to live up to. I’m afraid I’m going to let you down.”

Pitch winced. “It is. But you needn’t be afraid of that. You are everything he was and more.”

Jack chuckled uncomfortably and grimaced, glancing off to the side. “Stop. Nuh-uh.”

“I’m fully sincere, Jack. Look at me.” He did, reluctantly, as Pitch took his hand again gently. Jack focused on the feeling of his warm fingers sliding up over his palm and lacing together with his as Pitch went on.

“There is no comparison. You are the same person, and you have things he never could have dreamed of. Your powers of frost, for example, are far superior to his, harnessed much more fully. He was nothing if not a social butterfly, but you have the most wonderful and lovable wild quality to your heart, and I adore that about you. I doubt you’d have quite the same nature if you’d been seen your whole life. His manifested more as what he would have viewed as…vigilante justice. A Robin Hood sort. But it’s just not the same. I could go on and on about the many ways in which the two of you differ and relate…but Jack, you can’t imagine. I think you would have related more to Seraphina than he did as well. You remind me of her, at times, with her feet always bare, always dirty and glorious like some sort of nature god, lovable and fierce and always needing access to the open sky…”

Pitch paused, looking away, his eyes darting back and forth slightly as if he was trying to make a decision and couldn’t actually see anything in front of him. Finally, he looked back at Jack, eyes wide, lips parted and trembling, and whispered, “...you saved her from the shadows, you know.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “I did?”

Pitch nodded slowly, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “I was commanding the defense against the attack while you coordinated evacuation efforts, and, of course, I’d entrusted you with the most important task of all: protecting my daughter. I was the reason you–...” He closed his eyes and hung his head, breathing deeply, trying to concentrate. “You were meant to take her and flee and I was an idiot for not realizing that of course, that was not what you would do. Not my Jack. Not my Jack who’d plunged headfirst into every battle he was ever presented with. Not my Jack with a disciplinary record longer than the combined records of every golden warrior in his unit. Not…not my Jack, who the very first time I met him it was because he saw that the king’s horse had frostbite and came through a blizzard to find me and cuss me out himself.”

Pitch’s voice wobbled and he turned his head away as tears slid rapidly down his face. “No…no, you protected her with the very last of your light and told her to run. And I know this because I was–...” He opened his eyes, gasping softly as if struck. “The shadows were there. Watching. They attacked, and of course you put yourself between her and them. You…” Pitch let out a breathless sob, voice thick as he pushed on. “You sprinted there to be the one the shadows latched onto instead and you fought, you were so brave, and I was so proud of you, but they needed her because they could use her to take out me, their most challenging target…and you wouldn’t let them.”

Jack desperately wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him, but there was nothing. He could almost remember the tale as it was told to him, could almost see the agony contorting Pitch’s face now as if they were there right now, in that place and time, and he was watching it all play out in front of him again. He could almost feel them burrowing inside him like maggots, feeding off him while he still lived.

“You were nearly gone by the time I arrived and it was too late, it was far too late and I…” Pitch let out a weak whimper of shame and grief, turning away as if he was going to be sick, and maybe he was. Jack could see that he’d broken out in a cold sweat. “I cut you down. The holy light of my sword purified your heart and released them because I couldn’t stand the idea of my star being tortured and violated and used for as long as the shadows saw fit. Dancing you around like a puppet, slowly rotting away. I knew death was better, so I…but…” Pitch held his shaking hands out in front of him, palms up. “I couldn’t even hold you when you called for me. I didn’t hear your last words. I couldn’t get to you.”

Jack put his smaller, much colder hands in his and squeezed, peering up into Pitch’s face with fresh desperation. Jack couldn’t stand the hollowed, agonized look on his face anymore and he forced himself to sit up to get closer to him. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his words soft and kind, floating down around them like feathers, and he looked into Pitch’s eyes. He waited for them to look back at him, but right now they were very far away. “Pitch…hey, it’s okay. I’m safe, and you’re safe. I forgive you…alright? You saved me. You saved me, look, I’m right here.” He took one of Pitch’s hands and rubbed it between his own like he was trying to warm it up. Finally, Pitch saw him, and Jack smiled sadly. “There he is…” He leaned closer, nuzzling his face into Pitch’s neck. “It’s okay.”

Chest shuddering with quiet sobs, Pitch collapsed slowly sideways into the pillows, pulling Jack gently down with him. His long arms and legs made it easy for Pitch to curl around him even as Pitch made himself small. Tears slipped down Jack’s face into the smooth fabric of the pillowcase under his cheek as he listened to Pitch’s pain as much as he felt it, inside and out. He murmured any soothing little thing to him he could think of, rubbing his shoulders or dragging his fingertips slowly up and down his back, anything to remind him that he was there.

Pitch had been quiet and still for a while other than the warm puffs of breath in Jack’s hair, and he thought he might have even started to fall asleep, but then he said in a low, emotionless voice, “I let them take me. I fought them, at first.” Jack glanced up at him and swallowed around fresh tears as he saw the haunted look in his damp eyes. “But when I realized you and Seraphina were gone…I let them.” Pitch closed his eyes, looking as exhausted as Jack felt. “It’s my fault. All of it, and you should hate me. They’re right. For thousands of years I didn’t even try to find myself again…didn’t even think of it. And then I heard about a boy…a boy named Jack Frost.”

Jack’s eyes widened a little. “You mean before I was Jackson Overland?”

Pitch nodded slowly and opened his eyes reluctantly to look down on him, his gaze like molten gold. “You were Jack Frost again and again. I never imagined you might be reborn. Even once I heard the name again, I was sure it was a cruel twist of fate that had turned your name into legend and folklore when you yourself was long gone. Eventually, I dared to begin to hope. I looked for you, cautiously, afraid to get too close. And then…”

Jack’s chest was tight, but he managed to breathe out, “...then you found me. You found Jackson.”

Pitch closed his eyes with a grimace and nodded.

Finally, Jack took a deep breath and let it out in a rush as he whispered, “...I’m so sorry no one was there to help you when you needed it.” Pitch opened his mouth a little like he might argue, but Jack continued, “I’m so…so sorry you suffered alone for so long because no one was there to sacrifice for you the way you sacrificed yourself for them. You must have waited…you must have thought, why is no one coming? And no one ever came. I know I did…and, really, you were right there. I’m so…so sorry.” He sniffled. “All these years you’ve been alone and…treated horribly, because no one understood. You even…Pitch, you befriended the monsters that killed everyone you ever loved because you figured out it was the only way to stop them from hurting anyone else ever again. For the sake of…” Jack let out a breathless little sound of disbelief somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “For the sake of humans, who hated you. Who stopped believing in you. And you still…and then you finally found me and…”

He choked back a full sob and shut his eyes tight, burying himself against Pitch. His cold fingers dug into warm skin and he tried to draw him closer. There was something he had to ask, but was he really that cruel? But he had to know. He was choking on it.

“Did they…the shadows…Seraphina? Please tell me they didn’t–...” He craned his head back to look at him, pleading.

Pitch paused, his mouth opening and closing, then finally he admitted in a low, tremulous voice, “They must have…they…” He shut his eyes tight. “I’ve tried,” Pitch said with a ragged sob. “I’ve tried to remember, but I just see her face and then I can’t…I can’t…”

As Pitch hid his face behind shaking hands and sobbed, Jack wrapped his arms tight around his shoulders and whispered to him over and over, “It’s okay…it’s okay…”

There had to be a way to know for sure, didn’t there? The shadows had found and kept the locket safe.

What else might they have kept safe? What if they knew for sure what happened to her?

If Pitch wasn’t ready, that was okay because Jack was and the shadows, they were a friend of his. Hell, he was a shadow now.

It was a question for another day; he was exhausted, and as soon as Pitch’s eyes closed, his muscles relaxed, and his breathing evened out, Jack let go, and was unconscious again.

—-

Jack was up and about the next day, not much, but enough to get to the kitchen and back to bed. Grabbing something sweet was just kind of an excuse to move around and he could have asked Pitch to get him a snack, but that would kind of defeat the point.

Pitch hadn’t explicitly told him he wasn’t allowed out of bed, but it was heavily implied, so when Pitch appeared before him in the corridor, very angry, Jack wasn’t really surprised.

Jack frowned. “Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. I’m bored, I’m The Guardian of fun, remember?”

“A little fun is not worth risking your health,” Pitch hissed.

“We don’t even know exactly what’s going on, that’s not fair.”

“Exactly, Jack, we don’t know, so we have to be careful.”

Jack sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, but then he attempted a sweet little smile. “Look. I’m just gonna get a snack and then I’m going back, alright? Just a little walk. Sound cool, Mr. Boogeyman?”

Pitch sighed loudly, but conceded, although he did then proceed to follow Jack as his shadow along the wall, which Jack thought was cool.

When they got there, Jack grabbed a popsicle, then fell on the floor and refused to move, insisting he needed to be carried, and that lying here on the hard floor might not be good for his health because, after all, they just didn’t know what was going on exactly, and he was too tired to walk back. So, Jack ended up being thrown over Pitch’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You know,” Jack said as he dangled over Pitch’s shoulder, gently bumping along, “This is weirdly super provocative for a totally innocent activity.”

Pitch hummed noncommittally and gave Jack’s ass a pat.

“You could have carried me normally, like a person, but nooo…and now you don’t get to watch me deep throat this popsicle. Karma.”

Pitch just rolled his eyes as Jack laughed and licked at his snack, his tongue gradually turning red. When they returned to the bedroom, Pitch plopped Jack back in bed. Jack grinned up at him, the popsicle caught between his lips before he pulled it out with a pop and looked at it. The thing hadn’t melted at all. Pitch hadn’t really considered that until now.

“Yeah, they last a lot longer…” Jack commented casually, glancing at it, then back up at Pitch . “Can you tell me another story? I’m gonna actually die of boredom.”

Pitch raised a brow at him as he sat on the bed. “Are you seriously trying to seduce me with a popsicle right now because I said I wasn’t going to have sex with you for your own well-being?”

Jack stared at him as innocently as possible, eyes big and blue, lashes fluttering. “No.” He stuck his tongue out and licked the tip of the popsicle before swirling his tongue around it, giving it a long lick, then sticking it back in his mouth.

Pitch shook his head, but shouldn’t help but laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...you’re incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means, so I’m gonna pretend it means I’m sexy.”

“Do you want your story or not?” Pitch asked, looking at him, exasperated.

Jack sighed loudly and flopped back further into the pillows. “Lame…fine.”

“What would you like to hear about?” Pitch asked as he got more comfortable on the bed, crossing his legs and facing him.

Jack considered this very carefully. He’d always felt like something was missing, and just figured it was because he was lonely, but finding out he’d had these other lives, been this whole other person, it fascinated him and he wanted to know everything.

After staring seriously up at Pitch for a long moment he finally asked, “Was I super hot? You said I could fight, I was like, super cool, right?”

Pitch burst out laughing heartily before smirking down at him. “Jack? You were still adorable.”

“Oh, goddamn it.”

Pitch laughed even harder as Jack pouted and complained, “Come on, you said I was a super good fighter! You’re gonna stand there and tell me I didn’t just jiggle your giblets with my awesome sword fighting techniques?”

Pitch smirked. “You were fast. I swear you never stopped moving. You were also extremely easy to underestimate.”

Jack frowned deeply, his brows forming a petulant V. “Seriously?”

Pitch pinched his cheek affectionately. “No matter how great your reputation, there was always some big idiot that thought they could take you. They were always wrong, and there was no end to the joy it brought me, watching you make sure it was a mistake they’d never make again.”

Jack brightened a little at that. “Oh. Well, okay then.”

Pitch smiled. “We were the perfect team. Just like now.” He paused then started laughing again. “I’m sorry. I haven’t let myself think about this in some time…” He grinned. “You should have seen it…you’d go out there, with your little innocent smile and big, shimmering doe eyes. Ask them to go easy on you, and they’d actually worry about you, Jack. Your opponent. The toughest, most respected warriors anywhere, new recruits desperate to prove themselves, people that wanted more than anything to impress me, would see you and forget why they were even there, and I didn’t blame them one bit.”

He really couldn’t be sullen when he looked at Pitch’s face as he talked about this time in his life he’d always wanted to hear about with such joy. He’d returned the book to Pitch, who surmised it had been stolen by the shadows much like the locket, but while the book contained notes and information, it didn’t do anything to truly paint a picture of the people they’d been and the lives they lived. Jack scooted a little closer to Pitch eagerly.

“The particularly soft-hearted among them, or the ones with a soft spot for you particularly, would flat-out refuse to fight sometimes, until you looked up at them and you would say something so sweetly like, ‘Please? I’ll be so embarrassed if I can’t at least lose like a real warrior. Just give me a chance.’ Five seconds. Five seconds they lasted, Jack.”

Jack beamed as he watched Pitch throw his head back and howl with laughter, clutching his stomach. He continued listening, riveted. “Wow, really?”

“Ohhh yes,” Pitch insisted gleefully, sharp teeth gleaming. “Ah, but of course that only worked the first time, maybe even the second or third, ‘oh can you believe I got so lucky?’ Oh, but then, then they were so sure if it was a fair, straightforward fight they could beat you easily and they’d go in so mad, so embarrassed after the last time, ready to redeem themselves. And you’d try it again, something like, ‘I’m so glad I get to fight you again, last time hardly even counted, show me how it’s done.’ And they’d soften a bit, some of them, it would take a few more before they even realized what was going on at all, and they were so angry. Ahh,” Pitch sighed, grinning ear to ear.

Jack laughed, finding he could picture this easily. He watched Pitch as he lounged back on the bed beside him, smirking. “Then what?”

Pitch snorted, his grin morphing into a smirk as he propped his head up in his hand. “Finally, they would realize they’d been played. They’d confront you about it when they stepped up for their next match, and one of two things would happen: either you would pretend to be scared in the face of their anger, and then knock them flat on their ass again, or you simply wouldn’t be able to help yourself and you’d laugh. Oh, how you’d laugh, such a bright, shameless sound. And of course, it was just sparring, for the sake of training. There were no bar room brawls without purpose and structure going on in my arena. There was no rule about laughing, though, technically, although it was highly inappropriate, but as long as it wasn’t getting in the way of a match, it was allowed. So they’d stand there, having just entered the ring, waiting for the fight to begin, knowing they couldn’t attack you out of anger, and watch you double over, crouching, wiping tears of mirth from your face. And then they would either attack anyway, and earn themselves a serious punishment, or they would wait patiently, absolutely seething, go up against you again, and–”

Pitch couldn’t even finish his sentence. He cackled, flopping onto his back as he forced out the words, “And then…and then they’d immediately go down again. It was glorious. I didn’t think so at the time, but it was hard not to laugh along with you.”

Jack laughed wholeheartedly. “Wow, I was an asshole, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Pitch agreed gleefully before crawling over and laying beside Jack then dragging him down to lay beside him.

“Bet I was real popular,” Jack joked sarcastically, grinning as he raised an eyebrow at Pitch.

To his surprise, Pitch just beamed at him as he caught his breath. “...you were. You were utterly beloved.”

Jack’s smile fell away. “What? Really? How? I sound awful.”

Pitch scoffed, smirking at him sideways. “You were by far the kindest, bravest, most fun, selfless, thoughtful, and fascinating person I ever met. And you still are all those things.”

Suddenly shy, Jack looked away, scratching a phantom itch on the side of his face as he blushed. “Hm…’kay. Thanks.” He paused and after some consideration glanced back at Pitch, hunching his shoulders bashfully. “This is all really bizarre. For me, I mean, to hear. At least being alive I remember. I don’t remember any of this except as some dreams. I almost feel like I remember pieces of some things sometimes, but…it’s probably just my imagination.”

Pitch nodded sympathetically and put an arm around him. “I never expected you to remember. In fact, while I admit it’s a weight off my shoulders to finally share with you what it means to me to have you with me again, it’s otherwise rather inconsequential. And, like I told you, there are many things I don’t remember either. It feels like a dream to me as well. My haphazard and inaccurate notes and sketches are the only bits of information remaining aside from the locket. I knew…Seraphina had dark eyes, for example. When I try to picture the shade, I cannot…could not until now. I sometimes believe your eyes were blue, sometimes I remember, no, they were a deep brown, only then to decide it was a light gray. It’s strange the sort of things I remember and the things I don’t. I don’t let myself think of those things anymore. At least, not before you returned the locket to me.”

Jack frowned up at him, worried, and wiggled closer, laying his head on his shoulder. “You seemed really happy just now, talking about it. If you ever…I mean, I don’t need to hear about it, I’m not saying that for my benefit or anything, but just out of curiosity and because I know it was important to you, if you ever wanna tell me about it…I wanna know. But…” He nudged him playfully. “I’m perfectly happy with this version of you. Were you still a bag of dicks then?”

Pitch looked down at him, exasperated. “Can’t recall.”

Jack laughed sweetly, as if he weren’t a menace to society, and rubbed his face into his neck affectionately, murmuring, “I know I was, at least the last time. Made my parents crazy.”

Pitch groaned. “And your parents made me crazy…if I ever met them again, they’d meet the end of their own birch rod until it hit bone.”

Jack just shrugged a little. It seemed cruel now, to beat a kid as often as they had, knowing the psychological harm it could do, but at the time they thought they were helping. At least, when they were sober.

He didn’t want to dwell on that too much though so instead of pointing out that he was a very unruly kid and probably deserved a lot of it, he asked, “What…happened when you first found me?” He glanced up at him, eyes searching. As much as he wanted to know everything, he was wary of any territory that might end up being extremely upsetting for them both. They’d get to all of it eventually, he was sure.

Pitch ran his claws lazily up and down Jack’s back as he ventured into his memories, making Jack shiver. “I was afraid, at first, that I’d misjudged the shadows. When I found Jackson Overland, I didn’t dare approach you. I watched from a great distance, until one night when I went to watch you sleep–”

“Oh my god, seriously?”

Pitch ignored him. “--and you were already gone from your bed. And then…

…

……

It was too late. If he was already screaming, it would be too late, damn them, he should have known. Whatever was happening to that child was his fault because he should have known the shadows could never be anything other than what they were. They were just like him in that they could never be good. There was no magical act of transformation that turned a monster into a person, it just wasn’t done, and once again Jack was going to suffer from his mistakes except this time he was so, so small and vulnerable and, please, he’s just a child–

Pitch’s dark, formless shape stitched rapidly through the forest as he shot towards the direction of the fields where he knew exactly what he would find.

He saw him then. Tiny little Jack, wielding a shepherd’s crook, his father’s, against an unseen enemy, but Pitch knew what it was. Behind him the sheep bleated in fear and though Jack was putting on a brave offensive stance his eyes were filled with just as much animal terror as theirs. Pitch couldn’t get over how small he looked, how fragile. He couldn’t have been more than, what, ten, eleven years old? What in god’s name was he doing out–

His attention was suddenly redirected as he heard a sound like a bark and looked over to see a pair of eyes, glittering among the trees, never staying still for long as they darted about. And then there was another set of eyes, and another, and…

It wasn’t the shadows. Pitch’s heart soared. This was a problem that could be handled. He could protect Jack from this with ease.

The wolves moved out into the open, confident in their numbers against so much vulnerable prey. They prowled closer, moving quickly, large paws nimbly parting the grass as they cornered Jack. Except he wasn’t cornered. He could easily run and leave the sheep to their fate, what in god’s name was he thinking? He couldn’t believe that Jack, even as a child, would be so foolish.

No, he realized. That wasn’t in Jack’s nature. Why was he even out here in the first place? With a cold, hard certainty, Pitch suddenly knew that Jack had come out here in the first place precisely because he’d heard the wolves. He’d heard a howl in the distance and thought to himself, I can prove myself. I can be useful. That was his Jack. And now that he was trapped with the consequences of his decision he refused to back down. Pitch had no doubt he would let the wolves tear him apart before he ran and left these vulnerable, terrified creatures to their fate.

That was his Jack. If there had ever been any doubts, there was all the proof he needed.

It couldn’t have taken more than a second for his mind to register all of this, and he had to move quickly, but he didn’t even get the chance.

Jack’s tiny, high-pitched voice filled the clearing as he roared at the approaching wolves, yelling as loud as he could. It was quite a sound to come out of such a tiny being, but it was as tiny as he was in the end and the wolves didn’t even flinch. They only hesitated briefly as Jack screamed at them again and swung his staff at them like a scythe, but they kept coming.

One of the wolves yelped, and Pitch thought Jack must have hit him, but that wasn’t possible. He was too far away. He watched, mystified, as the wolf yiped shrilly again and danced back as if it had stepped on something sharp, or been grabbed. The other wolves quickly backed off, baring their teeth, confused, uncertain.

Pitch watched in amazement as a dark mass bled over the ground like a dense fog up the slight hill towards the wolves, out from between the base of the trees. He’d recognize that darkness anywhere. The shadows whisked towards the wolves and the animals were no fools. They immediately ran. Whatever that was, dealing with it wasn’t worth a meal, or even many meals. They took off deftly into the forest and disappeared. Just like that, the shadows sank discreetly back into the darkness all around them. Pitch doubted if Jack had even seen anything amiss with his pathetic human eyesight.

For a while, Jack continued to stand there, breathing heavily as his head darted frantically this way and that, then he shouted into the night, “And stay away! Don’t you ever come after my sheep again or you’ll be sorry!”

Jack paced around in the field for a while, trying to stay calm, trying to reassure the frightened beasts around him that they were safe, then Pitch’s heart twisted as the courageous child started to cry. Pitch watched, agonized, as the boy gripped his father’s staff tightly, digging the base into the ground, and let out a soft, high-pitched sob. A high-pitched whine followed as he tried to prevent anymore from escaping and, though he managed, Pitch could feel the fear rolling off of him in waves. Jack had been certain he was going to die, no doubt.

……

…

The Jack in his arms, full-grown and warm and safe, listened and added, “I totally did. I just kept thinking…how stupid a way it was to die. In retrospect, being torn apart by wolves protecting sheep is a lot cooler than…than drowning.”

Pitch looked at him, aghast. “You saved your sister’s life.”

“It was my fault in the first place.”

“It…” Pitch sighed. “Do you want to hear the rest or not?”

Jack pouted a little, but nodded eagerly nonetheless. “So then what?”

…

……

The first time he truly allowed himself to get close was terrifying. He paced back and forth outside Jack’s bedroom door for the better part of an hour, trying to talk himself into leaving, but persuaded by his own arguments too much for him not to stay. He had to. He was right there, for god’s sake.

He ghosted through the door like smoke before he could stop himself and then suddenly he was standing there, and there he was. Fast asleep. Unassuming, a mop of messy chestnut hair, but something in him already knew. The air buzzed against his skin. The dark actually seemed dark and the little light from the nearly full moon seemed too bright as he stepped around the headboard of the bed and around to stand on one side.

Small. That was his first thought. So small. So vulnerable. Anything could snuff out this little light.

He slowly dropped to his knees a few feet away from the little bed where young Jack slept soundly, a ragged stuffed bear clutched tightly under one arm…

Pitch knelt there at a distance for what seemed ages, as if in prayer, tears running in heavy tracks down his face…

Because he was safe. Gods, he was safe, he was in a warm soft bed in a home with people that loved him and a full belly and how Pitch wept with relief.

Once he’d gathered the courage, or perhaps gone temporarily insane, Pitch moved closer to the bed, and oh, he was so glad he did. The fey little face, so mischievous in the day, was perfectly still and serene. His big dark eyes, always sparkling with impish delight, were closed, long lashes resting sweetly on round, cherubim cheeks. He had the blanket tugged up to his chin and although he was well past the age for such things, there was a wet spot where he’d clearly been sucking on it. Pitch would be lying if he said it didn’t make his heart ache with fondness.

It had been a long time since he’d thought of Jack in any context other than grief. At some point, after however many thousands of years, there was no more longing for a lost love. There was no hope or desire or loneliness. Only a hollow, empty space inside him where Jack had once been, leaving him volatile, brittle, and hateful. Loss had changed him, but he was too full of self-hatred to even think of what could have been.

This child, though…this was his Jack, small and vulnerable and safe. And for the first time in many centuries, Pitch was happy. What did he care about how he loved him? Jack was his, would always be his, to care for and watch over from the shadows, to love and cherish with the agonized gratitude of someone that had been forced to watch him die. The sort of love they’d had, that was millions of years dead and gone. All that remained was an all-consuming need to protect. That was his only purpose now.

If there was a more perfect peace than this, Pitch could not remember it.

……

…

Pitch gazed at him in sudden horror. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Jack shot back extremely defensively, while crying.

Pitch couldn’t help but chuckle as he gathered him close again. “What’s wrong, little love? This is meant to be the happy part of the tale.”

“Nothing, I just…I…” Jack took a deep shuddering breath, leaning against Pitch’s chest with resignation as he tried to find the words he needed on the ceiling. Sniffling, he wiped his face. “That’s good. It’s great, I just…I always wanted, like…I mean, at that age, I was jealous that other kids had imaginary friends and I didn’t. Like, I just couldn’t do it.” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes as he continued. “I was a really lonely kid. I was good at making friends, but not real friends, you know? Just someone to kick rocks around with. I never told anyone I was gay…except the guys I slept with, of course. All, like, two of them. I just always felt like I was fakin’ my whole life, and all that stuff with my family…” He glanced at Pitch balefully. “You know then, I guess. About all that.”

Pitch nodded once curtly, his expression solemn. “I do.”

…

……

Pitch returned the next night and sat by Jack’s bed and he stared. He stared at his sweet little sleeping face and he let his heart soothe itself with the knowledge that, see, Jack is safe. He’s alright. Yes, we killed him. But look. He’s right there and he’s alive, he’s breathing, he’s definitely breathing, and only then would Pitch’s anxiety alleviate and his heart would unclench just a little. It didn’t make him feel any less horrible about what he’d done, or wish any less that he could be a part of his life, but seeing him like this, tucked into his bed at night and happily dreaming, made Pitch’s existence bearable.

For no reason other than having an excuse to interact with Jack as if he were real to him, he reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from his face that was going to no doubt become ticklish, and he flicked away a spider from the bedpost. After watching him sleep for a few hours (because what is a few hours to someone essentially immortal?) he left, and planned to come back the next night.

This became his routine. Soon, though, he discovered that some nights were not like any of the others he’d come to witness. There were nights like tonight and they were the hardest of all.

Jack had his hand plastered over his mouth so tightly as he laid there sobbing that when he took his hand away because he couldn’t breathe through his nose, he’d left the distinct outline of a handprint there. His breath continued hitching and he sniffled, wiping his face on his sleeve and blanket, looking of all things ashamed and that just incensed Pitch further.

How was any of this his fault? How was he responsible for being beaten and screamed at? For “having an attitude”? That warranted taking a switch to your teenage son until he squealed and sobbed and begged like a child for his mama to stop? It was vile. It made Pitch absolutely fucking sick, and if he’d ever wanted to take Jack away from here it was right now, but this was so much better than the life Jack had before, when they’d known each other. He was almost an adult and he could do what he pleased then. He just had to hold on a little longer. That’s what Pitch kept telling himself. He bet that’s what Jack kept telling himself too.

Still…still, looking at the bloody slashes across his legs and buttocks almost had him kill the woman, not caring if her family mourned her, even her son. Not caring about anything except making sure this never happened again.

Instead, he kept himself cloaked in darkness there in plain sight and he sat with the boy, wishing desperately he could hold and comfort him. When Jack finally fell into an uneasy sleep, Pitch took his hand and whispered to him everything would be okay.

He remained at his side through the night, coaxing him away from doing anything to aggravate his wounds, like rolling onto his back. Of course, in the morning he’d still be expected to do his chores.

The shadows, he’d long since accepted, cared about Jack too. Pitch’s love for him had rubbed off on them much in the way the shadows had changed him in turn. Now they hovered around the room, looking on, their concern permeating the room like a fretful dog that knows its master is sick.

As he sat, comforting Jack not nearly as much as he wanted to, ensuring he had not a single nightmare, he watched as the shadows tentatively moved closer. They swept over Jack, cautiously pulling the blanket up around him a little closer, careful of the welts. He watched as Jack nestled his face gently into its folds.

Pitch had an idea.

Jack tried not to hold it against her. He knew it was the alcohol, really, and not his mom who did those things, but the alcohol still wore her face and so her face made him sick to look at now. Besides, if he wasn’t made wrong, this wouldn’t be happening at all. If he was a good son, if he’d gotten engaged already, this never would have happened. They never took their frustrations out on Mary. Of course, if they’d tried, Jack would have stepped in anyway. They would never lay a malicious hand on her. But, seeing that they only spoke kindly to her to begin with, he didn’t have to worry about that…unless mom was really gone, but she’d always prefer to take it out on him or their dad, or even herself. Mary was their angel that could do no wrong, apparently, and he was grateful for that, if not also a little bit bitter.

In the morning he rose and found his loosest pair of pants, bandaged himself up properly, and got to work on his–

Jack stepped into the kitchen and was stunned to see someone had already picked up after his mother. No garbage or broken glass, no spills, the floor was absolutely pristine. The counters and table were clear, someone had even let the dogs out and fed the cat. It wasn’t everything he had to do, but it helped a ton. Every inch he didn’t have to move was a godsend and now he could take it as slow as he needed to with the animals and still get everything done.

Mary really was an angel. As he got started on the rest of his work around the farm, Jack resolved to get Mary the biggest candy bar he could find the next time he went into town.

……

…

Jack couldn’t help it. It seemed pretty fucked up to rub it in that Pitch wasn’t even real to him and there’d been nothing Pitch could do about it, but…but there was. There had been something he could do about it.

He groaned, loud and frustrated. “Piiiitch…why the hell didn’t you just kidnap me? Seriously? How the hell was my situation better than being with you? Being with you is great. You know, when you’re not being a dick, but that’s…most of the time. More than half at least, probably.” Jack laughed as he ducked Pitch’s swatting hand, but he just smirked, unbothered by his teasing, so Jack added, “That would have been so hot.”

Pitch rolled his eyes, but found himself grinning anyway. “There are so many reasons that would have been a terrible idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack leaned up onto his elbow so that he was pouting aggressively down at Pitch on the bed as he waved one finger and challenged, “Name one thing.”

Pitch gazed up at him, exasperated and amused. “You were eleven.”

Jack opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “…damn it. Okay, fine, but I wasn’t eleven forever.”

“Jack,” he began, patiently, and couldn’t help but laugh, looking up into his petulant face.

As the thought sat inside Jack, though, it sank into his chest, heavy like a stone. He couldn’t help but be pained thinking about what could have been. All that time he’d spent alone, suffering in silence, whether when he was alive or in the centuries after, never had to happen. He couldn’t keep himself from asking.

“Why didn’t you…come see me though? I mean…I know I was a kid at first, but I wasn’t later. Hell, even as a teenager, you didn’t have to jump my bones, but I believed in you. You could have…you could have said hi.”

“You would have been thought mad. I know you, free spirit that you are, you would have told someone, your family at least, about me, and you’d have been sent away. Or, even if it wasn’t something so extreme, it would have made your life even more difficult than it already was. I wanted you to finally have a pleasant, ordinary life.”

“What if I didn’t want that?” Jack insisted, feeling a flicker of hurt and frustration. He tried not to take it personally; after what Pitch had gone through, he could hardly blame him, and yet he still did. Because where was the part where Jack got to decide something about his own life for once?

He calmed himself with a breath and continued, despite Pitch’s stunned face. “What if I wanted you? What if finally, after all those times I thought about just walking away from everything into the dark and never coming home, what if I finally got to do that and be who I wanted to be? I just…I knew you were there. I knew it, I felt you…I still wanted you. Do you understand? I mean, I…” Wincing, Jack laid back down against Pitch’s chest and was gratified by the way his arms immediately pulled him close. “It’s not like I was one-hundred percent sure or anything, but the dark always made me feel less alone. So many nights I was laying there wishing someone was laying with me and you know who I wanted specifically?”

Jack suddenly grabbed Pitch by the front of his robe and shook him playfully, but hard. “A hot, tall, older guy with dark hair that was super into me, Pitch! And you were there the whole time? Come on!” A slight pause and then he added, “And rich. I wanted him to be rich.”

Pitch laid his hands over Jack’s. “Oh, trust me…I drove myself mad longing for you, I understand. I spent many nights trying to convince myself taking you wouldn’t be so terrible, but look at this from my perspective for just a moment.”

Jack settled back down with a restless huff. Pitch was so much larger than him that it was easy to get comfortable, cuddling up close, but still able to watch his face as Pitch continued explaining.

“You must understand, first of all, that I’m speaking of this as if you were the approximate age you were when you died. However, when I finally found you in the beginning, you were just a child, and I, The Boogeyman, was not about to kidnap a mortal child and expect it to go well. I cherished the fact that I was getting to see you in your childhood, that you even had a childhood, when, in the time that I knew you, your life had been brutal and unkind. Seeing you play and spend hours and hours laying in the grass…it was a dream. It was everything I’d always wanted for you. Nothing could have convinced me to take that from you.”

“But you did. Eventually, I mean.”

Pitch made a face as if Jack had hauled off and slapped him. He was confused by his reaction at first until he re-evaluated his words then slapped his hand over his mouth, immediately bathed in a hot wash of shame. “...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I don’t know why I…” This seemed to happen a lot, since he’d been struck by the nightmare sand. Deep rooted fears, insecurities, or feelings he desperately tried to keep hidden came forth, unbidden and unexpected.

Pitch just shook his head a little, but he was clearly hurt and doing everything he could to stifle the visceral, horror-struck reaction he’d had.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack said again, quickly taking one of his hands, pressing gentle kisses to his knuckles as he tried to make amends.

Pitch shook his head again. “Don’t be. You’re absolutely right.”

“It was an accident though, wasn’t it?”

“That doesn’t make your words untrue. I…” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I did steal all of that from you.”

“Just…go back to what you were saying,” Jack insisted, eyes wide and worried. He was about to apologize again, but realized Pitch would hate that, and stopped. Instead, he said softly, “Please?”

Pitch looked at him softly, soothed by the coolness of Jack’s skin as he cradled his hand to his mouth. After gazing at him a while, grounding himself, and remembering what they’d been talking about, he nodded a little and went on.

“My point was only that, I was happy for you, and relieved, but I couldn’t stay away, no matter how atrocious anyone else would have considered my obsession with you. I worried constantly. Very few things brought me any kind of satisfaction or joy for so many years, so hearing that contagious laugh or seeing you protect your baby sister from a bee…how could I leave, after everything I went through trying to find you? So I stayed. And when you were a teenager, I delighted in your sense of humor, the fact that no one could seem to get you down, until I realized how sad you were in private. I laid under your bed and listened to you cry so softly, so no one would hear you. I wanted to be there. I wanted to tell you the things your parents weren’t telling you: that I was proud of you, that you weren’t weak for having strong emotions, that it was okay to be attracted to boys and it didn’t mean you were made wrong, like you were told so many times. There was no desire for a romantic rendezvous on my part, as you make it sound.”

Jack felt oddly embarrassed by this conversation, although he wasn’t sure why. It’s not as though either of them had done anything wrong, and it was just Pitch, but having anyone know him so intimately was both a relief and a source of great anxiety.

“For the sake of full-disclosure,” Pitch added quietly against the top of Jack’s head, “You did touch yourself quite a lot and—“

“NOPE,” Jack cried suddenly, slamming his hands over his ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you! Didn’t happen, you can’t prove it!”

Pitch‘s lips curved into a slight smirk as he slowly reached over and lifted Jack’s hands from his ears. As he encircled them in his own hands, so warm and so much larger, he leaned in a little and crooned, “It was endearing at best, if not a little bit dull. I just wanted you to sleep so I could look at you, speak to you, hoping you would dream of me, or just remain under the bed or in the shadows, only able to rest because I could hear your easy breaths and knew you were safe.”

Jack’s face was very warm. “That’s so…” He groaned softly and closed his eyes. “I should be so creeped out by that, but it just makes me feel…I don’t know. Comforted, I guess…loved. Except the…jacking off part. That’s weird.”

His eyes fluttered back open as Pitch’s voice sank to a purr. “The part I’m not proud of is that when you became older, I tried to cling to this idea that I still saw you as a child that needed caring for, and you did need caring for, but only as any person does…but there came a day when I was in a scenario like I described, under your bed, and the pitiful little sounds you were making inspired a different reaction in me.”

Jack whined and shut his eyes tighter. “Stop it, this is not a sexy conversation. That’s not fair.”

“It gradually became too difficult to stop myself from seeing you as the adult you were, especially when you started traipsing around after that fool with the stupid hair, always checking his expensive pocket watch.”

Jack’s eyes widened, his face getting pinker by the second. “Nathan?”

Pitch’s lip curled a little in distaste. “Mm. Yes. That one. Once you stopped slobbering all over that idiot’s cock so regularly, you found it hard to go back to celibacy, didn’t you, Jack?” Pitch cooed little mocking sympathetic sounds to him and simpered, “Aw. Poor thing…”

Jack shuddered, curling in on himself slightly and hiding himself in Pitch’s chest. He could hardly catch his breath. “Pitch, please,” he begged. “That’s SO embarrassing. Did you seriously…” He looked back up at Pitch, burning with shame, because he remembered the way he’d been after Nathan got engaged. He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed Pitch had heard him sobbing or that he’d been in heat for weeks after that. Maybe even months. “Did you really listen to…that? Not all of that.”

Pitch’s quietly satisfied face said everything he needed to know.

…

……

Pitch remembered the first time it happened distinctly because of how hard he’d tried to forget it and pretend like it was really nothing. Nothing had happened and he felt no way in particular about it and so there was nothing to worry about because–

He’d been hovering about, incorporeal in the darkness under Jack’s bed, as usual. He was much too old to believe in The Boogeyman, and yet he did, which warmed Pitch’s heart like he couldn’t possibly express. Right now, though, he was warmed all over, from his ears to the very tips of his toes and everywhere in between because it had been a while since Jack had indulged in this sort of thing and…

It just sounded so familiar. Because it was Jack. It was his Jack, around the same age as when they’d first met in their first life and he definitely, definitely did not look, sound, or act like a kid. He was a young man, but not so long ago Jack had been a child and Pitch hadn’t thought of him in that way for so long. Ages, literally, not since The Golden Age, so how dare his body respond now? Why?

Jack mewled before shoving his face into his pillow to muffle the sound, but darkness, Pitch could still hear him whimpering and groaning as he fucked himself on his fingers. He knew that’s what he was doing because he could hear it, wet and messy and, dear god–Pitch covered his mouth, no, this was not acceptable. It was not appropriate, he was so young, he was–

“Please…please, harder,” his muffled voice begged and Pitch took a deep breath. He remembered being begged just like that for more, harder, faster, pure desperation lacing every note as Pitch fucked him into this incoherent, feral wreck. It always started with ‘please’.

Poor Jack had always been rather vocal. He shouted, “FUCK,” into his pillow, as if he was truly shocked by how hard he was coming, then he went silent for an instant before choking around all the stunned, frantic sounds of pleasure he was making and trying so desperately to keep quiet.

How in god’s name was Pitch ever supposed to not react to that? He wasn’t a goddamn saint.

Pitch was so patient. He’d been unwavering in his commitment to Jack for as long as he could remember, loving him as deeply as he knew how, and so he continued to have only his best interest in mind. He couldn’t convince himself that it was okay for him to be attracted to him again when he hadn’t been all this time, when he was still so young, when Jack didn’t even know he existed. Wasn’t it a betrayal of trust somehow to use his position to spy on Jack for his own gain? But wasn’t that what he’d been doing all along? Before, it had been for the comfort of Jack’s presence, the knowledge that he was okay and feeling like a part of his life when he could never have that.

Now, as he settled down in the dark across from Jack’s bed, it was so he could take in the sight of Jack’s face, contorted in pleasure as his hand worked frantically under the blanket. Those sweet, dark doe eyes teared up as he bit his lip, staring into the dark at nothing. At him. Pitch took in the sight of him hungrily as his slender chest rose and fell rapidly. He was trying so hard to quiet himself, but oh, his poor little Jack had never been very good at that, had he?

Jackson Overland was a sweet, thoughtful boy. He always had been. While he was mischievous, he had a heart of gold, much like he had during their life together. Back then, his mischievousness was quite antagonistic in nature. He was cunning and quick and enjoyed orchestrating karma from the shadows, but never against anyone that didn’t deserve way more strife than he gave them.

Now, Jack’s mischief vented more in the form of a free spirit. He would stay out too late and run barefoot with the dogs through the fields. He had no patience for any mean-spiritedness and had a strong sense of justice that would see him be the shield of anyone who found themselves in danger, particularly children.

But in most ways, he was honey sweet. Those rosy cheeks glowed with mirth and good cheer. His soft, messy chestnut hair never behaved, but Jack now, unlike before, did his best to do as he was told. He wanted approval and affection desperately. He craved positive reinforcement and rarely got it, and he didn’t respond by becoming rebellious, but by becoming gentle and thoughtful.

Jack was a good boy. He was a good boy who liked boys who were not good, in a time when it wasn’t the least bit acceptable to be homosexual, so of course he tried not to indulge himself, as ashamed as he was, for something he couldn’t and shouldn’t have to help. When he did indulge, though, it made the sight of him rutting mindlessly, frantically into his hand even more perfect. That innocent face was begging Pitch to pin him to the bed and show him how well he knew his body, better than Jack even did. He was certain he would still love being teased and pinned down helplessly to his mattress. He would want to be humiliated, and then rewarded for it, because he already felt so awful about himself anyway. To have someone see the worst of him and love him anyway, tell him he was a good boy, would have him writhing and whining and begging in a matter of minutes. Jack deserved that.

And yes, perhaps Pitch also just wanted him for himself. He wanted to make the sweet thing cry and say his name. He wanted to be the only thing that could soothe him and give him what he asked for, but for now this would have to do.

His mind was already racing. It was going to be another long night.

……

…

“You…pervert,” Jack gasped, pushing Pitch away, although he was glad when he snatched him back.

“Of course. So I was trying to be on my best behavior. I let you fall in love with someone else. I let myself be a shadow; it’s what I do best. I stayed out of the way and even though you were of proper marrying age, I never felt quite comfortable with the idea of you and I together romantically. Oh, I fantasized. I knew you were beautiful. When I had nothing else, I still had those images of you, laughing recklessly in the sun, covered in flowers, or your pale, moonlit face on your pillow as you slept, serene and perfect, and I clung to fantasies that one day I would do exactly as you’ve said.”

Jack gazed at him wide eyed with rapt attention. “Did you really?”

“Certainly. Often. I just didn’t have any intentions of ever acting on them…only of torturing myself, pining pathetically over scenes of coming to you, and you’d run and throw yourself in my arms because somehow you’d remember me.” He chuckled wryly. “…such a fool.”

“Yeah, well…we’re both fools then I guess,” Jack said quietly. “…I mean, you’re still more of a fool than me, of course, but…”

“Is that so?” Pitch responded mildly.

Jack began a retort, but it got stuck in his throat as Pitch began running his claws slowly up and down his back. The shadow-fashioned clothing he wore nowadays felt a little thinner than his old sweatshirt would have, and he shivered again, sending a wave of goosebumps up his back and over his shoulders. Jack pressed his lips together, suppressing a moan, and Pitch chuckled.

“Hush now, little star,” he crooned and with no resistance at all Jack relaxed into him, laying happily against his side as Pitch continued running slow, ticklish tracks up and down his back.

He wished he could have stayed awake a little longer.

Chapter Text

Jack was absolutely floored when Pitch called him into the main hall one day and he walked out to see The Guardians all standing there, nervous, but passive. As soon as their eyes landed on him they froze in shock, like they hadn’t actually expected him to be here. Maybe they just hadn’t expected him to really be Jack anymore, but there he was, in one piece and jogging over to them, bursting with excitement.

“Guys?” he cried in disbelief, looking into each of their cautious but cheerful faces. “What…what are you doing here?”

Pitch was watching him closely and Jack looked to him next, eyes wide and shining. All Pitch did was smirk and Jack knew that, whatever was going on, he was allowing it precisely because of the way Jack was looking at him now.

“We couldn’t wait to see how you were doing, so we decided…we come to you,” North explained jovially, his hands on his hips.

‘But didn’t you think it would be too dangerous?’ Jack wanted to ask, but didn’t have a chance.

“Surprise!” Tooth cried, beaming, even as her shoulders were hunched from where she hovered by Sandy who was, for once, fully awake and alert. He flashed Jack a big smile and two thumbs up. Jack laughed happily.

“This is awesome! Aw, you guys didn’t have to, but…but uh…” For a moment they all stood there awkwardly, vibrating with happiness, then Jack offered, “Um…hugs are okay, if–”

Tooth tackled him so hard that Jack fell back flat on the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing with delight. “You’re really alright!” she cried, and not a second later Sandy piled on top of them too. Jack could feel Sandy’s intense warmth immediately radiating off of him and into the unique black fabric of his new sweatshirt.

He couldn’t help but laugh and he reached around the best he could to pat each of them on the back.

He was just trying to decide how rude it would be to tell them to get off of him when North scooped all of them up in his arms at once, bellowing joyous laughter. Jack grinned and just let it happen, bouncing lightly against North’s belly.

“Alright, alright, take it easy there, North, now we can all ‘feel it in your belly’.”

“Oi!”

They all went comedically still for a moment, looking at an incredulous Bunny, before North dropped them. Tooth hovered, Sandy fell on his butt looking moderately disgruntled, and Jack dropped onto his feet well enough, but with less grace than he would have liked. He suddenly felt tense and awkward and that seemed to immediately translate to everything.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly as Bunny squatted and made a cautious hop towards him, looking him in the eye with an expression Jack couldn’t really read, but he wasn’t holding his boomerangs so that was a good sign anyway.

“Hey there, sorry about uh…” He pointed to his chest. “How yah feel? …what’s with the getup?” he asked, looking Jack up and down, whiskers wiggling.

Jack sighed and chuckled. “Nice to see you too, Bunny. Good, yeah, I feel fine.” He mock saluted him. “Thanks, by the way, for almost cracking my ribs.”

“I told yah I was sorry, didn’t I? Some people really know how to hold a grudge, ay?”

Jack, as incredulous as he was irritated at the hypocrisy of that, was about to dig into him, but then he saw the sly way Bunny was smirking and realized he was poking fun at himself. Jack laughed in disbelief, and he was only more stunned when Bunny stood and put his arm out.

“Alright, bring it in, mate.” He gave a little jerk of his head, motioning him closer. “Come on. I know you missed me. Probably never offer again. Once in a lifetime opportunity, mate.”

Jack’s mouth hung open for a moment before he laughed and stepped closer, putting his arms around Bunny. It felt awkward until Bunny wrapped one strong arm around him, the one Jack remembered latching onto like a lamprey at an earlier date, and held him securely. Jack was stunned by how nice it felt to be held by him like this. Besides the fact that Bunny was warm and had soft fur, he had muscle to him and Jack felt incredibly safe. It felt like an apology, for everything.

When he stepped back, he found he was grinning and felt warm and fuzzy all over. He might have even been blushing a little bit. He was bashful at heart. “Heh. Right…good to see you too, Bunny.”

“You can’t imagine how worried we’ve been. Gave us each a heart attack, didn’t he?” Bunny said sternly, waving to Jack. Then he turned on Pitch and scowled.

He took one step towards him, but Jack was already there between them, blocking defensively with his staff. “Hey! Come on, man, did you seriously learn nothing?”

He was surprised when a hand clamped onto his shoulder and jerked him back, then Pitch scolded him sharply, “Jack. Have you learned nothing from using yourself as a shield?”

Jack huffed. “Oh, like I’m not gonna put myself between you and danger.”

“I wasn’t doin’ nothin’, relax, champ,” Bunny teased. “I just wanted to look this useless sack a dog shit in the eye and tell him what I think about what he did to you, that’s all.”

“It…” Jack stopped and sighed. It was an accident, technically, but he had tried to hit Sandy on purpose, so it being an accident that Jack happened to be the target of instead wasn’t exactly a great argument.

“I apologize for attempting to cut you in half with my scythe,” Pitch offered diplomatically, but all the tact in the world couldn’t make that apology go well, especially because, even if the others didn’t catch onto it, Jack had a feeling Pitch still found the idea of slicing them all to pieces rather amusing, particularly Bunny.

“Oh, rack off, what kind of apology is that? Unbelievable.”

Jack didn’t love the way this was going. He wasn’t exactly the best mediator though, and he floundered, caught between the two very strong personalities. “Hey, let’s just…”

After floundering another moment, Pitch jumped in, shocking all of them as he offered politely, “If you are guest’s of Jack’s, you are guests of mine as well.”

Jack turned and looked up at him, eyes sparkling with surprise and hope. Pitch stood there, the picture of grace with his hands clasped behind him as he continued, “I’m, therefore, inviting you into my kitchen for tea.”

They were all stunned, even Jack, and he couldn’t contain himself. He moved closer to Pitch, resting a hand on his forearm and bouncing a little in place as he beamed up at him. “Really, Pitch?”

Pitch looked at him, his aloof demeanor warming slightly. “Certainly. If you wish, and they’re not expecting me to poison them.”

Jack’s heart throbbed hard in his chest because he knew exactly what it would mean for Pitch to even offer that. He looked to The Guardians, eyes wide and bright, a hopeful smile on his face.

Before anyone else could react, Tooth offered, “We’d love to! Right, everyone?”

“Of course,” North readily agreed. “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You are really okay with this? Pitch?”

Pitch sighed softly, placing a hand on Jack’s back, lightly just between his shoulder blades, but something about the gesture felt possessive. “Not particularly, but as long as you can all behave yourselves, it will be tolerated. Just remember where you are.”

The hand on Jack’s back felt like it was burning, and he realized at the same time that this was the first time the others were seeing him in these clothes. They’d changed a little bit over the short time he’d had them, not in style, but in pattern. Coexisting with the frost at his collar and hems, nightmare sand glittered subtly between the ice. It made him feel fancy and kind of magical.

He was so comfortable and used to the shadows already, but now, as he took in the sight of their concerned gazes roaming his body, it occurred to him how this must look. Far be it for the thought to make him uncomfortable, however. As Pitch turned, guiding Jack along with him, he felt goosebumps prickle over his skin. The others followed without comment, and Jack tried to lighten the mood, even as he continued to tingle pleasantly.

He looked over at Tooth, who was closest, with a bright smile. Everyone else might have been uneasy, but Jack just thought this was amazing. “See, I told you this place wasn’t that hard to find.”

Tooth smiled back, glancing at Pitch with a hint of playfulness. “Actually, we were invited.”

Jack’s eyes widened, glancing between Pitch and Tooth. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” North pitched in from just behind Tooth. “It was suggested to us that we might be worried about our dear Jack Frost and want to visit him, even if he is not ready for too much excitement.”

“Ah, good,” Pitch said wryly. “You remembered that part. Do keep that in mind. That goes to all of you,” he added, shooting Jack a stern look.

Jack grinned up at him radiantly. He was just so happy, he would agree to any of his demands. “Of course. You act like I’ve ever misbehaved a day in my life.”

Pitch snorted derisively. “Oh, of course not, Jack. I would never dream of hinting at such a thing.”

“Good, because I’d be offended,” he joked. “I’ve been on my best behavior, you know.”

Pitch’s head turned and he looked down at him, brows raised dramatically. “Oh, have you now?”

Jack grinned sheepishly, idly scratching his neck. “Yeah. I mean, kinda.” He paused. “Okay, maybe not my best behavior, but pretty good.”

Pitch just looked forward again, shaking his head, but then to Jack’s surprise murmured, “Well, I suppose you’ve earned it, haven’t you,” before letting his arm slide down to wind around his waist. Jack flushed as if Pitch had grabbed his ass. They hadn’t exactly…discussed how much to let The Guardians in on where their relationship stood yet, and yet Jack felt like they understood each other. They weren’t going to go out of their way to hide anything, and if The Guardians drew their own conclusions, so be it. That didn’t stop Jack’s face from burning as he moved a little closer to Pitch while they walked the final stretch to the kitchen.

They arrived in the large but comfortable space. Jack immediately glanced at the counter where he’d sat while the two of them made out like it was the last thing they’d ever do, and hurriedly looked away, his pulse skyrocketing. That, of all things, shouldn’t have been the one to frazzle him.

The Guardians seemed fascinated by the homey kitchen. This was where the actual cooking was done, and it seemed prepared to cater to large groups rather than just one man. Jack found it absolutely a blast to cook in because Pitch’s kitchen had everything you could possibly need, and many things you didn’t. Why did he even have two ovens?

The Guardians were probably more taken aback, though, by the atmosphere. It was well lived in, bundles of herbs and flowers hanging from the ceiling, strange bottles all over the counters, and it really gave off friendly witch vibes more than anything.

Jack was glad to leave them to ogle the room. As Pitch started putting the water on, Jack eagerly distracted himself from his nerves, lighting up as he hurried over to help get the tea things out. He knew how to do this now, and paused only to check with Pitch which tea he should use. He could have melted when he finished bringing things over, looked up at Pitch, and realized how much his demeanor had softened as he watched Jack flit about, setting out the cups and such. Jack laughed shyly.

“Um…did you want…the honey? Or that weird new sugar you got?”

“The honey, if you please. Thank you, Jack,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Jack laughed again with a bit of a manic grin as he tried to keep himself from getting flustered, but it seemed harder with The Guardians watching. His hand gripped the edge of the counter as he leaned against it, grinning up at him, hating his smug face, but helpless to do anything except swoon. It felt more like he was trying to hit on a cute guy in some bougie coffee shop rather than flirt with Pitch in his own kitchen. Pitch, who wore his ring. It didn’t sparkle as much in the low light, but he could still see it, and felt his own ring burning on his finger just under the cuff of his sleeve.

For a while, they just looked at each other, Jack thinking about all the things he wanted to say to him, things that usually would have ended with Pitch fucking him on the counter. Things like, ‘Come here often?’ or ‘Need a snack to go with your tea?’ And Pitch would say things like, ‘Well? Are you expecting a reward?’ or ‘Good boy…you like being useful to me, don’t you, starlight?’ And that’s why Jack couldn’t remember how to breathe properly even though nothing was happening.

“Right. Yeah, sure. Course. Uh.” He cleared his throat and tore himself away from Pitch and went over to the island where The Guardians sat, clearly trying to pretend as if they hadn’t been watching intently as he and Pitch half flirted. Their gazes quickly moved elsewhere around the room as they attempted to appear nonchalant.

Jack grinned as he hopped up onto the stool and set his staff aside, leaning it against the counter as he looked at everyone. “So…uhh, hi. How’s it going?”

He was surprised when Sandy produced a golden scroll and handed it to him, smiling widely. Jack took it, blue eyes big and round as he blinked down at the scroll then carefully unraveled it. It appeared to be blank at first, but then words began to appear across the page like he was watching them being written in real time. The glowing script shone brighter than the dream sand as if the shapes of the words were being cut out from the page and a blinding light was pouring through from the other side.

Jack was worried he wouldn’t be able to read it. How embarrassing would that be? But, actually, to his surprise, he could read it. He didn’t even have to ask for help and pride fluttered in his chest like a sparrow.

He read the words aloud as they appeared: “Jack Frost, you are invited…as the guest…of honor…to a…cel…celebration. As thanks for…” Jack stopped. He looked up at Sandy frowning. “I didn’t–...I mean…” He looked back down at the scroll, the heat of embarrassment steadily creeping through him, starting at his ears and bleeding down his neck and face. He continued reading. “As thanks for your act of heroism. Not only have you saved my life…but through your courage and empathy you may have managed to save a great many more still…as thanks, please join me tonight in your dreams. Sincerely, Sanderson Mansnoozie…Sandy, I can’t…I didn’t…you’re welcome, but–”

“Hush,” Pitch scolded, sipping at his tea and smirking. “It’s ungraceful to argue with a declaration of gratitude.”

Jack looked at him in disgust, as if he’d sworn at him. “Since when have I ever been graceful?”

“Often, actually, in the literal sense. As far as social graces go, there’s room for improvement.”

“Oh whatever,” he scoffed before turning his attention back to Sandy, nervous, but excited. “Sandman, is this for real?” he asked as the scroll rolled itself back up, dissolved into sand, and returned to Sandy.

Sandy began to explain, but as usual, Jack couldn’t follow. He sighed, wincing apologetically. He could make out one thing, however. “Uh…? The Guardians will be there?”

Sandy nodded happily, and Tooth cheerfully translated the rest. “If you’re feeling up for it, we thought you might want to get together and just have some fun for a change.”

Jack beamed. He felt like he was made of warm, gooey caramel in the middle as he considered how nice that was.

“I’ve…never been to a party,” he admitted, smiling, but a little hesitant. “Not really. Not one where anybody knew that I was there. That sounds amazing. Right?” Jack looked at Pitch, grinning.

Pitch nodded. “Absolutely. You’ll have a wonderful time, I can’t think of any reason why you shouldn’t go.”

Jack’s smile fell. “What about you?” Jack looked at Sandy and the others hesitantly, his excitement dying out like a weak candle flame. “Pitch can come too, right?”

Sandy’s eyebrows went up in surprise. He considered this a moment and looked at the others, nodding, but he seemed uncertain. That was no good. Jack frowned. “Well, hey, I’m not going if Pitch can’t come with me.”

“What makes you think I want to go?” Pitch teased, but immediately backtracked when he saw Jack’s heartbroken expression. His tone softened. “...of course I do. But I’m The King of Nightmares, Jack. It may be difficult to arrange safely.”

Jack slumped, crestfallen. “Oh.” He paused, considering this, then he forced a small smile, realizing he was being ungrateful. “I…” He was about to agree to go anyway, but his false smile crumbled and he sighed. “I’m…really sorry, Sandy, but if Pitch has to be excluded I can’t…I can’t go. Seriously, it means a lot that you even wanna do something like that for me. But I just…”

“Jack,” Pitch whispered gently, trying and failing to sound as though he were scolding him. “You don’t need me with you. It will be fun. You should go. I’ll be alright.”

Jack’s eyes swam with emotion as he gazed up at Pitch. Clearly, he was passionate about this. “No. You’re always excluded from everything. I’m not going to leave you here alone while I go have a blast with everyone else.”

Pitch examined Jack’s emphatic face with intense fondness. “Oh, little star. It’s just an evening…while you sleep. It’ll be over before I even know it. Besides, love, I’m the one who shot Sanderson, if you recall, or tried to, anyway. Of course I can’t attend a party celebrating you almost dying instead.”

“That’s not it at all,” Jack insisted. He looked to the others, face silently pleading. He wasn’t really sure why they all looked so awkward and embarrassed all of a sudden, particularly Sandy, and just assumed it had to do with the party dilemma. “You guys understand, right?”

Sandy’s lips pressed together, one cheek puffing up while his mouth scrunched up on the other side. He patted the counter lightly, like he was thinking hard about what to do, then he looked at North, symbols forming and collapsing over his head.

North nodded. “I do not mind at all. In fact, that sounds like a wonderful idea, Sandy, but I do not want to be stepping on toes.”

Sandy smiled brightly and looked back at Jack, who, as usual, had no idea what was happening.

“Um.”

“That’s really unnecessary,” Pitch insisted.

Sandy looked at him, a stern look on his face suddenly, and the two of them maintained intense eye contact as symbols appeared and disappeared so rapidly over Sandy’s head that Jack swore it was just a blob of sand whipping wildly around in the air. It couldn’t have possibly meant anything. Pitch wasn’t even looking at the mass of sand, but then he sighed.

“...I appreciate that. But I don’t see what you expect me to do. Yes, I would attend in that case, but I don’t think I can really assuage your concerns under any circumstances if that’s the issue, and as far as the rest goes, if you must know, you’re absolutely right. But I know for a fact that no one else in this room has any idea what we’re talking about, so let’s just keep that to ourselves for the moment, yes? You won’t even have a chance to finish your tea first, I assure you.” Sandy made another burst of sand and Pitch just looked at him evenly. “I know it’s rude, but you started it.”

“What the fuck is happening?” Jack asked the room at large as nightmare sand formed and reformed rapidly over Pitch’s head in response, assumably, to whatever Sandy was saying.

Tooth leaned against the counter, resting his elbow on it and propping her cheek up in her hand with a sigh of resignation, and vague amusement. “They do this, on occasion. Just give them a moment. It’s rather fascinating, actually.”

Jack blinked in confusion, but did just that, watching the two of them as they continued conversing in near total silence for a moment, then Jack murmured, “Do any of you know what they’re saying?”

“Something about…mm…” North began, but then gave up. “I have no idea.”

Bunny looked disgusted and rolled his whole head along with his eyes.

“How…how are…?” Jack began in a whisper, but then Pitch turned to him.

“Do you remember what I told you about the place I came from? Back before the shadows,” he explained quietly. Jack nodded. “Sandy and I grew up in the same part of the galaxy. His symbols he uses are, generally speaking, a simplified version of a language we both speak, and we are the only ones left living who speak it. I also happen to be a very fast reader.”

“Woah, seriously?” Jack considered this in awe. “...can you teach me?”

Pitch’s eyes widened in surprise, then he closed his eyes as if he were in pain. “...sweet thing.” He looked back at him. “Of course. First, though, the matter at hand. Sanderson has said he would prefer to have this celebration for you at North’s Workshop so that I may attend, under the condition that we meet briefly beforehand to discuss a few more things regarding whether or not I am trustworthy.” He glanced back at Sandy. “He does, however, believe I am trustworthy.”

Sandy smiled and nodded, and Jack was glad, but still confused. “Oh…okay. Why though?”

Pitch smirked a little, but said nothing. Jack looked to Sandy instead, then, and saw in amazement that he was blushing. Jack had never seen him blush before, and was immediately alarmed. He quickly looked back at Pitch, tugging on his arm.

“What the heck did you say to him?” he hissed.

Pitch laughed. “I’ll explain later. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“When you say that, it usually means there’s something to worry about.”

Pitch smiled and lightly brushed his fingertips up under Jack’s chin. “Star has a rather specific connotation, where we’re from.”

It was Jack’s turn to blush. “Oh.”

“This is fascinating and all,” Bunny began, “But can we talk about the fact that Jack is alright and exactly why that is? Cause I’m still lost. You were a wreck, mate. You were half gone when I saw yah, how are you all back to normal now?”

Ah, right. That probably was meant to be the whole point of this get together, wasn’t it? It had been ages since he’d seen any of The Guardians, with the exception of his confrontation with Bunny, which he hardly remembered at all, and his frantic visit with North, which he only remembered the tiniest bit better. They didn’t know anything about what had happened to the nightmare sand, why he was dressed like Pitch’s minion, they didn’t even know how close he’d been to dying.

“We were real worried about you,” Bunny said, looking him up and down from across the counter. “How do you feel? Really? I mean, if you’re not well enough to leave, you can’t be doing that good, can yah?”

Pitch cut in, “Oh, he’s well enough, technically speaking. I just don’t want him to.”

Jack chuckled, ruffling his own hair absentmindedly. “Yeah, I get…really tired really easy still. It’s definitely getting better, it’s just…a lot to get used to. Have…” He glanced up at them worriedly. “Have any of you seen Jamie? Or been to Burgess? Is everyone okay?”

Bunny scowled and looked away silently, which sent up an immediate red flag, but Tooth just smiled as she leaned forward, crossed her arms on the countertop and answered, “Oh yeah, he’s doing great. Sophie too, and Monty, and all the rest.”

“Oh,” Jack said uncertainly, looking between them all. “That’s…good. So everything’s…okay?”

She smiled brighter. “Yep! It was a lot of snow, but nothing Burgess can’t handle, for the most part. Lot of snowball fights, oh gosh, Jack, you would have loved it, I wish you could have seen the number of snow forts all over the town and all the kids in their cute little hats and mittens demolishing each other with snow, and the snowmen were so—“

Any worries Jack had began to dissolve as he listened to the stories The Guardians had to tell about the blizzard he’d created. They admitted it caused quite a bit of chaos, but didn’t get into the details too deeply before one of them was regaling them with another tale about an epic snowball fight, or how Jamie was doing.

Finally, though, Jack was tired of being distracted, and as Pitch brought the tray of tea and things over, he finally said, as tactfully as possible, “I appreciate you guys trying to spare me the details, but I know what a blizzard does. I know they’re dangerous, you don’t have to sugar coat—“

“Jack,” Pitch cut in firmly, taking a seat beside him. “Just because the nightmare sand has integrated doesn’t mean you should antagonize it.”

Jack turned sharply to look up at Pitch. “You told them not to talk about it.”

Pitch just gazed back at him evenly. “Of course I did.”

“You…” Jack let out an angry laugh of disbelief. “Don’t you think I should decide that?”

“Wait wait wait, hold on,” Bunny cut in. “What do you mean integrated? Stop changing the subject.”

Jack paused, looking between Bunny and the other concerned Guardians helplessly. “I…” He heaved out a great sigh, turning back to face them. “Alright, look. It wasn’t possible to get rid of it, so I just kind of kept it. But I can control it now, see?”

With a flourish of his hand, Jack materialized a small figurine of ice and nightmare sand blended together to create something new. As the frost and glittering sand fused before their eyes, the icy fractals retained a crystalline effect while the nightmare sand glittered and swam through the crystals like ink. The sand seemed to give the ice more depth, creating a mesmerizing layered effect while the dark shimmer of the sand shone like the flicker of stars. Jack was still struck by how strange and beautiful it was. He’d only tried using his abilities since that night a handful of times and it always came out a little different, but it always took his breath away, like the sky had then. Like Pitch had the first time he brought him there, to their favorite place. It was as if he’d sucked the Milky Way down into himself with a giant straw.

Pitch’s awestruck voice drew him from his own stupor, and seemed to snap everyone else out of it as well at the same time. “I didn’t know you could do that,” Pitch breathed, his face soft as he tore his gaze from the figure Jack had conjured…of Pitch. The two of them made eye contact and Jack flushed before quickly dissolving the figure and shoving his hands in his pockets. They were hopeless.

“So…um…that’s…it’s like both, but neither,” Jack quickly explained to distract from the fact that he was a simp. “And I’m still scared and…my emotions are really strong, but not like they were, and we’ve been working on coping skills to control them better, but like, at least I’m not just pushing them down like I was and that’s the point.” He sighed and looked at Pitch. “Can you make my tea for me?”

Pitch blinked in surprise. “…you want me to add the sugar for you.”

Jack averted his gaze to the countertop as he tapped his finger against it. “Yeah, it’s different when you make it…”

Pitch rolled his eyes but brought Jack’s cup closer to him and started adding the sugar.

Jack dared a glance at The Guardians. This…probably wasn’t going how they expected. Or maybe it was. Their faces contained varying levels of disbelief, disgust, and confusion, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh.

“Drink your tea,” he teased Bunny, who looked about ready to have one of his holes appear and swallow him and hadn’t even attempted to act like he cared about the tea.

At Jack’s words, he looks down at it as if he’d just realized he was holding it. Sandy was happily sipping his, cradling the cup in two hands. It looked like it was mostly milk. Tooth sipped elegantly at her tea, plain.

“It seems we’ve missed a lot,” North commented, looking around at them all before turning his attention back to Jack. His voice became more gentle. “Since that night when you came to me, I’ve had a change of heart that I think is important I share with everyone.”

Jack nodded eagerly. He was embarrassed, but if it would help their case then he was game. “Yeah, yeah, please. Go ahead. I don’t really…remember a lot of that, to be honest. I was really upset, and scared, because I wanted to talk to you about…about stuff, and didn’t think I should, but I couldn’t control myself. Sometimes I knew where I was and sometimes I didn’t. I was a mess. I’m really sorry about that.”

North waved his hand. “No, no, do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I only bring it up because until that day I did not see you and Pitch as being compatible in any regard simply because I wasn’t sure Pitch had it in him anymore to give you a chance to get close. But then…ohh then,” he emphasized, wagging his finger, “You came to me and Jack, you were inconsolable. I love you with my whole heart, and even I could not figure out how to help you. I didn’t understand. Then Pitch came and I saw a side of him I’d never seen before in all my many, many years. I saw a side of him that was capable of absolute selfless kindness and love and I thought to myself, this man, he cannot be so bad. I knew you were in good hands then.”

Jack stammered for a moment before letting out a little huff of laughter and smiling shyly at the counter. “...yeah. I am.”

North grinned. “The way he held you, the way he spoke to you, softer even than I myself would have likely done, it was inspiring to see someone who had been hurt so much still care so much about someone else. I could feel it, in my belly, that you had been right all along. It was something I wanted to believe, but until then could not. You should have seen the way he tossed me clear across workshop!” he added with a raucous belly laugh.

Jack’s eyes widened in horror and his head jerked around so he could stare down Pitch, enraged. “You what?”

Pitch raised a placating hand, but before he could say anything to defend himself, North laughed more and quickly said, “Now, Jack, be reasonable. He was protecting you. I realized later I had my hands on you and to him? Probably did not look very good. Especially after what happened with Bunny.”

Bunny jabbed a finger at him and bit back defensively, “Hey, that was not my fault. He attacked me, I was just trying to keep the little larrikin still. If I weren’t me, I doubt I’d even have been able to catch him at all, let alone stop him from pounding me into the ground.”

Jack’s wide eyes refocused on Bunny, his face a mask of horror. “Wait…wait, what do you mean? What happened? I thought you were the one that hurt me, you had me on the ground, I…I couldn’t breathe, I thought I was dying. Are you saying I attacked you?”

“Easy now, Jacky,” Bunny began carefully, trying to head off Jack’s panic. “Yeah, alright? You did, but I was fine. Pitch came and got you in no time. Good thing, too. Totally blindsided me, you were on me like a real devil, yelling about how I…” He glanced down into his tea cup, his shoulders hunched as his voice got a little quieter. “How I didn’t believe in you…how I thought you were worthless and wanted you to just disappear again. That…that I would be glad when the nightmare sand killed you, and it would be my fault.”

Jack sandwiched his head between his hands like he was trying to keep it from splitting into two halves. “What? I said that? …are you serious? That’s…that’s not…”

He was mortified. He could hardly breathe. The nightmare sand wasn’t gone, it just wasn’t going to kill him probably, but he could still feel it inside him in moments like these, intensifying everything. He hardly felt tethered to his body at all right now and he wrapped his arms around himself tight, trying to catch his breath.

“I know, I know you weren’t in your right mind, mate, I don’t hold it against you. Especially because I…” Bunny looked up at him, wincing, ears flattened timidly. “...I was the reason you thought those things in the first place. I’ve thought a lot about it…I…” His eyes scanned the countertop nervously. “I could’ve handled all of this better…Pitch might have been the reason we didn’t trust you at first, but everything after that, that was all me. My fears, my prejudices…I cared about you, but never really gave you a chance to feel cared about, ya know?”

Jack swallowed a lump in his throat as their eyes met. He nodded a little.

“Anyhow, point is, I never meant to make you feel like that. I never wanted that. I care about you, mate. I still don’t trust this guy, probably never will,” he added, glowering at Pitch as he finally raised his teacup. “Just because Pitch is protective over him doesn’t automatically mean whatever's going on here is okay. He could just see him as a good asset.” Jack was about to interrupt, but Bunny continued hesitantly, “But…I do admit…seein’ The Nightmare King cradling Jack like that…stickin’ up for ‘im. He went absolutely feral trying to protect Jack. Never saw anything like it. At the very least, I’ll say for the record, I think Pitch genuinely cares about him, if nothing else.”

Jack froze, hardly even breathing. He was too stunned to even react other than to glance at Pitch to make sure he’d heard that too. Pitch was staring at Bunny hard, like he thought maybe this was somehow a trick.

“I just don’t get why,” Bunny added.

Jack sipped his tea to stall for time while Pich frowned, resting his arm on the counter as he stared Bunny down. “And why shouldn’t I?”

“Last I checked, you didn’t care about anybody,” Bunny shot back, leaning towards him over the counter, a skeptical dip in his brow. “You can go on with whatever fantasies it is you’re living in, and I get that you both wanna keep up whatever this is. But there is no way this is healthy, or safe. And sure, fine, none of my business, except it is when Jack’s my mate, and this cockroach is trying to take over the bloody world.”

“He’s not trying to—“ Jack began, but Bunny slapped his paw on the counter, cutting him off.

“No, shut it. You love threatening me when I interrupt you, don’t you? How ‘bout you listen for a change?”

Beside him, Jack felt more than saw Pitch tense out of the corner of his eye. His rage rolled off him like heat, but he let Jack fight his own battles, for now, and stayed out of it. Based on the way his hand was opening and closing on his thigh, flexing his claws, it wasn’t easy though.

“You can’t tell me for one damn second,” Bunny continued, jabbing his finger at Pitch again, “You didn’t consider for one second how good it would be for you to have the youngest, most vulnerable, impressionable and desperate of all of us under your thumb.”

Jack glared, trying to just act like he was mad and his feelings weren’t genuinely hurt. “Hey. Come on, that’s–”

“We all know he would be so, so easy to manipulate with even just a little bit of attention and he won’t think twice about it with his half a brain cell. So what happen, Pitch, you fall for your own—“

Pitch stood. The movement wasn’t fast, and it was completely silent, but they all jumped. When he spoke it was a strong reminder to Jack that Pitch often spoke to him with care and softness in his voice, usually venturing only into grumpy, stern, or sarcastic. But this cold venom he spat across the table now as he pinned Bunny under his gaze was something Jack hadn’t heard for a long time.

“How dare you insult him in my presence? In my home?” As he spoke the shadows around them grew, and while Jack didn’t feel threatened in the slightest, The Guardians all looked terrified. He waved his hand, gesturing to Jack, who was frozen at his side. “It is because of intellectually bankrupt detritus like you that he believes he is stupid and any number of other sickening falsehoods he’s been force fed over the years. You want pathetic? How about a creature so broken it can no longer stand on its own nor think for itself. A foolish, insignificant, helpless wounded animal that sits in a hole all day hiding, constantly whining every time it surfaces, oh boo hoo, poor me, look at me, look at what I’ve lost.”

Pitch leaned across the table, jabbing his finger at him as he spat, “You are a coward. You're so afraid of what might happen that you can’t stand to care about anyone but yourself. But you have nothing left to lose now, isn’t that right?” Pitch shook his head slowly. “You don’t want to discuss desperate things with me, rodent, and even more so, you do not want to discuss Jack Frost, ever, in any manner that is anything but entirely respectful. If you cannot handle even that, you will remove yourself from my presence.”

Bunny seemed too stunned and shaken to answer and at first Jack thought he wouldn’t, but then he managed to spit back breathlessly, “Oh…oh yeah? And if I don’t, you’ll turn us all into shadows, huh?”

“No.” He said, continuing to stare him down, and Jack was quite sure he hadn’t even blinked once this entire time. “I will send you back to your hole to continue stroking your own childish ego while we find something better to do with our time. Go on, I dare you, sling one more insult his way and watch what happens.” His gaze snapped to the other three Guardians viciously. “Why is it that I’m the one standing here speaking on his behalf now? If he is so young, if he does need such minding, then why is it none of you can even afford one word to speak in his defense?” He scoffed and sat back down, elegantly throwing one leg over the other with a swish of his robe. “Really. Idiots. No wonder he resorted to my company…”

Jack stared up at him, still breathing a bit heavily even though he’d realized there might not be a confrontation after all. He’d never…ever had anyone speak up for him like that before, and it felt good, but it was more than a little overwhelming. He didn’t even realize that was an option. Jack was pretty good at speaking up for himself, but he realized now that maybe he’d gotten so used to being treated a certain way he didn’t think to ask for anything different. Pitch’s outrage was confusing, but it felt good. It felt amazing.

He shut his eyes tight, turned, and leaned into Pitch, pressing his face to his shoulder as he said in a quivering whisper, “Thank you.”

Pitch slid an arm around him and gathered him close, his free hand running lazily through his hair. Jack wished he could just sit on his damn lap, but even he knew that would be weird.

The reaction around the table was mixed and after some grumbling and back and forth between Bunny and the others, things settled down again. Tooth did not look happy with Bunny at all, but they all seemed to acknowledge that what Pitch had said in response crossed a line. The overall feeling was that they were at an impasse.

“I get that you’re looking out for me, Bunny, too, just so you know. I really do get it,” Jack offered quietly. “We’ll…we’ll get through all of that. Everything you’re worried about, just…just chill, okay?”

Bunny scoffed and looked away, but the twitch of his ears seemed to indicate he was, indeed, still listening.

“I know what it is you want,” Pitch teased, pulling Jack tighter to him. “It bothers you that I care about Jack.”

Jack glanced up at Pitch bashfully, unsure how to react. Looking back at Bunny, he saw that he looked both embarrassed and irritated in equal measure. “Yes. It does. You’re still a creep and I don’t know why either of you even bothers to act like nothing’s going on with you two. Something is clearly going on, and I don’t like it one bit, especially when he’s not well. In fact, I don’t see much of any point discussing it when Jack hasn’t been in his right mind since you’ve known each other.”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise, then he shot him a glare. He didn’t like what he was implying at all. “What? What is that supposed to mean?”

The golden glow of Sandy’s dream sand caught his attention as symbols suddenly flashed over his head. Jack was fairly surprised he wasn’t actually asleep at this point. Maybe it was because he hadn’t finished his tea yet.

North fussed at his beard thoughtfully, an intensely serious look on his face. “That wasn’t for very long, though. Afterwards, Jack was held captive. Then he could have been suffering the after effects of the dream sand. Then he came back to us very upset, after receiving his memories, then the nightmare sand, all of this in a very short time.”

Jack frowned. When you put it like that it sounded pretty bad and all he could really come up with to counter it with was, “It’s not that short. It’s been a long time, you’re just super old so it doesn’t seem like it. I’ve had plenty of time to…to make decisions about our…our, uh…”

They waited for him to go on. He glanced at Pitch, but realized there was no rescue coming. After all, this was what he wanted. What they both wanted.

Jack took a deep breath. “Alright…alright, yeah. You know what?” He looked around at everyone, his resolve crystallizing in a flash. “We are together. Romantically. We kiss and everything. We’ve been living together, we’ve…I wasn’t even kidnapped. I just didn’t want to leave the faeries behind, but we live together. We have been, I just didn’t have any way to tell you.”

He couldn’t seem to stop now that he started, and he was panicking a little because he felt like too much honesty was pouring out of him, but it just kept coming, he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t–

“So, there you go. We’re dating…not even dating, it’s kind of serious actually. Well no, not kind of, it’s very serious, we’re actually sort of engaged. Or really married, depending on how you look at it, it’s not like we’re going to have this big…I mean we could, but we haven’t talked about…anyway, so the point is I am…” He let out a huge rush of breath. “So in love. It’s gross, honestly, you’ll see, like…” He paused, looking at Pitch. “I don’t mean you’re gross, you are the opposite of gross, I just mean we’re very, like…cute. Like sickening cute. You know?” He looked back at everyone again, but wasn’t really seeing them, and he knew he was totally off the rails now because of the way Pitch was smirking at him like a flirtatious shark, trying to decide whether or not to eat its date, but he didn’t stop him, oh, no. Pitch was having the time of his life watching Jack come apart like this.

“I know you’re all gonna say I’m being manipulated or whatever, but I’m…the happiest I’ve ever been. It hasn’t been easy, obviously, we’re both really messed up, and you all want to kill each other, so yeah, obviously we’ve had issues. I know I was just with you sobbing on the floor, I know he shot me. I get it, really, but you’re all just gonna have to deal because there is literally nothing you can do to stop me from being absolutely crazy bonkers in love with Pitch. I love him so much it makes just existing fun instead of terrifying, which is pretty ironic since, you know, Nightmare King, but it’s true, he…”

Jack paused and took a breath, trying to slow himself down, but he’d gone from reluctant to radiant and now all he wanted to do was talk about Pitch to make up for all the time he hadn’t been able to. Still, he could feel the stupid face he was making. He couldn’t stop smiling, even while the others looked on in shock and horror. It couldn’t touch him at all. “I’m just trying to say that there is so much you don’t know about him. If you could see him the way I see him…”

He looked up at Pitch, starry-eyed, and powered on with feverish intensity. “I always just wanted to…not be alone, you know? But I didn’t even imagine it could be…like this. I didn’t know there could be anyone that really understood me and wanted to make a real…life and a home together that was for both of us and not just this thing you’re expected to do, but something that makes everything better and easier and more fun. Like I have actual goals now and they seem kind of possible. He’s just so interesting and mature and he’s absurdly hot, and he’s still into me for some reason…and I still don’t really get it, but…I just…he makes me feel so much…like me again. You know? After spending so much time alone and just…my mind just…this sounds dramatic, but it was really like I was dying on the inside. Like I was dying, me, Jack, like my center was getting really small or breaking apart into pieces or something, and I honestly thought that was probably permanent, but now I feel so…I feel so…”

He bubbled over with laughter and as Pitch looked down on him, infatuated, Jack wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down closer so their foreheads could bump together. “I’m so happy.”

Pitch wound his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace, hugging him so tight Jack’s butt came up off his stool. Jack laughed as he nestled into his shoulder and Pitch leaned in close and nuzzled his nose across the side of Jack’s face and neck, actually growling, like he just couldn’t control himself. He did, in fact, look positively ravenous, like he’d always, always been waiting for Jack to say those words exactly like he had. His bold declaration of love in front of The Guardians turned Pitch into this wild, desperate creature that didn’t know what to do with the love bursting out of him and this was probably the most beautiful way to break a person: love them more than they knew how to be loved.

Finally, Pitch placed him back on his seat so that he could take Jack’s face in his hands and look him in the eye. “I love you, Jack Frost, you beautiful, perfect thing,” he purred roughly. He didn’t care that there was anyone else in the room. Jack had freed him. The Nightmare King bore down on his master, golden eyes blazing with hypnotic intensity.

Jack swallowed, breathless, and tore his eyes away from Pitch to spare a glance for The Guardians. They all seemed to have simultaneously gone into shock. It was like Pitch was a panther Jack had tamed, shameless in his blatant show of affection now that he was finally allowed, and none of them, Jack included, had been prepared for this. They’d expected Jack to be wrapped around his finger, and he clearly was, but they hadn’t expected Pitch to be just as lovesick. Even more than that, they hadn’t expected Pitch to allow anyone, even Jack, to have so much control over him, but it was clear that there was no room for pride or reason. If Jack had wanted him to, Pitch would have cut them down without a second thought. In fact, he wasn’t cutting them down precisely because of Jack and that was likely the only reason.

Jack flushed straight to his ears and let out a breathless little, slightly manic, smattering of laughter. “Pitch,” he gasped, unsure what he was asking for.

A strong arm gathered Jack as close as he could while his other hand grasped Jack’s chin, securely, like he was preparing to support the entire weight of his head by cradling it in his palm. He turned Jack’s head to The Guardians, pressing closer. When he spoke, Pitch’s voice came from just above his head.

“You see? You’ve wasted your time. All that effort you put into getting rid of me and turning him against me and he still knows where he belongs. He knows where his home is, it’s with me. You don’t have to understand, I know you don’t understand, but it doesn’t matter because he’s mine. My love for him is greater than anything you could possibly have to offer.” Pitch’s mouth angled down so that Jack could feel his hot breath in his hair against the top of his head. “My star, would you please show them your hand?”

Jack didn’t have to ask which one. He was glad Pitch was there to support him because he felt like he was going to pass out, and that was barely an exaggeration. The whole room seemed to swim and why bother to support any of his own weight when Pitch was doing it? Everywhere Pitch touched him felt absolutely molten. It was hypnotizing and he was surprised how easy it was to obey, how much he wanted to, so he unhooked his thumb from the hole in his sleeve, pushed it up, then put his hand out and showed them all the ring.

Tooth gasped and Bunny swore. Maybe they thought Jack wasn’t being literal when he said they were basically married, or maybe it was just shocking to actually see evidence of it, but in any case, there it was. Pitch lifted his arm from where it was wrapped possessively around his waist and instead laced his fingers with Jack’s much smaller hand. They couldn’t have looked more different. Jack stared at Pitch’s black claws against the backdrop of his own pale skin and couldn’t help but smile. He squeezed Pitch’s hand back and felt Pitch rest his chin on Jack’s head lightly as he flipped their hands over, showcasing his own glittering ring of ice and darkness.

It was perfect. They were perfect.

The crystalline surface glittered in the low, warm light of the kitchen. Jack stared at it, hardly breathing. He couldn’t believe it. Pitch was wearing his ring. Pitch was proud of it, that he was Jack’s.

Bunny’s voice snapped him out of it. “You don’t seriously think that we’re just learning all this now. Right? I mean, do you hear yourself? It’s Pitch this, and Pitch that, all the time, you’re obsessed with the guy and he’s sure as hell always been obsessed with you.”

Jack’s eyes widened as his gaze shot back up to Bunny. “You…you knew?” he stammered, releasing Pitch’s hand, letting his own hand fall limply onto the counter. Pitch chuckled and released his face, scratching his nails lightly under his chin as his hand pulled away.

“Of course I did! We’ve known for ages!” Bunny cried in exasperation.

Jack looked around at all their sheepish faces for a moment, and at Pitch who just looked very smug as he shrugged, then Jack hid his face in his arms on the countertop. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…!” he whined quietly.

“It’s okay, Jack,” Tooth offered gently, reaching across the counter and giving his arm an encouraging little pat. “Love and death make fools of us all, I believe the saying goes. If you could see you from our perspective, you wouldn’t be nearly so surprised…oh, and congratulations!”

“I told you this would happen, didn’t I?” Pitch added helpfully. “More or less.”

“Why am I the only one that didn’t know this?!” Jack cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Sandy, did you know?”

Sandy was just starting to doze. He pried his eyes open to peek at Jack. He raised a cheeky eyebrow at him, flashed him a little smirk, then went back to sleep.

Jack turned to Pitch and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me everyone already knew?”

Pitch pressed his lips together for a moment like he did sometimes when he was trying not to call Jack cute, so that’s probably exactly what was happening, then he said, “I didn’t know that…I assumed it, but I didn’t know for sure.”

“You’re such an ass. I was so nervous.”

“You would deny me the gift of hearing you declare your love for me so loudly and proudly to a room full of people that hate me? This will be one of my fondest memories.”

Jack sighed in resignation. “Fine, I get it…” He jabbed his fingers at the others playfully. “You can judge me all you want, but you all know Pitch is hot. I’m not saying you’re attracted to him or whatever, which like, even that’s hard for me to believe because I mean, look at him, but you gotta admit you get it, right?”

He looked around at everyone, expecting them all to concede to some degree, in their own ways, that yes, Pitch was objectively extremely good-looking, mysterious, and couldn’t even breathe without being naturally seductive. But, in disbelief, he realized as he examined their vacant faces that they either didn’t think that or weren’t willing to admit it.

“Look at him. Do you…have you heard him open his mouth? Like ever? …uh-uh, no way, I refuse to believe none of you know what I’m talking about.”

Jack was thrilled when Sandy finally, after some thought, nodded, and when the others looked at him like he was nuts, Sandy just smiled and shrugged.

“See?” Jack cried, grinning and pointing at him, then said playfully, “Sandy gets it. You’re all just cowards and don’t wanna admit it.”

He looked back at Pitch with a laugh and saw him gazing back, eyes smoldering as they looked Jack up and down slowly. Jack quickly looked away, blushing as if Pitch’s tongue had never been in his ass.

“Anyway. So…” He hesitated, gathering courage, then looked back at The Guardians, wincing. “Does that mean you’re not all, like, super pissed at me for smooching the enemy or whatever?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Bunny grumbled.

Tooth caught his eye and smiled. “We talked about it a little and we don’t think it’s fair, after everything you’ve given us, to treat you that way. Even outside of just how much we care about you as friends, you are a Guardian to us, even if you don’t think so, and you have a lot to offer the children. You’re one of us, Jack.”

“We have a looong long history with Mr. Boogeyman,” North added. “It can’t simply be forgotten, but…” He made eye contact with Pitch. Jack looked between them in confusion.

“What?”

Still looking at North, Pitch muttered, “There’s only so much stress I’m willing to subject you to. If you’re going to meet again to talk about the finer details of things, then I think that’s enough for today. Don’t you?”

North nodded. “Exactly.”

Jack quickly looked to Pitch, eyes round and sad. “You want them to leave?”

Pitch looked back at him, smiled a little, and reached out to ruffle Jack’s hair affectionately with his fingertips. “They can stay a bit more, but this is a lot all at once for you, don’t you think?”

Jack swallowed down a whine, because how was he supposed to argue with Pitch when he talked to him so softly while playing with his hair? “...alright. Yeah.”

“Do you feel alright?”

Jack’s gaze fell shyly. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Pitch fussing over him in front of everyone else. He kind of loved it, but it was also super embarrassing. He didn’t even think Pitch was doing it on purpose, for the most part. This was just how they always were.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Little tired, anxious, but nothing too bad.”

Pitch nodded in approval, reached out, and pet his chin. “I have just the thing,” he said, pressing a kiss to Jack’s temple as he stood and walked to the other side of the kitchen, leaving Jack sitting there absolutely burning. Those sweet little moments got to Jack even more than the filthy things Pitch would sometimes whisper in his ear. Moments when Jack felt absolutely cherished and taken care of and seen. He felt so knocked over the head with bliss that he barely minded that The Guardians were sitting right there, watching this all unfold. He just couldn’t care.

Pitch returned a moment later with a tray of scones. Jack’s eyes sparkled.

“Yo.”

Pitch handed him one then offered them to The Guardians as well with all the reluctant energy of an introvert being forced to host guests. Jack watched him do this with a lopsided smile. He was handling this quite well. Everyone was, actually. Shockingly well, even, and looking around at everyone he couldn’t help but feel warm and fuzzy. He was proud of them and felt cared about. It seemed something vital had shifted and everyone understood each other a little better. Jack just wished it hadn’t taken him breaking apart to bring them together, but if that’s really what came of this then it was more than worth it.

“This is…so weird,” he said as he watched Bunny skeptically accept a scone from the platter Pitch was holding. Based on his facial expression, it seemed odd to Bunny that Pitch could even really be this domestic. Oh, he had no idea.

“So what does a frost spirit do for fun down here for all this time?” North asked, leaning curiously across the table towards Jack. He took a bite of his scone, first eying the pink icing on it with a bit of surprise, then his eyes widened. “Amazing! What flavor is this, Pitch?”

Pitch sighed as he sat back down beside Jack, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. “Blood orange. It makes a naturally pink glaze.”

Jack was busy being in love with his baked goods, but eventually realized he’d been asked a question. “Oh, uh, fun.” He glanced at Pitch. Pitch glanced back at him sideways and licked some icing from his lips. Not. Helping.

Jack looked forward again. “Um. Well. There are some underground pools, which is neat. The caves go on and on so they’re super fun to explore, I’m always finding new things. I actually like reading apparently, which is…a little surprising. Journaling is harder, but I do that kind of a lot. I like hanging out with the nightmares and shadows, they’re really cool.”

With the exception of Pitch, they all stared at him, stunned.

“Oh come on, guys, it’s not that surprising I can read.”

Pitch had to cover a snort of laughter as Sandy’s symbols formed slowly over his head. Jack concentrated. He really wanted to get better at this. “Uh…oh! The nightmares? It’s surprising I get along with them?” Sandy nodded eagerly, smiling, and Jack was proud of himself. He grinned. “Not really, I mean, they’re really chill, actually. The shadows too. Right, guys?” He held up his hand, smiling. “Do you guys wanna show them? Is that cool?”

The others looked confused, but realized, as a translucent blob of shadow came together in Jack’s open palm, that he was speaking to the shadows. Jack could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but especially Pitch’s burning gaze, as he held up the ball and smiled brightly at it. “They’re really cool. Basically, just like, don’t be a dick and they’re good. Only because Pitch befriended them though, of course.” He moved his hand up and down a little, enjoying the physics of the shadow blob. It was light and airy but gelatinous and bobbed and jiggled in his hand like you might expect, but it also seemed to have a mind of its own and wiggled a little in every direction like it was deciding which way to go before ultimately choosing to stay where it was.

“Fascinating!” North cried. “And that is because of the nightmare sand.”

“Oh, ah, no, actually. I could always do this,” Jack explained. He made the mistake of glancing at Pitch and felt electricity dance up his spine as he saw the cocky, possessive look on his face. Suddenly, Jack got the feeling that there were few things Jack could have done in front of The Guardians that pleased him more. He swallowed and flicked his gaze back to the shadow.

“Um…right, what was I saying? …oh, yeah, so we’ve been friends a while, even before I met Pitch.” He tried to tip the shadows out of his hand onto the counter, but they melted around his hand and clung to him like a gel, and there was no getting them off. Jack laughed.

“That’s incredible,” Tooth murmured, watching closely with fascination. “I had no idea.”

“Your Man in the Moon may have tried to claim him, but Jack was born in shadow,” Pitch explained proudly, an arrogant little tilt to his chin. “He belonged to them, to me, long before the day he was declared to be a Guardian.”

Jack looked at him, heat pooling low in his stomach and in his face. He wanted to protest. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, really, he just…he was shy, and Pitch really just went for it and stated it outright. But he couldn’t protest. Because Pitch was absolutely right.

“Pitch…” he murmured pleadingly, but attracting Pitch’s gaze just made it even worse, because there was no doubt in his eyes. No hesitation. He knew Jack belonged to him thoroughly.

The Guardians seemed to be waiting for Jack to deny it, but the two of them just sat there silently, Jack melting as Pitch smirked, welcoming him to play his hand. He waited, fanning his fingers elegantly in the air in front of him.

“What he’s trying to say,” Jack said, giving Pitch a pointed look, “Is that we’ve known each other a long time. And I’m…very good with them. They accept me, I guess. As…part of them.”

“Yes, Pitch mentioned he’d given you your memories back,” Tooth said, resting her chin on her tented fingers, and bless her for saving Jack from any further awkwardness. “That must have been quite a shock. I’m not asking you to talk about it, but I do want to apologize to you, Jack. I simply didn’t realize that you didn’t remember. I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.”

Jack shrugged a little, swirling his tea around in his cup as he stared into it. “Thanks. It’s not your fault.” He paused thoughtfully then murmured, with a rueful smile on his face, “Would have been nice if anyone had bothered to ask. You know, instead of just talking at me whenever it’s convenient for them. Using me to get things off their chest because they know poor lonely Jack isn’t going anywhere no matter what you say to him or how you treat him. Need a shoulder to cry on? Sure. How about a punching bag? Sounds good. Just feel like looking into me like a mirror, that’s cool too, whatever, right? As long as you’re having fun. As long as everyone else is having fun, who cares how Jack’s doing? What does it matter if he’s forgotten his entire childhood and been alone for centuries, spent the whole time screaming into the void, begging anyone to just please, look at me, and no one even fucking noticed.”

The kitchen was as silent as the bottom of Jack’s favorite cave spring. Jack swiped a stray tea leaf off the edge of his cup absentmindedly before wiping it off on his pants and that’s when he realized it had been quiet for a while. He looked up and, seeing the stricken looks on everyone’s faces, he froze, registering at last what he’d just said.

Setting his cup down with a clatter, he looked around in a panic and gripped the edge of the counter. His whole body tensed as the instinct to take to the wind at the first sign of danger suddenly became overwhelming.

“I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I…”

Where the hell had that come from? What the fuck was he saying? Why would he…?

He might have bolted, but he paused at the sight of Pitch’s hand reaching out to him, palm up on the counter. Hesitantly, Jack took it, breath hitching as he pushed down the emotion trying to bubble out of him like blood from the mouth of a stabbing victim.

“Was your tea too sweet, Jack?”

Jack drew his attention back to Pitch’s face and blinked at him, confused. “What?”

“Your tea. Should I add less sugar next time? Or maybe you’d prefer the honey.”

Pitch’s voice lulled him down from the edge of his panic. It took him a second to answer, but finally he swallowed, shook his head a little, and murmured thickly, “No. No, it was good. It’s perfect. But…”

Pitch stood and gently tugged Jack to his feet along with him and over to the counter. “Show me how you make it. Even if you think I do it better.”

Jack looked up at him incredulously. “But…okay, but I have to—“

“No,” Pitch said sternly, pushing the tea things directly in front of him and grabbing him a new cup. “Do this first. Go on.”

Jack grit his teeth in frustration. He was embarrassed, he was tired, he didn’t want to be broken like this, but he was and now he was hurting people and maybe he should have just let the sand— “Why?”

Pitch hummed. “Disappointing, you should know how to do this by now.”

“I know how, Pitch, I—this is stupid.”

“Then do it.”

“You’re stupid,” Jack shot back. “Leave me alone.”

Pitch waited patiently.

“I hate this,” he complained, finally realizing what was going on. He didn’t want to have to learn new coping skills for every goddamn thing, it wasn’t fair, and fuck Pitch for nagging him about it all the time, half the time they didn’t even work.

Pitch had no comment. He watched him, expression still even and unaffected.

“I hate you,” Jack said, sounding petulant at best and at worst like he was reading it off a script he’d grown quite bored with.

“You don’t.”

Jack winced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I love you. God, what’s wrong with me?”

“Still waiting for that tea,” Pitch sing-songed impatiently.

Groaning loudly, Jack turned towards the counter and finally did as he was told. “Uggghhh, FINE. Hold on, everybody, Pitch needs me to make some fucking tea right this second.”

Sighing, he grabbed the sugar and a small silver spoon, then began adding it to the cup. He knew Pitch wanted him to think about something else for a minute, so he played along and he focused intently on the barely-there tinkling of sugar granules against the china, then the smooth handle of the creamer. He could spare a minute. The Guardians would still be sitting there, still just as offended. He could barely even remember what he said to them, but before he could think on it too hard he forced himself to pay attention to what he was doing, knowing Pitch was scrutinizing his every move.

Finally, he’d done it, and he had one cup of boring ass tea with too much sugar in it. He looked up at Pitch, a little calmer. “There. Happy? Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

Pitch hummed in approval and Jack went very still as the older spirit’s warm fingertips trailed up his cheek. Slowly, Pitch took Jack’s face in his hand, cradling it with careful reverence, his gazed soft with adoration as he cooed, “There’s my Jack. Look how far you’ve come, I’m so proud. Well done, little star.”

Jack didn’t have time to properly dedicate enough brain space to registering those words because he was distracted by the sparks bursting behind his eyes as Pitch kissed him, slow and sweet. As far as Jack was concerned, he’d never even heard of The Guardians. He relaxed into Pitch’s palm further with a helpless little sound. His head felt so heavy. Everything was heat and gold and gray skin as Pitch reminded him why he liked kissing so much.

By the time Pitch was finished with him, although it couldn’t have been more than a few blissful moments, Jack was wrecked. He leaned against the counter for support, head spinning pleasantly, a lazy smile on his face.

With a little chuckle, Pitch placed a hand at the small of his back and herded him back to his seat before placing the cup of tea in front of him.

“Now. Let’s get something straight,” Pitch began, sitting and lacing his hands on the countertop. “Jack hasn’t had the ability to express himself honestly for a long time. The four of you might be tempted to describe it by saying the nightmare sand forces outbursts; that perception is because you’re selfish. What’s actually happening is that Jack now has a very difficult time pretending he’s fine for your benefit even when he’s not. It’s inconvenient, but it’s healthy. He shouldn’t have to pretend, but he hasn’t learned to find a space between silence and crisis yet so you’ll all just have to adjust and be patient.” North opened his mouth to interject, but Pitch raised his hand politely. “Blame it on me all you like. Say it’s my evil influence or whatever, it makes no difference, but ask yourselves honestly first whether this rings true.”

Jack watched Pitch, stunned, as he leaned towards them over the counter slightly, eyes narrowed. “Ask yourselves what fear is for.”

“…survival,” Jack murmured, unable to meet anyone’s eye.

“Seems pretty good at kicking up a fuss to me without any of that,” Bunny commented with a severe frown, but Jack still thought it seemed like the scone had improved his mood.

“Naturally. And about what exactly?” Pitch challenged.

Bunny waved his hand at him. “You, mostly.” He looked back at Jack. “But you’ve never been afraid of a little confrontation, have you? Trouble’s your middle name, ain’t it? You’re not some…some people-pleaser.”

“Isn’t he?” Tooth offered gently, looking from Bunny then to Jack. “I’m sorry, Jack, I don’t mean to talk about you as if you aren’t here. I’m just saying I think I understand, as much as I can anyway. Some things are harder to be honest about than others. I may, for example, be able to ask someone for a glass of water, but not tell them I don’t like the way they’re speaking to me. Both are quite mild, basic requests, but they feel quite different, don’t they?”

Jack groaned and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Could you look at me, Jack? Please?” Tooth asked so softly that he found it surprisingly easy to acquiesce. She smiled radiantly at him. “We came here for you. This is why we’re here! Clearly, you feel as though we haven’t been there for you and that’s because you’re absolutely right, and it doesn’t matter why. That’s how you feel, and as your family we care about that, so we want to hear about it. You don’t have to be embarrassed. It never feels good to make the people you love feel bad, but you can’t just keep pretending everything’s fine or it all comes falling down in the end, doesn’t it?”

Jack pressed his lips together tightly, his eyes glossing with a sheen of unshed tears. Family. “I…” He laughed shakily. “I’ve never…felt so seen. Wow. I mean, by Pitch, obviously, but to have anyone else…um…yeah, I still don’t really even…have a grasp on these things myself so just…” He hesitated then laughed again. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to apologize or not, but I am sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. If you guys could be patient with me a little more, that would be really cool.”

“Of course, Jack,” Tooth enthused, beaming.

The others agreed, and Jack had to hide his face again, laughing bashfully. This was all so strange, and in many ways he just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted them to be easy. But they were never really easy, were they?

“Thanks…seriously, guys, that…” He beamed as he looked around at all of them, unsure why he’d ever assumed they wouldn’t be supportive. If he thought about it of course, he’d understand why. Saying you cared and showing it didn’t always mean the same thing, even if the feeling was genuine either way, but now, after everything, it seemed like they were all very close to being on the same page, and that hit him pretty hard.

The rest of their little get together was more relaxed now that they got some of the more difficult things out of the way. It mostly devolved into banter and stories about things Jack had missed, or Jack talking about what they’d been up to. It was more peaceful and amiable than he ever would have hoped it could be, having all of them in the same room.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

Chapter Text

It really hadn’t been that long. Jack didn’t know what he was so worried about, but as they entered Burgess his stomach was tight with dread.

“You said it wasn’t that bad, right?” He looked over at Pitch, practically gliding along beside him in all his ethereal elegance.

Pitch looked back at him. “No matter what I say, you’re going to assume the worst from it. But yes, it’s not that bad. No one has died, with the exception of that older woman that got into a car accident during the storm. Otherwise, Burgess and everyone in it is recovering quite well.”

Recovering from what, though, Jack wondered. Something was wrong for them to have to recover from, otherwise Pitch would just tell him, yes Jack, they’re all completely fine. Burgess was not fine. It had survived, but it was certainly not fine.

He was just getting antsy enough to ask again if Pitch was sure he didn’t want to just tell him when they spotted the Bennett’s van pulling into the driveway. He soared over, suddenly excited to greet his little buddy and see for himself how he was doing, when he stopped dead. As the car door slid open on its track, Jack dropped back to his feet.

“Oh, god, Jamie.” He clawed at his stomach, grimacing. “Oh, little dude. I’m so sorry.”

Jamie just continued laughing and joking with Sophie in the backseat as he waited for his mom to bring the wheelchair around from the trunk. When Jamie spotted her with it, he groaned.

“Mooom, I don’t need it. I have the crutches.”

She wagged her finger at him. “Uh-uh. You had the crutches, until you thought you and Monty could have a race with them, and now you need to go back to not moving around so much so all that can heal properly. Right, honey?”

Jamie groaned louder. “It doesn’t even hurt or anything,” he complained. “We’re just going to the door, Ma, it’s right there.”

Jack listened to them continue to bicker as she helped him out of the car, into the wheelchair, and to the front door, which was, in fact, right there.

He watched from the neighbor’s yard, tears pouring down his face and freezing as they hit the ground. When the Mom came back out and opened the garage to put the car away, he spotted the old familiar green car they usually drove sitting there dormant and smashed to hell. He covered his mouth with his hands.

“Apparently,” Pitch explained gently as he stepped up to his side, “Sophie was with her father for the weekend, but Jamie had a group project to do for school and stayed here that day the storm hit. He was at Monty’s for a sleepover and when Ms. Bennett went to pick him up before the storm could get too bad, an unnaturally sudden bout of severe weather struck, and they crashed. They were both in the hospital, but Mom was mostly okay. Jamie can’t walk, but he will again, almost certainly. He just needs time. It was an accident, Jack.”

Jack let out a sob and dropped to one knee as it buckled, shaking his head and shutting his eyes tight.

Almost. Almost certainly, he said.

“Shit…shit.” He punched the ground, feeling his hand sink slightly into the frozen dirt. As he slumped there, he felt Pitch’s hand squeeze his shoulder.

“He’s still a very happy, mostly healthy little boy, Jack.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he cried. “I hurt him, Pitch. He can’t fucking walk, it’s been weeks and weeks and he still can’t—…he must have been so scared. Goddamn it,” he swore, grinding the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as he doubled over in the patchy grass. “I told you. I told you I didn’t deserve to be believed in…!”

“Jack,” Pitch murmured gently, kneeling down beside him, but Jack just wrapped his arms around his stomach and curled into a ball, inconsolable as he dissolved into a sobbing wreck.

…

A few days later, Jack convinced himself to go and see Jamie again. He was worried about him, but selfishly also just wanted to see him. It had been a long time. Now, having his memories back, he felt his bond with Jamie was even stronger; he reminded him so much of his sister.

Jack peeked into Jamie’s bedroom window and was surprised to see the room was completely dark and Jamie was nowhere to be found. Not only that, but it looked nearly abandoned compared to how it had been. His favorite toys and books were nowhere to be seen, his rocket ship, his walkie-talkies, his stuffed rabbit, and his favorite book series. And then he realized, of course. Jamie’s bedroom was on the second floor of the house. It would be too hard to get up and down the stairs. He bet the treehouse looked much the same.

Heart fracturing, Jack slipped inside and started looking around. Everything else looked normal. He could hear Sophie’s shrill shriek of laughter from the kitchen, but when he peeked in and saw her clinging to her mom’s leg, Jamie was missing from the picture. Frowning, he floated down the hall, pausing at a door with light peering out from underneath and spotted a drawing in marker, crayon, and glitter that said, ‘Jamie’s Base Camp’. Jack couldn’t help but smile a little.

He fazed through the door (something he tried not to do because he hated the way it felt) and inside, sure enough, he found Jamie. The space used to be an office for both the parents to use, but the computer and much of the junk lying around had been moved and replaced with Jamie’s stuff.

Jamie was laying on the floor on his back reading a comic book, but Jack only had eyes for the contraption on his leg. It looked too big and clunky to be attached to such a small body. It wasn’t exactly a cast, but seemed to serve the general purpose of one. He’d seen the big stiff black boots people sometimes wore when they were healing from a broken leg, but this one had a hinge at the knee and seemed to have the purpose of keeping the upper leg as still as possible too. It didn’t seem to bother him, but Jack felt sick just looking at the thing, especially because he could hear the other kids playing outside off in the distance.

Apparently, Jamie could too. After a minute, he sighed and laid his comic book on his stomach, frowning in the direction of the window.

Watching Jamie drag himself up into his desk chair was agonizing. He was slow and careful, but not as careful as Jack would have liked, and when he lurched at one point and hissed in pain, Jack’s stomach jolted. He had a feeling his mom wouldn’t have approved of him laying on the floor, but Jack got it. Sometimes you just needed floor time.

Finally, Jamie hobbled from one knee into the desk chair, unlocked it, and scooted over to the window.

Jamie sat there, looking out and sighing quietly as he leaned against the windowsill. Clearly, he yearned to go and play with his friends. It had probably been a long time since he could.

Chest tight, Jack watched for a moment before hesitantly going over. Watching Jamie’s forlorn face, he slowly got down on one knee in front of him then looked out the window too. Across the street, the twins were pelting each other with snowballs while a couple other kids repaired a snow fort. Jack winced and glanced back at Jamie.

“…no fun being left out, huh?” he murmured gently.

Jamie sighed, reached out and idly poked the cold window with his fingertip. Jack nodded.

“I know. Hey. I’m…really sorry. I…” He swallowed. He knew Jamie couldn’t see him, but he still could hardly look him in the eye. “Sometimes when you’re scared…you hurt people by accident. People you love or…that are counting on you. Because the closer you are to someone the easier it is for both of you to hurt each other. It’s not okay. But it’s also not your fault…okay? This isn’t your fault. I know it might…might start to feel like you’re alone because you’re bad or different or…like the universe is punishing you, but that’s not true, okay? Being alone…it tricks you into thinking all kinds of things.”

He paused, watching Jamie’s sad expression. It didn’t change. Jack sighed and looked down. “I’m so sorry. You must have been so scared. You’re probably…scared now, huh? About being left out. Wondering…is it going to be like this forever? Am I always going to feel like a burden? Am I always going to be alone? But I promise you, it’s going to be okay, and I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, okay, little dude? I promise I’ll always be here.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, blinking away tears, then he sniffled and looked back out the window. It was a beautiful, sunny winter day. Jamie’s short, bitten fingernail tapped slowly on the glass now and then.

Jack smiled half-heartedly. “Not sick of winter and snow yet? You sure?”

Jack had an idea. It wasn’t as if he’d never tried interacting through his frost before, but it just never worked. He’d felt so far away and disconnected from the world. In many ways, he still very much felt that way, but he also believed for the first time that he could have a different life. He could be loved. He could be part of the world, and he could make it better. It was going to take time and work, but for the first time, in his mind, it was possible, even if there wasn’t a single living person who saw or believed in him. It was enough that when he reached a hand out and drew in the frost, it felt real. A rabbit, a fairy, a Christmas tree, some clouds and stars, and a nightmare. He smiled.

He knew it would work, somehow, even before he tried it. Jack closed his eyes and held out his hands, palms up, willing his creations to life. Just like forming a snowball. He focused everything that was in his heart into his hands, everything he hoped for Jamie, everything he wished he could say, his love and his fear too. That’s where his frost came from. He was real, and they were real too, a little piece of him in each one of the creations that sprung to life from the window panes.

Jack watched, elated as Jamie gasped and pushed back in his chair, looking all around the room in amazement as the creations grew. The rabbit hopped about, bouncing off the walls and furniture. The nightmare swooped in and out of dark places, the fairies fluttered among the clouds and the tree grew large, glittering as it spun in place. The room had become a wonderland. Jamie laughed and reached for a passing fairy, trying to catch it, and when he did it turned back into nice crystals in his hand.

“Cold,” he said with surprise, then continued looking around in awe. Jack watched, and he would have been happy with that. He could have gone on for the rest of time carrying this blissful feeling in his chest, knowing that there was one time when Jamie had known he was there, and that would be enough. He didn’t need Jamie to know him. He didn’t need him to believe in him. For the first time, it felt like they were really together, and that was all he’d ever wanted.

Funny…it almost felt like what he’d imagined being believed in would feel like.

“Jack Frost?”

Jack’s face went slack with shock. This wouldn’t be the first time he could have sworn a child said his name, and sometimes they did, but not like that. Not like…not like they were talking to him. It was a question that expected an answer.

“Did you just say my name?” he breathed.

Jamie turned and looked right at him, and then his mouth fell open comically wide and he stared.

Jack took a step back in alarm, gasping softly. It really felt like Jamie was looking at him, even though that was obviously impossible. He hopped up onto the bed in a crouch, clutching his staff so tight his hands shook.

“You…you said my name,” he whispered. “You…”

The realization that Jamie really could see him was slow to come, but when it did, it knocked the breath out of him. He used his staff for balance as he stepped back off the bed, peering intently into Jamie’s face.

“But…but that’s me, that’s my name. You can see me?”

Jamie nodded, in a bit of a stupor.

Jack took a small shivering breath, his chest tightening. “You can hear me?”

Jamie nodded again slowly.

Jack staggered back into the center of the room with a burst of stunned laughter. “He sees me!” He grabbed at his head, spinning in an excited circle. “He…he…” His lip trembled and his eyes went round, filling with tears until he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t remember how to breathe and—

“He sees me.”

“Jack Frost,” Jamie whispered again in awe. This time it wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Jack cried, hopping a little with excitement. “Yes, I’m Jack Frost. That’s me.”

Jamie waved his arms around the room at all the frost glittering anywhere they looked. “And you did this?!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack cried, barely keeping himself together as he hopped into the air and flew closer to the boy in the office chair who was currently staring at him like he made the world go round. He was just as excited as Jack was, if not more so.

“That’s AWESOME!” he shouted, throwing his arms up and bouncing in his seat.

“I KNOW, RIGHT?!” Jack laughed with pure joy and landed on the banister of Jamie’s bed, balancing effortlessly as he pointed his staff at Jamie and grinned. “All the snow! All the ice and the snow days, that’s all me!”

Jamie cheered so hard he nearly tipped his chair backwards and Jack rushed forward and grabbed it, both of them laughing wildly.

“Easy there, little dude,” Jack chuckled. He got down on one knee in front of him, grinning as Jamie giggled sheepishly at himself. He was about to say something when they heard his mom yell from down the hall and Jack bit his lip to keep himself from laughing at the innocent look of panic on Jamie’s face.

“James? Who are you talking to?”

He blinked. “Uhhh…”

The two of them made eye contact. Smiling warmly, Jack nodded to the door. There were perks to not being believed in and it helped that there were a lot of things Jamie did believe in that other kids didn’t. Jack wasn’t the first magical creature he’d been caught talking to, that’s for sure.

Jamie grimaced helplessly and called back, “Jack Frost?”

They heard his mom laugh. “Okay…if you say so.”

Jamie breathed out a little bit of relieved laughter and grinned at Jack, who couldn’t help but laugh too.

“So you’re magic…” Jamie whispered, eyes bright and wide.

Jack grinned. “Yep. And you know what? You’re kinda magic too.”

Jamie’s mouth fell open. He poked his own chest. “I am?”

Jack nodded. “Uh-huh. I wouldn’t be able to talk to you or do any of this if you didn’t believe in me.”

“Like an imaginary friend?” he asked in amazement and a little bit of frustration. “None of my other imaginary friends could do stuff like this.”

Jack chuckled. “Nah, I’m definitely real. It’s more like Santa Clause, except he has a lot of believers.”

“Ohhh…” Jamie glanced down, considering this, then looked back up at Jack and tilted his head. “How many do you have?”

Jack opened his mouth, but hesitated. He grinned, faintly surprised by the feeling of peace settled in his chest. “More than enough.”

Jamie smiled. “Do you wanna be friends?”

Jack’s eyes widened a little and he said quickly, “Yes…yes, yeah, I’d love that.”

Jamie giggled sweetly, hunching his shoulders. “Cool.”

“So what does a guy do for fun around here?”

Jamie seemed surprised but delighted that he was actually going to stay. That is, until he looked around, looked outside, then looked at his leg glumly.

“Um…well…”

Jack was unperturbed. “Hey, did you get any new monster cards? You don’t have any five star diamond holographic cards, do you?”

Jack’s heart melted at the way Jamie lit up again. “Yeah, actually, you wanna see? Really? I have three.”

“Three, really? Heck yes I wanna see.”

…

After hanging out for a while, Jack decided he’d better go before he wound up keeping Jamie up too late.

He turned on the windowsill and perched there, facing into the room as he looked down upon a sleepy Jamie, all bundled up with his blanket as he scooted over to the window in his desk chair. He peeked out from underneath the soft blue folds of his comforter at Jack like he was his favorite thing in the world. Better than Santa, The Easter Bunny, The Sandman and The Tooth Fairy combined. His eyes radiated adoration that could only be matched by Jack’s own expression as he gazed back at him, overflowing with love.

Jack reached his hand out to him and Jamie took it as they looked at one another like they both could hardly believe it. Finally, Jack said softly, “I’ll be back to hang out again sometime, okay? If you want.”

Jamie nodded eagerly, his fluffy brown hair flopping all around like puppy dog ears. “Please come back. I was lonely without you.”

Jack squeezed his hand gently, his gaze soft and hazy. “I was lonely without you too. Thank you, Jamie.”

Jamie beamed, his cheeks pink. “You’re welcome.”

With that, Jack said goodnight and took off on the wind towards home, heart fuller than he could ever remember it being. He couldn’t stop grinning like a fool and as he picked up speed and burst through the clouds into the moonlight, he let out a whoop and shot bursts of ice and nightmare sand into the sky like fireworks.

He did it. He did it.

When he arrived back at the lair, Pitch came out to meet him and was surprised by the look of unbridled joy on Jack’s face, radiating from his every pore. He came rocketing towards him and Pitch, quite used to such greetings by now, caught him in his arms, spinning in place from the force of his momentum.

Jack wrapped his arms around him tight and sobbed, “He believes in me. Jamie, he can see me, he—Pitch, he sees me.”

“Jack,” Pitch hissed, eyes wide with excitement. “You…have your first believer.”

Jack nodded fiercely, breath hitching as Pitch clutched his face in his hands. He didn’t need Pitch to hold him up with the way his legs were wound around him or how his arms caught him around the neck. Foreheads pressed together, Jack laughed as Pitch let out his own bark of victorious laughter.

“Ha! Yes yes yes yes yes, I knew it, I knew it, Jack, you beautiful, perfect thing, you wonder.”

Jack wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying anymore, but he knew Pitch was crying. Even if he hadn’t seen the tears slipping down his face he would have heard the roughness in his voice and the hitch in his breath.

“I knew it,” he repeated in a whisper, thumbs moving over his flushed, damp cheeks again and again as they each closed their eyes. He listened to Pitch’s uneven breathing and his own hiccuping wet laughter as they huddled together, each a wreck in their own way.

Once they’d both caught their breath a little, Pitch leaned back enough to look him in the eye then he demanded, “I want you to tell me all about it.”

—-

“I’m not nervous,” Jack complained as Pitch took his hand and faced him, looking concerned.

“Of course you are. You’d be rather unhinged if you weren’t nervous.”

“I…” He frowned. “So you’re nervous?”

“That is neither here nor there, stop deflecting.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, wow, really? That makes me feel kind of better actually.”

“I didn’t say–...surely, you’re not suggesting I’m not unhinged because that’s—” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “Never mind. Are you ready?”

“I–...wait,” Jack said, his heart rattling back and forth in his chest like it was trying to escape. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.” His eyes flitted again up and down Pitch’s body. He swallowed. God, he looked incredible. “You look incredible.”

Pitch smirked like he knew it. He may not have cared what any of The Guardians thought, but he was still a drama queen at heart and he loved adding a little flair to everything. It wasn’t even that he looked that different from usual, but all the gold was such a damn good look for him, Jack wanted to just drop to his knees and forget the whole thing.

“Thank you,” Pitch purred, gliding closer. He reached out and slid Jack’s sweatshirt down a little further on his shoulders, admiring the fitted sleeveless shirt underneath. It was his usual getup. Jack really couldn’t think of anything he thought he’d look or feel better in than this.

Jack giggled as Pitch ran his claws slowly up and down his bare skin. He retaliated by reaching out and feeling the collar of Pitch’s robe. For this look, it was a little higher, a little more ornate, adorned with gold, not too much, but enough to make him look like royalty.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you look better than me,” Jack murmured playfully, grinning up at him as he positively swooned. “Isn’t this party supposed to be for me?”

Pitch hummed thoughtfully then cupped Jack’s jaw in one hand, coaxing his head back. “Tilt your head back a bit. Good. Stay still.”

Jack obediently did as he said, staring up at him, eyes round with curiosity. He watched, motionless, as Pitch dragged the pad of his thumb down over his bottom lip. Cold air puffed lightly from his parted lips, coming a little more rapidly under the intensity of Pitch’s attention.

“Close your eyes,” Pitch instructed, and he did. Moments later he felt the gentlest of touches to his eyelid and the area around his eye and couldn’t help but smile a little. It felt weird, almost ticklish. He felt the shadows drip down his face like warm wax as Pitch moved to the other eye and did the same. Jack was sure he was using darkness to mark him the way he’d marked himself. He wouldn’t look as good in it, but he was sure it would still be cool. For some reason it hadn’t even occurred to him to ask Pitch to do this for him so he was glad Pitch thought of it on his own.

Finally, Pitch told him he could open his eyes. Jack looked up at him, silently, shyly waiting for approval. The look Pitch was giving him made him blush.

“Mm. You really are perfect…” he mused softly and pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead, making him light up. He’d felt a bit clumsy and awkward a moment ago; now he felt radiant and untouchable. “There’s one stop I’d like to make though before we head to The Workshop.”

Jack tilted his head curiously.

Pitch smirked. “We’re going to The Warren.”

—-

Bunny was surprised to see them and a little bit wary, but probably the friendliest they could have expected given Jack and Pitch had both shown up out of nowhere in his warren. Their request, though, was simple and easy enough, and so he agreed to help them out.

“I don’t really get it, but alright, mate, whatever you like,” Bunny said with a shrug as he led them to a lush patch of flowers. “Knock yourself out.”

Pitch nodded to him in thanks and placed himself elegantly down into the flowers, looking somehow perfectly suited to coexist among them. Smiling, Jack flopped down beside him like a puppy and crossed his legs.

“Thanks, Bunny! Wow, this is great…” he enthused as he began to carefully pick the ones he liked best. He turned to Pitch. “Anything in particular I should be looking for?”

“Whatever your heart desires. We’ll make it work,” Pitch murmured peacefully as he began weaving the flowers together by their stems. Jack paused to watch, mesmerized.

After a while, Pitch realized Jack had stopped and was just watching him still, mouth open slightly in awe. They made eye contact and Jack laughed a little.

“I…I don’t know, you just look so…happy. Relaxed,” he said, barely above a whisper, like he was afraid to break the spell.

Pitch smiled softly and continued working, as easy as breathing. “Nature has always been a comfort to me.”

Jack beamed. “Me too. It’s like a friend.”

Pitch nodded absently. “I see it as something precious to protect. Mother Nature is…powerful. Many people see her as just that: a mother. I see her as a child that’s had to be strong for too long, who deserves respect, but also tenderness. Who should be feared and loved both.”

Jack closed his eyes tight, trying not to fuck up his make up, even though he was pretty sure the shadows could take it. He was afraid if he talked he was going to lose it, but he made himself open his eyes anyway and tried to just focus on the movements of Pitch’s hands, occasionally handing him another flower. His chest was aching like his heart had constricted on a beat and never let go.

“Is Mother Nature…a spirit? Like us?” he whispered.

Pitch considered this. “I believe so. Some spirits do not have a body, as you know it. Sometimes they are there, but can’t be communicated with the way you would a person, or even an animal. I believe Mother Nature to fall into this category. I’ve known her long enough to think I understand her, and then she always proves me wrong. I’ve stopped trying to understand and learned to just experience.” He paused, picking up a peony and pressing it to his lips, eyes lidded and his gaze far away. He sighed then continued weaving.

“...it makes me sad and I don’t know why,” Jack murmured, doing as Pitch did and resting the petals of a tulip to his lips. It smelled like Spring and was softer than velvet. He’d forgotten about the party completely.

“Yes,” Pitch agreed quietly.

The flower crown was finished, and it was gorgeous. Pitch beckoned Jack closer and he wiggled over then bent his head so he could crown him, eyes wide and shining.

“It’s so beautiful…how did you…?”

Pitch leaned back and looked Jack over with reverence. “…Seraphina loved to make them. You did too,” Pitch murmured and reached out, gently adjusting the flowers on his head to help them stay put. It seemed like he was doing something with the shadows to help keep it in place better, but Jack couldn’t see what from this angle, and didn’t want to interrupt to ask. “People would revere her for her gardening skills at such a young age, all the flowers and other plants she would grow. And then they would be somewhat horrified when she ripped them all up and made flower crowns with them instead of letting them grow. And she’d say, well what’s the fun in that?” He let out a little sad chuckle.

Jack was beaming, but felt a tear roll down his face anyway. Maybe the shadows were waterproof. “Ha…I love her.” He swallowed and sniffled as more tears fell. “...I bet she’d love this.”

“She…would,” Pitch said, his voice rough. He cleared his throat then leaned back to look Jack over, golden eyes glossy. “...you’re stunning.”

Jack laughed, pressing his sleeve to his eyes, trying to mop up the tears. “Thanks…um. Is my make up fucky? …am I still super hot?”

“Oh, yes. I’m going to pin you down in these flowers and fuck you until you cry all those lovely tears out.”

“PITCH,” Jack yelled, squeezing his thighs together.

“I HEARD THAT. OUT.”

A boomerang whipped over their heads as Pitch snatched Jack like he was his Persephone and they shadow-traveled the heck out of there to The Workshop.

—-

Moments later they found themselves in the lower levels of the workshop. These floors were mostly used for storage so they figured there wouldn’t be anybody there to see them arrive and that was probably best, just to keep things on the down low until they actually found North. Jack blatantly refused to use the door again with the only explanation being “on principle”.

“I am going to kiss you,” Pitch warned him as they made their way down the dimly lit hall. “If it so pleases me.”

“It better. I’m a great kisser.” Jack paused. “I actually have no idea if I’m a good kisser or not.”

Pitch hummed in amusement, glancing at doors as they passed them. “You know? I think you could use more practice.” He looked down at Jack, looming over him predatorily. “Lots and lots of practice.”

Jack giggled and wiggled away from him, already anticipating Pitch was going to grab his ass or poke him somewhere he was ticklish. “Oh shut up, you sure seemed to like it last–”

He squealed with laughter and slapped at Pitch’s hands as they poked and prodded at his sides. “That’s not fair, you’ve got fucking tree branch arms! P-PITCH, YOU FUCKER, CUT IT OUT!”

Jack slowly sank to the ground, bursting with giggles so sweet and addictive Pitch almost felt bad for tormenting him, except that infectious laugh was the entire point. Pitch snatched him up before he could actually fall as his legs became weak. He let him dangle as if they were mid-dance, a frost spirit being dipped by his much larger, shadowy partner. Pitch curved over him unnaturally, like any shadow would, of course, with no spine to hold them back, practically lifting Jack off the floor as he continued giggling like mad. He was laughing too much to wiggle away so he just hung in Pitch’s arms and let him nip at his neck.

“Oh, so sensitive,” Pitch teased, speaking directly into his ear.

“Okay, okay,” he gasped, finally winding his arms around Pitch’s neck, and looked up at him with bright eyes and rosy cheeks.

Jack had just opened his mouth to say something cheesy when he stopped. North was frozen in the doorway of a nearby room holding a stack of brightly wrapped boxes. He stepped the rest of the way out into the hall, looking like he just got caught in the middle of putting those presents under the tree. Before Jack could decide whether or not the situation was salvageable, North let out a peal of jovial laughter and winked at them.

“I did not see anything, did you see something worth seeing because I, personally, did not, so, that’s that and I’m glad we could all agree.”

As Pitch brought Jack back to his feet, he buried his face in his hands and whined, “I’m so embarrassed. Oh my god, that was the cringiest couple shit, I—“

“You could at least do it under mistletoe, hm?” North teased before he nodded for them to both follow. “Come, my troublemakers. The others will arrive soon.”

They made their way to a cozy sitting room with a comically huge Christmas tree, multiple fireplaces, and many, many comfortable places to sit. A few yeti sat in one corner, chatting quietly and taking a break together. With the exception of the underground, this had to be the quietest, most peaceful area of the entire workshop. They followed as North went over and placed the gifts under the tree with the others.

“Are these for kids?” Jack asked, casually picking one up about the size of a baseball and turning it over in his hand.

North belly laughed as he turned back to face him. “Ha! Course not, they are for elves and yeti. We have our own Christmas morning too, of course.”

Jack’s mouth fell open, eyes wide and perfectly angelic. “Woah…that’s awesome. I never really…thought about it.”

North stood with his hands on his hips, looking quite proud, and quite magnificent in his getup for the celebration. “Yep!”

Jack laughed and set the present back down. “Do they just make each other’s presents then?”

“Ha! No, silly, I do. I just wrapped these ones myself downstairs…that is why no elves are allowed down there, and the yeti know better than to peek.”

Jack beamed. “Wow…you’re amazing, North.”

He should have expected the hug, but he didn’t. Luckily, he and Pitch had already discussed the fact that hugs were going to be inevitable and that for now they would be allowed, if Jack wanted them, of course. He had no doubt that if he received a hug he did not want, Pitch would gladly take care of that for him.

This hug, however, was actually…really nice. Being wrapped up in North’s arms was like being wrapped up in a blanket out of the dryer. He’d really missed North: how much fun it was to be around him, how comforting and fatherly his presence was, and how giving he could be. His cheerful energy was contagious, and he had a lot of energy to go around. In many ways, it was like being with the kids again, except it also felt like what he imagined having a dad would feel like. North made him feel safe, even more so now that he didn’t have to hide his relationship with Pitch from him. It was one more step in the right direction when it came to being himself around the people he cared about and, feeling more himself now than ever, he was looking forward to getting closer to everyone a little at a time.

He finally let Jack go and stepped back to look at him, his cheeks rosy with excitement. Jack smiled widely up at him, looking over North’s fancy as heck coat. The amount of ornate embroidery on the thing was insane. It was also decorated generously with fur along the hems, cuffs, and collar. So much for a casual get-together; so far, everyone was doing way too much.

“Looking very fashionable,” North said, nodding his head with approval. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully at him and smiled. “Although I trust you have not really been crying.”

Jack tipped his head in confusion just as a couple of elves scurried over and handed them each an absolutely magical mug of hot chocolate with all the trimmings. Jack murmured a thank you to the elf that handed him his, and the elf removed his hat bashfully, waving at him as if to say, oh shucks, before running off.

He turned his attention back to North, carefully icing his mug of what looked like peppermint mocha, based on the peppermint crumbled on top and the candy cane straw. He didn’t want to be nervous and accidentally freeze the whole thing solid so he was delicate about letting frost crawl across the outside of the cup. As he considered North’s comment about his outfit, he realized he was referring to the darkness dripping down his face like candle wax. “Oh, right. Yeah, I haven’t actually seen it yet. Is it cool?”

“Super cool, my frosty friend. Something about it is…ehh, inspiring? It is expressive…theatrical, I am a fan, even if it is more Halloween than Christmas.”

Jack chuckled. “Thanks. Pitch did it.” He waved his hand in Pitch’s direction.

North redirected his attention to the older man before grinning and putting his hand on The Nightmare King’s shoulder. To Pitch’s credit, he didn’t cut it off. “Pitch. It’s good to see you again, and, might I add, I have not seen you looking quite so fantastical for quite some time. I trust you’ve been taking excellent care of our dear friend, Jack Frost?”

Pitch gazed at him evenly, nodding once, and North removed his hand. “I have, of course. Only the best.” He looked over at Jack. “He’s quite the handful. I’m glad he has someone else in his life looking out for him.”

Jack opened his mouth a little, unsure of whether or not he should be touched or offended by this conversation, but before he had a chance to decide, North said, “I am sure this is safest place for both of you in the entire world.”

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise and he made eye contact with North, wondering if he’d really heard him include Pitch in that and whether or not he meant it, and he was overjoyed when North responded by smiling and offering him a cheeky little wink.

“North,” Jack said emphatically, glancing between him and Pitch. “That’s…so nice. Thanks, uh…”

“There is one tiny exception though, the only thing you ever have to worry about when you are welcomed into my home. And, that is, unless, of course, I ever see you, Jack, in a state like you were in the last time you came to my workshop, because of Pitch.”

North leaned closer into Pitch’s space, all good cheer gone, and Jack realized faintly he was probably one of the only people on Earth that could, in theory, intimidate Pitch with his size. As it was, he seemed unfazed, despite the fierce scowl on North’s face and the sudden dangerous hush of his voice.

“If this ever comes to pass, then for you, Pitch Black, there will be no safe place left anywhere on this Earth. Nowhere that I cannot hunt you down and hang your pelt on my wall. Do I make myself very clear?”

Jack’s mouth fell open. “North!”

Pitch’s eyebrows went up just a touch, and Jack got the distinct feeling he was impressed, despite the displeased but elegant crossing of his arms over his chest. “Crystal. Though I don’t know who you’ll pay the bounty to if the man who hired you to do it is hanging on your wall.”

North let out a howling bark of laughter, slapping his knee, then he pointed at Pitch grinning at Jack as if he could have somehow possibly missed this exchange. “You hear this? He is very funny. Because he would hire me to kill him if he hurt you, is a good joke.”

He nodded once to Pitch, and Pitch nodded back before North trodded off towards the stairs. “Snacks, cookies! Yes? Pitch?” He turned back, making finger guns at them both as he looked between them.

Jack just laughed helplessly, throwing his hands up. “Yes, please.”

Pitch nodded in agreement and North headed upstairs, whistling all the while. When the whistling faded and the two of them were left essentially alone together in the cozy sitting area, Jack looked back at Pitch, still in a mild stupor. “What the hell was that? That whole thing with you two. It was like some kind of weird…platonic flirting, or something. What did I just miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Pitch said with a casual sigh, resting one hand on his hip like he couldn’t be bothered with any of this. “Some unspoken understanding. It’s one thing to say what you mean, but to say more than that between the words is sometimes more effective still.”

“Can you say that in stupid, please? I think the sugar just hit and I’m losing my ability to hear you when you talk like that.”

Pitch chuckled. “It could be a few things. Primarily, North and I both care about you very deeply. We understand one another that we are allies in that regard. We are also both warriors, and there’s a sort of respect we have for one another. Lastly, either of us could be your father, no matter what scale you’re looking at to measure age, and I can’t help but think if you’re courting someone much younger, someone young enough to be your child’s age, their actual father must look at you at some point and remind you of that. Anyone who’s ever had a child they held dear can look at another parent and see eye to eye with them on some level.”

Jack stared at him vacantly.

Pitch looked exasperated and bluntly summarized, “We both care about you, fight, and he doesn’t want me fucking you, but knows I’m gonna do it anyway, and he’s sparing me because he knows I’m not just fucking you.”

Jack winked. “See? Now was that so hard? I understood you the first time, but seriously—“ Jack cackled and danced out of the way of Pitch’s reaching arm. “Hey hey, watch out! North might come back and kick your ass.”

Pitch scoffed. “Please. You’re mine, aren’t you?” He snapped his fingers at Jack and pointed at the floor in front of him. “Come here.”

Jack’s mouth fell open, his face immediately lighting up like the string lights on the tree behind him. “Are you fucking serious?”

Pitch hummed mildly and shrugged, looking disappointed, then began turning away.

Jack’s eyes widened and he panicked. “W-wait!”

By the time Pitch turned back around, Jack was standing in front of him, holding his balled fists to his chests as if he were trying to make himself even smaller. He was positively glowing with embarrassment. Somehow, he still managed to look very irritated.

“You’re the fucking worst,” Jack grumbled. “I really should just–”

Jack froze as Pitch seemed to just melt before him, cradling his cheek in his hand adoringly as he crooned, “That’s my Jack…” He ran the pad of his thumb slowly over his bottom lip, eying the way skin dragged against skin before looking back into his eyes, and Jack didn’t just feel like he was being praised; he felt like Pitch couldn’t even help himself. He liked it just as much when Jack listened as Jack liked to please him.

Jack whimpered quietly and Pitch shushed him lovingly. “Such a good boy for me…”

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed and he was seconds away from shoving his tongue down Pitch’s throat when he heard a commotion from the hallway. He gasped quietly and stepped back just before the rest of The Guardians came barreling in like they were racing each other to the finish line.

The four Guardians froze, filling the large doorway as they peered into the room and looking between Pitch and a very red in the face Jack absolutely frozen solid in place.

“...everything alright, mate?” Bunny greeted hesitantly as he stalked into the room, giving Pitch the stink eye the whole while.

Jack rolled his eyes a little, but smiled, twirling his staff idly. “Hi, Bunny. Yeah. Sugar high,” he offered, holding up his mug, which was already much less full than Pitch’s, or North’s. To be fair, North’s was practically a bucket, and seemed to be mostly whipped cream. Jack wondered if Pitch thought his galaxy themed hot chocolate, with a dusting of edible glitter and star shaped sprinkles, was as pretty as Jack thought it was, because he wasn’t sure he could have drinken it at all it was so cool. He had the wondrous idea that it ought to glow in the dark, and decided North should hire him because he was obviously a genius.

“Hello, Jack, Pitch. It’s so nice to see you again,” Tooth chirped as she fluttered over. As she got closer, Jack’s mouth fell open a little. She already outshined any peacock on a bad day, but the jewelry she was adorned with, a delicate chain around her waist, clipped into her feathers, encircling her arms, just to name a few, made her look like the queen Jack suddenly realized she was. He found himself a little bashful, and could focus on little else suddenly other than the gems precisely arranged on her face to accompany her make-up. When you were super old, you got really good at that stuff, apparently.

“Woah…Tooth. You look gorgeous.”

Her eyes widened, and she immediately began to blush before positively lighting up. “Thank you, Jack! That’s so sweet.”

Pitch was giving her a strange look, and Jack had a feeling he was just baffled that she’d not only greeted him, but said it was good to see him again as well.

Jack looked back at Bunny, registering that he was a little dressed up too. Nothing crazy, but he had extra adornments of leather, beads, and other things across his shoulders, his arms, and straps across his chest. They seemed to have the purpose of keeping the piece on his shoulders in place. He looked cool as hell, honestly, and unfortunately this assessment must have shown on his face because Bunny flashed him a cocky smirk.

“Like what you see? This…is called fashion.” His eyes scanned Jack briefly and his smirk softened to a cheeky smile. “Nice crown, prince of darkness. You look fresh as a Spring daisy, mate.”

It was Jack’s turn to flush and he laughed nervously, reflexively lifting his feet into the air and hovering there. “Thanks, uh…yeah. No, you look really cool. I like the, um…” He gestured to the mantle on his shoulders, but didn’t really know what to call it. He was saved from any further awkwardness, though, as Sandy appeared between them, beaming, and put his hands up and out like, ta-da! He looked exactly the same as always.

Jack chuckled. “Hey Sandman, lookin’ good.”

Sandy wiggled his eyebrows at him, created a fancy hat out of dream sand, and tipped it to him like a real gentleman. Jack laughed and mimed tipping his own invisible hat to him back.

“Now the party can really get started,” Jack said with a grin, then looked to Pitch, a nervous flutter in his stomach. It was ridiculous, it was just Pitch and The Guardians, but he didn’t know how to act. He was “The Guardian of Fun” and this was a party for him, and that was a lot of pressure. It should have just come easy, but he could already feel himself overthinking it.

But then everything around them began to change. His mouth fell open in wonder as he watched Sandy float into the air, waving his hands like a maestro as he wove golden sand all around the room. Everywhere at once, shimmering, golden party decorations blossomed into life, draping across all the windows, across the broad ceiling. Balloons of miraculous shapes and sizes bobbed all around. One bounced against the grand chandelier in the center of the room and burst, raining dream sand down around them. They may not have literally been at The Sandman’s Castle, but it sure felt like they were. It felt like he had to be dreaming because it was so whimsical and beautiful, and he watched with awe as a family of golden deer strode elegantly through the air above their heads.

“Holy shit,” he whispered breathlessly, flying up into the air and looking all around. He poked a small balloon and it popped, but this one rained down thousands of tiny stars. He laughed with pure joy and soared around the room between the decorations, admiring them, running his hands along the banner that said in bright, glowing script, “We Believe In Jack Frost”.

He stayed there, legs pulled up loosely to his chest for a while as he stared at it, reading the words over and over again. He was sick of crying, but it seemed like now the tears came so easily and often. Like all the pain from those centuries alone, when he’d stuffed all down and only thought about fun fun fun as much as he could, it was all coming out now. And that made sense to him. It had to come out sometime. No more blizzards. No hurting himself or anyone else. Just embarrassing little moments that struck at the heart of him, moments like this, sorrowful and sweet. He smiled, nose tickling as the tears came faster. His stomach was tight, and he took a deep, slow breath to try to loosen the knots inside him. There were so many, but he was okay.

Finally, Jack came back down to the others. They waited for him in their little group, even Pitch, standing among them as natural as anything, and as he stepped down, looking into their worried faces, he smiled, but made no effort to hide that he’d been crying.

“Thank you. All of you…thank you so much.”

They all smiled at him encouragingly and he felt seen. He was feeling that way more and more lately and it was terrifying, but it soothed wounds inside of him he’d had for a long time that fun alone couldn’t fix.

He didn’t only have fun anymore. He had fear. He had wonder, memories, hopes, and dreams. He’d never been excited for the future before, and he still wasn’t, but he was curious, and proud of how far he’d come.

Jack grinned as music started playing and North and Tooth began bickering playfully over what sort of outfit Sandy should create for himself with the sand. The three seemed to be making a game out of it more than anything. He hadn’t even noticed where all the food on the tables had come from, he was so distracted by everything else.

He turned to Pitch and was about to ask if he wanted to split one of the massive kitchen sink cookies that were his favorite when Bunny approached, a glare on his face. Jack sighed. Couldn’t the guy give it a rest for one day? Only, like, five seconds ago they were getting somewhere.

“Oi, I got something to say to you before any of this goes anywhere else,” Bunny said, as abrasive as ever, and Jack sighed.

“Bunny, I’m really not—“

“Not you, him,” Bunny said, gesturing with his head to Pitch.

Jack eyed him cautiously with surprise. “Oh…okay.”

Bunny looked at Pitch and Jack watched nervously, but Pitch looked as cool and aloof as ever.

“Me and Jack have had our differences, but don’t get the wrong idea. He’s still my mate, and if I hear you laid even one hand on him he doesn’t like, you won’t live to regret it. Say what you want about me, I know some people can’t handle a little back and forth, but I never mean no harm with it. But you better not mess with him at all, and you know what I mean. Manipulation, any of your tricks. You mess with him, you mess with all of us. Got that?”

Pitch seemed nearly as surprised as Jack and was silent for a moment before he responded mildly, “Noted.”

Bunny nodded, and it seemed to Jack like Bunny was purposefully avoiding eye contact with him, but Jack wanted to catch his eye, and finally managed it. Bunny seemed uneasy as they looked at each other and he understood perfectly why. Jack felt just as awkward.

“You…thanks? I guess? That’s…Bunny, that’s really thoughtful, actually. I…um…”

“Yeah, don’t mention it,” he said gruffly, hands on his hips. “It ain’t no secret that I haven’t exactly been there. Wasn’t intentional, just a guy gets busy, and I don’t need you gettin’ in my way like you love to do, but uh…you know, that doesn’t mean I don’t care, underneath it all. I never wanna see you like you were that day again, alright? Never. Like I said, you’re a good enough guy, and we’re here for you.”

Jack slowly smiled, feeling confused and strangely warm and fuzzy. For once, he had no smartass comeback. “Yeah…yeah, no, thanks, seriously, that’s…you too.”

Bunny huffed a little laugh and smirked at him playfully. “Alright, enough with the sentimental stuff. You like a little trouble, don’tcha? You see those apple turnovers Sandy is hoarding?”

Jack looked over and, indeed, Sandy was standing by one of the tables of food holding a large tray of apple turnovers, methodically and joyously inserting them one by one into his mouth. Jack chuckled and looked back at Bunny.

“Yeah, I see him.”

“If you manage to get me a couple a those, I’ll trade you the giant candy bar I just found under some holly.”

“Hmmm, what kind?” Jack asked shrewdly, to which Bunny’s slick smirk only grew.

“Peppermint and white chocolate.”

Jack hissed, but grinned, knowing he was beat. “Ooo, you got me. Alright, hang tight.” He turned and looked at Pitch cheerfully. “Watch this, I’m gonna blow your mind with my devious charms.”

Pitch’s mouth tugged up with a smirk on one side. “Oh, I dare say you already are. My Jack, a criminal…”

Jack beamed at that, winked, and flew off over to Sandy. “Hey, Sandy.”

Sandy smiled, mouth full, and waved with his free hand.

Jack looked at the tray of baked goods, then back to Sandy innocently. “I was really hoping I could get a couple of those…would that be okay? Please?” he asked sweetly.

Sandy smiled wide, nodded, and immediately handed him three. Jack beamed. “Thanks! You’re the best, sandman, I’ll remember this. Jack Frost pays his debts!” He hovered backwards towards Pitch and Bunny, adding, “Usually. But, definitely when they’re to you. Baked goods are serious business.”

He returned and handed over his prizes. “Here yah go.”

Bunny looked aghast as he took them. “Three?! What did you say to him?”

“I’ll never tell,” Jack murmured then wiggled his eyebrows at Pitch, who laughed and rolled his eyes because he was positive he knew exactly what had just happened.

“You are cunning indeed, my frosty friend,” Pitch congratulated him playfully.

Jack laughed. “Oh no, I’m back to friend status. Is it because I’m a criminal?”

“Maybe. But I’m sure you could find a way to rectify that,” he purred.

Bunny immediately dry heaved, handed Jack his peppermint bark and quickly wandered off. Jack and Pitch hardly noticed as they continued bantering back and forth, Jack nibbling his chocolate bar occasionally and offering to break off Pitch some, which was politely declined, to Jack’s relief.

Jack gasped playfully at Pitch’s suggestive comment. “Are you suggesting I compromise my innocence, sir?”

“Oh, that’s nice, maybe you should call me sir more often. I’m not suggesting you compromise anything. I’m telling you to give it to me.”

Jack pressed his lips together. Pitch was getting to him already. “Okay, you know, that’s not even fair, that was hot. I’m low level flirting, behaving myself like a real gentleman, and you’re coming onto me like I’m a common whore.”

Pitch just raised an eyebrow at him and continued smirking as Jack’s undoing slid effortlessly and smoothly from his mouth. “That’s not true at all. You’re an excellent little whore for me. Aren’t you, Jack?”

Jack popped a chunk of chocolate in his mouth and walked away, leaving Pitch laughing wickedly in his wake. He wandered over to North and Tooth who were chatting with extravagant mugs of hot cocoa, complete with whipped cream and cookie straws. They looked up when they heard Pitch laugh and saw Jack making a beeline for them, his face very red.

“Are you okay?” Tooth asked, brows raised.

Jack nodded and said around his truffle, “Yeah, nothing, it’s good…what’s up?”

She shrugged and somehow managed to rope him into conversation about the importance of more elaborate dentistry themed children’s toys, which honestly sounded like a pretty good idea; personally, Jack thought a giant electronic model of teeth somewhere between a classic kids toy of a mouth with dentist tools and an introduction to computer building sounded badass.

Well after all of his chocolate was eaten, thanks to his childlike sweet tooth, Jack glanced back over where Pitch had been and saw he wasn’t there. With a brief look around, he spotted him standing by the window talking to Sandy.

Jack smiled a little. It was nice to see him talking to someone just for the sake of it like that. He was concerned at first, since Sandy surely had a bone to pick with Pitch especially, but he was relieved to see them conversing amiably, Pitch drinking from a flute of pink ginger ale with an absurd silly straw.

He was so handsome, silhouetted like that, and Jack was so proud of him. This was all so absurdly out of his comfort zone and yet here he was, doing this for both of them, and he thought, too, a little bit for the world he cared for in his own way. Jack couldn’t think of Pitch as a naturally cruel person, no matter how much satisfaction he seemed to get from being mean or vicious. He also got a lot out of being kind and had a great appreciation for nature and living things that weren’t people. He could hardly blame him for being bitter and isolating himself. That didn’t mean he wanted to hurt people just for the heck of it.

He was trying so hard, and damn, he looked so good doing it. He was used to seeing him in dim lighting, and the sun was surprisingly flattering on his gray skin and glistening on the strands of his black hair. And, of course, his golden eyes. Later he would have to ask Pitch to stand in the sun and just stay still so he could stare at them, just for a few seconds. Minutes. Even from here, at this angle, they seemed to give off their own light, and he found the deep, rich, pure gold of Pitch’s eyes mesmerizing.

“Jack?”

Jack blinked and looked back at Tooth and North with a lazy smile. “Hm? Sorry, what?”

Tooth looked like she was trying not to laugh, biting her lip a little. “Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if you had any suggestions.”

He stared at her vacantly, blinking away a daze. “Suggestions. Um…no, not really, I think that sounds good.”

She grinned. “Excellent.”

He smiled, relieved he hadn’t made himself look too stupid, and glanced back in Pitch’s direction to see he was looking back at him. His heart leapt and he felt ridiculous for getting worked up just because their eyes were meeting, but it made him grin. He felt like he had an anchor here, someone and somewhere safe, and besides, why wouldn’t he be happy the hottest person in the room was looking at him? Jack stuck his tongue out at him, just the tip, and had to bury his mouth in his elbow when Pitch did it back.

“Sorry, one sec,” Jack apologized and quickly excused himself to the giggling of Tooth, making his way over to get himself some ginger ale too.

He was pleased when Pitch came over to him like he’d hoped, and gently clinked his glass against his. “So sorry, am I distracting you?” Pitch teased.

“No, I just…no,” he retorted lamely, but grinned. “I noticed Sandy’s not kicking your butt.”

“Yes, everyone’s certainly trying their best to get along. It’s rather heartwarming.” Pitch didn’t look particularly warmed, but he didn’t look irritated, so that was good.

“We don’t have to stay for a super long time or anything. I mostly just wanted them to kinda…I dunno. See us together.” He smiled and leaned against the wall, crossing one leg over the other as he gazed up at Pitch, feeling like he was in a dream. “Let them see for themselves it’s not like this weird toxic thing. You know. After seeing me messed up before, they must have thought some really messed up stuff was going on. Then seeing that and now seeing this, it must be…a lot for them.”

“And for you,” Pitch added, eying him carefully. “Does any of this make you feel better? About us?”

Jack chewed at the inside of his cheek. “It’s not really the ‘us’ I was worried about…”

Pitch hummed thoughtfully. “It was to some degree. If everyone had continued to see this as being a dangerous situation for you and assumed I was abusing you, what would you have thought?”

“That they were assholes.” He paused and looked around the room. “…no, I get what you’re saying. I was scared that, like…I dunno, I was always confident about my decisions when I was alone because there was no one to judge me or ask for help. Now when there are other people around I’m sure I must be the least qualified person to be making decisions about anything. North is a great leader, Toothiana’s really sharp, Sandy pays attention and has great judgment. Even the kangaroo knows and has seen a lot more than me, and he hates everything so if he likes an idea there’s a good chance it’s actually a safe bet. So like…I don’t know.”

Jack looked at his feet and shifted his stance. “It makes me feel better to know that other people know so I can just prove to myself that…I’m not just some idiot so in love they can’t think straight about anything. To me that sounds more like me than someone that would stand up to a bunch of people that would know better for the sake of someone and something they believe in.”

“Funny, because that’s exactly the Jack Frost I know,” Pitch insisted, dead serious. “A free spirit. Even the moon itself that gave him his name can’t tell him what to do…but Jack, I do worry you’re forcing yourself to process everything too fast. It’s like you said, the things you felt and the way things were the last time you saw The Guardians is a world away from right now, but it still happened. It still matters, and if it’s jarring for them to see, how much more jarring must it be for you to experience?”

Jack looked back up at him, standing up straighter, a nervous flutter in his stomach. “What are you saying?”

Pitch shook his head. “Nothing, starlight. I’m not trying to ‘break up’ with you or anything so severe, I’m telling you to give yourself the same consideration you give others, not right this moment obviously, but when you are ready and have space and time enough. You thought I threw you away. I’m sure some part of you, likely a large part, still feels as though I have even if you know different. So remember what you’ve said and what I’m saying and talk with me more about it another time.”

Jack nodded and he must have been making quite the frightful face because Pitch set his drink down on the nearest flat surface and took Jack’s face in his hands, slowly stroking his cheeks under his thumbs. Jack laughed lightly and murmured, “I’m alright. I…I did think for a second maybe this was all too much and you were going to suggest we take a break or something.”

Pitch took Jack’s drink and set it aside then gathered him into his arms lovingly, resting his nose and mouth against the top of his head. “See how close it is to the surface? How prepared your heart is to be broken again? And that’s entirely my fault. Entirely. And it’s okay to feel that way, and to love me still, as long as you remember the way they’re all feeling, confused, angry, hurt, it’s only a tiny fraction of your pain so even if you make it sound smaller, it most certainly is not.” He pressed his lips to Jack’s forehead for a long moment then leaned back to look at him. Pitch’s eyes were lidded and hazy with a mix of emotions, all of them potent, and all of them overshadowed drastically by love.

Jack nodded slowly as he leaned against Pitch’s chest and rested his hands there, feeling impossibly small and infinite in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Pitch echoed, cradling his face in one hand again as he slowly pressed his lips to Jack’s like he was trying to memorize the motion each tiny muscle had to take, just the very tip of his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip. Jack sank against him with relief, pushing himself up on his tippy toes even though it really wasn’t necessary. He just wanted to be closer. He didn’t remember they were at what was essentially a party, but luckily Pitch did and slowly pulled back, despite Jack’s quiet protests. Instead of indulging him any further, Pitch kept him gathered close, running his nose affectionately along the side of Jack’s cold cheek.

Jack smiled, laughing softly at the ticklish feeling. He had the decency, at least, to be faintly embarrassed, but right now all he really cared about was pulling Pitch into some quiet, dark corner to decompress. After all these years of wishing more than anything he could be at the center of every party, Jack was starting to realize that he might actually be less of a party animal than he thought. He was all about fun, there was no question about that, but fun meant different things at different times and right now Jack’s idea of fun was closer to what Pitch likely had in mind. He liked being seen, craved it, but he needed a little break if he was going to have the mental energy to stand up to The Guardians’ scrutiny a little later on.

Then he had an idea. He could do even better than that.

Clearing the huskiness from his voice, he hovered back from Pitch and looked around for North. “Hey, uh, North! You got any board games around here?”

“Of course!” the man cried excitedly, “I have any game you could ever want, I will grab them.” North made a move like he was heading off to fetch his entire toy store of games when Jack fluttered over, smiling and flushed. He never claimed to be subtle.

“Don’t go through all that, you stay here and I’ll go pick one out. I am The Guardian of Fun, after all. Where, uh…?”

As soon as North explained to Jack where the games were, Jack thanked him, snatched Pitch by the wrist with a request that he help him carry stuff, and whisked him off.

They’d hardly made it out into the hall when Pitch yanked him in by his sweatshirt and into a patch of shadow behind the door. In a rush Jack suddenly found himself being slammed against the wall in some other, darker hallway. He instantly melted on Pitch’s tongue as it pressed first into his mouth, then against his neck. Jack groaned, sinking malleable and eager into hot, roaming hands, hips rolling. He let out a high-pitched sound of pleasure and surprise as Pitch’s hand suddenly found its way between his legs and gripped him roughly.

“You haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, have you?” Pitch purred against his ear.

Jack knew immediately what he was talking about and shook his head desperately, but it was true.

“You’re an excellent little whore for me, aren’t you, Jack?”

He twitched in Pitch’s hand and the bastard let out a laugh.

It was just wrong, doing this, now, but Jack was already panting and quickly working his way up to begging. Sure enough, seconds later he was frantically whispering, “Please…please.”

It had to be the result of centuries of neglect and invisibility, but not having Pitch all over him every five minutes drew his attention to how touch-starved he was. He was ravenous and he’d been spoiled for a while now on Pitch’s affection, always coexisting in each other’s space, one in the other’s lap or leaned against the other’s shoulder. They’d never talked much about it; they didn’t have to. Each gesture spoke volumes about the loneliness they’d each experienced and how unwilling they were to endure it another second.

And, of course, he was The Guardian of Fun after all.

Jack squeaked out a breathless little swear as Pitch slid his hand from between his legs up into his sweatshirt and the frost spirit responded by feverishly grinding his hips against him. It wasn’t enough.

“Come on,” Jack complained breathlessly. “Touch me.”

“Perhaps I will. That depends. Will you be a good little whore for me, Jack?” Pitch murmured.

Jack nodded immediately, but he should have known that wouldn’t be good enough because Pitch just looked at him, waiting. Face burning, he turned his gaze up to the ceiling. It was a losing battle, but he couldn’t help but fight it. “Yes. I will.”

“Mm. I’m not convinced,” Pitch teased before setting Jack down.

Jack panicked, grabbing onto his robe. “Okay, okay, just…gimme a second. I, uh…”

“Take as long as you need,” Pitch said before he turned and started walking away. Naturally, Jack hurried after him.

“Hey hey hey, wait! I just—“

Jack yelped as Pitch suddenly grabbed him, spun him around and pushed him into a nearby room. The door shut behind them and they were suddenly thrown in complete darkness, but that didn’t bother Pitch of course.

“Gotcha.”

“Woah, what the—“

Jack stared in shock into the darkness as Pitch bent him over a hard, flat surface and he suddenly found himself naked. God, he loved that trick.

He started to push himself up on his elbows, but Pitch snatched him by the neck and shoved him back down flat. Jack’s cock twitched in his pants and his hands scrabbled at the wood surface underneath him. He was already stupidly aroused, he could hardly catch his breath.

“God, please, Pitch,” he whined.

“If you’re not going to beg like a good little whore then why should I fuck you like one?” Pitch purred, sounding entirely indifferent to his struggles as he ran hot fingers slowly down his back.

Jack bit his lip hard as heat shot through him before finally he whined, “Okay, okay, I…I will. I’ll…be a…good little whore for you.”

His blood felt carbonated with ticklish little bubbles of excitement at the dark little chuckle Pitch let out before he crooned, “I know you will, my little frost spirit. My Jack.”

Jack bleated into the dark as wet fingers pressed him open and he hoped to god they were far enough away that no one could hear him. Whether it was necessary or not, Pitch crushed his hand over Jack’s mouth. He let out a ragged moan against his warm palm and squirmed. It occurred to Jack with a little thrill that being gagged might be a fun thing to try because this was doing something for him. He felt his eyes rolling back as Pitch pushed deeper inside him.

With only the barest amount of prep, Pitch removed his fingers and was instead thrust inside him, sheathing himself fully in Jack’s tiny body with one fluid push. Jack screamed in a mixture of ecstasy and pain, and fuck, it was so good. One hand squeezed his hip possessively while the other stayed pressed over his mouth, muffling the staccato of delicious, broken sounds Jack was making. There was no time or desire to take things slow, this was going to be fast, hard, and dirty, and the excitement of it was electrifying. He was so painfully hard. Pitch, too, made rather wild grunts and growls just above his head as he moved inside him, doing everything he could, it seemed, to remind Jack who’s he was. Jack’s hands clawed at the surface beneath him until Pitch’s hands came to rest over his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing as the pace picked up. Jack let out a dry sob, it was too perfect, too much too fast and not enough, god, more, he needed more, he needed it now.

And then his climax hit him hard. He screamed, body tensing and back trying to arch as his mind whited out, shaking and writhing against Pitch’s heat. He could feel him still moving inside him, felt himself drooling and wetness against his belly before finally he made a strangled sound as Pitch came deep inside him. Jack smiled deliriously, relief flooding him as the fever finally seemed to break.

They returned to where everyone was gathered a few minutes later, each carrying a couple board games to choose from. Jack claimed they took a wrong turn and got a little lost while they were searching. North gave him a playful, scolding look, but didn’t call him out.

By the time any tough topics were broached it was during one of these games, a game which North was winning much to everyone’s displeasure. Jack was almost glad for the distraction from how bad he was getting crushed by everyone but Tooth. He was competitive, but not that competitive. He was just in it to have a good time. Bunny, on the other hand, was pissed he was losing to Pitch, North, and Sandy. Or…he had been until Sandy fell asleep.

North was bewildered and horrified when Pitch inevitably snuck up out of second and stole the win at the last second. It was so close. Jack laughed, feeling bad for North as he scoffed and walked away from the table declaring the next game would be his greatest victory yet. The others cleaned up before dispersing for snacks and drinks.

Jack, meanwhile, turned in his seat to look at Pitch, who sat beside him. “There’s no way we’re getting out of this without talking about some hard shit,” Jack mused as he leaned against the table, his head in his hand.

Pitch nodded in agreement, golden eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of his win. “Agreed. I welcome it. Best to just get it over with, I think.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Any questions The Guardians had about them would be better resolved around snacks and games, Jack thought, and there would be more games if he had anything to say about it. The next game would be his, he could feel it.

Gradually, the others wandered back over, distributing drinks and cookies and Jack did indeed rope them into another board game before long. Honestly, the hard part was already done with. They were all sitting at this table, knowing Jack wanted The Nightmare King to wreck his shit, and nobody was killing each other. In fact, Jack thought, as he watched Bunny roll the dice, everyone seemed like they were having a good time. He couldn’t help but grin as he looked back at them all, crossing his arms behind his head and sitting back in his seat. Everything was amazing.

Pitch’s golden gaze swept the table before falling back on him. He rolled his eyes a little, smiling softly as he murmured, “You look as though you think this is your birthday party.”

“Oh, dang,” Jack joked. “Is it not?”

“I hope not, because I haven’t gotten you a birthday gift.”

Jack flashed him a grin. “And I’m not in my birthday suit. This is the worst birthday ever.”

Pitch smirked. “I’m quite certain it’s not. I’d know, I was there.”

“Crap, sorry, wrong workshop, guys, sorry!” Jack said, standing up like he was leaving, and burst out laughing as Pitch caught him around the middle and playfully pulled him back, holding onto him a little longer than necessary, hands lingering before he set Jack back in his seat. Pitch smirked mischievously at Jack, who was all smiles.

“Behave,” Pitch teased. “This was your idea, after all.”

“Since when have I ever behaved?” Jack countered.

Pitch sighed and nodded slowly. “This is true. Ah, well. You already know this is one of my favorite features of yours.”

“I thought you said it was–”

Pitch nudged Jack’s staff with his foot and it went clattering across the floor. “Whoops.” As Jack popped back up, glaring at him playfully, Pitch muttered, “I said one of.”

“Okay, good because–...” He paused and looked around at the others, who were dutifully pretending as though they didn’t know Jack and Pitch were there at all, let alone voraciously flirting. This was exactly what Jack meant when he told them anyone who saw him and Pitch in a room together would see for themselves quick enough things you just couldn’t explain in words. Some of those things just happened to be really embarrassing.

“Anddd we’re ignoring everyone and being rude, I suck at this.”

“You know they can also hear you, yes?” Pitch drawled.

Jack gasped dramatically and shouted, “Everyone can hear me right now?! When I’m yelling at this big important party?! I’M SO EMBARRASSED.”

Pitch let out a loud puff of air, nearly choking, and turned his back on Jack, putting the back of his hand to his mouth as he tried not to laugh, not wanting to encourage him.

Jack, on the other hand, laughed wholeheartedly, causing North to jump to Pitch’s rescue. “Jack, are you harassing our esteemed guest?”

“Kinda. Not really. I don’t know,” Jack said, grinning impishly as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head again. “He likes it.”

“I do not,” Pitch mumbled, sitting up straighter.

“He’s smiling on the inside.”

“Jack, it is such a relief to see you like this, so much more yourself,” North enthused, gesturing to him from across the table, eyes bright and warm. Jack couldn’t help but feel rather special. He accepted the plate of cookies as Tooth passed it to him and he took a couple, although he was nervous enough that he didn’t feel like he could swallow them right now. The atmosphere had shifted a little and it felt like everyone was thinking about the same thing.

“Thanks. Yeah, I feel…weird, but so much better.” He paused awkwardly and looked anywhere but at anyone else. Pitch was right. It would be better to just get it over with so they could enjoy the rest of the party without being stressed the whole time about what topics might come up. “So I was just thinking…I feel like you all probably have…questions? About me and Pitch, or…what we should all do next so we don’t accidentally destroy the world or something…?”

While he was avoiding looking at everyone else, he passed another glance over Bunny, assuming he wouldn’t be looking at him, and he was right. He was looking at Pitch, eyes narrowed. He couldn’t blame him for holding a grudge, he really couldn’t, but he still didn’t like the look he was giving Pitch.

“Actually, now that you mention it, I was wondering why you decided to give Jack his memories, Pitch,” Tooth chimed in. “He didn’t even know they existed. It would have been easy to just pretend that was the case. I’ve been thinking about that for a while.”

Pitch paused, glancing at Jack, then back at Tooth. “I won’t speak about his memories specifically, but I can say that I felt no small amount of guilt. He had a right to know what they contained.”

Jack leaned back into his own seat and looked up at Pitch with a small smile. “Yeah, uh…” He looked down at the table in front of him. “I told you guys a little…I don’t remember what exactly, but…there was an accident and…it killed me. Pitch was there and it was kind of his fault, but mostly mine…and then when I was dead I woke up and was freaking out at the bottom of this lake, and Pitch heard me and came to calm me down. Which, he did. We got close even then, but then when my spirit was awakened fully I forgot all about it. I forgot everything. And so begins centuries of isolation. Even though he…knew.”

He glanced at Pitch, feeling like he was throwing him under the bus, but the words also left a bitter taste in his mouth from the anger barely contained within them. He wasn’t sure if that bitterness was directed at Pitch, The Guardians, Manny, or himself.

Pitch spoke up, pressing his palm flat on the table, his claws splaying out across the wood. “Your Man in The Moon used his influence to make sure I could never get close to him. I’m sure,” he added venomously, “Manny thought he was protecting him from me. If he’d spent all that time with me, he never would have even considered becoming a Guardian and may have even been turned against the world in my name.”

Jack watched as Pitch took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let it out in a sigh. “As much as I am loath to admit it…that is likely correct. I would even go as far as to say the world may not exist at all as you know it now if I’d had my way then. Possibly.” He opened his eyes. “Perhaps not. Perhaps I would have been in love and content enough with that, but I doubt it. Millennia of grudges aren’t wiped away so easily. So, while I don’t think this is a hurt I’ll ever be able to let go of…” He looked at Jack. “…on my behalf and yours, for those many lonely years apart…I am willing to concede…it was likely better for the world as a whole, in the eyes of someone as good and kind as you. Jack. And if I’d insulted your memory by destroying this world you loved so much…I never would have forgiven myself. That is, if I even realized the hurt I’d caused. Likely, I would not have.”

Pitch reached out and put a hand over his on the table, his gaze softening. “But that doesn’t change how much you suffered, and I don’t mean to make light of it.”

Jack turned his hand over and squeezed Pitch’s hand back, shutting his eyes tight and swallowing over the tightness in his throat, because he knew what Pitch was really saying. For his part of what he’d endured, he was offering forgiveness. He was saying that he would move on, if that was what Jack liked.

Jack nodded and looked up at him, a sheen of unshed tears glistening in his eyes. He smiled. “Nah…you’re right. That’s…me too.” He chuckled and looked down then looked at the others sheepishly. “It’s not like everything is perfect. I still feel a lot of, uh…” He paused, glancing at Pitch, and reworded so he didn’t refer to his emotions as being inherently bad. “I feel a lot of things I don’t want to feel. Hurt and anger and guilt and stuff like that. But there’s a lot of love too and I want to try and focus on that…when it’s healthy to. Besides.” He glanced at Pitch again, smirking a little. “I’m pretty sure best friends aren’t supposed to just mercilessly drag each other in public. You work that stuff out in private, right?”

He glanced up at Pitch hesitantly for confirmation. Pitch nodded. “And in any healthy relationship as well.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said best friends.”

Jack blinked, sighed, then slumped over onto the table, covering his face with his hands. He’d spent way too much time with kids over his existence. He wasn’t sure what was worse: being so unintentionally sappy or sounding like a fifth grader. At least there was no question that he wasn’t just in it for the dick. “Whelp. That’s embarrassing. Think I’ll just go ahead and pass away now.”

He shivered and wiggled away as he felt Pitch run his fingers ticklishly up his spine, then removed one hand from his face to swat at him. “No, shut up.”

“That was adorable.”

Jack groaned loudly as Pitch patted his back, but as he peeked over at him it was hard to feel anything but happy, seeing the way Pitch’s face just lit up. Sure, it may not have counted as hard evidence in someone like Bunny’s book, but Jack was pretty sure Pitch looked like a man desperately in love to the rest of them, too, and not just to Jack because the feeling was mutual. He wasn’t even really smiling, but his face was relaxed, eyes crinkling just a little in the corners, and then of course there was the fact that he seemed to have forgotten again that they were in a room full of other people. Jack was starting to wonder if it was less about forgetting and more about not giving one tiny modicum of fucks about anything anyone else had to say about it. The board game seemed to have been forgotten entirely by everyone present.

Jack flushed, sat up, and tore his gaze away, stuttering breathlessly, “So…so yeah, that’s, um…I was just saying…what was I saying? …oh, right, right I was just saying that…I know this looks really sudden and weird and you guys just, like, held me while I cried and I…I really appreciate that, by the way…and now I’m here and I’m good and it’s…if it seems weird that it’s so perfect, that’s because it’s not. Not all the time…that’s all. Um…” He glanced back at Pitch, who seemed to have snapped out of it, now.

Pitch waited to make sure Jack was done speaking, shifting uncomfortably, then continued quietly, “So…in regards to your question, I already cared for Jack very much at that point, when I gave him the memories. I wanted him to know what I’d done so he could make his own decision.”

“Wouldn’t it have been better to let him go on not knowing? You must have known Jack would be very upset with you, possibly leave you altogether. Why would you risk that?” Tooth asked as she leaned against the table with her arms crossed, eyes laser focused. If Jack had to guess, she knew exactly why, and just wanted to hear it from him.

Sandy added something in a flash of gold images, to which Pitch nodded once that he understood.

“Even if he found our first meeting that compelling and sought a connection again because of it, I think it’s pretty clear that stalking and killing someone, then essentially abandoning them to a fate worse than death, is more compelling still. So yes, in theory I could have wanted to use his memories to that end, but that’s…the stupidest thing I ever heard, and that one’s here,” he said, gesturing to Bunny, “So that’s telling.”

Bunny glared at him while Sandy nodded, but before either of them could say anything, North leaned closer and threw out, “Out of genuinely wanting to know, what is it you, Pitch, so dark and brooding, find you like so much about our free-spirited, sweet and lovable Jack Frost?”

Jack cringed, embarrassed. “North, come on…is that really necessary…?”

“Manners, now,” Pitch scolded playfully. “I believe he was asking me.”

They waited for Pitch to continue, but he hesitated, a strange look on his face. He turned his head, gaze lost in the horizon, and after some thought finally said quietly, “I have always…felt trapped. I was raised a very certain way to be a certain thing, and I was. I was that thing and I made sure I was the best. I thought it was what I wanted until I had to consider…how one might raise a child. I had choices to make. And then along came Jack, and I thought to myself, there’s a spoiled brat that should have been spanked as a child. He was an adult, but hardly acted like it. I couldn’t wait to see him pay for thinking he was above everything I had shaped my life around.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jack muttered. He barely had any memory of being this person and he was still offended.

Pitch turned his gaze onto him and it was so soft and sad it took Jack’s breath away, as well as any qualms he may have had with what Pitch had said. “But no matter how much he was punished he couldn’t be persuaded to be anything but what he was. It didn’t matter how many times someone beat him down or mocked him, tried to bribe him or persuade him, his strength of spirit was unyielding and that’s certainly a quality I don’t possess, and yet he makes it look easy. He’s always been a light wherever he goes. He was so completely different from me that I could hardly wrap my head around it. Around him. He had so many less freedoms, but he lived as though he were free, whereas I had everything and never felt free a day in my life until he gave me a chance to know him.”

Pitch let out a melancholy sigh and raised his hand to cradle Jack’s cheek. Jack laughed shyly and placed his smaller hand on top of his as Pitch continued. “I was cruelly indifferent to your existence in the beginning, but how could I not love you? Everyone did. You never let me get away with anything. Antagonized me endlessly, and yet when I eventually lost my patience you never held it against me. And, of course, my…my daughter…adored you.” He closed his eyes and swallowed, gathering himself before opening them again. From this close, he could see Pitch blinking away unshed tears. “You made me feel free.”

Jack sniffled, turning into a slushy mess in Pitch’s hand, even as he smiled like a fool. “…I think he just wanted you to say some nice things about me,” Jack murmured playfully.

“He is kind and empathetic, cunning, wild, loyal, endlessly entertaining, adorable—“

“Okay, okay! That’s not what I meant!” Jack cried shrilly, pushing Pitch away from him. Pitch just laughed and let him go.

The Guardians all seemed floored and Jack was pretty sure he knew why, and it was only partly because Pitch was talking about him as if they’d lived this other life together that they knew nothing about. If they’d even known he had a daughter, Jack was positive he’d never mentioned her in front of them. Even Jack was stunned by this. It made his chest feel tight, but he also felt somehow lighter.

“So,” Tooth began, voice bright with enthusiasm as she broke the silence, “Pitch has had an interest in Jack for much longer than from the point at which he received any sort of powers, or had any connection to us. That’s what I’m hearing,” she concluded with a smile and a shrug. Bunny looked at her, aghast, but was speechless, because he knew she had a point.

“That is correct,” Pitch confirmed.

“Unless the memories are false,” Bunny grasped, looking to Tooth for her expertise in this matter.

She shook her head, iridescent feathers bobbing beautifully and catching what little light there was to be found. “Not possible, although that’s a clever concern to have, and it did occur to me, so I did a little digging in preparation for today.”

Everyone watched, enraptured as she put out her hand and an ornate golden tube appeared in her palm, one that had Jack’s face at both ends.

“I would know whether or not these were your teeth, Jack, without a doubt. It’s the one thing I always know.” She glanced at Pitch and winked. “Like how someone else here might always know, for example, one’s greatest fears…I always know how one can follow their memories back to childhood, and that involves knowing everything about these teeth and their little homes. This is your box and these are your teeth. I’ve kept it separate since it was returned to watch out for anomalies, but…” She shrugged. “It’s just a regular box like all the others.”

North leaned forward intently and asked with an air of great caution and intrigue, “Could it have been, perhaps, replaced with another? A fake, one Pitch is holding somewhere, one that he gave to our Jack to trick him.”

To Jack’s surprise, she smiled brightly and held the box out to Jack. “Here. Take this and tell me what happens.”

Jack hesitantly did as she asked, wrapping his fingers slowly around the strange cylinder, feeling the heft of its weight and the intricate details of its markings and edges under the pads of his fingers. Other than that, though, nothing happened at all. He waited, staring at it, before finally looking back up at Tooth in confusion, thinking he was missing something.

“Sorry, I…nothing’s happening.”

She beamed. “Excellent! Then it’s just as I suspected. These memories that were returned with the others are not only genuine, but they have to be the ones Jack already found. Otherwise, they would be reacting to him now as strongly as they did then…flashbacks of memories, disembodied voices, the whole nine yards. So he’s held these before.”

Jack slowly handed them back to her, amazed. “Wow. So everything I saw and felt and…everything, it was real.” It was something he’d known, both from Pitch and simply in his heart, but having it yet again be confirmed that yes, he was Jackson Overland, and all he remembered was true, it shook him a little.

Tooth nodded and the box disappeared with a shimmer as she offered him a small, sad smile. “Yes, Jack.”

Jack nodded and looked to Bunny, who still seemed to be reeling from this information. “Satisfied?”

“I…yeah. Yeah, I am. Sweet Man in the Moon, this is really happening,” Bunny whispered, grabbing his head as he flopped forward onto the table. After only a few seconds, though, he sprung back up. “Alright, fine then, I’m probably going to regret this, but yeah, I do have an actual question.”

“You sure about that?” Jack asked with one skeptical raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Bunny confirmed before sitting up straight and scowling back at Jack as he gestured with his hand to Pitch. “What could you possibly see in this sad clown? I know what you said, I know, but I mean, you can’t be serious. Him, you…fine. Alright. But you being…actually attracted to this sorry sack of shit, I can’t possibly wrap my head around that. No way. Forget qualities you’d look for in a partner, he doesn’t have any redeeming qualities at all, mate, I mean, snap out of it.”

Jack passed right through anxiety over the confrontation and into pure, righteous fury. “Oh, yeah, it’s my turn to explain this to you now, huh? Alright.” Jack snatched up his staff and hopped right up onto the table. Sure, it was rude, but right now he was so focused on not jamming a spike of ice through Bunny’s heart that he didn’t have room for self-control regarding anything else inside him.

Despite how furious he suddenly was, he felt himself grinning. He must have looked like he’d totally lost it. Maybe he had. He was so sick of having this same argument over and over and he was done trying to reason with anyone about Pitch. But there were going to have to be rules. Boundaries, Pitch would have probably called them.

Jack walked across the long table towards Bunny then pointed the end of his shepherd’s crook at his face. Bunny’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared at it, nose wiggling, before he scowled back at Jack, but with a noticeable air of caution. Jack, on the other hand, seemed to be showing very little caution in regards to how close the frost lightning was getting to Bunny’s face, and no matter how much he was grinning, Jack looked for all the world like he wanted nothing more than a reason to strike him down. It wasn’t a smooth and controlled sort of intimidation like Pitch, but the chaotic force of his wrath was surprisingly potent and unsettling. The temperature in the room alone had dropped at least thirty degrees, and ice was spreading across the table under his feet. A thin sheen of ice crystals blossomed randomly over objects across the room and as he squatted down and peered into Bunny’s nervous face he’d be lying if he said he didn’t relish the fear he saw in the guardian’s eyes. Good. He should be afraid.

“I am so…so sick of hearing you constantly say awful stuff about him in front of me, to me, to him.” He nudged the crook of his staff up under Bunny’s chin in a show of condescension that made Pitch unspeakably proud before continuing, “He might not get violent with any of you because he knows I’m not cool with him hurting my friends, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. Because if you can’t respect him or me enough to keep that to yourself then you’re no friend of mine and I don’t owe you anything. So leave him alone. Got it?”

Bunny scoffed, but nodded, and Jack lowered his staff benignly back to his side, then added with a tone a little softer around the edges, “I know you’re just kind of a sarcastic jerk at the best of times, and honestly I like that about you, you know? I’m not gonna blast you for good-natured ribbing here and there, but that’s the thing, I know it’s not good-natured. And fine, you can’t change overnight. Cool. I got it. It’s not like I want to hurt you or anything, or like I’m hunting for excuses to freeze you. But seriously, I am so…” He huffed out a laugh and walked back towards the center of the table. “I am so sick of hearing it. It’s not fair to me to have to just take it. You have no idea how…much he’s helped me.”

“Oh yeah?” Bunny asked, looking skeptical. “Like with your new shadow powers.”

“No. I told you, that’s…” Jack sighed. He glanced at the ceiling thoughtfully, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say. Talking with people instead of just at them was way harder than he’d thought it would be back when he was invisible.

This was going to be embarrassing.

“I…” He glanced out of the nearest window at the snowy mountains in the distance and sighed. “…I still can’t…think of myself as the kind of person Pitch thinks I am. I don’t think I’m smart or strong or any of the nice things he says about me.” He glanced at Pitch with a wince. “Sorry. But I just…I guess it takes time. But I do…I do think I deserve to be believed in. Because of you.” He waved his hand at him with a lopsided smile. “That’s all because of how Pitch has believed in me since the beginning. No matter what happens, no matter how I mess up or he messes up, he’s there trying to help me somehow, so like…I must be worth something. You know? Just having someone there to remind me when I forget, that I’m not stupid. I’m not a burden. I’m real. You can’t imagine how helpful that is, for me, someone that was alone for so long. I forgot how to be a person and I’m learning and it’s because of him. You guys just…you don’t get it. I don’t think you can unless you go through what we’ve been through.”

“I do not think you are stupid, Jack,” North offered quickly, looking troubled. “None of us do, although some of us perhaps may be being better at showing we do not think that,” he said, eying Bunny with a scolding raise of the eyebrow.

Jack chuckled and turned to smile at North. “Thanks.”

“Really, Jack, you aren’t any of those things,” Tooth insisted, causing Sandy to nod eagerly in agreement. “You are more than deserving of being believed in.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid either, mate, I know I bust your chops and we don’t always see eye to eye, but…” Bunny’s tough exterior finally softened a bit as he looked Jack up and down and said, “But I hope I'm not the reason you think all that. Right? I'm not, am I?”

Jack shook his head and smiled a little at him, putting his free hand in his pocket. “Nah, it’s just kinda stuff I’ve always been told, you know? Like as a kid and stuff. Before I died. But you sure as hell haven’t helped. I…” Jack laughed a little. “Forget it. This has been awesome, but I’m really tired. Maybe we should quit while we’re ahead today. Is that cool?”

He looked around at everyone and they all seemed agreeable. Jack nodded. “Super cool, okay. Thanks, guys, all of this was amazing. You didn’t have to do all of this, but I really appreciate it. And I know this is…” He sighed deeply. “…all of this, it’s going to take some getting used to, but I think it’ll be fine. Right?”

He turned and looked at Pitch who was already standing, although he hadn’t heard him move at all. They were about eye level with one another and it caught Jack by surprise, but he just laughed.

With one arm behind his back, Pitch regally reached out his other hand to Jack as if he were asking him to dance. The gesture was so fluid and charming it made Jack’s heart stutter. Beaming, Jack stepped towards where Pitch was waiting for him, but stopped abruptly as that strange feeling of deja vu settled into his bones once more.

He could only see it in his mind, feel it inside, but it seemed so real…like there were two other people layered on top of each of them being reunited everytime they were with one another. Time was echoing and for an instant Jack thought he could hear it.

He thought he heard music somewhere in the background. His heart pounded. He was suddenly nervous. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to dance. He did, technically, and Kozmotis had shown him ahead of time. They’d spent probably more hours than strictly necessary practicing because Jack was determined to get it right, terrified of embarrassing the king in front of everyone. He also just…really enjoyed practicing.

Pitch didn’t look worried in the slightest, though. He held his hand out with a soft and patient expression, the cuff of his jacket glittering in the warm lights surrounding them on every side. Jack spotted the little gold cuff link of a star he’d bought him, the crystal glittering like the real thing, and his heart soared.

Their eyes met, each smiling warmly as understanding settled between them, and Jack stepped forward. He took Kozmotis’ hand and forgot where or when they were or why. With the two of them like this it felt like they could overcome anything. Because they already had.

Jack beamed as Pitchiner kissed the back of his hand like a true gentleman, sending warmth fluttering all up and down his arm. The way Pitch stared into his eyes worshipfully the entire time made Jack forget how to breathe. He wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Daddy! Jack!”

Jack and Pitch both jerked their heads up and looked to the doorway, heart’s pounding. There was nothing there but a gentle flutter of cold winter winds.

Jack smiled sadly, understanding at last, finally knowing for sure. It was time. He looked at Pitch’s shell shocked expression, clutched his hand tighter and hopped off the table.

“Come on.”

He tugged Pitch along, his heart aching at the lost look on his face then waved goodbye to The Guardians as they headed out into the arctic tundra.

…

“It’s okay,” Jack whispered, taking both of Pitch’s hands in his as he turned to face him. “It’s okay…I know.”

“Jack.”

Pitch had broken out of his reverie as they made their way through the snow and out of sight of the workshop. He looked distant and troubled, but was starting to come back to himself. Still, whatever he was feeling seemed to command greater attention than figuring out why Jack was dragging him through the snow.

“I have to tell you something about the wind,” Jack said softly.

Pitch blinked at him in confusion. He had his full attention now. “The wind?”

Jack nodded with a nervous little smile and looked around. “Yeah. I uh…” His expression turned to one of worry as he looked back up at Pitch. “Do you remember what you told me about Mother Nature?” Pitch nodded. “Do you…know where she came from?”

Pitch blinked at him, perplexed. “No. She was already here by the time I arrived.”

Jack shook his head a little. “I did a little digging, Tooth helped me research a little too…and North, and Sandy, I didn’t tell them why or anything, I just said it was important. Bunny actually might have helped the most with his whole, you know, Spring thing. North asked Manny some things and Sandy looked into some history about the galaxy…it seems like because we weren’t all working together, we didn’t realize…the whole picture, you know?”

Pitch cocked his head slightly. “I’m not sure that I do, Jack.”

“Mother Nature is a person.” He paused, staring at Pitch to make sure he wasn’t just getting it on his own already. “She was a powerful nature spirit that came here to try and protect Earth from the shadows. She knew they were coming because…she’s from where you were from. Only…only to do that, she had to sacrifice having a body.”

Pitch’s face had gone stony. Jack swallowed thickly, but pushed on as gently as possible, massaging Pitch’s hands as he said, “Do you…do you remember how Seraphina used to ‘go to her garden’ when she was mad at one of us?”

“Jack—“

Jack smiled sadly. “She became her garden to get away from us. She became her garden…to get away from the shadows. Like I told her to. They’d have no interest in her then, a spirit like that, that they couldn’t corrupt or possess. She’d be safe. That’s what I thought. And then—“

Pitch tore his hands away and turned his back on him.

“She looked up to you so much. She wanted to protect everyone from the shadows so when you came here as the shadows she followed, but you didn’t know that because you were—“

“No,” Pitch barked and tried to walk away, but the wind suddenly picked up and shoved him back into Jack’s arms. Pitch didn’t protest or hesitate. He immediately snatched Jack up in his arms and collapsed in the snow, choking on a string of broken sobs. Jack wrapped his arms around him tight, as tight as he could, climbed into his lap, and gasped before letting out a little sob of his own.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

Pitch just shook his head and buried his face in Jack’s shoulder. He could feel Pitch’s face twisted in agony against the crook of his neck and Jack let out another breathless sob as the wind wound around them in a gentle tornado of frosty air.

Nature had always been there for Jack when nothing else was. It had seen every breakdown he’d ever had and thought he’d never recover from. It was all he had once the kids were done playing and went inside, leaving him with nowhere to go, and he’d always been fine with not really having a home because he had the trees to sleep in, the streams to dance through and the glaciers to slide across. The wind was his only real friend. It had always felt sentient to him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it sooner.

Pitch picked his head up and looked up into the sky with tears running down his face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. How could I have known, I didn’t…”

He went quiet, closing his eyes with a mournful sigh as the wind caressed his face, drying his tears.

“I’m sorry. You deserved so much more and I just couldn’t give it to you, but I swear to you I tried,” he whispered as he pried his eyes open. “I would have done anything…I…” He shook his head sadly, and breathed, “I love you so much. More than you could ever know.”

With that, he sank into Jack again, shaking with near silent sobs as Jack rubbed his back and whispered soothingly to him.

At last, they were both still and quiet. It felt like something massive should have changed in their lives and yet they were pretty much the same. Jack was starting to find out many of the most important moments in life happened quietly and if only he was willing to quiet himself a while he could let them happen. In this case, he was much more concerned with letting Pitch have as much time as he needed. He would have sat there with Pitch for days, weeks if he wanted, if that’s what it felt like he needed to be able to keep going.

Jack ran his fingers slowly back through Pitch’s hair, his forehead against his temple as he whispered into his ear, “I’m so proud of you. You have no idea how proud of you I am. Just imagining…what you’ve been through…the things people never see…but I know, I get it, and I’m so goddamn proud of you. I love you so, so much. I love you so much.”

Inevitably, after a while, together they were ready to get up and move on.