Rain
Rain, rain, go away, Jack sighed, huddled in his hood beneath a tree. It was one of the strange quirks of his existence that the freezing cold of winter didn't effect him, but the steady drizzle of late Spring showers left him uncomfortable, soaked and miserable.
Normally, he would already have headed off to either end of the globe. Mongolia was a long tundra ice by now, and it was always fun to play tricks on tourists visiting the penguins closer to the South Pole. But Jamie's birthday was coming up, and Jack promised to be there. So here he sat in his most fervent believer's backyard, soggy, bad tempered, and done with the stupid rain.
It was as he was cursing the season that a shadow detached itself from the tree, gliding to lean casually beside him. "My, aren't you looking… damp."
A year ago, Jack would have panicked, gone on the attack, or escaped to get back up from the other Guardians. Six months ago, he would have created a heavy ice storm an had the winds aim it straight at the villain's face. Now, though, he just glared. Pitch had reappeared more than half a year ago, but never seemed to have any kind of evil plan. He was simply focused on annoying the winter spirit.
Jack glanced over and startled a bit when he realized Pitch seemed different. At his first reappearance, he had been thin, oddly insubstantial. Now, he was solid. The shadows didn't cling as tightly as they used to, and there was a gleam in his eyes that Jack recognized: good natured mischief.
Which was the precise moment a tendril of Pitch's ever-present darkness reached up to tug at the branch exactly above Jack's head, and all the pooled water came down in drenching pour.
Sputtering, Jack spun and whacked Pitch with his staff. "I hate you!"
And the laugh that escaped the being he had once loathed and feared was surprisingly happy and light. "No you don't."
Jack sighed and sagged against Pitch's warm, dry side and huffed. "No, I don't."