Originally, this was posted as separate stories, but since I'm planning on continuing this as a series, it made more sense for it all to be in one fic.

This is a fill for a prompt on the Rise of the Guardians kink meme. A link to the full prompt can be found in my profile, but basically someone requested an AU where Pitch is a mob boss and Jack is a college student who babysits for money. Pitch hears that Jack is the best of the best when it comes to babysitting and he won't accept anything less when it comes to his daughter, so he hires Jack. Someone already started a fill called "By Moonlight" by Pretzel Logic. It is also linked in my profile and I recommend reading that before reading this. Despite a fill already existing, I decided to write this because two anons mentioned wanting to see Jack getting hurt protecting Pitch's daughter and I couldn't stop myself from writing that.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. This is so not what I signed up for. A kidnap attempt by a rival crime lord was bound to happen at some point, but no amount of briefing by security could have prepared Jack for this. The guard who had come to warn him of danger was now dead on the floor and there had been just barely enough time to hide Seraphina before he had been gunned down. Jack could only watch in horror as a muscular man threw aside the door to the small study and revealed a blond man behind him, a gun held securely in his grasp.

"Grab the boy," he said and the hulking mass of muscle rushed forward.

Jack forced his body to move, but scarcely got three steps before Muscles seized him. His arms were forced behind his back and he was dragged back over to the blond man, kicking and screaming.

"Quit struggling," Blondie ordered; Jack ignored him and continued to writhe in the hold. "I said 'quit struggling,' boy." This time, he froze at the sight of the gun leveled at him.

"That's better." Blondie slowly lowered the gun, but kept his finger on the trigger. Muscles tightened the grip on Jack's arms just in case he didn't get the message, but it was loud and clear: do something I don't like and I'll shoot. His heart was pounding in his chest. "Now, we are here to collect dear Seraphina. It would assist us greatly if you were to just tell us where she is."

Jack was terrified, but he was not about to give up her location. Just play dumb and stall until help can arrive. "Who?"

Blondie sneered at him and the hand holding the gun twitched. "We don't have much time before reinforcements arrive and we don't plan on leaving without Seraphina. It would be in your best interest to cooperate."

"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Look, boy, we've done our research. We know you're the girl's caretaker and would have been responsible for hiding her in the event of something like this happening." The gun was brought up and pointed directly at his face.

Jack's stomach turned to ice. "Okay, you got me. Let's say I do know where she is. What makes you think I'm going to tell you?" When he was under great stress, such as right now, Jack resorted to his natural defense mechanism: sarcasm. He did this when interacting with the Nightmare King himself, but he doubted these people would be as amused or as willing to put up with it as his boss was. Why can't I learn to just shut up! And where the hell is security?

"You've got a mouth on you, don't you? Well, we'll just have to fix that, won't we?"

His arms were wrenched further behind his back, causing him to wince in pain. That was quickly forgotten when Blondie drew his right arm back as if to backhand him. Jack noticed the gun was still in his hand. Surely he wouldn't –

Jack saw stars when the man's arm swung down, pistol-whipping him across his right cheek. He couldn't stop the cry of pain from escaping his mouth as his head snapped to the side.

The other cry that sounded in the room concerned him a lot more than his own. Seraphina! His eyes widened in panic through his haze and he fought off unconsciousness; Blondie had heard it, too. Jack flicked his gaze to the left corner of the room – the opposite corner from where Seraphina was hidden – hoping they would think that he was looking to where she was in his panic. Blondie smirked in a self-satisfied way and sauntered over to where Jack had allowed his eyes to wander. The only potential hiding spot in that area was a table that had a cloth draped over it, concealing the bottom part. "Pretty poor hiding spot you got th-" Blondie cut off midsentence as he pulled the cloth aside and saw nothing underneath. "You little brat!" He strode over to Jack, drawing his arm back again, and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for another impact –

"Stop! You leave my Jack alone!" Seraphina had jumped out of her actual hiding spot – a storage cupboard built into the bottom part of one of the bookcases – and was standing a slight distance away from it, arms crossed and feet planted in a defiant stance.

"Oh, exactly who I was looking for!"

Just as the blond man took a step towards Seraphina and she took a step back with a frightened look on her face, Jack heard a tinkling sound, like a small amount of glass breaking. The hold on Jack's arms loosened and Muscles slowly fell to the side, leaving Jack standing free. The blond man, panicked by the sudden sounds and actions, started to bring the gun up and aim it at Seraphina.

Unnoticed by anyone and as silent as a shadow, a dark figure slipped into the room.

Jack hardly registered that security had finally gotten their butts in action and that some kind of sniper had taken out the man who had been holding him; he only had eyes for his motionless young charge and the danger she was in. He dashed forward. If he didn't make it in time the man would shoot Seraphina and he couldn't let her die, couldn't let the little girl he had grown to love die like this. Jack didn't think of how much of a brat she could be, didn't think of how often she took advantage of his situation, didn't even think of what Pitch would do to him if he let his daughter die on his watch – he just thought of how much he couldn't stand the thought of this young girl dying. I'm not going to make it! He threw himself forward.

He heard the gunshot go off as his arms closed around Seraphina in a protective embrace and he felt a searing pain in his right side as he hit the floor, which he thought strange because he had landed on his left side. Trying to push himself up on his elbow caused pain to flare through his abdomen and his stomach muscles to seize up in protest of the strain. He quickly collapsed back onto the ground and, not able to bring himself to look at what he knew he would find, just clamped his left hand to that side. Ignoring the sick feeling the sticky wetness induced, he wrapped his other arm around Seraphina, pulling her down and close to him. Jack felt incredibly vulnerable, injured and with his back to the blond man with the gun, but there was really nothing else he could do.

"Awww, how precious! Sacrificing yourself to sa –" Again Blondie stopped in the middle of what he was saying, this time due to the sound of a gun – apparently not his and presumably pointed at him – being cocked.

Pitch held his gun to the back of the blond man's head. He hadn't been quick enough to stop him from shooting Jack, but he wasn't going to allow him to do any further damage. "I'm tired of hearing you talk. I'm also tired of you shooting my employees. Both are going to stop. Right now."

"Daddy!"

His daughter was peering at him from over Jack's shoulder, who had twisted around slightly so he could see what was happening, though he had avoided moving the lower half of his body. Jack also kept one hand pressed over a rapidly growing red spot on his side and the other wrapped around his daughter. "Don't look, Seraphina," Jack whispered, pulling her down, but she resisted, looking longingly at Pitch.

"Don't worry, darling, I'm here. Just close your eyes, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay, Daddy," she finally said, nodding her head and hiding her face in Jack's chest. After a brief moment of eye contact, Jack turned away as well and curled his body around Seraphina.

"No, please! Don't kill me! I'll do whatever you want!"

Pitch had almost forgotten about the man he held at gunpoint. His upper lip curled at the utter contempt he felt for him. "You don't want me to kill you, yet you say you'll do anything I want . . . well, that's a bit of a contradiction, don't you think? Considering I want you to die."

"Plea –" He pulled the trigger, finally shutting the insufferable man up. Blood and brain and bits of skull splattered against the walls as his head blew apart. Pitch wiped his face off with his sleeve, calmly stepping over the body to get to Jack and Seraphina, who had started to lift her head up.

"Daddy?" she sniffled.

"Everything's going to be okay now, Seraphina. Keep those eyes shut. I'm right here." Pitch knelt down right behind Jack and put his hand on his daughter's head. She slowly sat up more and Jack loosened his grip. He moved his arm to join his other hand in pressing against his side and kept his eyes squeezed shut. Pitch looked at him with concern. He placed his gun on the floor and used both hands to grip his daughter under the arms and lifted her up, careful not to jostle Jack as he pulled her to him. She immediately latched onto him and buried her face in his shoulder. He pet her hair with one hand and hugged her tight with the other, whispering that everything was okay and to keep her eyes closed.

"Sir! Is everything all right?"

Pitch glanced up to see another guard standing in the doorway. "I've got everything under control, no thanks to any of you."

"I apologize grievously, sir. They managed to scatter our ranks, which hindered our counter measures."

"There are more pressing matters to deal with right now. Just don't let it happen again. Take Seraphina to the safe house for now." He was torn between staying with his daughter and helping Jack. His daughter was scared, but she was used to events like this happening; Jack, however, was not and had come out of it worse for the wear. Though he had done an admirable job, he was injured and needed more help than she did right now.

"Yes, sir!" The guard rushed over and held his arms out for Seraphina.

She tightened her grip briefly and said, "I love you, Daddy," before she let go and allowed the guard to take her.

"I love you, too. I'll be there soon. Keep your eyes closed."

"Only if you take care of Jack for me, okay?" she called as the guard carried her briskly out of the room.

"Of course." Thinking he was unseen, Pitch allowed himself a small smile.

Jack's small chuckle-turned-cough altered him to the fact that he was not, in fact, alone. "A situation like this and you smile." He was still on his side, but his head was tilted back and his eyes were open.

Pitch honestly didn't know what to think of the boy. Jack was one of the most sarcastic and annoying individuals he had ever come across. He irritated him to no end most of the time . . . yet he couldn't help but admire Jack's ability to follow through with that behavior even in stressful situations. None of the other caretakers he had hired to look after his daughter had stuck around this long; mainly because Seraphina was too much of a handful for them or they were too afraid of him, but also because they got scared away by the dangers of the job. Jack had certainly not run away in the face of danger. Pitch just shook his head. "A situation like this and you get shot." He gently turned Jack over onto his back, trying not to be affected by the pained look it brought to the boy's face. He also tried not to be affected by the slowly blossoming bruising that he noticed creeping up on Jack's right cheek.

"Hey, it makes more sense than smiling," he said, his voice more strained than it had been before. Pitch frowned in concern. He needed to take him to the medical center in the safe house. He wasn't too worried about Jack recovering; gunshot wounds were common in his line of work and the medics knew how to handle them, but he needed to get him there as soon as possible.

"I have to bring you to the medical center and the easiest way to do that is to carry you."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I could just leave you here, you know."

"And risk Seraphina throwing a temper tantrum? I don't think so." Jack smirked.

Normally, Pitch wouldn't put up with such audacity from the boy, but he was wounded so he would let it go. He only gave him a blank stare in response to his jibe. "Keep that pressure on the wound," he said as he slid one arm under Jack's knees and the other behind his back and lifted him up. Jack gasped and Pitch could feel his jaw clenching from where it rested against his chest. It wasn't until he was fully standing that he realized his gun was still on the floor. Jack's breathing was labored enough and he didn't want to cause him more pain by bending down to retrieve it. He kicked it to the side and walked out of the room.

"This is just plain embarrassing," Jack said with a weak voice.

"You think this is embarrassing to you? How do you think it looks for me, carrying one of my own employees like they're an invalid?"

"Technically, I am an invalid."

"This whole situation is an embarrassment," Pitch said as he stepped over a pile of rubble that used to be a door. Since it was one of the outside doors it had been heavily reinforced, but the kidnappers had still managed to destroy it; he made a mental note to look into the newest explosives on the market. He started making his way across the lawn, ignoring the rest of the damage that the area had been sustained. "I'm going to have a serious word with security about letting those men get so close to you and Seraphina."

"Me and Seraphina? Careful, might sound as if you were actually worried 'bout me – which you don't needa be. I'm capable of handling myself."

"Oh, this is 'handling yourself?'" Pitch asked, glancing down at Jack, absently thinking that he looked a bit paler than he normally did. "What you did was reckless, but . . ." he paused, ". . . thank you for protecting my daughter."

"There's no need to thank me. 'm jus' doing my job, right?"

"Your job is to be Seraphina's caretaker, to entertain her, to make sure she doesn't cause too much trouble. Security is supposed to protect her. You went beyond your duties."

"Well, your duty is to give me my paycheck, not carry me around like a bride, s'you're goin' beyond yours right now . . . we'll call it even, 'kay?" Jack voice was slightly slurred now and his eyelids were drooping. "Not that there's'nything wrong with being a bride . . . 's'jus' I'm not one."

Pitch pressed his lips together in a hard line, but he reminded himself that the boy was probably talking out of half-delirium caused by blood loss so he couldn't hold anything against him. Thankfully, he was at the safe house so someone could take Jack off his hands. He lifted one leg and banged against the door with it; there was no way he was going to try juggling holding Jack, who he was pretty sure was now fully unconscious, and opening the door at the same time. Someone better be there waiting for him.

A security guard swung the door open mere seconds after he had knocked, but he ignored them in favor of going directly to Dr. Myers, who was waiting just inside the door, with a stretcher by her side.

As soon as she saw him, she rushed forward. "There you are, sir. Put him right here. What's the approximate time lapse since he was shot?"

Pitch placed Jack on the stretcher and stepped back to let Myers do her work. "Ten minutes," he reported as she lifted Jack's shirt to check the wound.

"Gunshot wound to the side . . . looks like it just grazed . . . bleeding quite a bit . . . no sign of a bullet, but it could be hidden . . . several small lacerations and bruising on the face . . . not serious. Prognosis seems good, sir, though I can never really say anything too sure when it comes to gunshot wounds."

"You've never failed me before, Dr. Myers."

"Sir." Pitch didn't miss the small smile her face at the praise, but it was true; he never accepted anything less than the best. Myers motioned to the security guard who had opened the door as well as another that had been nearby and they moved into position to push the stretcher. "Luckily, he has the same blood type as you and your daughter," she said, tapping the folder in her hands, obviously Jack's medical files, "so we have plenty of blood if we need to do a transfusion, which looks likely. All right, quickly!" She sped off down the hallway with the two guards, using her own hands to keep pressure on Jack's wound.

Pitch didn't allow himself to watch, but headed in another direction to where he knew his daughter would be. He wanted to make sure she was completely okay and to let her know that Jack was going to be all right.

"Jaaack. Jaaa~aaack. Jack!"

"Leave him alone, Seraphina, honey. Remember Dr. Myers said he needs to rest."

"But he's been resting for so long now. I wanna play!"

"Even if you wake him up right now, he'll be in no condition to play."

Though Jack was only semi-conscious and barely aware of what was going on around him, he could perfectly visualize the pout on Seraphina's face. He slowly opened his eyes, groaning at the bright light. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision and, just as he began to make out the ceiling, it was blocked by Seraphina's face. "Jack! Yay, you're awake! Let's go play!"

"What did I tell you, Seraphina?"

Her face was pulled back as if she had been picked up and moved. He turned his head slightly in that direction and saw Pitch putting his daughter back on the floor next to the bed. Pitch then looked up at him with a – gentle?! look in his eyes. "Are you feeling okay, Jack?"

" . . . yeah, I'm fine. Are you feeling okay?"

Pitch's expression looked confused and offended at the same time. "Why would I not be okay?"

"You asked me if I was 'feeling okay,'" Jack deadpanned. "Is there any reason I wouldn't be?" He was slowly waking up and becoming more alert. As he looked around more, he realized he was in his room at Pitch's mansion, but he noticed some hospital equipment next to the bed. That definitely didn't use to be there – oooohh, right. I was shot – I was shot!

The thought sunk into his head pretty quickly and he threw the blankets back and ripped up his shirt. Bandages wound around his midsection and he cautiously splayed his hand over his right side. He winced at the pain that radiated from that spot.

Suddenly, Pitch grasped his wrist and pulled his hand away. "Don't touch it. You'll only irritate it."

"Hey, that's what I'm best at." Jack smirked, but kept his hand away from the bandages.

"Jack! Are you sure you can't play?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Sorry, sunshine." This time he did see the pout on her face and it was almost enough to make him want to try and get out of bed. Almost.

"Fiiiine! But I want a hug!" She climbed up on the bed, being careful not to make it move too much, and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Jack pushed himself up on one elbow and hugged her back with the other arm. Leaning up like that hurt a bit, but he ignored the pain. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered before pulling away and skipping out of the room.

He smiled and lay back down. He glanced at Pitch, who had a faraway look in his eyes as he stared after his daughter. Sighing, he turned his head in the other direction, seeing more medical equipment. Looking up, he saw the plain white ceiling. He had just woken up and he was already bored. Lying on his back was already getting old, but he knew it would hurt too much to roll onto his side. This was going to be a fun recovery.

Jack sighed again and brought his hands up to rub his face, but was startled by the feeling of rough gauze instead of skin under his right palm. Gently prodding the area with his fingers, he remembered the blond man had struck him across the face with his gun. It ached when he touched it so it was definitely bruised. It was even tender when he felt that side of his mouth with his tongue.

I wonder how much school I missed. Jack frowned. I don't know how long I was unconscious for. Hopefully, Pitch took care of explaining away why I was gone so long. But what are people going to say when I show back up and with a giant bruise on my face and a gunshot wound?!

"Don't mess with that either."

He started at the sound of Pitch's voice and realized that he had unconsciously been picking at the gauze. He moved his hand back down by his side, giving Pitch a sheepish look.

Pitch's expression was stern. "I should be going, too." His firm look melted off his face and he averted his eyes. "But . . . I just wanted to say . . ."

Jack looked at him expectantly.

Pitch's mouth twitched, as if what he was going to say something unpleasant. "I wanted to thank you again."

"You're not still on about tha –"

"Jack, I'm serious!" He had moved forward and was glaring aggressively at Jack, one hand grabbing the front of Jack's shirt. His eyes widened in fear and Pitch backed away, releasing his grip. Jack's heart was beating rapidly in his chest; if there was anything that was always going to scare the ever living hell out of him it was going to be an angry Nightmare King, especially when that anger was directed at him. Pitch took a deep breath as if reminding himself that he had to play nice. "I'm serious. You saved my daughter, which was much more than what I hired you to do. And I always repay my debts."

"What are you going on about?"

"Is there anything you want, Jack? Anything at all? Just tell me and I'll get it for you."

"Really? You don't have to –"

"Jack." Pitch's tone was unyielding and left no room for argument.

"All right – I mean – just give me a minute." Jack thought frantically. Working for Pitch provided him with all the necessities and he didn't want anything material. There wasn't really – wait. "Anything?"

"Anything within my power. Which is very nearly anything."

"Okay then." It was Jack's turn to take a deep breath, this time to steel his resolve. "I want a hug."

" . . . a hug?"

"Yes, a hug. You do know what a hug is?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then give me a hug."

"Why?!"

"It's just what I want, okay!"

"Fine," Pitch bit out, though he looked severely disgruntled. He leaned over Jack and slid one arm under his shoulders and cradled the back of his head with the other. Jack's torso was gingerly lifted up, his weight fully supported by Pitch's arms so he didn't have to strain his stomach muscles. Jack wrapped his arms around Pitch's back, tilting his head forward to rest it on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and fully relaxed into the embrace.

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had been properly hugged. Seraphina's wriggling squeezes didn't quite count as real hugs, no matter how adorable she was, and no one else at the house was really a liable hugging candidate. He breathed in deeply, smelling Pitch's cologne. It was a scent that seemed to permeate the house, some underlying thing that he never really recognized, but had come to associate with his employer. As he let the breath out in a heavy sigh, he felt Pitch's fingers lightly scratching the back of his head and digging into his back. It felt so nice to have close human contact. He sighed again.

It was all too soon that Pitch gave him a slightly tighter squeeze and then lowered him back onto the mattress. Jack opened his eyes and saw the Nightmare King looking a bit flustered, which shocked and amused him at the same time. He smirked. Pitch glared.

"You speak of this to no one."

Jack just laughed. "Of course."

Pitch coughed to clear his throat, smoothing down his shirt and straightening his tie. "I best go get Dr. Meyers. She wanted to be altered as soon as you woke up, but I wanted to settle our debt first." He turned and walked to the doorway, where he turned around. "Oh, and, by the way, you required a blood transfusion and since you are the same blood type as me and my daughter –"

"How did you get my medical records?!"

"– Dr. Meyers used blood that was set aside for us in case of emergency situations. Once you are fully recovered, I expect you to replenish what you caused to be depleted."

"What?! You're crazy! Literally paying for shit with my own blood . . ."

Pitch just smirked at him from the doorway.

Pitch strode down the hallway to his daughter's room, on his way to say goodnight. It was actually a half hour past her bedtime, but he had gotten caught up in some work. He knew she wouldn't go to sleep unless he read her a story and tucked her in, so he increased his pace, not wanting Seraphina to be up any later.

When he reached the door to her room, he knocked softly and pushed it open. The room was dark and at first he thought that she had simply gone to bed without a story. Then he noticed the whiteness of the thrown back sheets, a stark contrast to the shadowy bedroom. The bed was empty. Pitch's heart skipped a beat and he whirled out of the vacant room.

As he stalked back down the hallway, multiple scenarios of successful kidnappings raced through his head and he willed himself not to panic. His daughter being out of bed late at night didn't mean that she had been kidnapped again, but he always envisioned the worst possible scenario; it was the reason he was still alive. Light shining around the cracks of one of the doors caught his attention and he stopped. That was Jack's door. He opened it, planning on asking Jack if he's seen Seraphina, but froze as his gaze was drawn to the two figures sitting in an armchair within the circle of light created by a floor lamp. Of course his daughter hadn't gone to sleep without a bedtime story. If Pitch hadn't been there to read her one he should have known exactly where or, more specifically, to whom she would have gone: her beloved babysitter.

Seraphina was fast asleep, curled up against Jack's left side and half sprawled on his lap. Jack was also sleeping, his head tilted back and to the side at an uncomfortable looking angle. A book lay open on his lap, grasped loosely in his right hand as if he had fallen asleep while holding it up. His left arm was wrapped around Seraphina, keeping her snug against his chest, though her fist tightly gripping his shirt indicated that she wasn't going to be moving anyway.

Walking over to them, Pitch smiled slightly. His daughter looked peaceful, something he was thankful for considering that it was only a few days after she had been through such a traumatic experience. He stroked her hair back, his face becoming completely unguarded, something he only allowed when he was alone with his daughter. But they weren't really alone right now, he reminded himself. Sure, he was sleeping, but Jack was still there. Pitch turned his gaze to him, his usual mask beginning to reconstruct itself. He thought that maybe he should stop trying to deny that he did indeed feel some kind of compassion towards the boy . . . but the Nightmare King did not listen to anyone – not even himself sometimes; however, he did admit that he was feeling jealousy towards the boy right now. Did his daughter really think Jack an appropriate replacement?

He contemplated taking Seraphina back to her room to tuck her into her own bed – and read her a bedtime story himself for good measure. Yet, he didn't, convincing himself that it was only because doing so would disturb his daughter when she was so calm. He also considered just leaving the two of them exactly as they were; his daughter was comfortable so who cared if Jack woke up with a kink in his neck from sleeping like that? Certainly not Pitch! It would serve him right for stealing Seraphina away from him.

He paused at those thoughts. His daughter was the one who went to Jack, was she not? Jack had barely been able to walk to the chair earlier that day from what Dr. Myers had told him.

Pitch rubbed a hand down his face, making up his mind. He walked over to the bed, dragging a blanket off it and picking up the pillow. He threw the blanket over the slumbering pair and tucked the corners in underneath them, making sure that it wasn't covering Seraphina's head and wasn't too tight against Jack's injured side. He tilted Jack's head forward and placed the pillow behind it, making sure it was straight when he laid it back down. As he pulled his hands away, he noticed bright blue eyes looking up at him, shining in the light of the lamp. He resisted the urge to wipe that faint smirk off Jack's face, but reminded himself of what the boy meant to his daughter. And himself . . .

Maintaining eye contact, he reached up and extinguished the lamp; everything else around disappeared in the darkness, but he could still see those blue eyes.