Title: Sugar
Word Count: 867
Rating: PG-13
Original/Fandom: Fandom: Rise of the Guardians/Guardians of Childhood ("Midnight" series, side-story)
Pairings (if any): Pitch/OC
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/etc): Slight suggestiveness
Summary: It was tricky to find a way around the whole "I hate everything good" when the holidays drew near. Thankfully, options were still available. Fluff.

Author's Note: This will probably make most people scratch their heads and ask, "What?" But worry not! It is based off of a fic that has been long in the making, so all will become clear once that is uploaded. Mildly spoiler-ific in that regard, but I figured I needed to upload something for the holidays, so here we are.

She was nervous, and for good reason: One did not ever remind the King of Nightmares that Christmas Day was yesterday.

Midnight had spent the past few days at her parents' house with the rest of her family, enjoying the lively atmosphere and singing carols with eggnog and cookies and warm, fuzzy feelings. The year 2014 was ending with a bang. It had been difficult to leave the hearty atmosphere to return to her apartment as it was rather plain in comparison; not a single decoration was tacked to the front door or littering a tree. Mostly, she had been too lazy to bother—she'd have plenty to look at on her visit, anyway—but she had also been hesitant of angering him.

Pitch Black was not in the least bit jolly during the winter holidays.

Still, she fumbled her keys trying to get in as quickly as possible, eager with the thought of at least spending time with him. If the most she could get out of him was another experience beneath the sheets, then she would be fine. Really.

You shouldn't lie to yourself, she mentally sighed as the door swung open. You've always held out hope for the romantic gestures. You should know better by now.

As soon as the lock had clicked, she was enveloped in darkness deeper than a lack of lights—and a low growl vibrating against her lips confirmed it was the Boogeyman assaulting her. She gasped when arms snatched her from the hallway, bags crashing to the floor, as he said nearly accusingly, "You reek of cinnamon and hot cocoa."

"Sorry," she half-laughed, lifting a hand to brush her hair out of her face. She didn't bother turning on a light. "I can't resist my mother's baking and sweets. I saved some cookies for you, if you want any." She bent down to pick up said tin and kicked aside the rest of her things. They could always be picked up later.

"Perhaps later," was his less-than-enthusiastic reply, as predicted. She was blindly led into the living room and pushed onto the sofa, followed by him consuming her entire body with his. He had a different kind of hunger, and she was only too happy to oblige him.

Things didn't progress too far from locking lips as they were interrupted by the snort of a Nightmare. Hissing, the king flung his hand at the creature to make it scamper off into nonexistence. Hesitant, Midnight asked, "Duty calls?"

"It never fails." He gave a long-suffering sigh before standing to his full height, his eyes searching hers. "I will return," he vowed, before turning and melting into the shadows as he always did.

Sitting up on the sofa, the willowy woman had her own sigh. It never does. But his exit had been odd. Since when did he reassure me about his return? She frowned but decided to put it out of her mind. The mess at the front door wasn't going to clean itself.

In the middle of setting down bags in the bedroom, a strange glint on her bedside table caught her eyes. Sneaking over as if to avoid disturbing any lingering shadows or sand, Midnight lifted a stone and rolled it in her palm. It was a vacuum of space, polished meticulously but still appearing flat and lifeless. Yet, when the moonlight reflected from its smooth surface, she could imagine she saw movement at its very center.

"Where did this come from?" She glanced about, but everything else was as it should be. This was the only anomaly, so she sat on the edge of her bed and puzzled through it. This was where he found her once he had fulfilled his promise, and she guiltily folded her fingers over the stone before repeating the question to him.

The grimace was unexpected on his face, lengthening the lines that revealed his age. Coming to stand before her, he crooked a finger to coax her to her feet. Eyes glued to the hand clutching the stone, he avoided her gaze.

"It was just a way to pass the time—" He sounded defensive. "I manufactured it out of sand and shadow. I had forgotten about it, to be perfectly honest."

Lifting the stone closer to her face, she stared into the depths of the strange object, trying to figure out if it was a translucent cage of darkness or a supernatural form of onyx. "It's incredible," she told him, sincerity shining through. "Can I keep it?"

"If you wish." This was the first time she had seen him shift his weight, making him appear far younger than he really was. "I have no use for it."

She refocused her attention on him and smiled, noticing how this made him freeze despite his refusal to look at her. "Thank you." A small step was all it took for her to press a kiss to his chin. "I guess cookies can't compare to magically made stones, can they?"

Pitch was all too glad to move the conversation away from this apparently awkward subject; gripping her waist with his piano fingers, he rumbled before he kissed her properly, "I'll admit, I was expecting more. But we can easily remedy that."

-Dragon