Hello folks! In this story I would like to inform you readers that although this is human!au, Jack is sporting his frost-coloured hair, but a bit darker. It may look a bit like… platinum blonde? I just like it that way—hope that's alright with all of you.

Twitter: chen_nnn_chen

Anyway, enjoy reading!

Pitch Black is a competent man. He was independent and self-reliant with no other purpose than getting his job done so that he could get a good night when he returns home. Nothing was exactly wrong until Toothiana assigned him an assistant to get his work up to date—the moment he saw Jack Frost walk through his office he intuitively felt something was wrong.

Jack Frost had a seemingly gregarious look; obnoxious even, with that silver-coloured hair that gave Pitch a general impression of an ill-mannered and discourteous person.

He sourly frowned as he stared at his assistant through the open door from his desk. He can clearly see that the other is not doing what he told him to do, instead choosing to play Solitaire as he propped his elbow on the desk and placing his chin on the palm of his hand, another hand holding the mouse. "Frost, I've called you in to assist me in strategy a few minutes ago," Pitch mused, rubbing his forehead. His first assistant has got to be the worst so far. "If you don't want to appear as a delinquent then stop your nonsense and do as I say."

Jack let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders deflating as he slightly furrowed his eyebrows indignantly. Not this again. "Alright, once again, I'm not a delinquent! This hair is fucking natural!" He shouted, his back still facing his boss. He didn't stop playing his game nonetheless.

"We've discussed about this before, Frost, it's not about your hair colour." Pitch flipped through his folders. Jack was caught running around the halls, E. Aster's voice filling the room when he shouted at Frost to stop running. "I'm reporting this to your boss!" He yelled, and needless to say, Frost unfortunately answered back, "He won't care!"

As a matter of fact Pitchdoes care, because if the brat goes into trouble they'll report Toothiana and that woman will send both he and Jack to Sanderson.

Not that Pitch ever met Sanderson before, but the worst that could happen to him is getting both he and Jack into trouble and meet Sanderson and who knows, that man will probably fire him when Pitch is actually enjoying his job as a financial director. Jack would probably quit his job before he can even get fired.

The raven-haired man gave his secretary a frown. "Quit picking fights with Bunnymund. I had to go meet Toothiana today and she specifically told me that if she hears you causing trouble again we'll have to go meet Sanderson."

Frost gave him a roll of the eyes, but that's clearly not the first time he did it. When Pitch received a nod from the younger, he gave his assistant a firm smile and tucked his folder under his arm. "Good. Now get in, I need to set relevant financial."

"Okay, boss," the latter exited his game and turned off the screen. He fixed his tie back properly as he followed his boss into his office.

Frost beamed as he stepped out of Pitch's office; finally, the long awaited lunch time has come for Jack to enjoy. He turned to his boss. "Oh and, I forgot to tell you earlier, but my dad wants to meet you today."

Pitch quirked a brow. "Your father?" Not that Pitch ever heard of the man, let alone knew of his name. He didn't really have a problem with this man, no, not at all. It's just the fact that all this came abruptly; right, Frost should have told him earlier. And walking—his father worked at a café that's just across the street.

Heaving another sigh, Pitch followed his assistant out of the building. The latter started loosening his tie as he stood side by side with his boss, leading him to where his father's café is. "Wasn't your father Russian, Frost?" Pitch inquired.

"Oh yeah, he's Russian," Jack replied, "but I've been here since I was born, so that's why I don't have much of an accent like Dad's. So consider me… Quarter Russian!"

Pitch hummed. Maybe that explained the youngster's silver hair. "And what's your father's name?"

"Nicholas North Frost, but his friends call him North."

North is a very large man. Pitch didn't know what he was expecting from the older male, but he looked like a Russian Santa. Just as soon as Pitch and his assistant walked through the door to the café, Jack was immediately attacked by a bear hug from his father, who lifted him off the ground. "I haven't seen you in a while, my son!" The man's voice was thick with his Russian accent. When he pulled back that's when he finally laid eyes on Pitch. "Who is this, Jack?" He whispered, but Pitch heard him clearly.

Jack turned to look at the taller male behind him. "He's my boss."

Pitch politely held his hand out to North for a handshake. "Pitch Black," he introduced himself.

The older male shook his hand, a smile slowly creeping up his features. "It is nice to finally meet you," he nodded his head, "Jack has told me a lot about you."

"Really, Frost?" The raven-haired man glared at his assistant.

"No!" Jack denied, flustered. Why would his dad tell him such a thing they swore never to tell anyone? It's not that Jack ever said anything bad about his boss. He's not a coward—if he had something to say to his boss that meant offense he'd tell it right to the raven-haired man's face.

North clapped his hands together. "Shall we take this to my office? It is much private there."