Jack wakes to a knock at the door and the smell of coffee.
Opening his eyes, he's confused for a moment – he has no idea where he is. Wood panelling, lots of books. Black bedsheets, really comfortable bed.
"Jack? Are you awake?"
Pitch. Pitch's place. All the memories of Jack's epic overreaction from the night before flood into his mind, and part of him wants to run away from the embarrassment. But another part of him, the part of him that's drawn to Pitch, wants to stay. Wants to explore.
"Yeah. I'm awake."
"Can I come in?"
"'Course you can."
Pitch opens the door, peering in, silhouetted against the bright light outside. He flicks on the light and comes over to Jack, perching on the edge of the bed.
"How are you feeling?"
Jack takes stock. Headache. Tired, still. "Like I'm hungover."
Pitch's lips thin and he takes Jack's hand. "I wish you could stay so that we could talk, but my daughter is coming to stay for a few days."
"It's okay," Jack says instantly, even as his heart sinks, and he scowls at himself. Obviously Pitch's daughter is more important to him than Jack – she's probably the most important person in Pitch's whole world, and so she should be. That's how normalfamilies work.
"It's not," Pitch says with a sigh. "Come on. We can talk over breakfast."
After pulling on yesterday's clothes, Jack goes into the kitchen. Big and airy, large windows provide plenty of sunlight. There's a table at the side of the kitchen, where a coffee and a croissant await Jack. He tucks in, suddenly starving. Melancholy still makes his heart feel leaden, but he ignores it. It can wait until he's on his own. The last thing he wants is to have another breakdown in front of Pitch.
To distract himself, Jack watches Pitch cook. He's so elegant and at ease that it's almost a dance. Elegance Jack can do, but ease? Not in his skillset. Neither is cooking for that matter.
Not so for Pitch. In minutes, they're both sat with perfect, fluffy omlette set before them, stuffed full of cheese and finely cut mushrooms. They eat in silence, although it's not as uncomfortable as Jack feared. Both of them have things that they want to say, and there's a vast range of things that they need to talk about if they're going to continue this. But where should they start?
"What will you do with your day?" Pitch asks, and Jack tries not to wince at the small talk.
"I dunno. I'll probably hang out with a couple of friends."
"Good. You shouldn't be alone. I would have preferred that you stay here so that I can look after you, but-"
"I'm not a fragile flower, Pitch."
Pitch gives him a thin smile; Jack's not sure Pitch believes him, but then why should he? Jack doesn't believe himself.
When Pitch moves to clear the plates away, Jack insists on doing it. He might as well do something useful while he's here. And yeah, it might only be putting them in the dishwasher, but it's the thought that counts.
"I have something for you," Pitch says, and picks up a small pile of books from the counter. Jack glances at the spines: SM 101; Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns. There are page-markers stuck liberally throughout. In between them is a folded sheet of paper with a number of websites written neatly in black ink. The unexpectedness of it makes Jack chuckle, and the laughter takes away the edge off of his tension.
"Homework?"
"Just a little. I thought it might help you to understand the way you reacted last night."
"I've given up on trying to understand I react the way I do," Jack says with a shrug. "It's usually pretty dumb."
"No, Jack," Pitch says, and kisses Jack gently. "It's not. Read them. I'll be busy with Seraphina over the next few days, but I'll be checking my phone in the evening. If you have any urgent questions, or if you need to talk, call me."
"It's okay. I'm used to figuring things out on my own." That sounds a lot more passive aggressive than Jack means for it to, and Pitch's expression grows pained.
"You don't have to work through things on your own anymore, Jack. I'm here for you - I mean it."
"Yeah, but why?You don't even know me – we met like a week ago. Why do you care?"
"Because I saw how you were treated and I want to protect you from that. That's – that's the reason that I respond to this," Pitch says, tapping the books. "I want someone to protect. You need someone to protect you. You see how we might be good for each other?"
"Maybe," Jack says softly. Precious few people are good for him, but maybe, just maybe, Pitch might be one of them.
Pitch walks Jack to the subway, and they stand at the top of the stairs, looking at each other. Jack knows Pitch is looking for some sign that Jack's about to lose it – again – so he pops a smile into place. He's surprised by how easy it is; almost like he doesn't even have to force it. Like with the laugh, it chips away a little more of his tension.
"Well," he says, tucking the books under his arm. "I guess this is goodbye. Or should that be au revoir?"
"How about we make a plan instead," Pitch says. "Lunch on Tuesday?"
Jack bites his lip as he thinks through his mostly-empty calendar. "Sure. I think I can fit you in."
A sweet but brief kiss goodbye both startles and pleases Jack. That Pitch is willing to pay attention to him like that in public – maybe he means what he says, that he really does want to look after Jack.
There's a skip in Jack's step as he heads down to the platform. Maybe something in his life is finally going right.
