The Body Rebuilds, the Heart Breaks

Jack was quite sure his leg was shattered when his body was slapped against the unbroken ice as though he were a mere ragdoll. The beast, whatever it was, let go of him, and through pain-clouded eyes, he glimpsed the already bruising skin of his right leg. The flesh was changing from bright angry red to dark blue, then violet, and it was verging on black very quickly. Panic welled up in his throat as he realized he couldn't feel his foot.

Jack didn't wait around to let the creature viciously swing him around again. With a pained cough, he shot up into the air, out of the reach of the ape-like beast which immediately pawed at the space he had been in and roared. Jack pushed himself to go faster, seeing that the tengu were almost upon him. When he saw he wasn't going to make it to the Workshop in time, he whirled and blasted the sky with ice lightning. He saw a few tengu dodge the frosty magic, but a good number of them were struck and started freefalling. They were still coming though, and Jack glanced back and something in his heart iced over.

He was tired of not being considered as one of the big contenders. Who was Fuinor to say that he was a child who couldn't contribute? Who were these stupid birds and that idiot alchemist to determine that he wasn't worth their time to tail?

With the constant throbbing in his leg to remind him that he couldn't fight for very long, Jack stopped in the air and braced his staff.

The first tengu reached him, talons outstretched, and Jack spun, slamming the crook of his staff into its face. The solid blow took the birdman by surprise, because it fell heavily and wasn't able to recover before it crashed into the ice. Jack shot ice at the next one that got too close. His aim was true and the tengu dropped like a rock with useless wings. He set his eyes on the next target, but his blood curdled when he saw what glinted on its hands.

The metal extensions, exactly like the one Fuinor had shown him, were secured to its talons, and its mouth – Jack just couldn't bring himself to identify it as a "he", because that thing was a monster – was twisted in a cruel grin.

Jack froze the next one, clipped the wings of another, but was overwhelmed as the bulk of them caught up to him. Before they could swarm him, he dove down and raced over the surface of the ice.

Bad idea.

Immediately, he was being pursued by loping ape creatures like the one who had grabbed him before. He could hear them breathing heavily as they chased him, could hear them snorting roughly at each other, could feel hot breath on his toes—

"Shit!"

He put on an extra burst of speed just as a mouth of dull teeth snapped down on the air his feet had just been. The creatures roared, and oh, god, he had to go faster because the tengu were right on top of him, but the compound was right there—

A heavy weight dropped down on him and he knew he was finished. He went face first into the ice, and if that didn't hurt like hell, then he knew what was coming would be much worse. His staff was yanked from his hand and he screamed into the ground as cold metal tore through the back of his new hoodie and dipped effortlessly into his frozen flesh. More of the tengu were landing, grabbing him, and in a last desperate attempt, he pushed as much power as he dared out through his skin. Anything touching him shrieked as they were assaulted by aggressive ice that crawled over their hands. That only served to infuriate them, and the ripping resumed, more vicious than before if that was possible.

It wasn't that Jack was tired. He knew he still had fight left in him. But he was dazed and disoriented, and he just couldn't get his bearings straight enough to push off the ground, not that he could if he even wanted to because strong hands were pinning him as talons tore at him. It was like being picked apart by vultures.

Hopefully, he prayed, one of the yetis who kept a lookout at the top of the Workshop would see what was happening and would sound the alarm.

No horn sounded though.

It was only seconds that he had been lying there under the onslaught, but at some point he stopped feeling the pain. After another second, he stopped feeling everything, and he didn't realize that was because the tengu were being dragged off of him until he heard birdlike shrieks surrounding him and gruff orders being given in the elfin language in the distance.

Hope sparked in him like a match, and he won the struggle to lift his head and saw his staff lying on the ground a few feet away. He started crawling toward it and saw dark elves doing battle with the tengu out of the corner of his eye. He paused once to cough and could only stare at the blood that flew from his mouth and splattered the snow. He was seriously messed up.

This is gonna take a lot of R and R, he thought as he resumed his pathetic stomach trek across the ground. His fingers were literally centimeters from the wood when he felt a hand clamp down around his injured ankle and drag him back.

Apparently he did still feel something, because the howl that tore from his lips was one of pain, not of surprise. He kept his eyes locked on the staff as he clawed for it, but beyond it, he saw something else that captivated his attention.

Pitch was there, his dream sand scythe sticking halfway in the bloodied chest of a felled ape beast, but he was frozen and he was staring at Jack.

The hand on his leg squeezed and Jack screamed again and something in Pitch's battle hardened expression snapped, and suddenly his eyes were blown wide and alive, and he didn't even try to remove his scythe from the ape to help Jack. He raised a hand, and his face was more vicious than when he had fought Jack and the Guardians – it seemed like ages ago – and Jack heard a squelching sound just by his feet that made his stomach churn violently.

He slowly bent his head as much as he dared and glanced behind him, before immediately letting out a wordless cry. Dark spikes protruded from a now dead tengu's chest, dripping with dark crimson, but the hand around his ankle was firm, rigor mortis already setting in. Jack blinked through blood and tears and brought his head back around to find himself face to face with black boots, then a robe, then ashy hands that loomed in his vision, but didn't touch him.

"Jack? Jack, you need to tell me if you're alright."

Jack worked his mouth, but his throat felt like the proverbial frog had clawed away at the inner tissue to prevent him from speaking. All that came out was a dribble of blood. He couldn't crane his neck to see what Pitch's expression was like, so he tried to push himself up, but his arms collapsed beneath him and the stiff hand refused to let him go. He whined pathetically and tried to shake it off, the sounds of battle ringing in his ears.

Pitch rose up and disappeared from his vision, and Jack's breath quickened to the point of hyperventilation.

No, don't go! Don't leave me—don't let me—

"Shhh. I'm right here." Warm hands slid calmly over his calf, down to the talons which wouldn't let go, and pried them away. The pain didn't lessen, but the mentality of peace hit Jack like a wave. "I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Jack tried, he really did, but when Pitch stopped touching him, his breath just sped up, unable to bear the loss.

"No, I'm not gone," Pitch said by his ear. He carefully slipped his arms around Jack and started to lift him up, and that was when Jack actually stopped breathing altogether because every frosty nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. He squirmed desperately, only succeeding in worsening the sensations, but Pitch tightened his grip and growled, "Enough, Jack, I'm trying to help you. Calm down."

Jack saw a trio of tengu approaching from the side and finally, finally managed to croak, "Pitch…"

"I see them," Pitch replied disinterestedly. A hand blocked Jack's field of vision and he heard dying squawks a moment later. He was suddenly flipped over, still in darkness, mouth twisted open in a silent cry from the pain, but he tried his best to relax. He faintly heard North shouting at Pitch to take him away, but he knew he could still fight.

"Not…tired."

The hand stayed over his eyes. "I know," Pitch agreed gravely, "but your body will not allow you to go any further." He pulled his hand back and Jack found himself staring up in relief at twin solar eclipses, brighter than ever. Why did Pitch look to be in pain? Was he hurt? Pitch laughed harshly as though he had heard Jack's concerned thoughts.

"You're nothing but a bloody lump of flesh and you worry for me, Jack?"

God, he loved the sound of his name on Pitch's lips. And shit, he was pretty sure he was delirious if he was thinking like that in the middle of a battle.

"Clench your teeth," Pitch ordered softly. Jack did just as Pitch rose up with him in his arms. A scream leaked out from between Jack's pearly whites as the fire took hold of him in his spine again. Pitch didn't stop moving until he had deposited him on a furry back. "Good boy. Now I need you to hold on. Hold on, yes?"

Jack twisted his fingers through the long fur of the reindeer and gripped it as tight as he could, panting as the pain simmered down to a consistent burn. He saw his staff lying on the ground and reached for it. Pitch immediately picked it up and wedged it beneath Jack's body, forcing his hand back onto the fur.

"Good."

There was a resounding smack, and the flighty creature reared up with a snort and kicked into the air, gaining altitude with every stroke of its legs. Jack could feel the thick muscles working beneath him, and he winced with each movement as it translated to him, but if it was saving his life, he could stand it. He shifted his head to glance down. Pitch dove back into the fray of tengu and ape-beasts. Fuinor's battle cries were distinct, and his soldiers shifted formations before continuing to purge the ice of the enemy. Admon and his woodland spirits were in the distance, doing the best they could, and the Guardians were cutting progressive swaths through the enemy's ranks as well.

Jack's eyes snapped back to Pitch, who was making use of both scythe and shadows to drop his foes into pools of their own blood. He looked up only once to make sure Jack was on his way back to the compound, and they locked eyes. Pitch's face had steeled over, and it didn't change as he and Jack stared. Jack wanted Pitch to step into the air and come with him, but the Nightmare King's posture was rigid as he turned away to continue on his warpath.

Please, look at me, Jack pleaded silently, desperate to reach out but too frightened that he would fall and wouldn't have the strength to keep himself up in the air, staff or not.

Even as he passed out, Pitch still wouldn't look at him.

His senses weren't working right.

They couldn't be, because he thought he smelled hot chocolate and peppermint mixed with antiseptic and blood, which was really quite disgusting. And he felt soft sheets and bandages beneath his bare stomach, but there was fire above him, licking his back and piercing him down to his spine. And his mouth tasted of mint and spice, but when he ran a too heavy tongue over his teeth, he tasted cotton and iron. And he heard the dim sounds of the Workshop beyond the thick wooden walls, but what pierced through that noise was a high-pitched, stressed voice shrilly ordering Pitch Black, Nightmare King, to get his scrawny hide in that room and check on him.

Jack laughed into his pillow, but immediately had to stop as he felt his ribs creak in protest of his vocal mirth. He had gotten banged up good, hadn't he?

Wait, wait, focus. Tooth just told Pitch to…but what is Pitch doing and why doesn't he want to see me? His chest stung, and it wasn't because of his injuries. Did I do something wrong? Is he hurt? Is he okay? Is he—

The arguing escalated outside until the door flew open with a bang, making him jump.

"Don't you slam that door," Tooth was hissing. "You'll wake him up!"

"I wouldn't have to risk waking him up if I didn't even have to enter the bloody room," Pitch snapped back. "You wanted me to check him, so leave us alone."

Jack heard the door close, then his mind wrapped around a single word Pitch had said: us. He could live off that single word for the rest of eternity, and wow, he was seriously mooning over this man, wasn't he?

There was silence, then the shuffle of clothes as Pitch took a turn about the room, probably observing it. After a few minutes, Jack heard him say, "I know you're awake."

"'S not like I was pretending to be asleep," Jack replied.

"How do you feel?"

"Like a butchered piece of meat."

"You looked like one." Pitch's tone was completely flat. He wasn't joking.

Jack didn't know why he felt guilty. Maybe it was because he heard the underlying anger in Pitch's voice. Yeah, that had to be it. "Are you…mad at me?"

A laugh. "Now what would bring you to that conclusion?"

"Your sarcasm isn't really helping," Jack snapped, drawing his arms under him and pushing himself up. Flames shot up his back and he immediately collapsed with a whine. "Why am I not healed yet?"

The bed dipped as Pitch sat down and pressed lightly on Jack's shoulders, stilling him. "The tengus' extensions were dipped in poison. Don't worry, it's not potent enough to scar you, but it will postpone your healing for a while. Even I was affected."

"You?" Jack's heart quickened and he tried to sit up again. Pitch stopped him. "No, I want to. Let me…help me up. Please?"

"You shouldn't sleep on your back."

"I'm not trying to sleep on my back," Jack replied in frustration. "I'm trying to sit up. Just help me sit up!"

He felt Pitch's hands hesitate before they slid around him and picked him up without much effort. His wounds ached, but he bore with it as he was lifted and turned until he could sit up. "Don't," Pitch ordered as he started to lean back. "The headboard will hurt."

"Can't I just put a pillow behind me?" Jack complained, not really eager to remain sitting up.

"It won't be enough," Pitch replied, as though he couldn't understand how Jack didn't realize it. Jack looked over his face for the first time since the attack. Pitch had one of those handsome faces that was easily on the border between youth and maturity in the human world. His thin lips were drawn in a neutral line and his eyes were bright, but tired. His light ashy skin was smooth, save is forehead, which was furrowed deeply.

Jack reached up and pressed his fingers there, silently urging those lines to relax. Pitch understood and his forehead smoothed out, lips turning up at the corners. He murmured for Jack to bear with him for a moment and scooped him up in his arms, crawling on the bed and arranging himself with Jack between his knees. All of the movement hurt, but once the sting died down, Jack leaned back into Pitch's chest. The pressure was uncomfortable on his wounds, but after a moment it settled into a dull burn that he easily pushed aside in his mind.

"Where were you hurt?" Jack murmured, drumming his fingers against his thighs.

"Left shoulder," Pitch replied above his head, tracing lazy circles on Jack's bare stomach just below the bandages. "Right thigh."

Jack pushed the black robe aside until he saw the white bandages wrapped securely around Pitch's pants. He ran his fingers lightly over them before letting a bit of cold seep through the cloth. Pitch shifted and he apologized. "Too much?"

"No. It's fine. It removes the heat." Pitch dropped his face into Jack's hair. "Now. Explain what happened yesterday."

"Yesterday? How long was I out?"

"Almost an entire day. Talk, Jack."

Jack shrugged, ignoring the discomfort that followed the movement. "I took your horses home…"

And invaded your privacy.

Jack shoved the thoughts violently from his mind, hoping his curious emotions didn't come to rise. He had to get rid of the feeling, so he craned his neck around and pressed his lips to Pitch's at an awkward angle. Pitch stiffened a bit, but eventually returned the kiss cautiously.

They continued like that, their breaths mingling, and Jack realized that this was a really good distracter, because he couldn't really remember what he was trying to push from his mind. Pitch's hand came up to thread through his silver hair, and the other gripped Jack's hip. Jack winced – the flesh there was still bruised – but drew his legs in and tried to twist to face Pitch properly. His right leg became stuck in the sheets, and he broke away to glare at the offending limb, only grow horribly confused when he saw the sterile white cast encasing him from his calf to his ankle.

"What…?"

"The bones were shattered," Pitch explained. "Toothiana managed to realign them, and they're healing quickly. The cast is just there to keep them in place and can probably come off at the end of the day. Nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worrying. Will I be able to fly? Where's my staff?"

Pitch pointed across the room to the staff that leaned in the corner. Jack tensed his muscles to go get it, but Pitch restrained him immediately. "I put it over there for a reason."

Jack let his head flop against the darkly clothed shoulder. "I can't walk over there anyway."

"…Why didn't you just take the portal to the Workshop?"

Because I ended up in England and I didn't think I should go back into that house. Jack swallowed. "Because I wanted to fly. Since you interrupted my game with the animals."

"I don't want my Nightmares getting attached."

Like how you're getting attached to me? He didn't dare say it out loud, lest Pitch remove himself from the room entirely. "I just wanted to clear my head in the skies."

"Why didn't you come get us when you saw the tengu?"

"I knew I couldn't make it. They're faster than me."

"No." Pitch's growl left no room for argument. "I know those creatures, and I know you. None of them could have caught you, had you really been trying. Were you distracted?"

Jack's mouth opened once, then closed as he tried to formulate a response. "Kinda…I saw them and I started flying, but one of those giant monkey things grabbed me and they gained on me. I thought I could hold some of them off. I expected one of the yetis to sound the alarm, but that didn't happen."

"They didn't have time," Pitch said gently, tracing foreign patterns on Jack's bare stomach again. "They saw you, said a few things, and were running. The meeting was only interrupted because everyone in the Workshop was abandoning their posts to come out and fight."

"Where did all the elves come from?"

"Fuinor moved some of his army here last week. Admon too."

Jack looked at the underside of Pitch's jaw and craned his neck, kissing it. "What's going to happen now?"

"We have prisoners," Pitch said. "Fuinor is interrogating them in the old mountain caves. Don't worry, everything is taken care of. Faust won't make a move like that again. Not anytime soon, at least."

"I'm not—" Jack started to protest, but a soft knock on the door made his words fall short.

Pitch jackknifed out of the bed without a word of apology to the rough jostling Jack suffered. The door opened and Tooth fluttered in carrying a platter of tea and soup. She saw Jack sitting up and her feathers flared happily.

"Jack! How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," he admitted as she set the platter down. He glared over her at Pitch whose look steeled over. The tall shade went to the window and stared out it, ignoring them.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yeah. How is everyone?"

"A little battered, but we'll survive. We didn't become Guardians for nothing, you know."

Jack noticed two thin swords strapped to either side of her slender waist. "Whoa! Cool! Are those yours? How come I've never seen them before?"

"They've been in storage. After the battle, I decided it was time to pull some memories from the closet. I'm going to need them." She smiled and patted his cheek affectionately. "Drink some tea, have some soup, and get some rest."

"M'not really hungry," Jack started, but Tooth clicked her tongue and shook her bright head.

"No excuses, Jack Frost," Tooth replied in a motherly fashion. "That had better be all gone by the time I get back. Pitch, make sure he does as I ask." Pitch didn't turn as the door shut softly.

Jack stared at his broad back before lying down and rolling over. He didn't need to eat or drink. He needed to rest and sort out his head.

"You're not going to eat?"

He hardly even twitched when the velvety voice spoke in his ear. "You're always lecturing me on the benefits of being immortal. I'm not hungry or thirsty."

"At least take the tea."

"No." He just wasn't in the mood, not even for Pitch. Maybe it was the way Pitch had jumped away from him before Tooth had entered. Was he ashamed to be…that was a stupid question. Of course he was. And that just made Jack feel worse than ever.

"There's medicine in it," Pitch coaxed, pouring a cup. "It will speed up the healing process."

"I'm good."

Pitch sighed. "May I sit?"

Jack raised his head in surprise, then managed to push himself up so Pitch could slide in behind him and settle him between his legs. So much for resisting, but Jack didn't mind, especially when Pitch tilted his head to the side and kissed him. Jack tried to deepen the kiss, but Pitch pulled away so he huffed impatiently and looked out the window. Outside, the snow was swirling, and he wondered if that was his fault.

Slender fingers turned his head again, and he accepted Pitch's lips with an open mouth. He flinched in surprise when a hot liquid raced down his throat, the taste of peppermint strong. Pitch pulled back to look at him challengingly, lips shiny and wet. Jack rolled his eyes and licked a drop of amber liquid away from the ashy skin.

"Alright, I can take my medicine that way."

Pitch snorted in amusement and took another mouthful from the cup, pressing his lips to Jack's. Jack took the heat and swallowed it greedily. After the third drink, he plunged his tongue forward into Pitch's cavern and slicked it against Pitch's own tongue, tasting the lingering flavor. So it continued until the entire teapot was empty and Jack felt like he was melting from the inside out.

"Too…hot…" he panted, lax against Pitch's hard body.

"You took it without stopping," Pitch reminded him, splaying a hand against Jack's lower abdomen. Jack moaned softly as the fingers accidentally brushed a little lower than intended. Pitch laughed in his ear. "Need to cool off, Jack?"

"Y-yes," he hissed, ecstatic when those hands began to undo his belt, button, then zipper.

"You're lucky you didn't get injured around here," Pitch said, running his hands languidly down Jack's thighs. "Imagine if the others removed your pants? Found out your dirty little secret?"

"J-jealous?" Jack teased breathlessly.

"Lift your hips." There was something carnal about Pitch's tone, and it made Jack harder still. He complied and felt his pants slide over his bare buttocks, stopping mid-thigh so his erection bobbed freely, flushed and waiting.

"Oh, Jack," Pitch crooned silkily in his ear, hand inching towards the base. "Look at you. You must be so overheated."

Jack's eyes closed only for a second, and in that second he felt a dry warmth close over his shaft. "Guh—! Pitch…"

"Yes?" Pitch said casually, thumbing the tip of Jack's leaking cock.

"Shi—I thought you-you said you'd help me…cool off?"

Pitch made an experimental stroke, ignoring the frost spirit's keening. "You will cool off after this."

His hand took up a slow, lazy rhythm that had Jack clawing at the bed sheets, head thrown back against Pitch's shoulder. Pitch kissed him hard, and his very core shook from the intensity behind it. Pitch bit and licked and sucked, and his hand didn't miss a beat; in fact, it picked up the pace, as did Jack's breathing.

"Oh, God!"

"That's not my name."

"B-bastard," Jack gasped.

"Close enough."

Jack grabbed Pitch's thigh, the injured one, causing Pitch to jump. Pitch snatched Jack's hand up with his free one and squeezed. Jack laughed into his neck. His body was sore all over, but with every muscle spasm, he got a wave of pleasure that drowned the undercurrent of pain. The heat was overwhelming, and his blood was roaring in his ears, but he could still hear his labored breaths echoing about the room. He wondered if anyone could hear them, wondered what would happen if someone came in, and a spike of excitement shot through him.

"I never realized you were so voyeuristic," Pitch commented before sinking his teeth into his neck. Jack bucked a few times, throwing off Pitch's rhythm, but the shade easily resumed it. He licked the tender skin he had tasted. "Though you realize I would have to stop if someone entered."

"Ngh…don't!"

Jack was close; he could feel it. The coil in his lower abdomen had just about reached its winding point, and he was close. His eyes were clenched shut, his head was pressed into Pitch's neck, and his right hand was caught in Pitch's. He was so close, and he tried to free his fingers, tried to lace them with Pitch's as he was so fond of doing, but the man wasn't having any of it. Whether he didn't realize that was what Jack was trying to do, or because he didn't want it to be any more intimate than it already was, Jack didn't know.

It's already as fucking intimate as it's gonna get, Jack's wracked out brain told him harshly, but he was too preoccupied on still trying to get his hand free. He succeeded, but before he could do what he wanted, Pitch had grabbed his chin and kissed the side of his temple.

"Open your eyes, Jack," he whispered.

Jack pushed past the pleasurable waves to stare up at wide golden eyes. Pitch smirked and directed his head down. Jack followed his gaze and saw himself bare and exposed, saw his erection flushed, the head disappearing repeatedly beneath a grey hand.

Pitch's hand.

The Nightmare King was touching him, looking at him uncovered, stroking him to climax, and damn it all if that wasn't the hottest thing Jack had ever seen in his three-hundred odd years. It was also the final push.

His muscles clenched almost painfully, and he came with a groan, spilling over Pitch's hand which never faltered, just kept pumping until at last, Jack melted against him, boneless, breathless, and sated.

"I…I think you ma-made it worse," he laughed quietly.

"What?" Pitch murmured absentmindedly, dropping a kiss onto his silver head.

"The heat. It's worse."

"Oops."

There was silence, and then they were both chuckling, and Jack noticed that Pitch's hand was still around his cock, unmoving, but covered in his glistening white semen. Jack felt his loins stir, because it was arousing even though he was tired, and as he shifted, he felt Pitch's own hard-on pressing into his lower back. He felt a little happy. He had caused that. He could do something about it.

Before he could do anything though, Pitch was letting him go, sliding out from behind him, and picked up a towel from the desk across the room, wiping himself clean. Then he crossed to the window and opened it, letting a cold draft sweep through the room. He turned back to the bed and Jack reached out a sweaty hand.

"Come back to bed?"

An innocent enough question, but Pitch didn't seem to think so. In fact, he looked horribly disturbed, and he said, "Clean yourself up before someone walks in." He tossed him the towel.

Everything hurt. Jack's mind was coming out of its post-orgasm haze, and everything wouldn't have hurt if Pitch hadn't just dismissed him so coldly. Jack wiped himself off, pulled up his pants, and lay down on his side, suddenly feeling very tired.

What was I thinking? He scratched his stomach and suddenly sat up, ignoring the pain. "Where's my hoodie?" Pitch gave him an odd look, but pointed to the blue and bloody lump lying on the desk chair. Jack nodded and lay back down, mumbling, "Just…wondered if I can patch it up so North doesn't have to give me one."

"I'm sure that jolly fool won't mind forking over a new one," Pitch assured him dryly.

"Yeah," Jack said, curling into himself and closing his eyes. "Can you…go? I'm tired."

Pitch went to the door and left without a word. The guilt was gnawing at Jack, and he felt like he had betrayed Pitch. And he had, in his own mind, because Pitch had walked into whatever this was with the belief that it was just lust. Indulgence.

Jack had betrayed Pitch by turning this into something more than just indulgence. Hell, he had betrayed himself because, for some reason unknown to him, he had started to love Pitch Black.

Jack shoved a shaking hand into the singular front pocket of his new hoodie and clutched the golden arrowhead. It had only taken another day for his wounds to close up and the scars to fade. His bones were all in order and the cast had been removed. Whatever had been in that tea had really helped.

Jack shook his head to clear the blush from his face as he thought of tea. He was supposed to keep his mind off of anything related to Pitch.

Then what the hell am I doing here? he asked himself again, staring down at the Boogeyman's hole.

Investigating. Right. Pitch didn't want to make this personal. Jack could…live with that. But he was still pissed as hell, and he had every right to take it out on Pitch by delving into his private life. That was how it worked, right? If someone did you wrong, you do wrong back?

As he jumped down the hole, he knew in his heart that that was the worst conclusion he could arrive at. Pitch had done nothing but be himself. And technically, it was okay. Jack wasn't in love with him. He had only started to love him. Meaning this situation was still salvageable.

Later, he reminded himself as he floated out into the cavern. Right now, he was on a personal mission. Down below, he saw a group of dark spirits speaking to one another. They saw him descend, but ignored him. I see my reputation precedes me.

He found Pitch in the kitchen pulling out cups. Pitch looked up, eyes narrowing. "Are you sure you should be flying about?"

Like you give a damn. Jack winced internally at the flash of hot rage and tried to quell it. Pitch had already sensed it though, and rolled his eyes.

"If you're here to pick a fight, don't."

"Still getting propositioned?" Jack hopped up on the counter – the same spot he and Pitch had kissed before they were interrupted by Isobel. He really needed to work on blocking out these memories.

"No. They are willing to fight for me, should I call on them. Which I won't." Pitch glanced at him and added, "Make yourself useful and make tea, will you? Or is the simplistic task too much for you?"

"I can do it," Jack snapped. Pitch wasn't fazed by his outburst and glided out of the kitchen. Jack glared after him before filling the kettle with water and slamming it down on the stove, cranking up the heat. Then he started pulling out more cups, covering them with a thick layer of ice.

"You owe me a new set if those crack." Jack ignored him as he reentered the kitchen and continued pulling down teacups. Warm hands covered his, annoyingly gentle, and lips pressed to his neck. "I think that's enough." Jack jerked, but Pitch held him firm. "Have I done something?"

Jack's heart admitted yes, but his head grumbled no. His mouth said, "Can we talk?"

"When everyone has gone."

"I can stick around and amuse myself."

Pitch nodded and tugged him out of the kitchen. "Don't go too deep into the tunnels."

"What happened to 'stay out of the tunnels'?" Jack sneered, imitating Pitch's accent flawlessly.

Pitch gave him a very patient look. "I know you won't listen. Just don't go in too deep. I am not always—"

"In control of the shadows, I know." Jack flew out into the open and up above the guests who were still ignoring him. He alighted on a bridge and waited for Pitch to become immersed in a conversation before running along the stone to the darkest edge of the cavern. He dropped down silently in front of the secretive tunnel.

He realized that he would need Onyx in order to get through, but he decided to try on his own one more time. The whispers started as soon as he stepped in, but for some reason, they didn't seem as loud. In fact, they didn't even imitate voices he knew. And he could see where he stepped. He inched forward cautiously, then took a big jump forward.

The whispers swelled, but did not overwhelm him.

Confidence instilled, he kept walking all the way to the end. The door was visible, and he turned to look behind him, wondering what had changed. Maybe it was a trap. He shoved one hand in his hoodie pocket nervously and felt the arrowhead. Frowning, he pulled it out and was surprised to hear the shadows still lingering near him hiss.

Checkmate.

With a toothy grin, he shoved the arrowhead into the middle of the door. As soon as he took his hand away, he could see. The tunnel was lit with its normal dimness, and he couldn't sense any Fearlings about. They were gone. The grin slowly slid from his face as he faced the door again and touched the handle. This was serious. He was going to invade Pitch's privacy a second time, more consciously than the first.

He paused to inspect the kernel of anger in the bottom of his heart. What were his real motives for doing this? Who was he kidding? He was disappointed in himself for loving – starting to love Pitch, but he was surprisingly very pissed that Pitch was treating this like nothing, even if it was nothing. He reluctantly admitted to himself that this invasion wouldn't just be to satisfy his curiosity. It would be to find something to strike a blow to Pitch's heart.

So…revenge.

Jack pulled the handle.

Author's Note: Ah. Yes, well, I could strangle Pitch. Jerk...anywho, I've got some unhappy news. This'll be the last update for a couple days. My hands are getting uber tired (I've been writing for ten days straight, people!). And I need to figure out how to work the plot. At most, I'll be gone for a week, but I'm sure you guys have dealt with stories that update at that pace before, so it's okay, yeah?

Shout out to my two most frequent reviewers, MoonKent, yamixyugi-Sasunaru-yaoi-lover. You both make me smile. Seriously.

Something I've been meaning to say: if you have the talent to create these stories about other people's characters, then build your own world. There is nothing more satisfying than looking at a page filled with the words of your imagination. Do it! Fanfiction is practice for me. I use it to practice short stories, write decent endings (I hope), etc. I've written books before. Only thing missing is a publisher, and that's attainable. Use your talent, people! Don't just settle for this (though this is very fun).

I'm watching ROTG as I write this. Who thinks Pitch is like Loki from The Avengers? There are moments where I can just see the god of mischief shine through. Heck, I could even substitute Jude Law's voice with Tom Hiddleston's. Not that there's anything wrong with Jude's. Both of them are sexy and similar, vocally and physically.

That's all I got. See you in a week or so.