Unlocking the front door to her apartment, Sophie stepped in, slipped her coat off her shoulders she threw it down into the corner. She took off her smart work jacket down to her spaghetti string top and shook her long blonde hair out, allowing it to fall more comfortably. She trod down on the heels of her black work pumps and stepped out of them, leaving them where they lay. She couldn't be bothered with tidiness tonight. Hovering at the doorway, Pitch spoke up "Now I've seen you back safely I suppose I'd better be off."
"What? No, come in for a drink, I owe you one."
"I don't really think that that is-"
"Nathaniel shut up and get in my apartment. I insist you have a drink." More in shock at her surprisingly dominant command, he stepped inside and let the door swing to behind him. He took a brief look around, finding himself mildly curious as to where the woman he had been tormenting lived. It was a neat little place, for the most part, and its smallness combined with all the little art pieces and nick-nacs made it quite homely.
He followed her straight into the kitchen. "What do you want?" Sophie said in an oddly rough tone. Pitch was intrigued. His petrified little Sophie hadn't spoken a word since they began their journey back to where she lived, and now, fear seemed to take a back seat whilst a delightful bitterness pushing on anger sat in the driver's seat. This would be amusing. "A cup of tea would be delightful."
"Nathaniel, when I asked you in for a drink, I meant a proper drink, what do you want?"
"What do you have?"
"Red wine, Rose wine, vodka or I have a couple of beers left in the fridge." Pitch paused and pondered his decision. He couldn't actually recall the last time he had drank alcohol. He couldn't remember ever drinking at all. But he remembered the taste, he remembered he liked it, so he had to have drank it at some point. Had it been before he was a spirit?
"A glass of red wine then, if you really insist." He chuckled as he watched Sophie buzz around her familiar surroundings, whipping a wine glass out of one cupboard above the work-surface and taking a bottle off a high shelf, forcing her onto her tip-toes. She poured him a generous amount and dropped it down with little grace onto the counter-top next to Pitch. She took a full bottle of Russian vodka off the same shelf and unscrewed the cap. She took a few unnecessarily excessive gulps before perching herself on top of a bar stool by the counter, her slim shoulders hunched. Pitch took up a seat on the bar stool opposite on the other side of the counter. It seemed to strike Pitch as strange to watch the girl he remembered as a tiny little ball of innocent, youthful energy actually drinking. Often he still saw her as the little Bennett girl in the polka dot yellow, green and blue pajamas.
"You might want to slow down."
"You might want to speed up if you want to keep up with me." Sophie retorted, flicking her hair from off her shoulder and throwing her head back to take another gulp. "I understand you're upset about what happened, but-" Sophie let out a belt of laughter, "You don't say?" Pitch frowned. He was really getting annoyed at how often this girl interrupted him. "Look, Nathaniel, I just want to drink until I forget that this night ever happened, okay? You know better than any one right now that I'm not having a great time recently and, well, I think maybe all I need is just a nice…long…drink." She took another gulp.
There was long silence in which they sat and drank for a while.
A tiny flame of curiosity lit up in his mind. "Tell me, Sophie, what was your childhood like?"
"No. No way. You're not here to think I'm crazy and start analysing my mental state, you-"
"I'm simply curious. Cross my heart." He dragged his slim index finger twice over his heart. And he truly was just curious. Sophie hesitated. A lot of her childhood had revolved around The Guardians, if she told him that he'd definitely ship her off to a mental hospital. But didn't all children believe in The Guardian's at some point in their lives? She supposed she could tell him a few half-truths.
"I had a good childhood, a fantastic one actually. I grew up with my big brother, Jamie, and I had a dog and tons of friends. I think every kid in Burgess new each other in some way. We went on a lot of adventures, too. Most of them imaginary obviously, kids will be kids you know?" Sophie took a couple of deep gulps, wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then continued. "Like most kids, I was a big fan of the holidays, Christmas, Easter and all that stuff. A lot of our imaginary adventures revolved around us meeting people like Nor-" shit, Soph, use your brain "-Santa, the Easter bunny, and the Tooth fairy and others. It was really fun." Sophie glanced over at Pitch who took dignified sips of wine while he leant on his elbows, leaning in and listening intently. He looked interested in what she had to say for once. Pitch forced a light hearted smile, "Yes, sounds like a lot of fun for such a small child. Although I am curious as to what kinds of adventures one could possibly go on with someone like the tooth fairy." Sophie's eyes lit up, and Pitch saw the enthusiasm and hope in her eyes he was trying so hard to stamp out rekindle in her eyes. "So many! So many adventures; in fact, this one time, me, my brother and half of the neighborhood kids teamed up with The Guardians-" What did I just say about using your brain? "-uh, it's like a team name for when Santa, Jack Frost, the Easter bunny, the sandman and the tooth fairy team up. Anyway, we ended up fighting the Bogeyman and it was awesome." Sophie laughed.
Now she really had Pitch's attention. "Weren't you scared of the Bogeyman?"
"No, well, yeah, at first anyway, but we were safe with The Guardians."
"What did he look like? He must have been terrifying."
"I can't really remember, I was only two when my brother and his friends made up this game. I…remember a tall, dark man…like a shadow. Uh, that's how I envisaged him anyway." Sophie glanced over at Pitch who remained eyes narrowed and locked onto hers in what appeared to be deep concentration. It was a little unsettling. "Enough about me, tell me about yourself! It's unfair that you get to know private stuff about me."
"I'm not too sure you'd really want to know about me."
"Come oonnnnnn! It'll be fun! I promise." Pitch almost laughed aloud. It appeared Sophie was getting a little bit tipsy to say the least.
The night went on, and Pitch simply recounted to her a plethora of absolute bullshit he just yanked out of thin air. It was believable though, believable and interesting, but not too interesting. Making things up on the spot and improvising was something he was pretty proficient at. The almost empty bottle of vodka lay on its side and Sophie's eyes drooped while she rested her head on her hand. "Right, I think it's high time you go to bed."
"Awwww whhhyyy?" Sophie whined with her signature pout. "Because it's late and you've had plenty enough for one night, I think."
"Carry me?"
"No."
Sophie went to get to her feet, but her fawn like legs buckled and she would have fallen to the floor if Pitch hadn't caught her. Pitch growled in irritancy as he shifted her into a more comfortable position in his arms. Her head lolled back and she giggled as she was carried bridal-style to her room.
Using his left leg, Pitch kicked open her bedroom door and stepped inside, making his way towards the double-bed to drop her down. He leant over the bed and tried to release her, only to find, much to his distain, that her arms remained wrapped around his neck. He finally pried her off and she rolled away from him sleepily with a sigh to the other side of the bed. Pitch saw what was going to happen next. More by instinct to catch falling objects than by concern, Pitch threw himself onto the bed and grabbed her before she could fall out, pulling her back to the centre. He tried to move again, this time restricted not by arms around neck but legs around his waist. This was not good…"Sophie." He warned before looking down at the drunken woman beneath him.
Pitch couldn't deny that she was beautiful. Her long, tousled hair lying in disarray on the pillow framed her face like a golden halo. Her delicate pink lips were parted ever so slightly and those stunning forest coloured orbs gazed into his eyes as if for the first time. From her flushed rose cheeks, blushing from either drink or arousal or a combination of the two, he traced his gaze down her elegant neck to her pronounced collar bones. Her small chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. Her heart beat fast. Oh yes, she was beautiful.
But she was little Sophie Bennett. And he needed to break her into little unrecognisable pieces.
Oh, and she was rip-roaringly drunk.
"Sophie, now would be a perfect time to release me." Pitch growled out in annoyance. He loved the way she held her hands above her head on the pillow, arms bent gently at the elbow, as if she were surrendering. "Kiss me. Please." She breathed huskily. This was becoming increasingly difficult. "Sophie, you're drunk, you aren't thinking straight."
"All the more reason you should." She purred, her lips twitching up into a coy little smile. Pitch laughed darkly, "If you knew who I am you wouldn't have let me step one foot in the door, let alone…well…"
"Kiss me?"
"Yes." Actually, this could work out in his favour…
He let Sophie place both her hands softly on either side of his face and pull him into her by tightening her grip around his waist. Pitch, as he often did, had an idea. Sophie placed a gentle, tentative kiss on his lips and Pitch couldn't help but wonder what Sophie's beloved Bunnymund would think if he knew his innocent little Sophie was quite prepared to jump into bed with a strange man she hardly knew when she was drunk. Pitch envisaged the rabbit's face and it truly made his heart warm. Pitch was brought back to the task at hand when she bit roughly onto his lower lip, making him hiss in surprise. Pitch grasped the soft spot behind her kneecaps and she gasped out, "Nathaniel…"
"My name is not Nathaniel." He broke the kiss and began to pepper her neck with sharp little bites and kisses. She curled her fingers into his thick, black hair. This was a lot more fun than he thought it would be. "It…ah! It's not?" he brought his head up to her ear and whispered "Would you like to know my real name, Sophie? I'm sure you're dying to know. I'm sure you'll be screaming it later." Sophie pulled him into an even deeper kiss, and between her little groans and gasps he made out "What…what is your name?"
Forcefully, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides. He sat up, his legs bent under himself and still positioned contentedly between her thighs. She looked up at him, and Pitch mentally ordered the image fade, letting his real self to claw its way to the surface.
Sophie blinked in confusion: ashen, silver skin, midnight hair, eyes made from precious melted metals, the shadows cloaked around him. All her memories of the Bogeyman came roaring back to life, fresh in her mind and the horrifying realisation of who Nathaniel Cross really was seeped in.
Pitch was right, she did scream his name.
Mwahahaha! Isn't Pitch a bastard? Now Sophie knows, things are only gonna get batter from here, folks, so all aboard the crazy train! Hope you enjoyed the past two chapters, feel free to let me know what you think and if you have any ideas.
ravynedoom thank you so much for the review, you made me one happy chappy! I hope I can continue to keep you hooked.
Sayonara, peeps!
