The year was drawing to a close. And what a year it has been, Pitch thought morosely, sitting on the couch and watching the New Year's Eve coverage on television. Plans for world domination nearly achieved only to be dashed by the belief of a single child. And now here he was, human, sitting in that very child's living room and chatting amicably with his nemesis.
It was one for the history books, he mused silently, not that any history book would contain such a story. He sipped his glass of champagne and coughed a little at the bubbles. What a vile drink, far too fizzy and light. But perhaps that made it the perfect beverage to toast away the end of this ridiculous year.
Jamie and Sophie had begged their mother to let them stay up and watch the ball drop. Jamie made it to about 11pm before he conked out. Sophie held out a little longer, slumping into Pitch's side and mumbling something about ponies. Mrs. Bennett gathered up her children and wished Pitch and Sandman a Happy New Year before heading upstairs.
Pitch yawned. He was compelled to make it to midnight, but he was fading fast. He looked over at Sandman who seemed just as tired. Maybe even more so: there were worry lines around the blond man's eyes that Pitch never noticed before.
"Something on your mind?" he asked. Sandman blinked wearily, then drew a picture of North and a calendar in his notepad.
"Ah." Pitch nodded in understanding. North had been working hard on the problem of the wish for a week now, and still no progress. It was very depressing, and Sandman seemed to be taking it especially hard. "Cheer up, old man. Your friends are idiots, but persistent idiots. They'll figure things out soon enough."
Sandman smiled tiredly and patted Pitch's hand.
On the screen, the ball began to drop. "3… 2… 1… Happy New Year!" the crowd cheered.
Pitch clinked his glass to Sandman's. "Happy New Year, old man. May this hellish nightmare end soon for the both of us." It wasn't much of a toast, but it was sincere.
Sandman finished his glass, peered into it, and then slumped against the couch cushions.
Pitch raised an eyebrow. "You were, perhaps, holding out hope that somehow a New Year's toast would break this magic spell?" The other man nodded and Pitch let out a small sigh before slumping back as well. "Me too."