Jack lies on his side in bed, the menu screen for Raiders of the Lost Arkplaying for the hundredth time. His eyes are closed and he's floating between dozing and daydreaming, thoughts of the four-week anniversary dinner flitting through his mind. Before, and after, too.
Before makes Jack feel a big tangled yarn ball of things. Horny. Curious. Eager for more- No, it's more that that. Eagerisn't a big enough word for this need that thrums under his skin. He yearns for more. Different knots, different patterns, different ropes. He wants to experience everything Pitch knows; wants to learn new things together.
After was good too: back to Pitch's place for cuddling on the sofa with occasional spurts of making out. Lazy, sweet, comfortable. Perfect.
Just the thought of it makes Jack smile. A month already, and things are going well. Better than well, he dares to think. Good, even. Great. Pitch treats him like he matters - makes time for him, listens to him. The only time he's not available is at the weekends when he has his daughter - like today - but even then he's said that if Jack needs to talk, he can call.
And to think all of this started because of Ben's wildly inappropriate auction.
The noise of the front door opening snaps him from his semi-slumber and he jerks upright. His dad's supposed to be in Minnesota for a political fundraiser, what's he doing back?
The tension in Jack's stomach and shoulders is immediate, anxiety building like the formation of a hurricane. He listens to see if the footsteps will head his way, prays they won't. Usually his dad completely ignores him and that's shitty enough, but worse still when he pays attention to Jack - sneers and remarks that cut down to the bone with surgical precision. Every encounter makes it abundantly clear that his father does not like him, did not want him, doesn't want him around now.
Jack's halfway through thinking – again - that he really should move the hell out. Sure he doesn't have any money until he turns twenty-one and can claim his inheritance, but there are other options, he can borrow money from someone or crash on Kal and Jamie's floor, or anything-
The knock on his door makes his stomach plunge the rest of the way, smashing on rock bottom.
"Yeah," he calls out, and the door swings open-
To reveal a woman with green and yellow streaks in her short, dark hair and a broad grin.
"Tooth?!"
"Surprise, I'm home," she says, and Jack throws a pillow at her, making her yelp.
"I thought you were dad," he yells, scrabbling out of bed and hugs her. She hugs back, so tight he can almost hear his ribs creak. For all her tiny slenderness, she's strong.
"It's so good to see you," she says, her feathery hair clip tickling his nose and making him want to sneeze.
"You too," he says, and means it. There's a distance between him and his siblings, wrought by years of their dad treating him like shit and them doing very little about it. But of all of them, Tooth was at least there afterwards. To hug Jack; to play with him when he was younger or talk to him when he was older. He loves her, even if there is a lot of complicated stuff behind it.
She goes over to sit on his oversized beanbag – her favourite piece of furniture – and sinks into it with a sigh. It dwarfs her and only the top of her head and her kitten heels are visible until she wriggles into a better position. "I hate long flights," she tells him. "You need to come and visit me, Jack. I want to take you sightseeing."
"Oh yeah, London in January, lovely. Are you trying to give me seasonal affective disorder?"
"Come later then. It's lovely in spring. You can come for as long as you like - things are obviously still rocky between you and Dad-"
"Yeah, well," Jack says, throwing himself onto his back and glaring at the ceiling. "He still treats me like he wishes I'd never been born, so that kind of comes between us, you know."
"Oh, Jack."
She doesn't say of course he doesn't feel that way, because they both know that would be a lie.
Silence stretches out until Tooth pulls herself to her feet and goes over to Jack, her heels clacking on his wooden floor.
"Let's go out," she says. "Let's get our Christmas on."
They go to Bryant Park. It was Tooth's idea – she remembered how much he loved the ice rink. Jack's touched by that, and then saddened by the fact that it means so much to him. Everything they ever do together is destined to be touched by their dysfunctional family ties.
Jack brought his own skates, and as he ties the laces, he tells himself that he's going to have fun. He's surprised when it happens. But as they whirl around the rink, darting around slower skaters and coming back together to join hands, he finds himself smiling.
It'd be nice to come here with Pitch, he thinks. The elegance in his walk, those long legs – he's bound to be an excellent skater. And - is it weird to think that Pitch ice skating would be kind of hot? Probably. It's definitely weird that the image of Pitch in a figure skater's costume flashes into his mind.
"Jack," Tooth says with a laugh. "What is with you? You're away with the fairies."
"I'm thinking of my boyfriend,"Jack says with a wink, hoping the suggestion of salaciousness will deflect further questions. He should've known better.
"Ooooh," she says, turning so that she's skating backwards, taking both of his hands. "This mysterious older man. Tell me more!"
"We just had our one month anniversary," Jack says, trying to avoid the I like him to tie me up and I think I'd like him to spank me that is plastered all over his brain whenever he thinks of Pitch. "He likes eighties movies too, and he actually saw them in the cinema. He cooks a mean breakfast - both American and full English. His tea cupboard is immense - it puts even yours to shame."
"Now that I can't believe."
"He likes classic books - we're talking Dostoyevsky dull, here, but he likes dumb thrillers too. Oh and Harry Potter - he says it's because he read them to his daughter but no casual reader could talk so damn passionately about house politics."
Tooth raises her eyebrows, and it's not because she fears that Pitch is a Slytherin. "He has a daughter?"
"Yeah," Jack says, with a no-big-deal shrug as he wonders how much he wants to talk about Pitch with Tooth; how personal he's willing to get with her. How much he trusts her.
"Just how old is this guy, Jack?"
"Thirty-six."
She purses her lips slightly but nods. "And he makes you happy?"
"Yeah." Jack feels defensiveness building in him like a wall, tall and thick and seen in his clenched jaw and deep frown. Tooth gets the message and switches the subject.
She talks about her plans for the holidays: she's staying for two weeks, Bunny and North will be home in the next few days - yay - and then they can have a nice family dinner for his birthday. Considering that his dad will still be in Minnesota, it might actually be fun.
By the time they get off the ice, it's high time to head over to the food stalls. Jack's stomach is whining pitifully, so he promises it pretzels. Hot chocolate - the fake ID in his wallet might even get some rum added. Doughnuts. Waffles. There's usually a tea place, he could pick something up for Pitch's present.
Which is when he looks up and sees the object of his thoughts right there in front of him.
It's so unexpected that he halts, leaving a wake of annoyed muttering behind him.
Pitch, in a beat-up leather jacket with too many zippers, tight jeans and those damn Docs again. By his side is a little girl, her black hair a wild cascade of waves over her shoulders, light brown skin and big golden-brown eyes. There's a definite resemblance to Pitch, and with that black wool coat with shiny gold buttons over a frilly black dress, it looks like she's inherited some of her father's fashion sense.
Both of them are looking at a stall that looks like an explosion of Christmas decorations, and Jack is wondering if he should just pretend he hasn't seen them. Would Pitch even want him meeting his daughter? Maybe they should just head in the opposite direction, or leave the market completely.
Seraphina glances in their direction, tugs on her father's hand and points at Tooth - her bright hair and bright coat tends to draw attention, even in New York. Jack feels a heady cocktail of nerves/worry/all-out-panic as Pitch looks over as well.
He blinks as he sees Jack and the rictus smile he's forced into place, and after a moment's pause, he starts to walk over.