Work Text:
Pitch's PoV
He's not brooding or pouting, he's thinking. It's not his fault that includes moving around on his throne a lot or dramatically sighing. If Jack were here—
He cuts himself off before he can finish that thought.
Jack hasn't been by the lair since they got into a fight when he flat out refused to go to a Winter Solstice Celebration with the winter spirit. He hates Christmas and anything the humans have even vaguely tied to it. Unfortunately that ruined the Winter Solstice and Yule festivities for him.
He's certain this will be the time that Jack ends their friendship. Why would he come back? This isn’t the first time they’ve argued to the point it became a fight, however it is one of the nastiest. The worst part is, it didn’t even have to be an argument, he could have just declined, but no, he was having a bad day, and lashed out.
Since then, he’s made it a point to avoid all areas of winter. He’s not certain what he’d do if he came across the winter spirit. He’d rather avoid making it worse, and there’s a high probability that’s exactly what he’d do.
He should go do something besides sit here thinking. His thoughts keep going down paths he wasn’t intending to. Mostly regarding Jack, and all the ways he fucked that up. He’s enjoyed having a friend these last few decades who actually likes him, and not just what he could do for them with his powers.
Onyx forms by his right side, nipping at his sleeve and stomping until he finally looks at her.
Carefully frosted into her mane are a series of icy carnations and dahlias. In the middle a rolled parchment held on by an ice ribbon.
"Traitor," he mutters, trying not to smile at the fact she let the winter spirit decorate her with ice blooms and a rolled parchment for him. She generally doesn’t let anyone near her except him. Reaching out, he carefully plucks the parchment from her mane to read.
Will you, Pitch Black, ridiculously silly and fearsome Nightmare King, go on a date with me, Jack Frost, trickster and playfully understanding Herald of Winter? If so, meet at my pond at moonset.
Shaking his head at Jack's antics, he doesn't even consider not going. Not when he thought that he’d not hear from the winter spirit again in a friendly manner. With a thought, he travels to his room and closet. If this is to be a date he wishes to wear something more than just his normal robes. He hadn’t considered dressing up that time he was going to steal the teeth, ruin Easter, and destroy the Guardians before Jack had pointed out that he'd have to interfere if kids were actually hurt, and constant fear and exhaustion counts. That had ruined centuries worth of planning but it had been worth it for the smile his winter spirit gave him and the long hug.
They ended up compromising instead. He didn't try to kill the Guardians or destroy Easter. However, he did hold the little annoying faeries hostage for twenty-six hours and hid the tooth cylinders across the globe. All of them except Jack's. That one he presented with a bow to his winter spirit.
Shaking his head, he returns to the task at hand. Finding something different to wear for a date with Jack.
Gone. He was so certain that Jack was gone for good. That he'd never hear from the winter spirit again. Yet instead he got an invitation for a date. He's not wasting this chance. Now what to wear?
Several long minutes are spent eyeing his more formal robes, before disregarding that. That only leaves two-thirds his hardly ever used closet to choose from.
He's grumbling and pacing along, debating the merits of different options when Misting solidifies with Baby Tooth. He blinks at the little faerie, not sure why she'd be there. That quickly becomes evident as she flutters around before landing on one of the outfit's he was considering hangers.
"This is good choice," she chirps, "It'll go good with your eyes."
Rolling his eyes, “Did Jack and you or the Nightmares decide I need help?" he asks her as he grabs the outfit.
She ignores the question and flies over to the shelf he keeps his jewelry box on, landing lightly before chirping excitedly. "Misting, Voids, and Obsidian thought you could use a second opinion and that I would have a good one.” She seems to be proud of that even as she fears for her Nightmare friends.
What is the world coming to when a tooth faerie has friends among his Nightmares? It has to be Jack's influence. After all, Baby Tooth is one of the only clones with her own name. Since getting that name she's developed more of her own personality. Hanging around with their winter spirit has also changed her a bit more. Instead of the green-blue feathers of her mother and sisters, she's more of a blue turquoise, her highlight feathers having turned silvery gray and her eyes going to a darker shade of purple. She's even doubled in size. He muses as he changes.
Once done changing, he joins her by the shelf to see what she's doing.
"Here, here," she chirps, having pulled out a pair of ear cuff's Jack had given him for Halloween a few years before. "And here." A matching choker he forgot about.
He arches a hairless brow at her in question.
Rolling her eyes, she stomps her foot as she chirps, "You're dressing up for date."
"Why these ones?" He waves towards all the rest of his collection.
"Because they are courting gifts, you nimwit! From your date!” Her expression easily reveals she has more to say and isn’t.
Normally he'd smack anyone who dared call him a nimwit across the room at the bare minimum. However as he looks at the three pieces she's indicated, then at other pieces that Jack's given him over the years they've known each other, he realizes he was missing something.
How did he miss that?
More to the point, how long has Jack been trying to court him?
"Come on, come on, moon rise is already here, you're gonna be late if you start acting like hen with an idea egg now!" She chirps in frustration, fluttering her bronze wings angrily.
Misting seems to agree, pawing at the floor and huffing.
He's being told off by minions. Again, what is the world coming to? A few minutes later, he stands before his mirror to make sure everything is where it should be. The silvery-blue shimmer of the ear cuffs contrast nicely with his skin, fitting him perfectly. His breath catches when he realizes that they must have been custom made for him, just like the choker with a scythe and shepherd's crook that rests at the base of his throat.
His fingers brush the cool metal, remembering how pissed he had been when Jack gave it to him. Nobody owns him. He refused to be collared like some animal or criminal. Yet as he looks at it now, he realizes that wasn't at all what his winter spirit had been trying to say. It’s their weapons of choice together
"Fuck," he mutters, not even bothering to wonder again how he missed this. Considering how long it took to believe they were friends, there's no question how. Hell, he was thinking earlier today that he’d lost Jack. The little faerie's right, he's a nimwit.
Misting and Baby Tooth step up beside him, the faerie balanced on the Nightmare's head. Both have their eyes go wider and coo at him. Since when did one of his Nightmares make that sort of sound?
"You're gonna make his decade!" Baby Tooth chirps, clapping and bobbing her head excitedly. "Now shoo, early is better than late.”
Huffing he removes them from his rooms as he travels to the surface near the pond.
While it’s not quite moonset, it’s far closer than moonrise. He barely finishes solidifying when cold air wraps around him in greeting. Tugging lightly at him away from the town and towards the back side of the pond.
Smiling, he murmurs greetings to the Winds that Jack often rides and plays with. They’ve discussed the fact that the Winds aren’t quite sapient but are definitely sentient, and rather fond of his winter spirit. This isn’t the first time they’ve acknowledged him, yet it never fails to surprise him.
Following their direction, he finds himself at a little grove where his winter spirit is currently darting around. It appears he’s setting up a picnic. There’s a blanket laid out, several plates with food that have ice domes covering them, a bottle of something next to a pair of glasses, and a few piles of pillows randomly laid out. Around the outer edge of the blanket are small ice sculptures, mostly the same flowers worked into Onyx’s mane but also icy versions of Nightmares in different poses. All of which glow with a soft light.
Then there’s Jack.
Rather than the leather leggings that look like they’ve seen better days or the blue hoodie, he’s dressed up. Nice black leggings, dark blue shirt tucked into them, open at the collar and sleeveless. Silvery blue-white bands encircle his biceps and the cuffs on Jack’s wrists seem to match. Both have etchings he’s itching to take a closer look at. Jack's ears are bare, while his throat is not. It's surprising to realize that they are wearing matching chokers.
That choker is a claim as much as a gift, a promise of connection, of joining. It causes his breath to catch with such deep emotion there are no words to describe it.
He meets startled snowflake blue eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches the way Jack lights up, genuinely pleased to see him, a small flash of worry he wasn’t going to show seeming to vanish as quickly as it appeared.
Darting across the space, his winter spirit beams as he lands within touching range, “Hi Pitch!”
“Hello Jack,” he replies warmly, a complicated tumble of emotions washing through him.
Motioning to the picnic, Jack asks, “Would you have dinner with me?” There’s a subtle fear of rejection that’s quickly pushed away. Not denied, exactly, but accepted as a possibility and moved past. That explains why the winter spirit doesn’t register with fear often. It’s not that he lacks it, simply accepts it and then keeps going without feeding it.
Stepping closer, he dips his head down so he’s just barely not touching cool skin as he murmurs, “I’d love to,” in his winter spirit’s ear.
His smile shifts into a mischievous grin as he watches the shiver race through the younger spirit. Only to discover that he’s getting an equally mischievous grin back when he straightens.
Grabbing his hand, Jack leads him over to the blanket, and the middle of one of the small piles of pillows.
He settles into them, while his winter spirit takes a different pile near rather than across from him. Now that he’s on the blanket, he realizes it’s actually a rather nice quilt, that just happens to be made out of supple leather and hides. Like the parchment the invite was on, all done the old fashion way by hand.
“I was originally gonna ask if you’d like to eat with me after maybe ice skating on the pond, but since you’re here now,” he gets beamed at, “dinner then ice skating?”
“I’d love to,” he agrees as he tries to recall if he’s gone ice skating before or not. It’s been several millennia since he’s been on any sort of date. He can barely even remember it. Turning his attention to the ice domed plates of food, he realizes that they are all things that he has shown a preference for in the last few years, either when they’ve been spending time together or he has mentioned.
It’s yet another sign that Jack’s been paying attention to him, trying to court him, for years, not just weeks or months.
He delights in everything about their dinner date. The food is excellent and obviously homemade. Their conversation flows easily, years of friendship serving well. There’s teasing and joking, reminiscing about memories shared or things they’re reminded of from times apart. He learns that Jack made the blanket they're on, along with the dishware. It makes him curious what other skills his winter spirit has that he rarely or never sees.
It's well past moonset and well into sunrise when they finally make it to the pond in order to go ice skating. As the sky lightens with soft purples and orange tinted with pinks, he hesitantly accepts the hand held out to him. He's not afraid, exactly, just uneasy about possibly embarrassing himself. That doesn't stop him however, since he knows his winter spirit won’t hold any errors over him.
They slowly make their way onto the ice. Jack glides, smooth as always, the type of graceful he'll never admit to adoring to watch. His own movements are not as coordinated but that doesn't stop him from trying to mimic how has seen it done.
Once he gets the basic feel down, he lightly tugs on his winter spirit's hand, a request to come closer.
The soft smile he gets as Jack slips closer, sends warmth throughout his body.
"Dance with me?" He meets and hold's Jack's gaze as he requests it, voice rougher than he's used to.
"I'd love to," his winter spirit agrees with a gentle hum, twinkling eyes never leave his.
Their music is the Wind's song and sounds the trees make in it as they skate and dance, often pressed close together, sometimes not. His eyes never leave his partner's face, too enthralled with watching the play of emotions. The pleasure and joy, the happiness caused by him.
As the sun crests over the trees, he asks, "Why did you make us matching chokers Jack?"
They slowly come to a stop in the middle of the pond. Blue snowflake eyes holding his gaze seriously as a light purple flush spreads across pale skin. "I hoped,” Jack licks his lips, a small burst of anxiety being dealt with before he could fully register what it is about. "I hoped that you'd realize the choker wasn't a one way claim. That I intended for us to be equals."
His breath catches as he remembers what he snarled when originally given the choker. How he banished Jack from the lair for nearly three weeks. Despite that, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of the piece of jewelry and tossed it next to his box to ignore. Only later had he grudgingly placed it on a necklace holder.
The hand that rested on cool hips as they skated and danced comes up to hesitantly cup Jack's check. He swallows, overwhelmed as he processes exactly what's being offered. It's so very much and nothing he ever expected to have considering who he is.
Still maintaining eye contact, his winter spirit turns his head just enough to kiss his palm.
"Jack." His voice breaks.
"Can I kiss you Pitch?” There is a breathless quality that wraps around him, causing warmth to spread throughout his body.
He can’t help the gentle tease, "I don't know, Jack, can you? You're a bit short, but you may if you can.”
Laughing, his winter spirit wraps a hand around his neck, sinking cool fingers in his hair at the nape to pull him downward even as he stretches on the balls of his feet.
It's a barely there, gentle brush at first. He slides his hand back, along Jack's jaw to cup the back of his head.
A soft smile against his lips has him smiling back. Right before he takes his time thoroughly kissing his partner.