Hey Everyone! My first story on this site is here! :) Just want you all to know that as of right now, I don't have a beta, so i'm kind of just writing on the fly. Pointing out any mistakes you find would be helpful!
No warning for now, unless references to talking to inanimate objects upsets you. Though I warn you- there's probably going to be slash later on in this- rating may change if I decide to be daring.
Anyway, This was just a little plot bunny that refused to hop away. Pestering little buggers, those things. This is slightly AU, where if Pitch were a little less evil and, perhaps, if Jack were a little more on the dark side of morally grey. A little slow to start, but it'll get better. Promise. ;p
Let's get on with it!
Disclaimer: I don't own these people. Unfortunately. If I did, I'd be very lucky. And a man.
"I wouldn't follow it, if I were you."
He spun around.
Jack must have still been brooding over a certain sledding incident from earlier that day, as he hadn't heard anything before a voice had practically whispered in his ear. While it was true that the almost-albino had a knack for getting distracted, (He hadn't just been about to chase after some random shadows for nothing.) he still prided himself in at least knowing whether or not he was alone. He liked to think he was perfectly capable of being able to tell if there was another soul near him- centuries of being alone tended to make one acute to such things.
Though, since most of the souls around him completely disregarded his existence, he supposed his "who's alive" senses had dulled considerably.
Which is what made the voice even more interesting. The kind of interesting that hadn't happened since the blizzard of '68.
His staff was pointed half defensively- half curiously at the man in front of him, half visible in the light of the street lamps. He was like a tall, thin shadow- smirking darkly down at him.
Jack wondered if he should be weary of this man. The wind didn't seem to like the stranger- it rustled through his hair, as if warning him to be careful. He brushed it off. Though, there was something almost uncanny in his presence, something just a little off about his smile. And he was tall. Really tall.
Dag nab it. He thought. Why is everyone so tall?
But- as he glanced up and down the street, finding it empty- he realized that the man had really been speaking to him. Jack Frost, who hadn't had a real civil, two way conversation since the before-mentioned blizzard- if he didn't count the angry and non-repeatable shouts he received from other seasonal sprites when he made torrents of snow suddenly drop on their heads. This stranger was no puny sprite, though. This stranger could see him, and had actually taken the time to speak with him.
Unless, of course, he was one of those "special" mortals he sometimes came across. The ones who were trying to have deep, meaningful conversations with trashcans or brick walls. The ones who clumsily kicked their chosen inanimate object when it refused to respond.
However, as he stepped more into the light, he saw that his company's skin was a charcoal grey. His eyes were piercing right through him.
So unless he's some really faithful chimney sweep, he's probably not mortal.
It had been a while since he'd been able to bother another spirit.
"Really? Care to explain why I shouldn't?" Jack called out, cocking his head challengingly, "Cause if I didn't find anything interesting here, I was just going to fly off back to Moscow for the night."
As a rule, everything was more interesting in Russia.
If possible, the smirk on the other seemed to grow darker, "Oh, don't worry. I think what I have to say will be very interesting for you."
"Really? Cause, no offense, but most of the interesting people I've met before were dressed a lot more interesting than you. All black's a little dull, don't you think?"
Jack dropped his guard a little, drawing his staff back in to lean on it. He offered the other a teasing smile.
The man ignored his comment, instead jumping right to the point, "Are you on good terms with the guardians?"
Jack's smile dropped.
"I wouldn't say that. I'm sure they've got more... colorful words to say about me. But I'm more of a-"
"Neutral party?" The man looked particularly ecstatic then. He stepped forward. Jack fromned, and stepped back- starting to raise his staff again.
The other spirit let out a chuckle, "Well, I have no shame in saying I, personally, am not a fan of them. All their talk of joy and hope and all that mushy stuff," He sighed, making a dismissive gesture, as if he wanted to brush the 'mushy stuff' off his shoulders, " It all really grates at my insides. I'm sure you'd say the same- that is, if they actually bothered to acknowledge you."
Jack was quickly growing uncomfortable with where the conversation was going. The stranger was getting a little too close for comfort, just a few feet away. As the shady man moved to step closer, Jack raised his staff quickly, jabbing threateningly at the other's chest.
"Would you like to play a game?"
The winter spirit looked up, staff lowering slightly,"What?"
"I said, would you like to play a game, with me?" The spirit held his arms out, invitingly. He began pacing around the boy, and Jack's staff followed him,"Just a little prank, something to keep those good-samaritans a little more frantic than usual. Nothing serious, just troublesome enough to make them... dance."
Jack eyed the other suspiciously, "Why are you asking me? Who are you?"
"I'm asking you, Jack, because I'm like you. I'm bored." He came to a halt, and slowly placed his hand on the slowly lowering staff, " Ignored. Disbelieved in. And- I think we could do something spectacular together."
Jack looked up into the dark eyes above him. There was a sparkle of gold in those eyes, something that spoke of ambition. Of hope and plans just waiting to be unfolded.
There was also something that whispered of power. Something that almost made him shiver.
"Who are you?"
The other smiled softly, stepping back, "The name's Pitch. Pitch Black."
Jack let out a nervous scoff, "That's not an ominous name at all."
"It's fitting, for my work."
They stood there for a few moments. Jack watched the spirit, Pitch, in front of him- tossing the offering back and forth in his head. For as long as he could remember, no one had wanted anything to do with him. How many years had he wished someone would just look at him. Now here was someone basically shoving an opportunity into his lap.
He'd be foolish not to take it.
So what if he loomed in an ominous way. Who cared if his teeth were worryingly jagged, or that shadows seemed to be hugging his figure like a loving embrace?
He couldn't be that bad, right?
He wasn't scared. Nothing scared Jack Frost.
He withdrew the staff, planting it firmly at his side, defiantly.
"That shadow you saw was from that petulant rabbit." Pitch looked behind his shoulder, regarding the moon passingly, "The guardians plan to attempt to... recruit you tonight."
Jack almost psychically recoiled, "What? Are you kidding me? I'm kind of the last person they'd want for that a job like that. Or anything to deal with them-"
"That's precisely what I was thinking." Pitch looked back, spotting the pout the comment produced, "It's part of the reason I want to work with you-"
"Hey now. Slow down. Who's to say I'm going go along with you?" Jack twirled the stick in this hands lazily, starting to get daring again, "Who's to say that I'm not going to warm up to the idea of working along the big four? I hear North makes good cookies. You never know, they might have the better deal."
Pitch looked amused at that. He glanced down, raising an eyebrow at Jack's bare feet, "They plan to make you wear shoes."
The winter spirit looked down in horror at his feet, as if a pair of fuzzy shackles would suddenly appear around his ankles, "Um. No. No, that's not happening."
"Well how about this then," Pitch put one of his hands out, waving it frivolously, "Either you can go along with the guardians, allowing yourself to be kidnapped by the furry abomination that I'm sure has completely forgiven you for that little incident in '68. Live your days guarding little children that, honestly, don't really need protection from someone they can't even see. Or-"
Pitch moved his hand forward, waiting for a handshake,"You can can have a little fun with me. To be in on a little, harmless joke, just between us. I assure you, it will be a much better use of your time than, say, stealing cookies from elves? What do you say?"
The hand tilted to the side in question. Jack contemplated it. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his own hand, clasping it in the other's. He gave it a firm shake. Pitch smiled. Jack grinned. They both gave each other an overexaggerated shake, chuckling softly.
"So what kind of game is this going to be?"
Pitch smiled, sharp teeth sending off an eerie light in the dark.
"This, my friend, is a game of Keep-Away."