Work Text:
A blank canvas. After roughly an hour of thinking and hesitating, all Pitch had so far was a blank, white canvas to account for his work. An exaggerated sigh sounded off behind him. He didn’t turn to look, still standing in front of his canvas and easel, arms tucked together behind his back.
“I still don’t know why in hell they thought this’d work.” The fluffy figure behind him grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for Pitch to hear.
“That makes two of us.”
With a small sigh, the boogeyman pursed his lips and finally tore his eyes away from his canvas. He turned around, making his way to the table only a few feet away.
“Remind me again why I agreed to this? Why you agreed to this?” Pitch questioned as his hand traced along the edge of the wooden table. His eyes stayed glued to the paintbrushes and different paints that littered the table. Bunnymund grumbled out a stiff response.
“I didn’t agree. It’s no secret that I still don’t trust or like you, Pitch.”
“I’m very well aware. I vividly remember you referring to me as a “shadow sneaking rat-bag” in the Tooth Palace.”
Bunny snickered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the farthest wall from Pitch’s current position. “Damn right I did.”
“As for why you agreed? I can only assume the worst. You’ve always had a trick up those obnoxiously long sleeves of yours, or… hidden in the shadows for all I know.” Bunny pushed off the wall as Pitch began to move back towards the blank canvas, matching the boogeyman’s pace until they both stopped moving, as far from one another as possible within the same room.
“So what is your plan this time, Pitch Black? ” The pooka took a slow step forward, his tone aggressive and apprehensive as he kept his gaze on Pitch, almost a snarl.
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“ What?”
Pitch reluctantly tore his eyes away from the still-blank canvas and looked down at Bunnymund with a blank stare. His hands dropped to his sides, slowly placing the brush in his hand in front of the canvas as he turned to fully face the pooka. “You seem to know me better than I do myself. Or, should I say, the Pitch Black I previously was?”
One wide, slow, tentative, and cautious step later. The two spirits stood before each other with only the table to separate them.
“Enlighten me on what that ‘me’ would do, Bunnymund.”
Bunny scoffed, recalling what he could from the meeting he’d had with the guardians about Pitch barely a day ago. He didn’t remember as much as he should. Something, something “fearlings”, something, something “possessed and controlled”. Whatever it was, he couldn’t care less at that moment.
“You remember what those... Guardians said at that meeting.” A slight hint of resentment remained in his tone—not hatred but much closer to disrespect than anything. “Even if you don’t wish to, even if you’ll never believe it, you know what Sanderson told you all.”
Something about how Pitch said ‘guardians’ and referred to Sandy really set Bunny off. The pooka’s fur stiffened, a shiver coursing through him and pulling a raspy huff from him. He turned on his heels and shuffled from side to side. His foot thumped repeatedly against the dirt flooring.
“Let’s get this over with.” Bunny huffs out in a whisper that echoes through the room. He trudged over to Pitch, scowling as he had to look up at the ex(?)-boogeyman. He picked up the brush, placing it in Pitch’s hand not-so-gently before handing him an egg. “Here. A much smaller canvas to work with.”
Pitch paused, looking down at the small and mostly unpainted easter egg. A soft yellow covered it.
“I don’t see how this helps.” The taller spirit responded.
“It just does,” Bunny states. “Having a smaller area to work with I mean.”
An apprehensive look settles on Pitch’s face. His slender fingers wrap around the egg carefully, letting it rest loosely in his palm. He took slow steps towards the table again as his eyes glanced between the paint on it and the egg in his hand. “What am I to do? What should I paint?”
The pooka grumbled as he ran a paw over his face. “For the hundredth time, I don’t give a damn what you make. It’s art therapy. Paint anything!”
The dark spirit didn’t respond. His lips pursed, his brows furrowing as he looked down at the egg, and he moved the paintbrush hesitantly. A slight dip in purple paint, followed by shaky hand movements as he brought the paintbrush closer and closer to the tiny egg. His hand stilled, just centimeters from the egg, still shaking. “I need direction, Bunnymund. An order of sorts, perhaps. Guidance.”
“What for? Can’t make your own decisions?”
Pitch grimaced. He let out a small, iffy sound as if somewhat agreeing with the question.
“I’ve spent most of my life following the orders of those above me, or with control over me.” He paused and looked over at Bunny. “I’m sure you can imagine how that has affected me. Old habits never seem to fully die.”
With a hesitant sigh, Bunny took a step closer to Pitch, his brows furrowed as their hands touched. They both made a face of disgust. Pitch’s expression smoothed out to a blank stare; Bunny’s stayed the same as he spoke.
“I’m not here to help with ‘old habits’. Guidance, I can provide.” The pooka moved his hand slowly, moving Pitch’s in turn. Their gesture painted a streak of purple across the egg. Nothing neat, nowhere near perfect, but it was a start.
“Painting, and all arts in general, aren’t something you need to be guided with. Assistance can be given; you can be taught ; but to be guided is to just do the work of someone else with ya’ own hands. It ain’t really your own then, is it?” Bunnymund’s gaze stayed fixed on the small egg as he spoke, its tiny size all the more evident in their large hands.
“I guess not.” Pitch started, and his gaze stayed fixed on the egg as their unified movements came to a stop. He stared silently at the paint job. Soft purple and yellow. Delicately done. It was painfully obvious that he hadn’t made it. “Then, rather than guide me, you’ll teach me. Correct?”
The pooka huffed out a sarcastic laugh but nodded nonetheless. “I don’t have much of a choice. Now–” He took the painted egg from Pitch’s grasp, his other paw depositing a green one in the other’s place. “Let’s try this again.”