HEARTFIRST (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader)

7.

The room is dark when you wake. You're not sure what time it is; whether you've been asleep for hours or mere minutes. You shift under the covers, or, you try to. You're locked in place, something heavy draped over your torso. Lifting your head off the pillow, you see Jake splayed out, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle, your back pressed against Jake's chest, his head inches from your own, his mouth hanging open as he breathes.

Shit.

You shimmy underneath him, trying to wiggle free from his grasp. You could get out of here and back to Natasha before anyone woke. Sighing, you kick your leg out from underneath the covers and over the edge of the bed, hoping it might give you some leverage to escape Jake's grasp. Straining, you feel Jake's arm constrict around you. He stirs, humming to himself as he tugs you back into him. Escaping, turns out, is easier said than done.

"Hangman," you breathe, moving your hand to where his rests on your stomach, pulling at his fingers. "Let go."

A loud sigh fills the room followed by a yawn. He shifts his weight but keeps his grasp on you. Rolling your eyes, you take another deep breath. You move under the covers and under his arm, turning over onto your other side to get a look at him. His eyes are still closed, feigning sleep, but there's a smug smile on his lips. It's only then when you realize how close your face is to his, your nose an inch or less from touching his.

"Jake, come on, let go."

"Can't. Too comfy. Too early," he groans.

"I, uh, have to pee," you lie.

He chuckles lightly and loosens his grip on you, giving you just enough room to slip out from underneath him and out of the bed. Jake sighs and stretches out, his muscles flexing under the covers, his eyes on you in the morning darkness. Shivering, you tug on the pants you left on the floor the night before, doing up the zipper and button. You collect your t-shirt and bra, sliding out of Jake's sweatshirt and into both of them. The last thing you needed was to be caught in another pilot's sweatshirt; wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. Laughing to yourself you fold the sweatshirt and lay it across the foot of the bed, catching Jake's eyes as you do so. He looks as if he might say something, might ask you why you changed or might offer to let you keep it, but he only yawns.

Your eyes connect one last time before you leave the room, stepping out into the hallway.

The clock inside the common room catches your eye as you pass by – 3:47am. Natasha and the rest of the pilots would be up in a couple of hours for training. You consider heading back to her room but think better of it, knowing she'd need her sleep to get ahead of the hangover she'd definitely have in the morning. Besides, she's under the impression you're with Bradley. If only she really knew where you'd been, how the night progressed for you. Shaking your head you cross into the common room – a place you found yourself all too often and the epicenter of virtually all of your problems – and snuggle into the couch. You tug the throw blanket draped over the back of the leather down onto your lap and exhale, throwing your head back over the edge of the couch.

Your eyes fall shut, the empty room disappearing, images of Jake flooding your mind. The subtle rise and fall of his chest as he laid in bed this morning, the feeling of his arm draped around your torso and the way it sent the butterflies in your stomach fluttering. His soft blonde hair messy against the pillow as he turned onto his side, his cocky yet reassuring smile as he handed you his sweatshirt. The way his face softened when he opened up to you, listened to your past. Fuck, Hangman.

The vision of his lush, spring green eyes is the last thing you remember.

Radio static disrupts your image of him, the vision of Jake dissipating before you as you reach out for him, your mind waking, your body coming back to life. The noise continues, echoing through the little common room, voices coming in between the static popping.