Hostage | Eyeless Jack x Reader

Dinner Date

(Y/n)'s kitchen was filled with the gamey scent of searing meat, Jack standing by the stove as he fried two chunks of pronghorn in a pan. (Y/n) herself was swaddled in a blanket beside him, a kitchenette chair dragged over for her sick self to sit in. She had only agreed to let Jack cook if she could monitor him.

"Why're you actually good at this?" She muttered, craning her neck to look into the pan.

"Just because I'm a killer doesn't mean I don't have my talents," Jack chuckled, using a fork to stab the meat and flip it over, the food sizzling in the pan, "Cooking is one of my many, many skills."

"Uh huh. And we know that art isn't."

She was referencing the coloring page Jack had so diligently worked on, now taped to the front of her fridge. Despite his attempts at neatness, Jack's half-blindness had resulted in the page coming out in blobs of randomly colored scribbles.

Jack himself playfully scoffed, reaching out a few inches to push (Y/n) back into her chair, where she sat giggling.

"Excuse you, Picasso would be jealous of my work," Jack proclaimed.

(Y/n) only hummed, her eyes lazily following the movements of his large hands as he cooked their dinner. Unwillingly, she yawned. The stress of everything was getting to her, plus, the blanket she was curled up in was getting cozily warm from the heat of the stove. Even though she had taken a nap on Seedeater's side an hour prior, just the trek back through the storm was enough to drain her.

Jack heard her yawn, and it was dramatic enough to get him to turn his head towards her. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, too tired and stressed to give him any more harmless banter, though completely out-of-character for her.

"You okay?" He asked.

(Y/n) mumbled incoherently, her gaze zoning in on Jack's hands again in an attempt to give her something to focus on to stay awake. He seemed to notice her watching him, as he chuckled under his breath and transferred the fork to his other hand.

(Y/n) took nothing of it until Jack's arm reached out and was held hovering above her shoulder, not quite touching her. Confused, she glanced up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

"C'mere."

Jack's fingertips patted her shoulder with feather light touch. She wanted to say no. Actually, she wanted to slap his hand away from her and scold him, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do it.

However, despite her better judgment, just the idea of pressing her face into something soft and warm was enough to sway her sleepy and stressed mind in the opposite direction. She was so tired, and couldn't deny the fact that physical comfort could do her some good, even if it was from Jack himself.

With a sigh, she let Jack's hand press against her back and pull her into his side, where she smushed her face into the thick cotton of his sweatshirt. She could hear Jack amusedly chuckle as she satisfactorily groaned into his ribs, his hand gently resting between her shoulder blades.

With a turn of her head, she faced the stove where Jack was cooking with one hand, her eyes drowsily closed in comfort.

"Cozy?" He asked, his hand starting to rub up and down her spine.

His movements sent shivers up her back, though she wanted to deny the reasons why. Despite her morals, (Y/n) nodded her cheek into his torso.

"Don't get too comfortable with this," she grumbled, to which Jack only laughed again.

"Sure."

Despite her sour attitude, she couldn't help but admit that she was sort of enjoying this. Jack's body was naturally warm, and she felt herself becoming more relaxed the longer she pressed her cheek to his side. That, plus the soothing rhythm of his large hand running up and down her back, made her feel oddly at ease.