The Secret Life of Jack

ch 4

The night had gone by uneventful.
Mark had slept peacefully and so had Jack, despite his injuries.

Jack was the first to wake, sweaty and hard of breath. Some time during the night, he'd moved enough for the handkerchief to come up over his face. He tossed and turned, a nightmare caused by the cloth plaguing his mind.

Jack woke up in his bed, an old matchbox stuffed with bits of fabric and cotton he'd found lying about. He was home. He was safe. The giant incident must have been a dream! Thank goodness.

His relief didn't last long. Before he knew it, the walls were shaking and dust was falling from the ceiling. He scrambled up off his bed and into the corner to grab his needle-sword. His breath was panicked as he coughed, hand barely grazing the handle before he was jerked back by giant hands.
He screamed. 
He blanked and the surroundings changed. Everything was dark. Suffocating. Where was he?!
Jack felt around. Hands reaching out to graze fabric all around him. Was he.. was he in a bag?
He began to panic, screaming to be let out as tears welled in his eyes.

Jack jolted awake in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as he fought the handkerchief over his head. The pain had lessened significantly, so his flailing only resorted in a soreness spreading through his body.
The handkerchief fell away and Jack gratefully took in gulps of fresh air.
He looked around. Where was he? What was this? Why was he-?
His train of thought stopped short as the sight before him. He was dead center on the Giants pillow with the giant lying a few inches away. He could see the rise and fall of his chest. Hear the deep, slumbering breaths.
It made him shudder.

He was so small by comparison. He was at the mercy of a being a hundred times his height and strength. His dream, for all he knew, could have been a premonition. A peak into his fate. Gods, he hoped not...

The irishman took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart but with very little success.
But it was enough for him to put on a brave face and think of how to escape. He could easily climb down the bedsheets and it wouldn't cause much of a disturbance to the sleeping giant mere inches away.

With a plan set and a determined nod, he stood. He carefully walked down the pillow, feet sinking up to the knee as he made his way.
Every step sent a shooting pain through his body, but he grit his teeth and pushed on. But maybe that wasn't such a good idea.
Before he knew it, his legs had given out from over exertion.
Jack let out a sharp cry as he tumbled forward, bouncing off the curve of the pillow and tumbling down to rest on the bed.

The small Irishman laid there, huffing in irritation.
He had been the most capable borrower in his family. The strongets. The fastest. The most agile.
And here he was. At the mercy of a bed of all things!
But he didn't have time to wallow in his frustration.
From his spot at the base of the pillow, he had a perfect view of Mark. A perfect view of him sitting up. And it was terrifying.

The raven haired male towered above him, and his stretching seemed to make him seem even larger.
Jack tried to scramble back up. To at least get under the pillow.
But he barely got halfway before Mark pressed his hand into the mattress, making it dip with his weight and bringing Jack tumbling down with a startled cry.

His back slammed against the side of the Giants hand, causing a groan to escape his lip as Mark looked down.
The man was still half asleep, but he still found the smaller man absolutely adorable.

Scooping him up in a single motion, Mark brought Jack up to eye level.

The irishman gripped to his fingers. A sleepy giant was probably worse. He'd seen the way Mark lumbered around when he was half asleep. He'd knocked over things things a hundred times Jacks size, smacked things so far without realizing his own strength, what would he do to the borrower? Crush him like a bug? Stuff him in a pocket?

The poor man trembled as blue eyes met brown.

"Mornin, Jack." Mark smiled softly, pulling the blanket up and over his shoulders with his free hand.

"M-Mornin Mark.." Jack stuttered, fidgeting against the giant platform of a hand.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries most would. How'd you sleep? Are you still tired? Etcetera etcetera.

Jack was slowly calming down before mark, who'd closed his eyes and was hunched over, spoke.

"M kinda hungry.. when was the last time you ate, Jack?" He cracked an eye open, half lidded gaze, focusing on the small Irishman.
Jack tensed. Why did he want to know the last time he ate? Was it to guess how much meat he had on his bones? Was this where he died?
He could lie.. say he hadn't eaten well in a few days. He was scrawny enough for it to be believable, right?

"I-I-I uh.. I-I haven't.." his voice trailed off as he was brought closer, heart hammering in his chest.

"M sorry to hear that, Jack.." Mark wanted to sound more sincere, and he would have if he wasn't so tired. But misunderstandings seemed to come as easily as breathing between the two. So it was no wonder Jack started to cry when Mark yawned.

"P-P-PLEASE!! I'LL DO ANYTHING! D-DONT EAT ME! PLEASE!" Jack curled into a ball, backing up as far as he could without falling off.
Jack sobbed, hands over his head as he pressed his face into his knees.

Mark panicked, his sleepy haze clearing as the small sobs and shaking form of the other worsened.

"What.. I'm not gonna eat you! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" Marks voice was soft yet concerned, quiet yet panicked as he used a thumb to rub the smaller males back.
He whispered soft words of comfort as he pressed the hand that cupped the smaller male to his chest.

The hiccups and cries didn't seem to lessen for a while. Had Mark agitated the injuries Jack had sustained yesterday?
Was Mark really that scary?
He didn't know. But food helped everything, right?

Mark stood, gently bouncing his hand as he held the smaller being close and walked to the kitchen.

"How about some breakfast? Have you ever had eggs and bacon? Would you prefer pancakes?"

Mark wanted to do anything in his power to calm Jack down, and it sounded like it was working. Jack wouldn't answer, but he wasn't crying either.

"How about all three?"