The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Chapter 10

  A/N: The last five hundred words or so are in Jesse's P.O.V. You'll see the split!  

You swore your parents' eyes would turn to large golden coins from the burlap sack Reinhardt set on the bar's countertop, coins actually spilling out from a slit in the fabric and the coins clattering onto the stone floors. Three inn rooms for three weeks with food and alcohol included was what Reinhardt had ordered for the seven of them, even requesting that it was you who served them all and not your siblings or parents.

And that was where you were, in Jesse's room with just the sleeping man in the large bed. Hanzo and Ana would occasionally step in to aid you before trekking back to their room. You were alone with Jesse.

It was cold in the room, but you made sure Jesse was warm under all of the pelts and furs and blankets you had piled on top of his body. Only the sounds of his ragged breathing and harsh coughs every now and again filled the room, otherwise, it was quiet enough for you to hear the mice outside squeak.

You slowly sat down on the bed right next to Jesse, your hand coming up to his long hair spilled out to the sides of his head and draping over his shoulders. Your nails combed through the thick, grimy strands, fingers getting stuck in clumps of mud and large knots. You even found pieces of wood and a single leaf in his hair, but it was mostly mud and knots and a few dead flies here and there. You even combed your fingers through his beard, even taking small thread scissors to the facial to keep it well kept, but there was only so much you could do.

You made sure to wash him well when he wakes up... Whenever he wakes up that is...

Jesse had not woken up for the past two days, and all of you were getting restless. You would all crowd around Jesse's seemingly lifeless body whenever a harsh cough racked his body, only to sit back when Jesse's eyes would stay clamped.

There were no wounds to dress, no scratches to clean, no blood to wipe off of his tanned skin. He was clean of both grime and injury.

After the second day, you grew fed up with the scent coming off of Jesse's body and you knew your parents would be furious if they found out that Jesse had been asleep for three days, thinking that he was dead and you were covering it because you were in love with him.

You brought up a full metal pail of water and a few rags tucked under your arm. You threw off the blankets, furs and quilts and all, looking at Jesse and dropping your shoulders.

You could not just wash Jesse on the bed, your parents would somehow find out and you would be down the well in trouble. So instead, you called for Reinhardt who simply propped him up on one the chairs as a solution, not even questioning Jesse's lack of undergarments on his crotch besides a simple pair of trousers you had stolen from your brother.

As soon as Reinhardt had closed the door, you got to work on Jesse's body. You started with his chest, scrubbing against his chest hair with a rag until you were sure all of the dirt and grime was off of his chest before going for his arms. Working your way down his left arm, you stopped at his hand to see that he no longer sported any small scars on his palm or fingers. It looked as if no wounds have overcome his hand. You quickly snatched up his other hand, murmuring curses to yourself as no scars were found on said hand.

You took a deep breath and went back to scrubbing Jesse's body. The right arm, his neck, stomach, back, legs and feet. You debated with yourself, chewing on your bottom lip in thought. Should you remove Jesse's trousers and wash his crotch, genitals?

No.

You shook your head, clearing away the cloudy thoughts that fogged up your mind.

Instead, you dropped your rag into the pail of water and pushed it until it was behind Jesse, right below his head. You brought up your last clean rack and dunked it into the water, wrung it out, and started to scrub at his face and beard. Massaging the cloth against his chiseled face, along all of his features. You stood up, the cloth slipping from your hand into the water pail below, water splashing out and onto your feet.