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Jack is the first one to come find Jake after he’s let out of the hospital bed. He even knocks on the door before he walks in, stiff and awkward. “I heard about what happened.”
Of course he has. Everybody on the base probably knows, with how things have been. Between the general show of him getting fucked by a plant and the aftermath of Nico burning the whole thing down and freezing Wesker out after yelling at him, Jake wants nothing more than to disappear. He’s pretty sure Wesker has weighed that already against Nico yelling at him more , and he’s still here, unfortunately. He’s too tired to fake a smile as he asks, “What can I do for you, Jack?”
“Can you walk?” The abruptness of the question makes him take another look at the man, but Krauser doesn’t look drunk or on drugs, and that makes things even more confusing. He usually only wants to play when he’s feeling melancholic or riding a high. “I’m not gonna ask for anything else, don’t worry.”
Not that he tends to ask anyway, but it’s nice to hear, at least. Jake makes his way carefully to his feet, holding his belly and the stitches there. The experimental meds work well, but there’d been a lot of internal damage, and he’s still in enough pain to remember to be careful. “Where are we going?”
“Just back to my place so I can look after you.” Krauser rests a big hand at the back of his neck, and Jake relaxes despite himself. “Don’t trust that Gionne bitch not to make things worse while you’re healing up.”
That catches him off-guard. “You’re gonna… look after me?”
“You don’t think I can?”
No . But Jake just shrugs and makes his way out, slow but steady, padding after him on bare feet.
He hasn’t ever been to Jack’s quarters without having anything expected from him, and he feels awkward suddenly, not sure what to do with himself. Jack just sits him down in a chair and heads to the refrigerator for a beer and something to eat. He makes up two plates with some unidentified meat and vegetables, and carries them back over, balancing them carefully with the can of beer till he can hand a plate to Jake before he sits down in a nearby chair.
It feels so oddly domestic that Jake doesn’t know what to do with it. He just sits for a minute, soaking in the feeling of being cared for, and then starts to eat - slowly at first, his eyes on Krauser, then a little more normally once he feels comfortable that it’s not going to be taken away.
It looks domestic too; the chairs and the sofa, the chest in the corner, the side table where Jack’s beer sits, they all remind him so much of his moms’ that he chokes a little on his food and sudden tears, setting it aside quickly as nausea rises before Jack’s hand is back, rubbing the back of his neck and down to his shoulders. “You’re okay, rookie.”
Jake blinks up at him, flushing. He knows Jack doesn’t mean him , but there’s enough affection in the name that he wishes it was, just for a second. The thought startles him, and he shakes it away, trying to ignore the warmth in his chest. Does Krauser care about him?
His lips part for a shaky gasp, and then he can’t fight the tears that follow in its wake. Krauser lifts him easily, tugging him over into his lap. He doesn’t say anything else, just lets Jake curl up - as much as he can with his stitches - and cry his aching heart out until he can’t cry anymore. “I want to go home,” he whispers.
“I know, baby boy. You gotta stay with me though, alright? I’m gonna get you through this,” Jack promises, and Jake wants to laugh, because Jack is part of what he wants to escape , even if he doesn’t know it. But he doesn’t say that, because this is the closest to real tenderness than he’s had in so long that he’s starting to not care that Jack is part of everything. Jack is taking care of him now, he won’t let Wesker or Excella have him, he’s safe here.
Neither of them say anything for a long time, and Jake doesn’t take his head off Jack’s chest. Finally, Jack pulls the tray into his line of sight, offering a forkful of something green.
“Go ahead and eat as much as you want, there’s plenty,” Jack says casually, “You’re getting too thin. You’re not gonna be able to fight if you don’t keep up your strength.”
That gets Jake’s attention, his heart hammering in his chest. Does he know about his plans? About trying to get Nico and Jill out with him? He can’t, Jake hasn’t said a word about it outside of his own head, and he can’t afford-
“Easy,” Jack says, “Calm down. You ought to still be able to fight, or what’s the fun for me?” His crooked grin isn’t reassuring, but at least it’s enough for Jake to start breathing again.
“You like it when I try to fight?” he asks, like he’s not discussing this , because getting upset about it doesn’t really do anything.
Krauser shrugs. “Sure. It’s no fun to just fuck a toy, no matter how pretty it is.”
Jake just blinks at him again and then shrugs back and starts to eat again, swallowing past the lump in his throat. The food is decent, and he’s hungry, so he doesn’t care what it might actually be or not be. He finishes the plate and sets it aside, settling back against Jack’s broad chest. He still doesn’t know how he feels so safe with him, but Jack is simple. He knows how to make him happy, and how to keep the worst of his impulses at bay. Things could be okay, if this lasts. Jack seems to want something domestic, when he’s not just off a mission or high. He can do domestic, that’s- that’s something he can play pretend with. Pretend he’s not a prisoner, pretend he’s back home with Chris, pretend- pretend that everything is fine and he’s safe and loved.
If that’s what his safety costs until he can get back on his feet, he can pretend.