This is a snippet that's most likely going to be part of the James and Harrison story that I'm currently in the process of rewriting a bit.
contains: references to past torture, hospital setting, brief mention of thoughts about death, fear of being drugged.
When James first came too he couldn't quite tell what he was looking at; tired and dazed as he was, the change in scenery confused him. The room was surprisingly bright and he couldn't feel the cuffs or leather straps that usually wrapped around his wrists. Blinking slowly James looked down. Indeed there were no cuffs or straps, but instead bandages around his wrists and a cast on his right hand for his fingers. And he could see more bandages on his arms and a tube stuck to his arm with some plastic adhesive.
That made his heart skip a beat. unknown substances going into his body was not a good thing. “No, no no.” James mumbled as his heart began racing in fear. This wasn't good, who knew what Harrison was pumping into him with that. He moved his hand to try and peel the plastic adhesive for the tube away but his fingers wouldn't quite cooperate. Still, he couldn't give up, he had to-
“No, don't do that.” Someone said and put a hand over his. The touch caused James to let out a scream and looked up. The hand was removed, and a woman, dressed in scrubs stood next to him, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
Wait, scrubs? why was she wearing scrubs? that was a new one. Still breathing rapidly James' eyes darted around the room and for the first time he actually took in his surroundings. The room was bright and he appeared to be laying in a hospital bed. Yeah the equipment beside the bed suggested it definitely was a hospital room. And come to think of it, for the first time in a long time James wasn't in an overwhelming amount of pain. He still didn't feel good, but a lot more numb than he was used to. That, and extremely tired.
“What, how…?” James looked back at the woman, a nurse.
“James, you're at City Central hospital, you’re safe.” The woman spoke calmly, carefully, so as to not startle him.
Safe… Flashes of memory suddenly appeared. Being brought out of Harrison’s house on a gurney, the ambulance ride, doctors. It really was over, he was free.
“I understand that this must be a lot to take in, but you're safe now.” The nurse said gently. “If you feel up for it, your family is here.”
“They- they're here?” James asked with more tears rolling down his face. He’d missed them so much. For a long time now he’d been afraid that he would never see them again. He’d been so sure he was going to die in that basement.
“Yes,” the nurse smiled warmly. “Shall I tell them to come in?”
[Something is approaching. Casting an ominous green glow upon the surroundings...]
[...Nevermind, it's glow pikmin!! Following a... currently, strange-looking, glow leafling. They're looking around, not having seen you yet.]
@glowling-posting
[The area is dead silent,except for occasional ragged breathing. The beeping of an SOS signal can be heard nearby.]
(TW FOR INJURY/BLOOD MENTION!)
[A trail of blood dots the floor. The breathing is getting louder and heavier.] [The glowling stops dead in its tracks.]
[The shrivled husk of Polaris can barely be seen in the darkness. Her suit is basically torn to pieces. There are scars all over her body, most prevalent on her arms.]
Joe giving Jack a bath, and Jack thinks Joe is going to hurt/violate him (early rescue).
content warnings for: bbu/bbu-adjacent content (including the actual unboxing), creepy/intimate whumper, vague references to past noncon and trauma, dubcon nudity, conditioned whumpee, brief emeto mention
Jack sits in the tub, his knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn’t like this bathroom. The lights are too bright, and it’s too small. From his place in the bath, Jack can see veins of yellow-orange cigarette residue poking through the cheap paint on the walls. The tub is shoved in the rear of the little room, bordered by a shower curtain that Jack doesn’t recognize. The toilet and vanity are crammed in practically on top of one another; there’s barely enough space on the floor in front of them for the pilly bathroom rug.
It shouldn’t feel claustrophobic–Jack’s spent enough time in the leather sack to know it–but it does.
This isn’t home. He’s supposed to be home. But maybe Joe wants to keep him separate. Maybe they aren’t going to live together anymore. He’ll keep Jack locked up here, so that he can use him whenever he wants. Until Jack’s proven himself. That’s why Joe brought him here.
No. Joe didn’t bring him here. Jack was sent. Shipped, like they promised he would be. That’s why he’s in the bath.
He hadn’t meant to make a mess. But he didn’t know how long he’d been in the box. It was too hot, and he’d been so dizzy. He didn’t mean to do it.
That’s probably why Joe’s face looked the way it had when he pried off the box’s wooden lid. He thought Joe would be happy to see him, that Joe would be proud to see how good Jack learned to be–but he wasn’t. Joe hadn’t smiled. He hadn’t said anything. He’d just frozen, his face twisted into an expression that Jack didn’t know how to read.
That’s when Jack realized he was covered in his own sick.
“I’m s-sorry,” he’d said immediately. And then he remembered. “I’m sorry, sir.” His voice had sounded funny and far away, like he was hearing it from the next room.
He had the distant feeling that he should have felt something, like he should have been excited to see Joe after the months apart. But he didn’t feel it. He was too disoriented. Too frightened.
He didn’t think Joe felt it either.
“Jesus Christ,” Joe had murmured. He’d barely even looked at Jack. “Jackie–oh, Jackie, no–”
Joe broke to his knees then, and Jack knew: he’d fucked up. He hadn’t worked hard enough. He hadn’t done enough to change.
It was all for nothing.
Jack is nothing.
Joe took Jack out of the box and carried him straight to the bathroom. Joe left, but Jack waits in the tub because Joe told him to stay there, and Jack will do whatever Joe says. He has to. Maybe it won’t make things right, but it can’t make anything worse. He can show Joe what a good boy he is now.
The water plops into the bathtub, splashing as it collects on itself. It’s warm, and the feeling isn’t unpleasant. Ivan only ever hosed him down in the shower stall, and he never cared much if Jack was comfortable or all that clean. It was more about what he could reach when Jack was tethered to the shower floor. What he could do. What he always did. What Jack was meant for. Is meant for.
Joe must want that too. He does. Jack knows it. Ivan told him so.
Jack hears something crash in a room he can’t identify, and Joe curses. Jack uncoils and lets his hands drop into the shallow water. He hitches his thumbs into his soggy boxer-briefs. They’re heavy with water when he pushes them away, a black wad in the corner of the dingy tub. Jack is heavy too. But still, he presses onto his hands and knees. Position ten. That’s Ivan’s favorite.
Maybe Joe will like it too. He’s never had Jack this way before.
Beneath the water, Jack’s wrists are shrunken and white without their leather cuffs. His joints tremble and his ears are warm, but he knows what he’s supposed to do. The skin on his fingers and toes starts to prune, and the water keeps pouring from the tap.
Joe rounds the corner, and Jack closes his eyes. He can do this. He’s been selfish long enough. Joe deserves to have what he wants, and Jack can give it to him.
“Okay. Okay, baby–Jack. Jackie. I’ve got–” There’s a soft thump as something hits the floor. “What–what are you doing?”
It’s a direct question. Jack can answer. But he doesn’t. The tub’s non-slip bottom bites into his knees. He’s shaking. He can’t look. He can’t.
He thought he could do this. He wanted to be good for Joe.
He isn’t good. He is only afraid.
But he doesn’t show it. He stays still, and he waits.
Joe must turn off the water, because Jack doesn’t hear it anymore.
“Jackie–”
The name lances through Jack’s heart. Joe says it like he loves him. Soft and sure. But Jack knows better now. He’s done nothing to earn it. If he wants Joe to love him, he has to be good. Sweet. He has to show Joe what he’s learned.
This is a test, and Jack won’t fail. Not again.
But he does. He fails. Joe touches him, his hand light on the small of Jack’s naked back, and Jack flinches. The hand retreats like it’s been burned.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t–you–” Joe makes a noise like he’s choking. Jack’s eyelids squeeze. “Please. Please, would you–Jackie, I–”
Jack wants to curl into a ball, but he can’t. The water. Joe. He can’t.
Joe’s voice drops, “Oh, God, please. Help me. Please help me.”
Jack doesn’t look, but he hears Joe’s breath, ragged and wet.
“Jack. I’m going to touch you. Okay?”
Jack doesn’t answer. He is a good boy. A statue. If Joe wants to touch him, he can. He will. And Jack will not stop him.
It’s silly for Joe to pretend, to talk to Jack like he did before. Jack knows better now, and he wishes he did not. If he keeps his eyes closed, maybe he can pretend too. He can pretend it’s like it was. That they’re like they were.
But they aren’t. Because of Jack. If he’d only been better–
Joe sighs. “Just–would you please let me know that you hear me, baby?”
Jack nods.
“Okay. Okay. I’m gonna–I’m just going to–” Joe’s hands slip around Jack’s ribs and guide him back onto his heels in the water. There is a softness in the gesture that brings tears to Jack’s eyes. Maybe, just maybe–
But Jack is exposed now, and Joe hisses, pulling away.
Jack understands. He’s covered in his own filth. He isn’t what he ought to be. But still. Ivan told him what was expected of him. He’s doing that, isn’t he? Why doesn’t Joe seem even a little bit pleased?
“I’m not–I’m not going to–I just want to help clean you up. That’s all.”
But after, Jack thinks. What about after? Joe will take him then, won’t he? He’ll show Jack that this was all worth it?
Jack can’t sort out whether he wants it or not. Not that he’s allowed to want. He thinks he missed Joe. He can’t be angry at Joe for expecting more from him. And he wants to prove himself. He does.
But he’s still so afraid.
“Jackie, please,” Joe says. “I won’t–I’m not going to hurt you. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack whispers. It’s the only answer he can give. It doesn’t matter if Joe hurts him. Jack will take what he’s given and be grateful. That’s what good boys do.
He doesn’t open his eyes, so he can’t see the way Joe’s body crumples against the lip of the tub. He doesn’t know that Joe’s heart is crying out for his or that none of this is what Joe wants.
Joe’s hand is gentle on his shoulder, and this time, Jack does not flinch. “You don’t have to–I mean, I’m not–just–baby, it’s me. It’s Joe?”
“Yes, sir.”
He feels Joe wince against him. “No, Jackie. Just Joe.”
Jack doesn’t understand. “Sir?”
This time he looks: Joe’s face is pinched beneath red cheeks.
“Don’t–” Joe suddenly stops himself. “Would you–would you mind just calling me Joe? No ‘sir?’”
“Yes, sir,” Jack answers automatically.
“Jackie–”
“Yes. Joe.”
Joe half-nods. His eyes land on his own hand, still perched on Jack’s shoulder, and they widen, like he’s caught himself doing something he shouldn’t. He pulls away again.
“You’re home, baby. You’re safe. I won’t–I won’t touch you unless you want me to. I only want to help you right now.”
It’s a trick. Another test. Ivan warned him about this, that Joe would try to challenge Jack’s training to see if he’d really learned what he was supposed to. Jack doesn’t want anything. He knows that. And Joe didn’t ask a question, and so Jack cannot answer. Instead, he lets his chin fall to his chest, and he crosses his bare wrists behind his back. Position twelve.
He is Joe’s for the taking.
“Jackie,” Joe asks, his voice small, “don’t you believe me?”
No, Jack doesn’t believe him. He cannot fail the test. But for just a moment, he wishes he could believe, that the lies he’d told himself every night were true.
Then, he remembers his place. He keeps his eyes on the shallow water and answers the way he should.
“Yes, Joe.”
NOTE: This is pretty developed, so I'm going to tag the whole crew.
