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Bunnies are great hiders, and somehow, deer are even better. Often, Jack would catch little creatures scurrying about but none of them are enough to feed himself and the special someone waiting for him back at the ranch, invisioning the cross of your arms and the sigh you'd huff when he'd admit he hasn't caught anything. A rabbit dead, then another, and he'd skin them too with an identical precision to his late father. However, the white fluffy rodents are simply no good, and sadly none of the deer feel like being cooked into a tasty dinner. The young man frowns.
"Dang it... stupid deer..."
Hissing under his breath, Jack hitches his horse and trods back to Beecher's Hope, the sullen expression he always wears now a little more agitated. He already knows what you'd say, hearing your sweet voice ringing in his ears without you even being around. Most times, the man finds you everywhere, especially when he's a hundred yards from home- in the trees, wind and sun. You lie in the open valleys too, and whenever he pulls out his tired revolver. Growing so accustomed to you fills that open wound in his heart to the brim, despite the tinge of fear stemming from his deep attachment potentially being snuffed out far too soon.
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Heavy shoes belonging to the man you hold so dear thump towards the door, lock clicking open to reveal an unlucky Jack Marston. Although his face remains pouty from the unsuccessful hunting session, annoyance can only last so long in your graceful, addictive prescence.
"Well, don't look so overjoyed, Jacky."
Your sarcasm cracks the dams of disappointment, laughter flowing through the air between you in tides. He's not even seen your face and he's already chuckling, making effort to swiftly kick off his boots and waddle dramatically to the kitchen. Spices mingle with the air, kissing his nose with a delicious aroma. A scent that can only be explained by his lover's excellent cooking skills.
And finally, your beautiful face comes into view. Oh the affect you have on him resembles somebody under a tranquilizer, your very being serving as a soothing balm to the troubled edges of his soul. When he gazes into you time stops, guns don't exist and love no longer spooks him away. Love used to be the very thing he avoided until he met the embodiment of the word.
"Didn't catch anything?"
"Well, none of the deer fancied being skinned, cooked and eaten... so no."
His words make you snort, his dry humour never failing to find it's way into your heart; you've always admired his clever manner of putting things. Shooting back a playfully cynical stare, Jack's footsteps tap against the wooden ground below. Gentle pillars bracket delicately around your waist. A flush of warmth rushes across your back, his chest rising and falling against your spine.
"Very funny, Jack."
"I know you love my jokes. I can tell, sweetheart."
"Sweetheart? Don't get ahead of yourself pal, not until you've given me some meat to cook."
As if he's read your mind, his arms loosen and drop back to his sides. You walk some steps towards his discarded satchel, which happened to be taking a seat on the counter. Thankfully, he's gotten the perfect amount for dinner tonight, the satisfied smile he recieves thawing the depressing thoughts that linger deep in his brain. It's the little things like this that make him wonder how proud his late mother would be for him. Heaven has found its place in his family ranch, taking the form of his favourite person.
"I'm glad I got enough, thought we'd have to eat sad vegetables tonight."
"Well you did- you did a great job, as always."
Pillowy lips peck his cheek, searing below his skin and bone to an ambiguous region where his essence resides. Praise still feels foreign to him, a language he's heard so few times he could count each encounter on one hand. You're too good for him, truthfully. Eventhough Jack questions his grave location after all the tragedies he's withstood, he can safely say he'd stick around on earth a little longer only for the love of his life.
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"I think I went a little heavy on the salt..."
You mumble, taking bites out of the pie you made minutes prior. Humming at your words, Jack's eyes meet yours and then his finished plate. Well damn, he really wiped it off- it might as well be a clean dish. Giggles errupt along the circular table.
"Yeah, kinda heavy on the salt..."
"Oh shush!"
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