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lazyjellyfish300 · 4 months

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DD pt 3 part 2 of 2

Fem reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber driver

This art was commissioned to accompany this chapter by the incredibly talented @/ejpuki on Instagram. Please go support the original artist!

Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3 1 , Part 4 , Part 5

Synopsis- fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...

TW: MINORS DNI, some blood, little.violence, suggestive content ,age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34), this one is a sad one, inspired by the original comic

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Over the next few days you two text back and forth and talk on the phone. You feel so happy and excited about this budding romance between you two. It's been so long since you felt safe enough to let yourself catch feelings for a guy. You flood his phone while he's at work. Miguel isn't used to someone texting him so often but it's kind of cute how you update him on every little thing that's happening in your day and he has to try not to burst out laughing in the break room at some of the Instagram reels you send him.

Your text convo:

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️) : Why tf would you send me a video of a banana cat with that sad music 😂😐🤨 and who is that white guy that's always randomly showing up at the end of videos with that whistle tune playing?

You(amor ❤️): it's a meme babe you don't get it😂😂😂 it's supposed to be random, that's what makes it funny af. And that's Josh Hutcherson. You've never seen or read Hunger Games?!

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): no, I haven't. Your sense of humor is a little broken I'm afraid. 🤨 You kids and your memes.

You(amor ❤️): my sense of humor is just fine 😂LMAO you're only like 8 years older than me. 😂 we're watching it immediately! And we're going to Barnes and Noble to get you a copy. 😇

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): hmmm fine.😌 When would you like to, cutie? ❤️

You(amor ❤️): This weekend please? ❤️❤️❤️

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): I'm so sorry, I'll have Gabi with me. But she'll be at her mom's next weekend. Can we do it then? ❤️

You(amor ❤️): that's okay I totally understand! ❤️ Yes please! I'm so excited ❤️ I miss you...

Miguel(pookie 🐻❤️): perfect. I miss you more. ❤️

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Next Friday

Miguel drives to work, his heart like a dead weight in his chest and his mind racing with different scenarios on how he's going to tell his boss he's had enough. This isn't what he signed up for. The project he was overseeing at work was trying to create these "special abilities"in humans. One of the test subjects passed away this week and he'd be lying to himself if he said it wasn't messing with his head. He had nightmares about her. She couldn't have been older than 19. Her blue eyes frantic as she realized she might not make it off the lab table alive. Her horrified screams ringing in his eardrums. Miguel's fist clamped tighter around the steering wheel as he choked back a sob. He felt this was his burden to shoulder alone. He knew he was falling for you steadily now, and he didn't want you to go crazy worrying about him. He knows you love to try and fix people, a lot of times to your detriment and couldn't stand to see you in that position or live with the fact that he put you there.

He really didn't care for his boss, Tyler Stone either. Tyler Stone was the 6'3, blonde haired, blue eyed, egotistical vice president over Research and Development at Alchemax. He and the other higher ups just spent all day figuratively (and possibly literally) sucking each other off in boardroom meetings for the hard work everyone underneath them was doing. He was a businessman, not a scientist, and it became clear to Miguel that profit came first for him over scientific discovery and advancement, and his cronies shared the same philosophy.

Miguel faced the man now, sitting in his office. Tyler sighed and walked over to his decanter set that sat in the corner of his office on top of a polished mahogany drink cabinet.

"Care for some bourbon?" He asked, rolling up his sleeves.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

"It pains me to hear that you're wanting to leave, it really does." Tyler says as he pours the bourbon in two short, square glasses.

"I chose you because I believed you could handle it. Your track record doesn't lie, Miguel. You were top of your class at Columbia University. I've seen your research and read your thesis that you did with them. You know Dain was actually the one that submitted your nomination to me when I was looking for someone to promote?" Tyler hands the glass of bourbon to Miguel who murmurs a low thank you.

"My point is, if you leave, I got no one to replace you, and that makes my job even more tough." Tyler takes a sip of his bourbon and makes a small face. "I'm going to bat for your little science project every time I meet with the board of directors. I'll be honest with you, they're ready to trim the fat." Tyler's blue eyes bore into Miguel's over the rim of his glass. "But I tell them that this process, is worth the wait. We won't have these superhuman abilities lined up for purchase on shelves tomorrow. But give or take a few years we will be the first to break 100 bil in quarterly revenue when we roll this out to the public. My point is, I'm willing to do whatever I gotta do to keep this project afloat because I've ran the numbers, I've seen what guys like you and Dain can do. It's a worthwhile investment."

Miguel takes a sip of his bourbon and winces. Fuck it, he downs the rest of the whiskey, his throat on fire. He holds out his empty glass to Tyler who takes it and goes to refill it, his back turned to Miguel.

"I'm sorry...." Miguel finally says. "I've made up my mind. I'm flattered that you think I'm the right person for this job, but I'm telling you, I don't want to be the guy who all of this is riding on anymore. I'm not gonna gamble if people's lives are the chips."

Tyler's face went dark and he started tapping the side of his glass, his back still turned to Miguel.

Since when did this fucker grow a conscience? He knows he wouldn't be doing this job if he wasn't getting paid for it either right? He'd given Miguel and his team resources that any group of scientists would give their left kidney for. It was thanks to him in those board meetings that those ungrateful bastards even still had a job. And now their hang up is human test subjects?

Tyler handed Miguel back another glass and said nothing as he watched Miguel down it. Miguel winced again as he finished his liquor, throat still on fire and cheeks starting to flush.

Tyler turned back around, looking at the now setting sun on the horizon. "I'm afraid I can't let you go." He said calmly.

Miguel raised an eyebrow, then suddenly his face turned white when Tyler held up an empty vial of Rapture, his back still turned to him. Tyler spoke again, his back still facing Miguel. "Alchemax is the only distributor of Rapture. Leave if you want, but I'm going to have to be forced to let the board know and involve law enforcement when they realize one of their silly little scientists couldn't keep his hands out of the cookie jar and became a needy little addict." He took a long sip.

"You're not gonna make me look like a weak little bitch in front of the whole board. I don't lose, Miguel. You're not gonna fuck this up for me."

Enraged, Miguel shot up, shattering the shot glass in his hand, blood gushing out of his fingers. "You fucking piece of shit!"

Tyler remained calm. "You wanna hurt me? Go right ahead. I used your sign in to get this vial from the lab. The access history and empty vial next to my dead body will just deepen the hole you dug yourself. Either do as I say, or throw away your freedom right now and kill me before you even had a chance to see your little girl go to Prom."

Miguel paused. This fucker was playing chess with him. Tyler took another sip. "It'd be a damn shame if you did. Especially about that new slutty girlfriend of yours. Did you even get to find out what her pussy feels like?"

That was it. Miguel threw his chair against the wall, the wooden legs splintering into the cabinet Tyler was leaning up against, a neutral expression on his prick face as he sipped more bourbon.

Miguel turned and left the office, and slammed the door so hard the receptionist let out a small squeak of terror as Miguel tore down the hallway, rage seething out of his ears.

"Aaron?" Tyler asked in his cold expressionless voice.

A short, balding man in his mid-thirties with green eyes and thick black rimmed glasses stepped out from behind a two way mirror in the corner of Tyler's office.

"You rewrote the code in Machine A-2099 in sector 8, right?"

"Yes boss."

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You hummed happily as you lit a few of your favorite vanilla almond scented candles on your coffee table. You went all out with a smorgasbord of treats for your movie date night with Miguel including popcorn, gummy worms, Milk Duds, Pretzels, M&Ms, beef jerky, and root beer floats. As soon as you got off work, you cleaned the whole apartment top to bottom and put fresh sheets on the bed. You checked your phone anxiously.

Text convo:

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): Good morning beautiful ❤️ how'd you sleep? Have a great day, I'll be at your apartment at 8 pm.

You(amor ❤️): you just made my whole morning!🥰🥰 Good morning handsome! I slept great! I'm so looking forward to movie night tonight. I have a bunch of treats and goodies for us to snack on too. 😇

Miguel (pookie 🐻❤️): that sounds wonderful, baby. ❤️ Driving to work now, I'll text you when I get there but I'm not going to be able to talk much today. I have a meeting with the boss and a bunch of other stuff related to the project I'm overseeing. Just wanted to let you know not to worry ❤️ I'll call you at 6!

6 pm came and went and you felt sick to your stomach.

You(amor ❤️): Babe? Everything okay, I tried you twice.

Nothing.

You (amor ❤️): Miguel? It's 9 pm. Are you okay? Please just call or text me to let me know everything's okay...

It was now 10 pm. He wasn't coming. Your stomach lay in knots. You had called him 28 times with no answer.

What's happening? Is he cheating on me? Did he get into an accident? Is he dead on the side of the road while I'm hundreds of miles away and can't do anything?

He gets busy at work but he always, always checks in with you. You can't help but fight back tears at his untouched root beer float sitting next to yours. You knew going into this that you had to jump, knowing you were gonna fall and he might not be there to catch you. Well, here you were with a small dagger in your heart on what was supposed to be your second date. You couldn't help but let yourself get in your head. His rejection of you this time confirmed everything you feared about yourself. You laid down on the couch and sobbed quietly to sleep.

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That same night at Alchemax

Miguel's painful screams reverberated off the tiled floor of the genetics lab at Alchemax. The tall powerful man he was, was writhing on the floor in agony. It was as though his blood had turned to acid. His whole body felt on fire. Please God, if I'm supposed to die right now just take me already. He hadn't felt pain this intense ever before in his life. His eyes turned bloodshot, foaming at the mouth as his saliva bubbled and splurted out in incoherent gasps.

Aside from his screams, the machine responsible for his pain let out a low beep. Miguel knew that a copy of his original DNA sample was logged into one of the gene altering machines that he set up when he was first put in charge of Tyler's superhuman project. He knew that as long as he had a drop of Rapture in him, he'd remain an addict defenseless against his new dependency Tyler forced on him. He had tried in vain to rewrite his current biology back to the original, but Tyler was one step ahead. Tyler knew nothing about science or how DNA worked, but it didn't take much to convince Miguel's bitter, jealous subordinate, Aaron Delgado to sabotage the machine. Very little was known about what type of effect that might have on a human, so there was a good chance he'd just die. Just what they wanted. Aaron and Tyler's smug faces entered the lab, watching Miguel suffer and taunting him, even pouring up another round of bourbon while they waited for the show to end. Yep, he'd be dead in just a few more minutes. They had an alibi and a cover up ready to go. They'd post his job opening by Monday and then they could pretend like this never happened. Miguel suddenly became still, his chest seeming to freeze in place, no longer rising and falling with his normal breathes.

Gabriella, my little girl...I'm so sorry....I love you more than anything

His eyes became glassy with tears. He was on his way to finding happiness with you too, only to have the rug pulled out from under him, now he was going to die here, alone. And those who killed him would never know justice behind their corporate wall of privilege and greed that would surely protect them. He uttered your name, his lips barely moving before his eyes fell closed and saw only black..

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Pt 4 coming soon! Thanks for the support 🖤

@mysteris-things

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #fanfic #Spotify

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 6

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack accidentally shoots a civilian on a mission he takes on not only the guilt of the man’s death, but inherits his soulmate as well. To you, it’s a dream job with more perks than you can imagine - but for Jack it’s a nightmarish complication. Even more so when he starts to develop feelings.

Rating: M for Mature. But as always this blog is 18+! Word Count: 9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* This is just one big ol’ chapter full of various kinds of angst. Wholesome points for Bobby Rogers being a very good kid. Summary: As the gap widens between you and Jack, Diana’s loyalty shifts toward your budding friendship. Notes: Tensions are rising as spring gets closer and Diana is stirring the pot 😂 I just adore her. This chapter is a great little glimpse into the Rogers family and how they weave their way around the relationship between you and Jack.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Epilogue

Jack can’t explain it, but he’s listless after the conversation with you. Wandering slightly as he leaves your porch and shoving his hands in his pockets as his boots slap along the gravel pathway towards the small pond on the property. Wondering why he feels like he’s done something wrong. The way that you had looked at him with your heart in your eyes and then watching it seemingly break rubbed him the wrong way. Tex had slept with you. He doesn’t understand why it sticks in his craw but it does. He wants you, physically, but he won’t touch you because of the damn ink on his skin, the invisible threads that seem to tie you together. But he shouldn’t care that Tex had spent the night in your bed. However, he can’t get the image out of his head and he doesn’t like it. Not at all. Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. Scoffing quietly at his ridiculousness. “Damn fool.” He huffs, looking out over the water.

The small pond reflects nothing but serene moonlight back at him, the young folks out walking through the green of the neighborhood or sitting in the gazebo too far from its surface to interrupt his ruminations. A few blocks away, Tex is drinking off his frustration while he packs, loud music enough to have his bookshelves vibrating but not a hint of it leaking out into the street. On the street, everything is peaceful and perfect. It’s the picture of serenity and always is - Statesman arguments happen behind closed doors because your neighbors might not have high enough clearance to be able to overhear whatever a fight is about.

Jack sighs, pulling a hand out of his pocket to drag it down the front of his face. This had been a place he loved coming, reminding him of the pond back home. The one that Abigail had loved to sit next to and watch the sun set. Now he just feels like there’s a weight on his chest, on his heart.

“Okay, Uncle Jack?” The cheery voice of Bobby Rogers is unexpected, but Champ’s son - Agent Rum - is all smiles when he waves at his father’s best friend. The junior agent’s evening walk is easily interrupted, and he strides over to the bench that Jack has sunken down on.

“Hey kid.” Despite the fact the boy is an agent and old enough to drink, he’s always called Bobby ‘kid’. A running joke because it had made the youngster laugh when he had met him. Old enough that he didn’t think about his son every time he looked at him. “I’m okay. How are you?” He asks, raising a brow in concern. He’d read the after action report from Prague.

“Just had dinner with Ginger and Gabi and the kids.” Bobby sits himself down next to Jack and leans back, surveying the older man with the same appraising expression as his mother uses, except Bobby shrugs amiably. “Itchin’ to get back out there but there’s no assignment for me right now. You know how it is.”

“Yeah.” Jack huffs under his breath, very aware of being on desk duty. He tries to avoid turning towards the boy, aware that he’s as perceptive as his mother.

“Maybe there will be something for both of us?” He suggests optimistically, having wanted to run a mission with Jack ever since his promotion to active agent status.

Jack can grin at that, a smug little smirk that is fully aware of his own strengths as an agent. “That would be fun.” He acknowledges with a nod. “Maybe Champ’ll send us out together.”

“Maybe if you said something?” It’s no secret that Bobby looks up to Jack. He always has, ever since he was small, and even now there’s a remnant of something childlike in his excited expression. “I know you usually work missions with Tequila if you do doubles but I know we could be a hell of a team.”

“Yeah.” Jack nods, although he knows he will be shot down. “I’ll say somethin’ for sure, kid.” He turns towards him now. “It’ll be good to run a mission together.”

“You comin’ over for dinner this week?” With Jack’s agreement to the idea, Bobby is beaming. “I swear I don’t mind still living so close as long as Mom keeps making meatloaf every Wednesday night like clockwork.”

Jack chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Have I ever missed a meatloaf Wednesday unless I was out of town?” He asks, leaning over and shoving at the boy’s shoulder with his own. He can’t help but wonder how you make meatloaf.

“Never.” The young man acknowledges with a snort. “Can’t exactly find meatloaf in Prague. Gotta admit that I missed it.”

“Nothin’s ever better than homemade by momma.” Jack acknowledges honestly.

“It’s true.” The smile that plays on Bobby’s lips is wistful. “God I hope I get a soulmate that can cook,” he laughs. “If she’s as hopeless as I am we’ll be eatin’ at my parents’ table or in the Statesman cafeteria our whole lives.”

The blood in Jack’s veins freezes from the kid’s innocent statement. “H-here’s hopin’.” He manages and quickly glances back at the water.

Bobby might be young, but he’s a trained Statesman agent the same as Jack and he knows his uncle is acting jumpy. Instead of needing an answer like his father might do, though, he nods and decides to give Jack some peace. “I’m gonna walk on,” he decides, Stretching his long limbs before pushing up to standing again. “Got a good book calling my name. I’ll see ya ‘round, Uncle Jack.”

“See ya, kid.” Jack nods and watches the boy as he ambles away like he hasn’t a care in the world. It makes Jack sigh heavily and he closes his eyes, thinking about Abigail. “Darlin’” he murmurs softly. “I’m doin’ what I think right, so why does it hurt?” He asks his long dead wife, wishing she could answer him.

******

It feels like you cried all night after Jack left, and for the better part of your private time for the next few days. At work you’re numb, going through the recipes that you chose with tender loving care, feeling like more machine than person. The aching in your heart just hasn’t abated, and every day you step out your front door halfway between Tex and Jack’s houses, you almost wonder who you miss more. Except that, as guilty as you feel about it, you know the answer. Today feels like a day that you just can’t get anything right, as every batch of cornbread you make seems to lack flavor, or texture, or not rise enough. You swear you might scream if another pan comes out looking deflated and overly dry - but that might also be the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten yet. Matter of fact, when was the last time you ate?

Diana pushes into the main dining room, frowning slightly as she does. Something is off and after pulling the truth out of Champ over breakfast, she decided that visiting you was what she needed to do. “Darling? Are you in the kitchen?” She calls out.

Oh god… The sound of Diana’s voice is usually welcome, but you’re just not up to having company. It’s not exactly a question you can dodge, though, is it? She’ll find you here whether you like it or not. “I’m back here!” You call finally, figuring she’s already heard your music playing. The speakers are always attached to whatever is playing on your phone, which you now turn the volume way down on.

“Am I interrupting you?” Concern laces her features as she pushes one of the double doors open and peers into your kitchen. It’s surprisingly empty, although with what’s been going on, she can’t blame you. “If you aren’t up for company, you let me know.”

"No, it's okay." After having barely spoken to anyone for a few days, you clear your throat and try to smile. "Come on in. I could use a break from all this cornbread." The pans sitting all around you are practically mocking you and you would be very glad to ignore them for a while.

You look devastated. Diana sighs to herself and reaches out to pull you into a brief but fierce hug. Wishing that she could wipe away the hurt and sadness. Damn Jack.

"What was that for?" You ask when she leans back to look at you. Just because you haven't said a word to her doesn't mean that she doesn't know what happened, although you would hope that Jack had enough discretion to not just go blabbing it to everyone. Who knows?

“Mother’s instinct.” She hums. “You look like you need a hug. So I gave you one.” She won’t tell you that Champ told her the situation, but she’ll listen if you need to talk.

"I was about to make myself some lunch." Wiping your hands on your apron gives you a moment to compose yourself so you don't just break down on the spot. You did need that hug. "Is it too late in the day for you to join me?"

“I’ve been running around with a tour group of two hundred.” Her eyes widen dramatically and she huffs. “Some corporate retreat and ‘team building’ thing so I’ve not had a chance to hear myself think.”

"So that's a yes?" Since cooking for people is the one thing that seems to relieve stress, it actually makes your shoulders drop a little and sloughs some tension away. "I have more cornbread than we can shake a stick at to go with it."

“Ohhh are you making cornbread fritters?” Diana asks ask she looks at the fallen pans of cornbread.

"I can if you like." It would certainly use up some of this failed baking. "How about I make us a big chop salad and we can have a basket of cornbread fritters to go along with it?"

“Do you want some help or do you want me to be your sounding board while you cook?” Diana asks, tilting her head at you, curious to see what you will decide.

“Why don’t you join me?” It’s not just anyone that you would invite into your kitchen, but you’ve become fairly attached to the older woman in just the few weeks you’ve been here. She is usually an endless source of positivity and support - two things you could really use right now even if you hate the reason why.

“Absolutely, chef.” She tosses you a grin and immediately marches over to your industrial sized sinks to wash her hands. “Put me to work.”

Everything you’ll need to road test the upscale Cobb salad for your menu is already in the fridge, so you set Diana up with a cutting board, knife, and a bowl to deposit everything into and set to work turning one skillet’s worth of cornbread into fritter mix - with some cheddar cheese added for good measure. There are a few slices of bourbon maple glazed bacon that you’ve been experimenting with that you’ll chop up as well - the perfect topping for the salad after it’s been dressed. “So a corporate tour?” You ask, trying to remind yourself to be social as the two of you start working side by side. “That sounds…sort of excruciating, honestly. Two hundred is a huge group.”

“They were more interested in tasting than the actual tour.” Diana tells you as she starts to chop the ingredients. Looking down at the cutting board and smirking to herself at how sharp your knife is. A good, proper blade.

“If I worked for a corporation doing mandatory retreats, I would be too.” It’s the closest you’ve been to laughing in days, the little huff you give as you shake your head.

“There’s some truth to that.” Diana laughs as she acknowledges it. “Although I guess it’s a good thing that the restaurant isn’t open yet or all of them would have been in here.”

“That’s fine. Customers I can handle.” Working the cornbread mixture with your hands is actually kind of cathartic. Imagining it’s the knots in your heart instead of food. “They’re particular, but in a way I can handle. I wouldn’t even know how to keep them all engaged on a tour.”

“Practice.” Diana muses, sneaking a glance over at you. “Much like wrangling cowboy soulmates.”

You sigh, a little too deeply, and turn to look at her with anxiety written all over your face. “How long have you known?”

“The tattoo?” She doesn’t suppose that you are talking about the situation you find yourself in now, but she just wants to clarify. “From the beginning.” She admits quietly. “Champ doesn’t keep much but classified information from me. And this…well, Jack is family.”

“So…” If your hands weren’t covered in edible sludge, you would be leaning on the counter while you try to collect yourself. As it is, all you can do is stare at Diana. “When was anybody going to tell me?”

“If I had my way, I would have slapped Jack upside his damned fool head.” Diana huffs, holding your gaze steadily. “But…Champ said that it was Jack’s place to figure out that he’s been given a second chance.”

That twists the knife in your heart, and you look down at your hands to avoid tearing up if you keep looking at the woman beside you. Diana is so full of empathy that it seems to just deep out of her. “Jack doesn’t want a second chance.” You murmur, head bowed like somehow it’s your fault.

“Damn jackass doesn’t know what he wants.” Diana hisses, her chopping becoming slightly less perfect through her anger. “And he likes you, so you terrify him.”

“He doesn’t like me as much as you think he does.” If he did, he wouldn’t have shattered any hope you had of something happening between the two of you somewhere down the line. “He made it abundantly clear last night that he doesn’t want another soulmate.”

“Stubborn fucking mule.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disappointment. She knows that Jack likes you more than he’s willing to admit, but the damn fool can’t get past his grief.

“He seems to know his mind well enough.” If you mix this damn batter anymore it is just going to be goo, so you stop - pulling your hands away and wiping them reasonably clean so you can wash up and start portioning out the mix. “Second time I’ve lost a chance at having a soul mate in just a couple of weeks and I didn’t get a say in it either time.”

“So he told you….” Diana is shocked at that, the knife turning to the side and she looks at you in shock.

“Not in a great amount of detail.” You shrug, feeling her eyes on you as you scrub your hands clean. “But yeah. He told me. A-about Statesman being…spies. About…” Sighing makes your whole body shake. “About how he…killed my soulmate. And then inherited me.”

Diana’s face screws up in anger, promising herself she’s gonna kick Jack’s ass from here to New York and back. “Jack has killed men before and never inherited their soulmates.” She spits. “So he’s full of shit. The universe doesn’t just randomly assign soulmates, especially not second ones.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” The worst part right now is how defeated you feel. How hopeless and helpless everything feels knowing that Jack’s mind was made up before he even met you. “He doesn’t want anything to do with it, but apparently the fact of him was enough to scare off the guy who did like me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Diana doesn’t know the details, just the highlights that had been given to her and she knows it might be better for you to talk and get it off your chest. “If you want.”

Not being able to talk to anyone these last few days has been the hardest part of everything, in some ways. With no one to help lighten the burden it seems to have tripled its weight on your chest. The normal phone calls to your sister whenever something bad or complicated happened hadn’t occurred this time - because how could you explain even half of what happened while avoiding the tidbits that apparently required security clearance? It was a minefield you didn’t know how to navigate. But Diana? Diana already understands this world. She lives in it and thrives. “It goes back to when I first got here,” you explain, as if that were longer ago than a mere three weeks. “That first night…Jack came to tell me that I had gotten the job here, and we ended up going out together.” Working while you talk is the best way to keep your mind from overwhelming you, and by the time lunch is finished being prepared you’ve told Diana everything. Every last detail is laid out for her to examine, leaving you feeling both exhausted and somehow unburdened as you sit down together at the long prep counter to eat.

Diana is madder than a bucket full of hornets. Fuming as you had described the back and forth treatment from Jack, dangling you like a marionette until he’s realized he’s too close and tossing you aside. Instead of raging, she reaches over and pulls you in for another hug. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What’s worse is that I can’t even bring myself to be mad anymore.” Upset, obviously, and hurt. But anger has come and gone like a flash in a pan. “I get that he’s hurt, and that this is as much a shock to him as it is to me. But I just…” You squeeze her back, needing the hug much more than you want to admit. “I haven’t gotten a say in any of it. Even Tex wouldn’t say a damn word to me once he realized. Like in his mind Jack already owned me, or something. But all Jack wants is to be friends.” At least, that’s what he had said. And all you could do is take it at face value.

"Tex is...loyal." Diana sighs. "He's always been secretly disappointed that soulmate marks haven't shown up on his body so he could find his soulmate." She explains. "Of course, he isn't going to poach Jack's mate. Even if he wanted to, his sense of propriety wouldn't let him because he feels like Jack will want you."

“Which means that, once again, I don’t get a say in my own relationships.” It’s becoming a recurring theme and you aren’t exactly thrilled with that. “I’m sorry,” you shake your head and pick up your fork, reminding yourself that eating is necessary even when you’re annoyed. “I don’t mean to complain about people who act with what they believe are the best of intentions. But I’d give my right foot for anybody to have asked me what I wanted.” Tilting your head, though, you look around you and half-chuckle. “Except Champ. He’s given me anything I want here, and I’m grateful for that.”

“I don’t blame you.” Diana shakes her head. “Men always try to do what they think best without asking.” You are so sweet and you deserve the world. “Take back your control where you can.” She urges you.

“How am I supposed to do that?” It’s an honest question, considering you barely know what you want beyond to be loved. The fact that Jack's face is what always comes to mind now is just a complication. “Tex is in another country and Jack has made up his mind already.”

“That, I can’t decide for you.” Diana has a few ideas on what she would do if Champ had rejected her, but she wasn’t you. “But I can tell you what I would do if I were you.”

Something about the way she says it sparks your curiosity, and you tilt your head at her as you pluck up one of the fritters from the basket between you. “What would you do?” Anything is better than moping - which is all you’ve done for days.

“I would start dating.” Diana snorts and sends you a small grin. “As many dates as you want, whoever you want.” She shrugs. “If he wants to be ‘friends’, he doesn’t get a say in how you move on with your life.” She takes a sip of her sweet tea. “Operate like you don’t even acknowledge Jack Daniels wears your marks.”

“Seriously?” You’re not sure why the suggestion is so shocking to you, but you feel like your jaw drops all the way down to the counter when she looks at you with fire in her eyes. She’s angry for you, and it’s simultaneously daring and empowering. Like she has just done the emotional equivalent of offering the Revenge Dress to Princess Di. “That’s…I guess that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Yes it does.” She nods. “You don’t have to do it, but I would. Just to show him that he’s not going to dictate your life, just because he’s hung up on a past that is no longer reality.”

“Are you…suggesting that it might make him jealous?” You can’t imagine how, all things considered, but it would be kind of satisfying.

“If it does, it serves the fool right.” She hums, a slightly evil grin on her face. “Even if it doesn’t, it will be you taking control of your life again. You decide how you spend your time.”

“I…” Slumping slightly in your seat, you nudge your fork through your salad - it’s delicious, but you’re thinking things through. “I don’t know if I’m ready to possibly get rejected again so soon,” you admit. “I’m…I don’t think I could take it. Not this soon.”

“Let me set you up.” Her eyes light up and she grins. “Astrid’s brother is coming into town.” She gasps. “Oh that’s perfect.”

“Oh, I…” It’s guilt, this twisting feeling in your gut, and all of a sudden you sit up and shake your head. “The idea of it makes me feel guilty,” you tell Diana honestly. “Which is totally illogical, and I need to get over this fucking crush I have on Jack or it’s just going to fester and that won’t help. So…” Exhaling deeply, you nod as decisively as possible. “Tell me about Astrid’s brother.”

Diana grins and sends you a wink. “If I was twenty years younger…” she starts with a laugh, proceeding to tell you all about the handsome man that will be perfect for a good time and getting your mind off Jack.

It’s not such a bad idea, when you think about it. The trajectory of your life has taken such an obtuse turn that thinking about something like life after being rejected by your second soulmate is just a chat you have over lunch with your boss’s wife. Although, with this conversation today, Diana has become much more than just your boss’s wife. She’s your closest friend at Statesman. “Okay.” You nod, sitting up straight after she tells you all about the man she has in mind. “As long as Astrid is okay with it, I’m in.”

“Good!” Diana smirks as she picks up another fritter out of the basket. “I bet you these would be amazing as a side dish to meatloaf.” She muses before giggling slightly.

“I would make that for my staff in a heartbeat. I just need to find a good meatloaf recipe.” You ruminate on the idea for a second before smiling. “Actually, I’ve been trying to figure out one more thing for the main menu. Meatloaf and cornbread fritters might be just the thing.”

“I have a recipe.” The smile that creeps over Diana’s face is nothing short of fortuitous. “Every Wednesday it’s served at my dinner table.” She admits. “You are welcome to come, but….Jack will be there.”

For a split second you almost jump on the invitation, but even the mention of his name makes you hesitate. Especially when you realize that today is Wednesday. “Maybe next week.” Seeing him again so soon - mere hours after you’ve talked everything out - just doesn’t feel like something you can handle.

“I can understand that.” Diana nods sagely, reaching out and touching the back of your hand. “Why don’t I bring you some tomorrow and let you try it, see if you like the recipe.”

“That would be really nice of you.” You turn your hand over to squeeze hers quickly. “Thank you for this, Diana. For all of this today.”

“What are friends for?” She knows that she’s older, and she’s the boss’s wife, but she thinks of you as a friend. “Plus I’ll make sure I give you the portion that would have gone home with Jack.” She cackles and winks at you.

The two of you share a good laugh over the idea of Jack pouting over missing his leftovers, and you bite back the feeling of regret at not being able to sit at that table with him like any normal pair of soulmates. “I really…” It sticks in you, clinging to your heart unbidden. “I want him to be happy,” you tell her honestly. “If that’s not with me, then the universe screwed up.”

“Jack’s never going to be happy until he lets his wife’s ghost rest.” Diana explains exasperatedly. “The man can claim he’s happy, but he’s not. You can tell, at least those that have known him for a long time can.”

“Well…whatever it ends up meaning for him. He just…” Sitting back in your seat, you reach for what’s left of your tea and sigh softly. “Everybody deserves to be happy.”

“And that includes you.” Diana reminds you, giving you a firm look.

“I hope so.” After the last few weeks, though, you have your doubts.

******

“I shouldn’t let you in the damn house.” Diana scowls at Jack as he stands in the doorway of her house. If she had a rolling pin in her hand, she’d be hitting him with it.

In the hours since she left your kitchen, Diana has been fuming. Thank god Champ hasn’t been home until just a few minutes ago or he would have gotten quite the earful about how purely Jack had treated you.

Jack's easy smile is instantly replaced with a frown. "What did I do?" He demands, looking around. "I wasn't supposed to bring nothin'."

“What you did has nothing to do with dinner.” She tells him flatly. This isn’t a conversation for the whole neighborhood to hear, though, so she lets him inside despite wanting to wallop him. “Would you like to guess how I spent the afternoon, Jack?”

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jack scoffs, shaking his head. "Your husband has me trainin' the young bucks on the whip and lasso." It still is a sore subject but at least he isn't stuck behind the desk for the entire day.

"I heard a little story today." Shutting the door behind him, Diana frowns and puts her hands on her hips. "From your soulmate."

"How many fuckin' times do I have to explain this." Jack's frown deepens and he rolls his eyes. "She ain't my soulmate. Second soulmates is a fucking lie you tell someone to make yourself feel better about the poor bastard losing his while yours is still happily breathin'." He scoffs. "It ain't real and I didn't fuckin' ask for her marks. I don't want 'em."

"A fact which you made abundantly clear to her." The steam pouring from Diana's ears is proverbial, thankfully, otherwise she would look like a cartoon character. "Without ever paying her the courtesy of kindness due to somebody who had their original soulmate torn from them. Instead you flirted with her, basically took her out on a date, kissed her; all the while telling her she basically means nothing to you. And then you had the goddamn audacity to make it seem like she did something wrong for finding herself likin' you at the end of the day." As it all comes tumbling out, Diana can feel herself just getting madder and madder, her blood nearly boiling all too quickly. "Second soulmates may be rare, Jack, but you're living goddamn proof that it's real. Whether you like it or not."

Shame fills Jack, but he'll be damned if he admits it. "She wouldn't have known if Tequila could keep his fuckin' mouth shut." He hisses. "She shouldn't have known, she'd have been happy livin' her life here and whatever attraction between us would have fizzled out and she could've moved on with her life." Guilt and something else twists in his gut, making it churn at the thought of that very thing happening. Shaking his head like he could shake off the feeling, he props his hands on his hips and stares at his oldest friend's wife. "Anything else you wanna lecture me on?"

"Yes, and it's ironic that you asked." The fact that he's trying to pass the buck off on poor Tequila is a whole other topic but she's too fired up in your defense right now. "Since you never once asked her how she felt about the whole damn thing."

"What does it matter?" Jack's volume creeps up in exasperation and he throws his hands up. "It's not gonna change things. It's not like I can change the fact that I'm gonna love my Abigail until the day I'm in the ground beside her. So what fuckin' good is it to ask how she feels about things that don't matter?"

"Because she's human, Jack!" Having to explain that to a grown ass man might be the most exasperating part, since Diana had always counted him as a concerned and caring friend. Apparently his blind spots when it comes to his own emotional state are even bigger than she had thought. "You don't have to love her but you do have to acknowledge that she's a grown woman with feelings and opinions all her own. And that those matter. How can you look her in the face and tell her you want to be her friend without ever once asking how she feels?"

“I can’t love her, Diana.” Jack’s frown turns into something desperate, almost beseeching as he implores her to believe him. “I can’t. I killed her soulmate.”

"Agents have killed lots of men, Jack Daniels." It's his job, and no one here is debating the morality of it. It's just a fact. "But she is the only soulmate that has ever transferred to a Statesman agent in the history of the organization." Diana shakes her head, her expression turning distinctly disappointed. "I'm not asking you what you think you're capable of. I'm saying she is alone, and she's sad, and she feels less than human because you didn't do the courtesy of just asking. You just assumed. And if nothing else, that isn't what friends do."

Jack stares at her for a long moment and sighs, his shoulders slumping and he closes his eyes. “I- I don’t know what to do.” He admits quietly. “I don’t know how to do this.”

"Nobody expects you to." Like a patient older sister with her petulant little brother, Diana shakes her head before reaching out to rub his shoulder softly. "But this knee-jerk anger about having her mark isn't helping anybody at all. Least of all you and her. Or poor Tequila."

"Why do I get to wear hers and not Abigail’s?" Jack demands, choking the question out. "They disappeared, gone, like she never existed."

'I don't know, Jack." When he starts to crumble, Diana moves in, offering him a place to lean against her if he wants it. "But she didn't put them on you herself. She doesn't deserve to be treated like an undesirable for something completely beyond her control."

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and takes the comfort that is being offered. "I- I'll try to - to be her friend." He swallows, hating the way his heart leaps and starts to pound at the mere thought of being around you. "Like- like it was when she showed up."

"Platonic soulmates do exist." In her heart she doesn't think that's how the two of you are meant to be, but it's not up to her to decide. No one but you and Jack can determine how you feel about each other. For now she puts one arm around Jack and gently rubs it up and down his back in a slow, soothing rhythm. "And...for the record? Tequila didn't out you. He only told her that he had seen her mark on somebody else. She figured it out herself."

"Who else would that dumb hick know that would show him a fucking tattoo?" He huffs, still sore about his damn jaw. "I really did think that he had seen her mark on the arm."

"Statesman has hundreds of employees," she reminds him gently. "It could have been anyone. And...apparently she covered it for the wedding. With makeup. Her cousin isn't a big fan of tattoos so she wanted to be courteous."

“Shit.” Jack closes his eyes, the guilt compounding when he remembers the hurt in Tex’s voice.

"It's been a rough few days." She can acknowledge that. That it's been hard for everyone, him included. Unfortunately, there isn't much more she can do but say her piece and be a good friend - both to you and to Jack. "Let's go have some dinner."

“I’m allowed to stay?” Jack asks, slightly surprised that she’s not booting him out on his ass.

“I’m upset, not heartless.” Diana tells him, though if he hadn’t showed remorse or had dug his heels in, she might have sent him on his way. “But next week she’ll be here right alongside you, so I’ll ask you to find a way to be civil by then.”

“I got no problem being civil.” Jack promises, even though he would prefer to limit his time with you until he feels like he is on steady ground. But what could a dinner hurt?

“Good.” Even if she doesn’t quite believe him, she’s already picked her fight for today.

Jack follows Diana into the house, wondering why the older woman felt so strongly about you - a newcomer. He shakes his head and shuffles towards the living room as he greets Champ.

“I won’t ask.” Champ already has a beer out for Jack, having heard the ruckus from upstairs. His wife had given him an overview of her conversation with you but mostly kept your confidence, as she always does with a friend. “The youngins do alright today, Jack?”

Jack can only be grateful that someone doesn't want to crawl up his ass and into his business. He takes the beer and nods. "Comin' along, though some of them ain't exactly cowboys."

"I'm sure we can fix that," the older man chuckles as they follow Diana into the dining room. Bobby had been getting the table set while his mother took the screws to Jack, apparently. "Most don't hang around here too long without getting the spirit."

"True." Jack can agree with that, knowing his own training had weeded out plenty of unsuitable candidates. "But you've got a family legacy here." He tells the older man as he winks at Bobby. "Like the boy here."

"He's doing fine work." Champ commends, puffed up proudly as they all take their seats at the table. "Finer than I was at his age, that's for damn sure."

Jack snorts. "Of course he is." He jokes, winking at the kid. "But that's not sayin' much."

"Alright, you three." Diana looks around the table as she starts to serve - a habit she's kept for years just to keep the men in her life from making a mess at the table. "No shop talk at dinner, you know the rules."

"Yes ma'am." Jack grins as both he and Bobby answer Diana at the same time and Champ just grins at his wife and winks at her playfully.

The meal starts with a little benign chit chat, but soon turns around to Statesman again - though the men are all careful to avoid mentioning case work to adhere to Diana's 'no shop talk at family dinner' rule. "Did I see a groundbreaking on the new apartment building this morning?" Bobby asks when he reaches for seconds. There used to be three small parks in the housing neighborhood. Soon there will only be two. "I didn't know we were expanding that much more. Is the new restaurant gonna be that big?"

Champ leans back and nods. "Figure it will be." He admits, smirking slightly at how well the projected sales are forecasting with just the traffic from the people who work at Statesman enjoying your food right now. "We got ourselves a real winner." He glances over at Jack who is looking down at his plate.

“And it’s just the start.” Diana’s pride is more for you than for the business. “When we start hosting more events than just corporate getaways and bachelor parties, things are really going to get busy around here.”

Jack shouldn't feel pride, he had nothing to do with the restaurant. It was your baby, your hard work and vision that was making it a reality. Still, he nods as he forks up another bite of meatloaf and agrees. "She will be full every day."

Across from him, Diana bites back a smirk at the pride in his voice. “Once she starts doing weddings, she’ll be lucky to have a day off.”

"She doesn't need to be overworked." Jack immediately frowns. "She needs to trust the people around her."

"She'll need a team." For the first time in a little while, Diana is in total agreement with Jack. "It's going to be time to start hiring staff soon, won't it? Including a good second-in-command."

Jack nods, keeping his eyes on his plate. “Yeah she will need that.”

"You sure you don't want the job, Mom?" Bobby grins at his mother, knowing little about the woman who will be running the new restaurant on premises except that his mother is incredibly fond of her. "You always said you wanted to be a party planner."

“Oh no,” Diana quickly shakes her head. “There’s no way that I could keep up with her.” She laughs. “She’s too energetic.”

"What about the opening night party, Di?" Champ suggests, glancing sideways to get an eyeful of Jack staring into his plate. "You're still our gal for events until we hire a full on planner. Why don't you talk to her about what she'd like for opening night?"

“Oh she should have a party, shouldn’t she?” Diana muses. “Something to celebrate the opening. We need to get her family here for it.” She turns to Jack. “You take care of that.”

"Jack's a little overqualified to be a travel agent, ain't he?" Bobby snorts, obviously not having understood the argument between his mentor and his mother, if he overheard it at all.

Jack swallows and pushes around the green beans. “Nah, kid, I’ll be happy to arrange for the family to come down.” He raises a brow. “Gonna need the jet of course. She’s got a big group.” It highlights how alone Jack is now, his own family reduced down to just him. No siblings, parents gone, wife and child gone. Alone.

"Whatever you need." Champ waves his hand like it's the easiest thing in the world, then smiles at his wife. "You, too. Whatever y'all need. Carte blanche to throw a hell of a hoedown."

“Well, that’s a mistake.” Jack snorts, shaking his head even though he’s grinning. “Your wife will invite half the state and plan on feedin’ em too.”

"I'll be damn sure to book the whole place full with reservations." And Diana won't pretend otherwise, either. She has a few strings she can pull, some friends she can call, and some favors she can call in. People enough to make the night the talk of Louisville, that's for sure.

Champ chuckles and reaches over to take his wife’s hand. “I know you will, honey. You always do a good job for us.” He praises, kissing the back of her hand and Jack looks back down at his meal, unable to rationalize the jealousy swimming through him at the causally intimate gesture.

"I'll hash everything out with her this week," Diana hums, as casually as if they were all chatting about the weather. She's interested to know just how rankled Jack will get if she takes things one step further in this conversation about you. "Before the weekend. I don't want her worrying about anything when Lewis gets into town."

“Lewis is coming?” Bobby grins, well acquainted with Astrid’s brother. “That means we need to make sure that our tab is in good standing at the bar. For damages.” He chuckles and leans back. There was always a scuffle at the bar when Ginger’s little brother came to town.

"Y'all can get into plenty of trouble on a boys' night." She laughs, shaking her head at her son even while she watches Jack out of the corner of her eye. "He's taking our favorite chef out while he's here."

Jack’s head snaps up and he almost immediately starts to protest and then he presses his lips together. Knowing that he doesn’t have any reason to argue against it. Instead he ducks his head down and stares at the meatloaf that suddenly tastes like ash in his mouth.

"Oh?" Champ nearly chokes at Jack's reaction but manages to keep his poker face. "Yes." Diana has sat back in her chair, raising her glass of wine to her lips in victory. The jealousy on Jack's face is as obvious as the shade of red he has turned. "Something about a concert he has tickets to? He was very excited."

Jack’s jaw nearly breaks; he's mashing it together so harshly, grinding his back teeth. Eyes burning a hole in his plate as he stares at it.

"Sounds like fun." The sound of chomping from Jack sitting beside him is unexpected, but Bobby doesn't call attention to it because he's not sure what the hell he just heard. "What's he up for? Just the concert?" Diana shakes her head, absorbing every single reaction she can get out of Jack. "Astrid and Gabi's oldest is turning seven next week. They're not doing a big party or anything, but you know Lewis wouldn't miss the kids' birthdays."

It hurts to sit here. Listening to Diana happily chatter about Lewis. Even if he does like Ginger’s brother, he’s suddenly a hell of a lot less happier he’s coming. Wanting to bolt from the table and the conversation but he reaches for his glass to gulp down the rest of his sweet tea, mouth dry.

“Now that we got a pastry chef on premises, birthdays for the kids are going to be a lot sweeter.” Champ nudges his empty plate back on the table after taking his last bite and pats his belly in satisfaction. He’d have to have lost his marbles to be oblivious to what his wife is doing as she harps on the topic, but he also can’t say that Jack hasn’t been damn fool enough to have it coming.

Jack nearly chokes, coughing to cover up the way that the tea manages to slide down the wrong pipe. Slapping himself on the chest and taking deep breaths when he finally finished sputtering the liquid up from his lungs.

“Alright, Jack?” Diana asks, expression washed with nothing but mild concern. She knows he’s fine, but he’s been awfully quiet while he stews - right until this.

"Fine." Jack clears his throat and shakes his head quickly. "Fine. Just swallowed wrong." He gives a bland smile and takes another sip of his drink.

“Good.” Her smile tightens just barely. “I’d hate to think anything here,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the meal in front of them. “Was hard to swallow.”

Jack's jaw rocks but he nods, understanding what is being said. "Not a damn thing." He drawls. "Everything was just as good as it's always been."

“Good.” If that’s all that Jack wants - what’s always been - he’s going to be hurtin’ watching you live your life. And if that’s the bed he’s made for himself, Diana thinks as she gives him a smile, it will be a very lonely one to lie in.

"Good." Jack nods, fully aware there is nothing good about it at all.

******

The clock on the wall reads six o’clock by the time you’re winding down for the day, exhausted from interviews and looking forward to grabbing dinner with Diana after this next one was over with. The intensive process of hiring an entire restaurant’s worth of staff hasn’t been fun, and this is the end of day three. The only thing you’re happy about is that you really do have most of your team together by now. One more line cook and maybe two more waiters and you’ll have a full house. You look down at the application in front of you - the bottom of the stack - and hope you can retain any of the information it contains while you’re talking to this guy. Tripp Tanner. You chuckle Unconsciously at the alliteration. Well…at least you’ll remember his name.

Jack decides to stop by your kitchen. Trying to make a more conscious effort to make you feel wanted, it’s been hard, but he also won’t admit that he likes checking on you. Making sure that you are enjoying your new creation. “Sugar?” He calls out. “You in the back?”

“Jack?” In the weeks since everything exploded between the two of you, you’ve been trying to be nice. To be friendly. Even though it twists your aching heart that he doesn’t see you as anything more, you’re trying to move on. Something that’s hard to do when he pops in to surprise you like this. “I’m in the kitchen!”

“Are you busy?” The last thing he wants to do is impose, but he wants to ask about the planning for the party. Talking to your brother about scheduling everyone in your family to come down is a pain. Too many people to juggle.

He strolls through the door like a cowboy rolling up to his favorite saloon and you can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of minutes before my last interview. What’s up?”

“What time are you planning on kickin’ off the festivities on your big day?” He asks, looking around the kitchen and nodding at the controlled chaos that it seems to emit.

“It’s still almost two months away.” There’s a lot of work to do before then, but you’re excited. Champ has given you everything you’ve asked for and then some. “But the party is…it’s going to be a lot of fun.” Diana’s idea to turn the one-night soft opening you had planned into a party is shaping up to be wonderful. “The whole thing will start at six that night.”

“But the opening is when?” Jack nods, filing away that information. “So I can make sure that the website is updated.”

“Six weeks from Saturday.” Which is so far away and so close all at once. “April 14.”

“Okay, so they are different days?” Jack shakes his head in confusion. “Take me through everything please?”

“The soft opening is like our trial run.” You pop up from your seat to refresh your tea and come back from the fridge with a glass for him as well. “People come by invitation and they have reservations. We’re going to offer our whole menu and have some live music that Diana is arranging. There will be thank you gifts for everyone who comes and they’re all going to get little nips of Statesman with the date on the bottle as well. Champ’s idea, of course.” With how wonderful everyone’s been, you’ve really just been basking in the support. Professionally, at least, things are wonderful. “What this does is give us a night to work out any kinks in the system and make sure all the food is perfect for the grand opening, which is the next day. That’s when we open to the public.”

“Okay, soft opening is Saturday, Grand opening is Sunday.” Jack nods, knowing he will invite the family for the entire weekend. Give you a chance to spend time with them outside of the hustle of your restaurant opening. He leans against a counter, unaware that there is a tool with a sharp edge to snag on his button down shirt. It’s too hot to wear his sports coat and he had run by after leaving the office.

“It will be a very big weekend.” You already know you won’t sleep Friday night, too excited and worried and proud and scared to rest at all. “For tonight, though? Just one more interview.”

“Who you hirin’?” Jack asks before he takes a sip of his tea. Trying to ignore the way your eyes light up and seem to sparkle talking about the opening. Too damn pretty for his peace of mind.

“My sous chef is coming from Savannah. She was the first person I hired.” The enthusiastic woman is about your age and has been doing French influenced Southern fair in Georgia hotels for her whole career. She was excitable but focused in your video interview and you hadn’t hesitated to pull the trigger. “And my front of house manager is actually my roommate from college. She was a hospitality major when I was in culinary and we always said one day if we had our own place we’d hire each other.” The stack of applications and resumes had been intimidatingly thick when they started to arrive, but with Diana’s help you’re getting through it all. “This last interview is for a line cook. I’ve had twice as many applicants as I have positions so I’ll decide this week and call everyone before the end of the day on Friday.”

Jack knows next to nothing about hiring cooks but he nods. Diana’s voice in his head about being polite. “That’s good, sugar. I’m sure you’ll find the right fit for everyone soon.” He agrees. “That sandwich you had everyone tastin’ was mighty good. I never did hear what it was called?”

“That was my version of a croque monsieur.” Having agents and office workers and everybody from the Statesman offices come down to taste test recipes has been an absolute blessing, and so far you’ve made good use of all the constructive criticisms that have come your way. Although you may have weighed opinions like Jack’s more heavily than others…

“It was damn good.” He admits, taking another sip of the sweet tea that you have down to an art form despite growing up in the North. “Hopefully that will make it to your menu at some point.”

“It was a pretty rousing success, so I think it will.” It’s such an easy moment between the two of you. Sitting there together and chatting away, you could almost be mistaken for a couple with the smiles on your faces. But you’ll never tell him just how often you harbor thoughts like that. He would despise it.

Jack hums, knowing that most days will be spent having lunch here, or at least ordering it into the office. “Good,” he leans forward and the material catches, the sounds of ripping fabric filling the air. “Shit.”

“Oh shit!” You jump up, reaching around him to snatch the corkscrew up that somehow got wedged under a stack of cast iron pans and became a weapon against men’s fashion. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did it scratch you or just your shirt?”

Jack frowns, twisting his head and pulling on his arm. “Looks like it just tore my shirt.” Of course it would tear so that the tattoo he wears is exposed and he hisses. “No- it scratched me.”

“Shit,” you murmur again, turning him a little so you can see the damage. “Th-that shouldn’t have happened. I’ll replace the shirt for you. I—I’m sorry, Jack.” What a stupid thing to have ruined a perfectly nice moment, too. “It just looks like a scratch, though. Not like it will…” Even the thought of it has you cringing. “Not like it will scar.” God knows the last thing he wants is another reminder of you.

“Don’t worry about it.” The black looping scrawl on his skin is visible and it makes Jack’s mouth run dry. Your own is already visible today since you have your sleeves rolled up and Jack pulls back to hastily stand straight. “I’ll change my shirt and toss this one.” He tells you quickly. No need to buy another or triage.” He’s panicking and he knows he is, but he sends you a sickly smile.

“You’d better go.” There is no mistaking the way he jumps. The jittery way he jerks is so diametrically opposed to his normally smooth and confident movements. It’s obvious, once you see how his shirt has ripped. He doesn’t want your tattoo showing. Being nice to you is one thing, but having anyone know what you are to him is another. You cross your arms and lean against the counter, suddenly sullen rather than apologetic. “Get a new shirt on before anybody sees.”

“I– that’s not–” Jack protests and shakes his head, falling silent when your stony expression doesn’t change. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He murmurs silently. “Thanks for the tea, sugar.”

The best way to keep yourself from running after him like some godforsaken schoolgirl is to stay stone faced, and you turn back to the counter that you had been using as a desk to take a few very deep breaths before whoever the hell Tripp Tanner is gets here.

Jack curses himself as he rushes through the door, not even paying attention to the man who had come in without him hearing. Watching him through narrowed eyes.

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Whiskey Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Kingsman Golden Circle #soulmate au

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