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wardenparker · 1 year

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Down the Rabbit Hole - ch 5

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: E for Explicit. 18+! Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings - mentions of deceased spouse, a lot of food and alcohol consumption, family recipes, age gap, cursing.* Sexy shower time, a whole truck load of anger, fisticuffs, a bunch of angry people being upset with each other. Summary: A blissful morning becomes a whirlwind nightmare when Tequila sees your tattoo. But the biggest revelation doesn’t come until you’ve gotten all the way back to Louisville. Notes: Guys, I just...this chapter happens very fast and there is a *lot* of stuff going on. And I just love absolutely everything about it. 😂

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

Sunlight streaming through the curtains is what wakes you, traffic on the busy Boston streets leaking into the beautiful calm of your room and heavy arm around your waist anchoring you to the mattress. Tex is curled around your back like a huge koala, holding on and nuzzling into the back of your neck in his dreams. The general lack of clothing and ache between your thighs would be telltale if you had been drunk when everything happened, but you since you weren't it's just a lovely reminder. Every second is catalogued away in your memory, right down to the moment you both collapsed, sweaty and satiated, and fell asleep in each other's arms within minutes.

Humming, Tex is aware the second you wake, stirring from his own deep and satisfying sleep. "Good morning." He grins and kisses the back of your neck without even opening his eyes. "Did I manage to convince you?" He asks playfully, telling you last night before falling asleep he was going to demand an answer on if you preferred cowboys in the morning.

"Got a secret for you," you mumble, turning over in his arms to curl into his chest. If not for the damn family brunch you're supposed to be at this morning, you would be very happy not to move from this bed. "I've always liked cowboys."

Tequila barks out a sleep rough chuckle and pulls you closer, rolling onto his back so that you are sprawled out on top of him. "That so, cowgirl?" He huffs playfully.

“Always.” The nod you give him is solemn, even if your grin is playful. “Watched Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid the first time when I was eleven and never got over it.”

You would make a perfect spouse for a Statesman agent then. Tequila knows he can't tell you about things until it becomes more serious, but he winks at you. "Well then, I guess you're in luck." He teases, leaning in and kissing you while he reaches up to grab his hat off the bedpost. He pulls away and sets it on your head.

“It’s about as subtle as a heart attack.” His hat shades you like a beach umbrella when he pops it on top of your bed head and you laugh, dopey on attraction and good dreams. “I like it though. Might have to get one of my own eventually.”

“No need to be subtle.” Tex grins at you and rolls his hips up, letting you feel the very unsubtle thing that is hard between you. “Not when I’m showing my hand.”

“Good.” When you look down at him again you hum a little, bowing your head to steal another kiss. “I hate games. One hundred percent honesty all the way.”

He would pull you against him for another round, but he got a copy of the itinerary, same as you, and he knows that you need to be there for the brunch. “How about we explore in the shower while we get ready?” He poses, smirking against your lips as he squeezes your ass.

“Sexy and responsible. I like it.” You sit up reluctantly, knowing that it will have to be a quickie since you’re supposed to be downstairs in the dining room in half an hour. “C’mon, cowboy. I’m sure the shower has enough room for two.”

“I made sure of it.” Tex sits up as you scamper off the bed. Hating that you are walking away from him, but admiring the way your ass shakes. “Plenty of time to make sure your knees tremble when you walk.” He growls confidently before he throws himself out of bed to chase after you.

“Planning on seducing me, were you?” Even though you make it to the bathroom first, his long arm reaches past you to turn on the shower head and you smirk at him over your shoulder. “Have I been seduced?”

“Have you?” Tex winks at you and grins. “You tell me.”

"Fifty-fifty," you decide, after giving him a good, long look up and down. Tex isn't shy about anything, least of all his body, and he gives you a flex for good measure. "Call it a mutual seduction."

"I can't deny that." He chuckles and glances down pointedly at his groin for good measure.

"If you want more, you gotta get in here." One step backward and you're in the shower, tipping your head back to luxuriate in the fierce spray of hot water. "Otherwise we're gonna be late."

"Wash first, play after." Tex promises, sending you a wink and ducking his head down to lick a line of water off your chest, perilously close to your nipple.

"How is that after?" You whine, gasping at how close he comes to where you wish he would have directed that troublesome tongue of his.

He chuckles again and straights up, sending you a small wink. "You don't want me to wash you?" He asks with a play pout.

"Well...if you're offering." The nearby facecloth is in your hand immediately, getting soaking wet under the hot water to hand over so he can lather it - and you - up.

Taking the washrag, Tex smirks and motions for you to turn around. "Back first." He tells you, reaching out to slap your ass when you obey him.

"Yes, sir." Giggling, you shake your ass for him before stretching your arms and giving a contented sigh. This is pretty close to a perfect morning, as far as morning after scenarios go, and you're planning on enjoying the hell out of it.

He tucks his tongue between his teeth and starts to wash you. Just because he's copping a feel here and there - okay, a lot of feels - doesn't mean he isn't going to wash you properly.

It's nearly hypnotic, aside from the distracting hands grabbing and squeezing and making both of you giggle or moan, alternately. When he finally gets to your other arm, he starts rubbing at it like he's trying to scrub your skin clean off and you laugh again. "Sometimes the makeup gets smudgy before it comes off," you explain, having entirely forgotten that you covered your tattoo in the first place. There were different, much more fun things to think about. "I got the heavy-duty stuff a while back. Like what they use on movie sets for actors."

Tex frowns, not commenting as he works the layers of makeup off your skin. Thinking that the placement is odd as he swipes at it with the cloth. He doesn't want to hurt you but there is a knot of dread that is starting to build as the ink starts to slowly become visible under the flesh colored makeup.

"You don't have to be timid about it." Turning half around, you reach for the cloth but see the utter dismay on his face. "Don't tell me you're against ink?" That would be...extremely inconvenient. But it's not like you have Eat Me written above your cunt or something. Although that would be fucking hilarious. "I know everybody at Statesman is into the clean-cut look, but I've had this for years."

Tex shakes his head, unable to explain why this tattoo has him floored. "I—I don't." He murmurs softly, standing up and stepping back from you. His heart aches and he hates that he's seen it. Wishing he didn't know who else sported this tattoo. "I—shit." He shakes his head and closes his eyes on a sigh.

"What's wrong?" He looks like he's seen a ghost, which makes you cringe a bit and suddenly wish you weren't both standing naked in such an intimate setting. "I—I don't...have a soulmate. If that's what you're worried about. I used to have a bunch more tattoos and a couple of weeks ago they...they just disappeared. And that only happens when...when your soulmate dies. So don't think you've got, ya know, competition or anything."

His jaw rocks when he realizes you don't know. You don't fucking know. Confusion mars your beautiful face and he knows that you are going to be hurt. Hell, he's hurt. Jack didn't fucking let him know and he knows that motherfucker was aware of his interest in you. It wasn't like they hadn't prowled around together enough to know when the other had taken a shinin' to a particular woman.

“I’m really gonna need you to say something.” He looks angry and it’s unsettling in the very worst way, making you tense up and cross your arms over your chest in a protective stance. “Like now, please.”

"I've - I've seen that tattoo." Tequila admits, hating how the weekend is now over. Of course it is. "Recently."

“What?” Standing still and perfectly stable, you nearly fall over from the way that seemingly simple news rocks through you and makes your heart skips beats on its way up into your throat. Second soulmates are supposed to be a fairy tale. “On who? When?”

"I—I can't tell you." Tex can't say anything, not without getting into the classified details and Champ's already riding his ass for being 'too lax' with classifications. "Not yet."

“Well that’s un-fucking-acceptable.” And definitely makes you think he could be lying or creating an excuse to get out of seeing you again when you get back to Kentucky. Which is both hurtful are extremely fucking disappointing. You had thought Tex was a better man than that. Of course - you had thought Jack was a better man, too. Maybe you’re just a shit judge of character. “Second soulmates are impossible. If you saw my tattoo on someone then maybe my soulmate didn’t die. They just…had plastic surgery or something?”

You're her. The woman that put marks on Jack's body. The same one that your soulmate was killed by Jack just a few weeks ago. No wonder Jack kept running from you, guilt written on his face. "I—I'm sorry, darlin'." Tex shakes his head and swallows harshly, aware that you are pissed. "It's…it's classified."

“What the fuck does that mean?” It’s too much to digest, after how much fun last night was and how much Jack disappearing into thin air hurt you earlier in the week, to think that Tex is just wriggling his way out of things after getting what he wanted.

He doesn't like the hurt on your face. Not at all. Reaching up, he cups your cheek and stares into your eyes. "I promise you that I'm not trying to hurt you." He chokes out, his heart clenching and he fucking hates that he ever suggested a goddamn shower. He could have been blissfully unaware of who's soulmate you are. "It— it'll make sense soon."

Instinct takes over, making you recoil and slap his hand away the second it touches your skin. The tears are hot and angry, pressing against the backs of your eyes like prickling needles when you shove him out of the way to get out of the shower - half-clean and half-mortified. “If you wanted a one-night thing I would’ve been fine with that,” you tell him flatly, even though it’s a fucking lie. You don’t look back as you pull open the door of the shower and step out, grabbing for the closest towel to cover up with. “You didn’t have to be fucking mean about it.”

"I'm...” Tex sighs and his head drops down between his shoulders. "That's not what happened." He whispers as you march out of the bathroom.

******

Brunch is excruciating, making excuses for his absence to your family because you hadn’t wanted to spoil the morning after your cousin’s wedding with being outwardly angry. Instead you simmer all morning with too many mimosas, and on the plane with your headphones jammed into your ears staring stock forward so he doesn’t dare try to talk to you on the way back to Kentucky.

No more cowboys. You lecture yourself sternly, hauling your weekender bag up onto your shoulder the second you deplane and speed walking away from the broad-and-tall frame of the cowboy who had driven you both to the airport. You’ll take an Uber, thank you very much. Now more cowboys and no more putting your heart on the line. Getting it bashed with a proverbial sledgehammer twice in one week is plenty enough to learn your lesson.

Tequila sighs, jogging up to you and grabbing your bag. While he understands you hate him, he can't let you go off on your own. Not when he knows who your soulmate is. It's a security risk and he wonders if that's why Jack sent him to the wedding with you. "Come on, you don't have to talk to me, but don't be dumb."

“Give it back.” Fury doesn’t usually last this long for you, but you’re seething with it to cover up how disappointed and hurt you are.

"No." Tex shakes his head, pulling it back out of your reach. "Get in the damn truck." He tells you. "I'm gunna get you back to Statesman unharmed. Then you can never talk to me again."

“Why do you even care?” Considering he’s taller, faster, and stronger than you, it’s not like you can overpower him and get your bag back, so you stare him down instead.

"Because I care about you." He insists. "You might not believe that, but I do."

“Bullshit.” Still, you pull open the door of his enormous pickup truck yourself because it will annoy him that you didn’t wait, and swing yourself up into the passenger seat. You’re mad enough to you’ve moved over to spiteful, but at least he hasn’t seen you cry. “Just take me home.”

"I will." Tex clenches his jaw as he climbs into the truck and his fist curls around the steering wheel hard enough to make the plastic groan. "Bet your ass I will."

Fucking dramatic ass cowboys. You sink down in the seat and squeeze your eyes shut, desperately wishing you were going home to New Hampshire to sit with your sister or out to New York City to hang out with your brother. Anything but the little house halfway in between the two men who have kicked you to the curb like last week's garbage.

As the truck barrels its way towards Statesman, the anger inside Tequila builds. Pissed at Jack for what he's done. The selfish son of a bitch caused you to hate him. He stews with every mile that the tires eat up, nearly red faced by the time that truck turns onto the road that leads towards Statesman housing.

As soon as he pulls into your driveway you jump out of the truck, grabbing your bag from the cargo bed and heading straight inside. The sooner you can get into a bath with an army of scented candles and a bottle of something much stronger than watered down mimosas or airline nips, the better. You can just wash away the horrific memories of this weekend and never speak of it again.

The moment the front door of your cabin slams, Tequila throws the truck in reverse, the tires squealing from how hard he stomps on the gas. Fury making him sling the truck around and gun it as he throws it into drive. Hearing the engine roar with a grim wince of satisfaction as the V-12 lurches forward.

******

The door to Jack's office slams open under his palm, a satisfying creak and groan of heavy wood mirroring the stomp of Tequila's boots. His vision is so tunneled by righteous anger that he doesn't see Champ lounging in the armchair off to the side of Jack's heavy desk - only focused on the man he came to confront. There's no hesitation in his step, singularly motivated by the boiling in his blood when he storms forward and swings, connecting with Jack's jaw with flawless precision. "You son of a bitch!"

Jack goes sprawling to the floor, shocked but he's quickly bouncing back. "What the fuck!" He shouts, picking himself up off the floor and glaring at his friend. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Have you?" Tequila spits back, slamming his fist into Jack's desk next. The crash is satisfying in an entirely separate way. "How could you not tell me?!"

"Tell you what?" Jack demands, frowning and shaking his head to look over at Champ. "What the fuck didn't I tell you?"

"Her!" Tequila bellows, towering over Jack with a red face and hurt eyes as the older man gets back to his feet. "Did you think I wouldn't find out she's your fucking soulmate?"

Shit. The anger drains out of Jack's face and he stares at Tequila. "She's— it's a mistake." He chokes out. "I'm not – I can't be her soulmate." He insists, begging the younger man to believe him. "You know that."

"I saw her fucking tattoo, Jack." He doesn't even notice that Champ has jumped up to slam Jack's office door shut, containing the noise as well as the news. Tequila is too wrapped in his own fury to notice anything at all. "You knew and you didn't say a fucking word and now she's furious with me because you went and shoved your head in the goddamn dirt."

"You didn't have to fuck her!" Jack shouts back, anger surprising him although he had known what would happen if the other agent went with you. He had known that Tequila was attracted to you, but he had ignored it. "You coulda kept your dick in your pants for once in your goddamn life."

"I wouldn't have if you had said something!" The outrage on both ends is obvious, but Tequila feels it twisting in his guts like something ugly. "I'd have kept my damn mouth shut and kept her company and kept my fucking feelings to myself if you had just said something."

"Feelings?" Jack scoffs and shakes his head. "Since when is horny a fucking feeling?"

"Fuck you." Tequila bites out, but Champ grabs his arm before he can wind up for another good hit.

"Cut the shit, both of you." He orders, tone short and sharp and brokering no insubordination. "What the hell happened?"

Jack snaps his head around and blows out a breath, realizing that Champ is the room still. He had completely forgotten about the older man after Tequila busted into the room like a pissed off bull in a china shop. "I don't have a fucking clue." He spits, glaring at Tex and nods towards him. "Why don't you ask the hot head?"

"Agent Chicken Shit backed out of taking his soulmate to a wedding this weekend and asked me if I could take her instead." Tequila wrenches his arm out of Champ's firm grip, feeling like he's been caught breaking his brother's nose by his father all over again. "Knowing goddamn well that I—I'm in love with her." Saying it out loud makes him wish he could just storm back across the Statesman campus and explain everything to you. To beg you to believe and forgive him. But it's not his place. Not at all.

Jack snorts and rolls his eyes. "Wantin' to fuck ain't being 'in love'." Jack spits back, furious to hear those words out of his mouth and worse, he wonders if you feel the same way. It pisses him off and he wants to punch the righteous fucker in the nose for touching you.

"When have I ever punched you over wanting to fuck the same girl?" It's not as though they hadn't, after all, but Tequila still glowers at Jack across the desk.

"Can't recall you ever even using the word 'love' before," Champ comments, interested to see exactly how red in the face Jack is going to get.

His teeth are about to crack he's clenching his jaw so hard. Nearly growling at the way that Tequila flusters. Breathing heavily as the younger man turns towards Champ with a shrug of his shoulders. "Because I ain't felt it before." He admits, shaking his head. "But there's somethin' about her."

"She does seem to be a point of fascination." Champ's no fool. He hasn't missed Jack's attentions being centered on you, or Tequila's stolen glances. He hadn't missed the flirting - both intentional and not - and he had listened diligently to what Diana told him without over-divulging or betraying your confidence.

"She's a shiny new toy." Jack hisses, puffing up his chest and glaring at Tequila, ready to throw a few punches of his own considering what he's done. "He'll get tired of her, just like every other woman he's ever taken to bed."

"Look who's goddamn talking," Tequila hisses back. "Barely took you a week to get sick of her and without even the good manners to tell her you why."

"I was trying to PROTECT HER!" Jack roars, his own fist slamming down onto the table as he lashes out. Picking up the bottle of '87 and throwing it against the wall, shattering it and splashing whiskey over the walls.

"Alright, the both of you!" Champ doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. The disapproval and the anger in it clear without needing more volume. "Tequila, you take your ass up to my office and you stay there until I come talk to you. I want both sides of this and it ain't gonna be clear with you shouting over each other like beasts."

Jack glowers, staring down Tequila as he marches out of his office and hisses as the door rattles on its hinges from the force of him slamming it shut behind him. "She didn't need to know." He defends roughly. "She doesn't need to know."

"What the hell happened?" Champ turns his eyes on Jack, knowing Tequila will do as he's been told and wondering what catalyst had pushed Jack to run the way he had. "You got embarrassed that Diana caught you in an amorous moment? That's nothin' to be ashamed of."

"She's NOT my soulmate!" Jack shouts, fury making spittle fly out of his mouth and his voice cracks in his desperation for someone to believe him. To convince himself.

"That's up to you." And Champ won't push him to admit otherwise. "But she's human. And she deserves a damn apology. Di said she was beside herself upset at you walkin' out, even if she hid it well. I can't imagine Tequila spurning her now is going to make her feel any better, although it ain't your fault the boy lost his nerve when he realized."

"He wants a soulmate." Jack mumbles, his shoulders rounding at the reminder that he had treated you abysmally. They had done a lot more than just been each other's wingman for picking up women over the years. There had been plenty of serious conversations between women and glasses of whiskey. "He's not going to be with someone else's if he knows them."

"So you thought letting him discover it on his own would...go smoother?" He's not even going to go into how jumpy Jack is being about his own attraction to you.

"How was I suppose' to know that the fucking idiot didn't know?" Jack huffs defensively. "I showed him the damn mark on my skin. It's not like the fucking things on her tit. I thought he saw it on her."

"Alright, alright." Champ shakes his head and groans, feeling like everybody's damn father and not for the first time. "I'll go deal with him, but you..." He could just order him to apologize. To walk over to your house right now and make things right. But he knows that won't actually help things, it will only make Jack dig his heels in harder. "Whether you're ready to tell her or not, she still deserves an apology."

"For what?" Jack spread his hands up helplessly before he props them on his hips. "For killin' her soulmate? For her being stuck with me? For kissin' her and running away? For keepin' it from her?" He asks, not sure which sin he has to ask forgiveness for.

"You gotta decide that yourself." He had just meant the bit about running off, but as long as Jack is willing to entertain the idea of actually telling you the truth, he's not going to discourage it.

"She deserves better, Champ." Jack murmurs quietly. "Better 'in me. Hell, better than the kid."

"That's not up to you to decide." Champ's voice is just as quiet, but far gentler. "It's up to her. And if she's rightfully pissed at the both of you after this week, then that's that. But at the very least, she should know that you didn't run off because of anything she did. Y'all are actin' in her best interest as far as you're concerned, but all she can see is two men makin' her feel good and then acting like she did wrong for following down the paths you set."

"Shit." Jack closes his eyes, pissed off at himself for being a fool and giving Tequila the opportunity to hurt your already bruised feelings. He should have just taken you.

"Clean up this mess," Champ points to the broken liquor bottle on the floor. "And then go clean up the one you made with her. I'll deal with Tequila."

Jack stares at him for a moment, nodding quietly before the older man turns around and leaves the office. Leaving Jack in the wake of the mess he had found himself in.

Champ heads down the hall with purpose, shaking his head at the ridiculous state his two agents have made of things. He knows he brought you here to be protected, but apparently he should have been protecting you from their dumb asses as well. Thankfully, Tequila is waiting in his office like he was ordered, leg bouncing with nerves but no damage done. "Alright," he huffs, shutting the door behind him. "Your turn."

"Now Champ..." Tequila springs to his feet, aware that he should have handled things better than he had, but he's mad. "Whiskey didn't tell me she was his soulmate. I wouldn't have gotten involved with her if he had of."

"Don't think I know that?" The boy's sense of propriety is usually aces, even if his common sense can lack. "That's not why you got put in time out, Tequila. I can't punish you for makin' a fool of yourself with a lady. Either of you. Even if you deserve it."

"Then why am I here?" There is an edge of defiance in his voice, residual anger from the entire ordeal.

"Because you attacked a senior agent without provocation." Champ tells him flatly. "And I can't be sure y'all won't piss each other off enough that it will happen again."

"He fucking deserved it, and you know it." Tequila argues, standing up and putting his hand on his hip.

"Not the point, son." He can't make a judgement call on this if he ever wants it to get resolved. "It's insubordination and you know it."

Tequila rolls his eyes and huffs before he begrudgingly acknowledges that what Champ is saying is true. "So what's my punishment?" He asks. "Week scrubbing the warehouse?"

"Manual labor ain't gonna prove a point to you." Champ knows that. The kid comes from honest labor and hard work. It rolls right off his shoulders. "You're gonna take an assignment for me. Give you time to cool off and separate yourself from our fascinating lady so you can cool the hell off."

Opening his mouth in protest immediately, he manages to catch himself before he says something. Closing his mouth and just standing there. He knows he deserves it, even if he doesn't say so.

“Kingsman proposed an agent swap about a month ago.” Moving around him, Champ motions to Tequila to sit before plopping down in the large wingback chair behind his desk. “Been debating who to send. Looks like you just gave me my answer.”

"What am I gonna do in London, Champ?" The Texan whines, giving his boss a horrified expression. "They don't know the first thing about ropin'."

“So you’ll teach ‘em.” The side drawer of Champ’s desk holds the folder of papers from Kingsman as they rebuild, and Champ flips it open to skim through the paperwork. “Change of scenery and company might do ya some good, Tequila.” He glances up with one eyebrow half-raised. “After an apology.”

"I'm not apologizing to that fucker." He doesn't care how long Champs sends him to 'Merry ol' London', he will never apologize to Whiskey for belting him like he deserved.

"Not to him." Champ nearly laughs, but he catches himself. He's meant to be angry. A disciplinarian. At least for right now. "To her. She didn't ask for any of this shit."

"I can't apologize without telling her why I backed away." He reasons with Champ. "If that asshole had just manned up, this wouldn't be an issue."

Seeing as he can't actually argue with that, Champ sits back in his chair and eyes Tequila for a second before he lets an approving nod escape. "At least tell her you're goin' and that it has nothin' to do with her. Don't let her hear it third hand and wonder what the hell she might have done to make both of you run." He's gonna have to pay a visit to you himself, he thinks, and make sure you get something nice for the restaurant or let you hire a second-in-command, or something. Anything. Just to make sure you don't resign and he loses the ability to protect you.

Tequila nods and shuffles his feet slightly. "I'll go over there now and explain." He mumbles. "But it might have to be through a door. She's really fuckin' mad at me because I wouldn't tell her where I'd seen her tattoo."

"Can't say I blame her." Hell, if he were a woman, he'd have given them both far more hell than you seem to. "Do what you gotta go tonight. You're on the jet no later than 0900 tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir." Tequila nods once and turns on his heel. He needs to apologize to you before he goes; and put these feelings that he has for you to bed. There can't be a future with you. Not when Jack wears your tattoo.

******

The bath was a good idea, and you bundle up in clean pajamas after crying your damn eyes out and throw on an extra sweatshirt for comfort. You toss a bowl of leftover chili into the microwave and hunt down the bag of tortilla chips to eat it with, figuring you’ll turn on a movie and try to forget that the rest of the world exists.

Tequila decides that it would better to walk over to your place rather than pull up in your driveway. Walking along the way until he is standing on your porch and sighing softly. Hesitating for a moment before he reaches out and knocks on your door. Anticipating that you won't even answer.

“Fucking hell…” Muttering under your breath all the way to the front door, you check the peak hole before opening it and end up groaning. “What do you want, Tex?” He’s the actual last person you want to see right now, but if he’s got an explanation you want to hear it.

“I—” Tex shifts on his heels and reaches up to rub the back of neck in embarrassment. “I owe you an apology.”

Yes. He certainly goddamn does. You pull open the door halfway and look up at him expectantly. “How about an explanation, while you’re at it.”

"That's where you're gonna be mad at me." He bites his lips and shrugs. "It's not— I can't tell you who but I can tell you that I've seen that mark on someone I know. And I—I didn't know when I went after you."

“Unless it’s one of your brothers or something, I can’t see what the big deal is.” Having decided, over the course of the last few hours, that he’s probably lying to try to get out of a relationship, you just shrug your shoulders. “Fine. It is what it is.”

"Believe me...I wish I could tell you." He sighs. "I— I came to apologize because I'm being punished." He grunts. "Being sent overseas on an assignment."

“What did you do to get punished for?” That intrigues you enough to step back, leaving the front door open for him to come inside. He’s rowdy, sure, but you can’t see him being brash enough to put his job in the line. He loves his job.

"I punched someone." Tequila grumbles quietly, his brow furrowing, and he won't admit that his hand is aching. Jack Daniels has a fucking jaw of steel. "In front of Champ."

“And he’s banishing you to another country for it?” First of all, it’s news to you that Statesman even operates in other countries. But who the hell could garner that kind of punishment for something that— It’s like the entire world stops spinning for a second, screeching to a halt as you stand in your foyer next to one frustrating cowboy realizing the entire conversation just turns back around to a second one who is even more frustrating. Your eyes snap up to Tex’s, wide and full of so much shock that it’s nearly embarrassing. Because the second you put the pieces together, it couldn’t have been clearer. “Jack…” His name is barely better than a murmur, but it’s firm. “It’s Jack. Isn’t it?”

Of course you would figure it out. Not only are you funny, beautiful, and talented in many, many ways; you are also smart. Probably a hell of a lot smarter than he is. Your eyes betray your feelings, the stunned anguish in them, and the hurt that you are feeling shining out at him. It makes him want to pull you into his arms and comfort you. But it isn't his place to do that, and he's already hurt himself by getting involved with you. It would just make it harder to let go of you. "I can't tell you who." He shakes his head and sighs. "Just please, please believe me. I never wanted to hurt you."

You never wanted to think he was lying, but now that you know who it is that’s wearing your mark, you can see why he backed off immediately. That’s his mentor. One of his closest friends. And while Jack running off might have been a shitty thing to do, that now makes a lot more sense, too. “Maybe when you come back, we can try hanging out again?” It’s a weird situation for anyone to be in, but you do enjoy his company. “Just as friends?”

Tequila swallows, knowing that it might be hard for him for a while but he nods, giving you a small smile. "I'd like that darlin'." He admits softly. "I-I wish it could be more, but I know you woulda gotten tired of my ass." He jokes, not wanting to make it awkward, but he does want you to know that he had been serious with his intentions. "I'm sorry for ruinin' the brunch."

“I told everybody you were too hungover,” you smirk, already knowing that that is the ultimate blow to his manhood as a Statesman employee. But you were plenty mad this morning and didn’t care.

"Shit." Tequila hisses, shaking his head as he absorbs that blow. "I deserve that, but damn, you pack a low blow."

“Not sorry.” And you won’t pretend to be, either. You meant it when you told him you don’t play games. “But…it does suck that you’ll be gone for a while. Try not to fuck up too much shit wherever you’re going, okay?”

"I'll be alright, darlin'." He boasts confidently. "They should be worried about me."

“I’ll be sure to call and warn them, then.” You laugh softly, shaking your head, and one hand unconsciously rests on your front door.

He's smart enough to take the hint, nodding politely at you and takes a step back. "Well, I'm gotta go pack and I'm sure you're wantin' your peace back, so...I'll see you, darlin'." He offers, tipping his hat to you at the edge of the stairs.

There’s no use telling him that you had fun before this morning. If he actually liked you it will just be cruel and if he didn’t it just makes you sound clingy, so you say good night and shut the door, sighing to yourself as you pace back to the kitchen. That bowl of chili is already getting cold after being heated up, and you’re going to need several drinks to digest the information you’ve just been handed.

Jack.

Jack is your soulmate. Your second soulmate, which is supposed to be impossible. Why? How? Who the fuck even has answers to something like that?

******

Jack moves slower than molasses as he starts to clean up the mess he had made with his temper. The mess he had made of your life was going to take a little time and finesse. He doesn't know what to say. The anger and jealousy swirling in his gut at learning that you had slept with Tequila had surprised him, but he can't fault you when he had practically thrust the boy into your arms. Taking an hour to make his office spotless again, Jack leaves the Statesman offices to start walking back to the cabins to talk to you.

After dinner you stack up the dishwasher and grab one of the key lime tartlets from the test batch you made on Friday, curling up under your blanket on the couch with the second half of your movie and a second glass of spiked lemonade. Relaxation won’t come no matter how hard you try, though, and as if encouraged by your own restlessness - the doorbell rings again.

“Coming.” You call out, grumbling to yourself as you get up, only to deflate when you open the door. “Jack…” You hadn’t expected this, honestly. You thought it was Tex again for some unknown reason or other. “H—hi.”

"Hey, sugar." It's a chicken shit move, to pretend like nothing happened, but the way his eyes light up when he sees you isn't something he can control. "How are you doing?"

“Um…well, honestly I’ve been better.” Shifting in your doorway, you step to the side to let him in and clear your throat before cautiously pointing to the bruise blooming on his jaw. “But I think you have it worse at the moment.”

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, barely felt this." He lies, his jaw aching and he swears that Tequila loosened a few teeth. He shoots you a grin that is less confident than it appears and scrubs his hands up and down his thighs. "Can I come in, talk?" He doesn't blame you if you say no, but he wants to at least try.

“That’s…probably a good idea.” While you doubt that Tex went back and told him that you might have figured things out, you want to hear it from Jack. Either confirmed or denied, whatever the truth is. This man owes you the truth and an apology and that is the very least of it.

Jack steps into the cabin and lets you close the door behind him. Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, he turns towards you to see where you want to do this. He's in your territory and is willing to follow your lead.

"Do you want a drink?" It's a compulsory thing, always feeling like you should at least offer a drink to someone who's going to stay more than five minutes.

"I don't think you want to give me a drink, sugar. But I appreciate it." He would actually love a stiff drink, but he's not going to impose on you more than he has to.

"If you came to apologize, you get a drink." The nervous way he shifts has you worried, but you smile despite your churning stomach. "If not? I guess...just say what you came to say? I don't know, Jack. This whole thing is very awkward and I'm trying to figure out how to make it less so."

"Then I guess you better pour us a double, sugar." Jack mumbles, not quite meeting your eyes. The eyes that have haunted him for the entire week that he's stayed away from you.

"Come on in." Nodding to the living room, you disappear back to the kitchen for a second to grab a glass and the open bottle from your counter. He idles by the armchair beside your couch so you put the bottle down on the coffee table after you've poured him a drink, and hand him the glass. Your own drink is sufficiently spiked, you hope, for whatever he has to say. At least Tex already accidentally dropped the biggest bomb that might come up in conversation.

"I— hell." Jack takes a nervous gulp of his whiskey and sighs. "I owe you a large apology, sugar." He starts out. "I've acted like a tee-total ass and I regret that. I've hurt you; I know I have and I never meant to."

"Well...thank you." It being the second time tonight that you've heard something like that, you have to admit that the hole in your heart made by Jack's cruelty was much larger. Maybe that's something you ought to be ashamed of, but it's just how you feel. "I feel like there's more, though?" Even if you didn't know there was, the way he shifts his eyes all around the room to everywhere but you would have been a giveaway.

Damn you’re intuitive. Or Tequila ran his big fucking mouth. Both of those could be true. He sighs and taps his fingers against his knee and contemplates what to tell you. "Yeah." He admits quietly. almost inaudible.

"Do you...maybe want to start with why you ghosted me after we kissed?" After grappling with that one for an entire week on your own, you'd like an actual answer. A real, honest, from him answer.

"You scare me." The words fall from his tongue easier than he imagined them. Tumbling out quickly and earnestly. Truthfully. He rocks his jaw and nods. "You scare me, sugar."

That makes you huff, shifting in place on the sofa nervously. "Can't quite see the logic in that," you admit, tapping your fingers on the glass in your hands and smearing the condensation in ugly patterns. "Since you kicked the asses of a half dozen bikers the day we met and I couldn't even do that in my wildest dreams."

"Not that kinda scared, sugar." Jack chuckles at your logic, unable to find the fault with it and is a little pleased with himself for that fight still. "I'm meanin' that it's— it's complicated." He settles for that. "I didn't mean to hurt you because of it though."

"Jack..." The sigh that escapes you is nearly a groan. Or at least something bordering frustrated. "I don't think it's a secret that I like you, okay? I wouldn't have kissed you back if I didn't. I just...even if this - whatever this was - ends here? I just need you to be honest with me. Whatever the truth is, whether it's hard or easy or complicated or simple. I just...I need you to show me that much respect."

"Okay." Jack agrees to that easily enough, nodding his head and waiting for you to continue.

"For the record." The shifting seems to be endless, and you close your eyes for a second against the nerves. "Tex didn't say anything. He kept his mouth shut and protected you. I put two and two together myself." Glancing up at him, you have to remind yourself to breathe. "Will you show me your arm? Please?"

Jack's mouth is suddenly drier than the Sahara desert. Closing his eyes for a moment before he nods and stands up. He will have to roll up his sleeves or take the damn thing off. He shrugs out of his jacket and unbuttons his sleeve. "You are smart, sugar. Don't doubt that."

"I never do." It might be the wrong time to be sassy, but the response is automatic. Your mouth is dry as dirt by the time Jack rolls up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, and it's only partially because watching a man roll up his sleeve is like having a woman put on a push up bra as far as sex appeal goes. The first glimpse of your own tattoo on his skin steals any breath you had left in your body, and you swear you're lightheaded at the actual sight of it. Your mark on someone else's body. It's enough to make you break right down and cry, but you have a feeling that wouldn't exactly help the situation.

The cat is out of the bag, and Jack shows you the marks that are on his skin briefly before he starts to roll his sleeve down again. "Now you know why you scare me." He is leaving a hell of a lot out, but it's a truth you might be able to swallow.

"It's supposed to be impossible." Even with evidence, you have to keep yourself from reaching out and touching his skin just to prove to yourself that it's not make up or Sharpie or something.

"It is impossible." Jack tells you, shaking his head at the entire situation and reaches for his drink.

"Obviously not." It definitely does explain some things. Like the way the two of you can't seem to stay away from each other even when he was obviously not wanting to be around you.

"It damn sure is when I killed your original soulmate." Jack snaps out without even thinking about how those words would land.

"You what?" The glass in your hand goes crashing to the floor, cracking and spilling bourbon and lemonade in every direction but you can't do anything but stare at him: wide eyed and terrified and more confused than you've ever felt in your life. "Wh-wha—you—?" The tears pricking at your eyes are a surprise, but only because you never considered that this would ever be a sentence you would hear in your life.

"Fuck." Jack hisses, realizing he's stuck his ass all the way in the fire and the only way he's going to get out is to tell you everything. "Sugar, I— Statesman— is an independence intelligence agency. I am an agent. The last op I was on, he - your soulmate - was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Innocent bystander." He tells you bitterly. "I killed a civilian by accident."

The blatancy of it nearly knocks you over, to the point where the tears spill over unfiltered. "Fuck off, Jack." You hear your own voice, full of anger for the second time today. "I asked you to be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you!" Jack growls, pissed off that you don't believe him. "How do you think I took on a half dozen men without a scratch? Do you need to have it confirmed?"

"Sure. Confirm it for me. Why the fuck not." You might as well be rolling your eyes at him, and maybe it's childish, but you're sick of being disappointed. Especially so many times in one week.

"Ginger." Jack speaks up, knowing that saying her name will activate his communication link in his watch. "Lock down my soulmate's cabin." He orders. "Code Orange."

There is a brief pause and Astrid's voice comes through the built-in speakers in your cabin. "Roger Jack, Code Orange." Immediately, the soft lights of the lamps switch off and bright emergency lights flicker on. The door lock flips and there is a mechanical whirling as solid metal shutters roll down over your windows and door. The bookcase that you have stuffed with cookbooks in the little breakfast nook pops open, showing an opening behind it that will lead to a safe room.

"What the fuck?" Jumping backward further into the sofa, you curl in on yourself as the lights beat down on you and the windows cover with steel. The bookcase in the corner makes you flinch again, and you look around like you're trying to figure out where the cameras are that are filming this prank. "W-was that...Astrid?"

"Astrid's codename at work is Ginger Ale." Jack tells you. "Just like my codename is Whiskey. Agent Whiskey. It's also the reason why I have no tattoos or scars on my body. No identifying marks."

"Because you're..." Searching for the word, you can't even find a real-world scenario in which you've ever said it before without referring to fiction or a game. "A—a spy?"

"I guess that's the easiest way to look at it." Jack nods.

"What's...that?" The door behind your bookcase is a special kind of scary. That shit only happens in movies or when it's a bomb shelter.

"It's a safe room." Jack provides. "A place where you can go in the case of an emergency. So you are safe from harm. Nothing short of a nuke would get you in there."

Stock still with equal parts shock and the need to process all the information you've been given in the last three minutes, you gulp inelegantly and wipe one hand down your face. "So..." It's a whole lot all at once and you stare forward when you open your eyes again. "You...after..." Deep breath. "How?" You ask finally, not really knowing how to ask about someone's murder.

"Your real soulmate was a chef." Jack tells you quietly. "He was on the loading dock of the Whitney smoking a cigarette." He knows you will recognize the hotel as the one you had just left. Another reason why he couldn't go to that damn wedding reception since he had just had a shootout there. "I saw a gun and I just...reacted." He admits quietly, staring down at his hands because he can't look up and face the blame he knows he will see in your eyes. "There were two men on that dock, one innocent and one trying to kill me. And I took them both out."

"So you just...got it? Just like that?" It doesn't make sense, but it's not like anyone really knows how soulmates get chosen in the first place. "Y-you shot him and got me as a prize?"

"I'm guessin'." That part has him stumped so he just gives a small shrug. "Lucky you."

"Shit..." Neither one of you can look at each other, but the flood lights and steel shutters are sure to attract attention, and you clear your throat softly. "Can you...um...make it go back to normal?"

"Oh shit, uh yeah." Jack shakes his head and speaks again. "Ginger, Code Green. Repeat, Code Green. All clear." He knows that she knows that there wasn't an emergency, but it was still protocol to use the codes.

"Thanks." The weight of reality feels exhaustively heavy on your shoulders, but you press your thumbs into your eyes and sigh. "So..." It's getting to be too much to process but the conversation just isn't anywhere near over. "So, what does this mean?"

“I don’t understand.” Jack admits, not sure if he’s getting what you are asking. “What does what mean?”

"Well, we're—we're soulmates." Whether either of you likes it, or the circumstances, is beyond the point. It is what it is and all you can do is deal with it.

“You don’t want to be my soulmate, sugar.” Jack promises you. “My soulmate has been dead and gone for a long time.” The guilt of her death weighs heavily on him.

"I'm not trying to replace her." The thought actually appalls you, knowing that plenty of other people might try to do just that. "She was your wife, I just—" When you finally muster enough courage to look at him, he won't meet your eyes. It's all at once that any hope you might have had shatters, and you remind yourself that he killed the man you were supposed to love with all your heart. "I just want to know if you're gonna keep ignoring my existence or not."

“You’re here, aren’t you, sugar?” Jack answers glibly. “If I was going to ignore your existence that wouldn’t be the case.” He doesn’t mention that Champ was the one who found you and brought you here. “You’ll be safe.”

"Safe isn't the same as—" You shake your head before that word can come out of your mouth. "Okay. I'm safe. And you won't ignore me. Fine." The wave of bitter disappointment that rips through you is angry and you hate it, but it's overwhelming. "So why exactly did you scare Tex off if your top thought is safe?"

“I didn’t scare Tex off.” He is immediately pissy at the idea that you would want that boy. “He came in yelling about marks and punching me in the jaw when I damn sure showed him the new fucking marks on my body.”

"Yeah, you showed him, but you didn't tell him who I am." That might be what stings the most. That he didn't acknowledge you in any way whatsoever until he was forced to. "He nearly had a panic attack in the shower this morning and I got to cry my eyes out for the second time this week."

The pain of knowing he made you cry is like a swift, sharp knife to the chest. “What was I supposed to tell ‘im?” Jack demands. “The girl who will hate my guts when she learns the truth is my soulmate? Or better yet, the universe decided that despite me being unable to protect my real soulmate it’s given me the soulmate of the man I killed as a laugh.”

"Right, but I'm safe here?" Just because you have no idea what he's talking about doesn't mean you're not still upset, and you can fire back just as nastily as he can. It makes you feel like you're being torn apart at the edges, so why not just lash out? Surely that will help.

"Yeah, you are." Jack huffs, not sure exactly what you expect from him. "You've got a job you said you always dreamed of, a house to call your own, and all the security that Statesman can provide you." He holds his arms up and then drops them down onto his hips and stares at you. "What else do you want?"

“Someone to spend my life with.” It’s what you’ve always wanted. More than anything. And getting every other dream in the world without someone to love who loves you with equal ferocity just feels like a slap in the face. You have a career and security, but not love. And that makes the other two things just seem lonely.

"I like you, sugar." Jack admits quietly. "I really do. But that ain't me." He doesn't say anything more than that, knowing it's not necessary. His life ended the day it began ironically enough, he's just been a dead man walking ever since.

“I’m starting to get that.” He’s clear and honest about it, you have to at least give him that. But it still feels like he picked up that broken glass from the rug and sliced your chest straight open to get at your heart. Like the universe replaced your real soulmate with a security guard, not a partner. And you still don’t even know why the fuck you need a security guard.

“I’m sorry.” Jack tells you, hating the way the light has just vanished from your eyes and he wants to rush across the room and pull you into his arms. But he doesn’t move. “I wish it could be different, but…” he shakes his head again and stares at his belt buckle. “We don’t always get what we want.”

“Clearly.” The word is choked and bitter, you know it is, because what you want is sitting right in front of you telling you that you can’t have him. This could be easy. Or at least less complicated. It could be so many things that aren’t this. Instead, Jack is sitting there telling you that you’ll never have the most basic and cherished thing in the world. Love. “I’ll just…try not to get in your way, I guess.”

“I’d like us to be friends, sugar.” Jack shuffles slightly and manages to look up at you. “But I understand if you can’t.” You don’t answer him and the ache in his chest gets heavier, prompting him to move towards the door. “I’ll let you be. I’m really sorry.” He whispers. “For everything.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around.” It’s a dismissal. Maybe even a cruel one. But right now you’re feeling so defeated that you don’t even care. You just want to be alone - a state you’re apparently going to have to get used to.

Out on the porch, Jack wonders why you taking his refusal so easily stings. Wondering if he wanted you to fight, even though it would do nothing but hurt you. He knocks on the front porch pillar as he starts down the stairs slowly to walk to his own house. “See you around, sugar.”

The floodgates open as soon as the door shuts behind him, giving you the freedom and the privacy to weep as openly and as long as you need. As horrifying and complicated as everything is turning out to be, you would have been so glad to love Jack. To get to know him and grow with him and find out what smooths those sharp edges. You would have loved to love him. To have that privilege would have been extraordinary.

But you’ve been dumped before you ever knew what you had. So who knows what will happen next?

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73

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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 #love triangle #Tequila x reader #Channing Tatum

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