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bluestar22x · 18 days

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Finding Eden: Chapter 2

Summary: You and Zach make your trek towards Canada

Pairing: Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Fowl language, mention of reader needing period products, mentions of violence/blood

Word Count: 5,700(ish)

Author's Note: I'm annoyed with myself that it took so long to get this chapter out but it's done, yay! This chapter is mostly set up for the future. Going to have a lot more action coming up real soon. I'm excited.

xxx

To say you were curious about Zach would've been an understatement. The truth was you were downright intrigued.

First he'd saved you, then he'd proposed that you travel with him to the safe haven he was searching for. A perfect stranger.

You couldn't quite comprehend it. Yes, you'd had plenty of experiences where people had been kind to you for the sake of it before the war, but that had quickly become a bygone after the riots broke out. Ever since then your survival had pegged on your family ties and what you could do to convince others to spare you.

It was different with Zach.

You were certain he had a motive besides just being nice, but you were also sure it wasn't anything sinister. There was nothing about his behavior and tone during your first conversation that suggested he was being anything but honest with you.

You trailed behind him and Athena through the forest, pondering over the why. What it could be. An extra set of eyes? Companionship? Both?

Both were why you'd personally agreed to the journey you'd embarked on. You fully believed in group survival. The strength in numbers. You'd had a fascination with wolves as a kid. You knew lone wolves had it rough and many didn't survive long enough to form another pack. You did not want to be a lone wolf any longer than you needed to be.

Zach had to have been feeling the pressure to find someone else too. Sure, with his military training he was bound to have far more survival skills than you, but it also meant he had to be almost constantly on alert. Athena was probably the only reason he looked fairly well-rested. Able to get some sleep each night because her large, pointed ears heard everything.

You had an urge to ask him a million questions about himself after that thought but you had no idea how tolerant he'd be of unnecessary chit chat, so you settled on observing him instead.

Of course you couldn't see Zach's face from your position behind him, but you could watch his back.

His very broad back. For a man his height and weight Zach had a wide set of shoulders, so wide they threatened to tear the seams of the brown and tan plaid shirt he was wearing if he flexed too much. It was an impressive sight on a man you'd quickly labeled as slim.

Less impressive was his nearly flat ass that barely held up his jeans, but that had a different kind of appeal. It was cute. It reminded you of a boy you'd dated in high school. The one you went to prom with who had been nothing but a gentleman with you despite his age. No prom night sex with that one. No, that had come months later, and you'd initiated it. You'd probably have married him if only the long distances between your colleges hadn't torn you apart.

Zach's brown eyes reminded you of him too. Though you obviously couldn't see them at the moment, you recalled them in your mind, dark, shiny, and expressive, more so than the rest of his face. What really stuck in your mind though was that his were still gentle looking despite the state of the world, the horrors he'd certainly seen and had probably done. They were in part why you'd trusted him enough to team up with him.

The similarities ended there though. While Zach still had some boyish features, his jawline was nothing but man. The same for his strong, sloped nose. You imagined he must have had an awkward faze in his youth due to their prominence, but at his maturity (late thirties, you'd surmised) they suited him perfectly.

Your cheeks heated up at your wayward thoughts about him, as if you'd spoken them out loud. You knew you hadn't, but it still felt inappropriate enough that you were sheepish about it. You'd just met him, after all. Not having had a boyfriend since a year before the apocalypse started was not an excuse to think about him like a piece of meat, analyzing every part of his body that peaked an interest in you (except for one in particular that you respectfully avoided with all your willpower).

Zach glanced back at you occasionally, on and off, for about an hour before your eyes locked by accident and you nearly stumbled over a rotten tree stump.

He's just checking in on you to make sure you're not lagging behind, nothing more, you reminded yourself. Cool your jets. Don't make a fool out of yourself over nothing.

Anyone who had a privy to your thoughts without having seen you first could have mistaken you for a teenage girl with a crush.

You weren't normally like this. Especially not after the country fell apart. But Zach was the first decent guy you'd run into the last few years who wasn't related to you, and he was definitely your type. At least physically, anyways. You weren't going to pretend you actually knew him enough for it to be anything else but basic attraction.

"You alright?" he inquired, hiking up an eyebrow as he did so.

"Yeah," you squeaked, flustering at your unusually high voice, even more so when you realized he was referring to your trip. "Don't mind me."

He nodded and continued on like you weren't behaving like someone half your age, but you decided then that silence wasn't the best idea for you anymore. It was better to risk annoying him to distract yourself and to actually get to know him than to continue to regress.

"Sooo...where are you from?" you began, walking faster to catch up with him.

"We're doing small talk?" he asked with some disbelief as you matched his pace and kept shoulder to shoulder with him, nothing but Athena between you.

"Sorry, are you busy?" you retorted with a huff, expression serious.

His eyes darted towards you, obviously surprised by your comeback, and he chuckled. "Got me there. Small talk it is. I was in Los Angeles. You?"

"Born and raised in Culver, Oregon," you stated plainly. "It's a small farming community. I went away to college in Seattle for a few years, but I returned afterwards. Found an accounting job with a local restaurant."

"That's funny," Zach mused, pursing his lips.

You frowned. "Why?"

"I worked as a building manager before everything went to shit, but for a brief time I worked for a friend's brother at his restaurant," he explained. "Nothing major, just washing dishes and helping the cooks out a bit, but it got me out of a bind, and I was considering going to college to be a chef before -."

"Everything went to shit," you quoted him flatly.

He sighed and glanced around at the trees surrounding you, looking for a distraction. "Yeah." You could hear the heavy regret that saturated that one word.

For the one millionth time since the bombs fell you thought about how unfair the world was. You'd do anything to be back looking through the books at Angel's Great Delights and you wished Zach had been able to pursue cooking like he'd planned to. It wasn't right you both had to pay for the mistakes of others.

"My cousin called it the preventable apocalypse," you informed him, tilting your head to the right, away from him. "I argued that most apocalypses in fiction were preventable. People just refused to pull their heads out of their asses. It was the most realistic part of those kinds of stories."

Zach laughed again. "Couldn’t have put it better myself.”

"So where were you when it all began?" you pressed on.

You could see it in his eyes, the way he withdrew into the memory. "I was at work, saw the news on the lobby's flatscreen TV. Washington D.C. was gone. It was surreal. And then after the riots began, it wasn't. LA was in the thick of it. I fled the city and lived in a trailer after it became too much. You?"

"I was alone in bed," you recalled, furrowing your eyebrows. "I was recovering from a severe flu. My boss had sent me home. Said he'd rather see me the next day or so when I wasn't half dead and ready to puke on the paperwork."

"Solid boss," Zach remarked.

"The fact that he could be considered solid just because he let me have a sick day when I was hardly in any shape to work, further proves how awful society was before."

"As opposed to now?"

It was your turn to chuckle. "What society?"

He hummed in agreement. "Why don't we talk about anything but the events that led to the current status of the world?"

"Okay, but the ones I have in mind are going to sound super trivial," you warned.

The edges of his mouth twitched up. "Perfect."

So that was how you both spent the rest of the day, talking about your favorite movies, music, animals (his was dogs, big surprise) and anything else that came to your minds intermittently (there was plenty of stretches of peaceful silence in between).

It was nostalgic, and for a time you could both just pretend you were hiking with each other on a day off from work. Like you'd run into each other in less dire circumstances.

Though only time could ever truly allow you to get to know someone, learning the basics was a start, and with every piece of personal information he entrusted you with you felt more and more comfortable in his presence.

It was pleasant, you thought. Zach wasn't super chatty, but he also wasn't aloof either. At least he wasn't with the things that didn't hit any sore spots, but that went for you too. Who would want to talk to a stranger about the painful memories they buried deep inside themselves? Even those who sought therapy didn't blurt out their deepest darkest secrets to their therapists until they had built a trusting relationship with them.

Your old trusty digital wristwatch read six eleven at night (probably inaccurately considering you hadn't touched it since you had to abandon your hometown) when Zach decided to stop for the day and set up a makeshift fire pit with some rocks, dried leaves, and old broken branches. You were so impressed with how neatly he'd stacked the wood and how easily he'd lit a match he had on him and got the fire going that you forgot to try to pretend to be useful. You did look for more branches and some logs to feed the fire for when it slowed down later on while Zach started pitching his forest green and tan tent.

"You should get yours up too," he told you when you came back from your third round of fire fuel hunting. He was busy zipping the entrance up. "Judging from the clouds, it might rain tonight."

You tipped your head back to stare up at the dark, angry clouds covering most of the sky above you and sighed. You hadn't wanted to ask Zach for any favors so soon, but if it was going to rain you had no choice.

"I don't have one," you admitted to him. "My cousin had a tent in his pack. I've been sleeping in whatever shelter I could find ever since his death."

"Well, you can share with me if you want," Zach offered without any hesitance. "It'll be a tight squeeze, but it's supposed to be a two person tent."

You didn't know much about tents, your parents had never camped out with you, but your cousin's had been a three person and it definitely had not felt like it had actually been made for three. You were sure a two person tent for two people wouldn't be any better.

Why did that make your heart jump a little?

"Sure, yeah, thanks," you said in return. "It's better than sleeping without anything over my head but the trees."

They were sparsely leafed due to the season and weren't particularly well bunched together where Zach had decided to set up. You knew if it downpoured you'd get drenched and that wasn't appealing with how cold the nights were starting to get.

You walked over to him and helped him finish setting up the tent, shoving and kicking the spikes that would keep the securing ropes taunt into the firm ground. You at least knew how to do this.

Once you both were finished you sat down cross legged by the fire, pulling out cans of old vegetables you both had in your backpacks. Yours was sliced carrots, his was green beans.

"I wonder how long we can eat these before we're recklessly risking our lives?" You peered at the label curiously, like it would tell you anything beyond the expiration date that you were already well past.

"Guess we'll find out," Zach stated dryly as he tipped his can's contents into his mouth, green bean juice spilling from the corner of his mouth.

You did the same with your can since you didn't have any utensils either. You missed utensils. But even if you found some again, they'd be a waste of space in your backpack. Essentials only.

You grimaced as you chewed and swallowed what you could fit into your mouth. Eating cold canned vegetables was getting real old.

"We really need to find a cooking pan," you decided.

"I have one," Zach said, feeding Athena the contents of the bottom of his can before tossing it into the fire after.

You blinked at him incredulously. "Then why didn't we use it?"

He shrugged and leaned back against the black cottonwood tree behind him. "I was hungry. Forgot to mention you could use it. Sorry."

You sighed and slouched forward like a wilting flower. "It's alright. Next time."

"At the risk of sounding like an old man, I think I'm going to turn in," Zach decided a few seconds later as he peered over at the distant mountains the sun had disappeared behind during your meager meal. "I'd like to head out at first light."

"I might as well too then," you figured. "I don't want to lose any sleep I can get. It's rough enough waking without coffee."

He groaned a little. "Ah, I miss coffee."

"Same."

You both straightened your legs out then pushed yourselves into a stand and went through your bedtime rituals, yours a lot shorter lately, now that you didn't have any luxuries like face washes and lotion. You simply brushed your teeth with only water from your drinking bottle and removed your belt. Zach also did the former, but not the latter, slipping into the tent as is. He didn't even take off his boots until he was inside, to your dismay.

You took your sleeping bag off your pack and unrolled it before also crawling in barefooted, doing what you could to flatten it out beside his.

You brushed shoulders with him when you crawled into it. "Yep. This is definitely tight. Are you sure this is okay?"

You weren't sure what compelled you to give him a way out of your new sleeping situation. You really didn't want to sleep out in the rain.

He nodded, eyelids already at half-mast. "I promise it's fine. Sharing a tent with you is much better than some of the guys I had to share tight spaces with in the military. You smell a whole lot better, for one."

Your stomach fluttered. You knew he was just stating facts, but Zach thought you smelled good. Or at least better. You'd gladly take the compliment.

You were still absorbing it when Zach whistled and Athena came charging into the tent. "Hope you don't mind sharing with her too."

"Of course not," you said, giggling when the dog nosed her way between you and wedged herself into the small gap between your sleeping bags.

He grinned at your laughter and how you fondly scratched at the base of Athena's ear after she settled down. "Make yourself at home as always, girl."

"Typical dog," you added, shaking your head before rolling onto your side to face them both and closing your eyes. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Zach returned, slinging his left arm over his stomach, getting comfortable too.

It wasn't long before you both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning you heard and felt Zach moving around beside you before you were even conscious of the nippy air seeping into the tent.

You wrinkled your nose, trying to get back feeling in the numbed tip of it as you blinked up at the inside of the tent top.

It was barely dawn, but it was light enough to see everything around you, which meant that it was time to go.

You crawled out of the tent as Zach began to pack up his belongings and you searched for a private spot to pee. You only had to wander a few yards away to find a big enough spruce tree to squat behind.

When you returned Zach was sitting by a newly lit fire, Athena lying by his feet, her head resting on her front paws, ears twitching with the sound of him opening another can of vegetables, this time peas, with the multi-tool that he kept in one of his back pockets.

You quietly sat down a few feet from them and opened your second can of carrots, using the tab already provided on the top.

"I'm not eating cold again," you said, glancing at Zach's backpack, which was right behind him. "Can I use that pan now?"

"Sure." Zach reached for and rummaged through his pack, pulling the pan out from the bottom it. "Do you want to throw our food together; peas and carrots?"

"Sounds good," you replied. "Just don't expect to get a bigger portion out of it."

He raised a hand palm up in a pledging gesture at you. "I solemnly swear it'll be split right down the middle."

Satisfied with his promise you dumped the contents of your can in the pan and he did the same with his before placing the pan over the fire. After several minutes he removed it to check how cooked the food was, sampling a few peas.

He smiled. "Perfect."

He quickly split the pile of vegetables in the pan in two and dumped your share onto the plastic plate you always carried around.

It was the best meal you'd had since your cousin had gotten himself killed and left you with only the supplies you'd been carrying on your back.

After you and Zach had scarfed down your portions and both shared a palm full with Athena, you packed up and resumed your trek north.

It was still cloudy out, but the clouds were a light enough gray that you did not think it would rain again anytime soon, thankfully.

Unfortunately it meant you'd need to use landmarks instead of the sun's position to guide you, or so you thought until Zach pulled a compass out of his coat pocket.

"Of course you know how to read a compass."

He twisted his body to look at you as he continued to walk. "You don't? What have you been using to find your way on days like this?"

"The mountains, mostly," you answered.

He huffed. "Good way to get lost."

"Well, it's not like it mattered before," you told him. "I didn't have a destination in mind then."

"Want me to show you how it works?" he offered.

You shrugged. "You can try."

"It's easy," Zach promised, invading your personal space so he could show you the face of the compass. "See the white end of the needle?" He pointed it out. "That always points south. And the red end always points north. If you make sure the needle stays steady, adjusting the path you take when you need to, you won't wander aimlessly."

"And this is always accurate?" you questioned doubtingly.

He hesitated. "Usually. Sometimes they can be thrown out of wack, but I check this one regularly and it hasn't failed me yet. In any case, it's better than going off scenery alone."

You nodded. You weren't much of an outdoorsy person before, but you had heard plenty of stories of hikers getting lost because they only used their sight to guide them. It was easy to get turned around in a forest. Your rational side knew that a compass was a lot more reliable, and fixable if something ever screwed it up. You hoped Zach knew how to calibrate one.

Zach pocketed the compass and continued forward, Athena ever glued to his side, rarely wandering more than a few feet away from him to sniff at something or do her business.

Occasionally you observed him scratching her head or stroking her back in passing and it made you smile.

You liked people who liked dogs. You'd been raised around them, and while they weren't perfect at letting you know who you could trust (sometimes they did trust the wrong people), you firmly believed dogs were at least a pretty good first indicator. The fact that Athena was so relaxed around Zach, and that he made an effort to give her affection, reassured you that you'd chosen your partner well.

"There's a highway ahead," Zach announced as afternoon neared, surpassing the twenty-four hour mark since you'd teamed up with him. "We should follow it a bit. Check to see if the closest town is safe to scavenge. I'm running low on supplies."

"Me too," you admitted. "But I'm not going to go into town if it's going to be a fight."

"I won't force you to put yourself in danger," he vowed. "If there's still people there and I believe I can slip past them but you're nervous, you can stay hidden. I'll share whatever I find."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Of course," he replied.

"You're not going to label me a burden?"

He pursed his lips. "I've been labeled that before. I would never do it to someone else. We all have different strengths and weaknesses, a team works with them."

That made you curious. You couldn't figure out why someone would call Zach a burden when he'd been anything but since you'd met. You supposed it was different times before, but still. He seemed so goal motivated and had so many skills, what would drive someone to suggest otherwise?

You approached the road slowly and Zach tentatively stepped out of the cover of the trees to study the sign alongside it. "There is a town nearby," he informed you as he ducked back into the trees to stand beside you. "It's a mile out from here. It's out of our way, but it might be worth it."

You sighed. "Well, that's not too bad. With it being so close we've got to at least see it for ourselves."

He nodded in agreement and started to walk parallel with the road, keeping just out of view of anyone who might be dumb enough (or had enough ammo) to be strolling down the highway without a care in the world.

To your relief, when you finally passed the town line nothing changed. There were no working cars in the road, no voices, no signs of life. You could feel the emptiness of it, even though the road was littered with abandoned vehicles and other items, none that would be useful to you, unfortunately.

You and Zach left the safety of the forest and carefully made your way into town, his hands cradling his shotgun, ready if he needed to shoot to protect you both if the situation changed.

"We should head to the supermarket," he suggested.

"That's always the first place picked clean," you argued before gesturing towards the town library that stood next to the town hall, both buildings once painted white, faded yellow and chipped since. "The library would be the best place to try. The one in my hometown had food and a bathroom, drinks too. It's worth a shot."

He scoffed. "Nobody raids libraries."

"Precisely," you said, smirking. You were pretty confident you'd find at least a few useful items.

He chewed his lip, silently debating, weighing the risks and potential benefits. "Fine, we'll check out both. Then we head back out. Don't want to overstay our welcome."

"Fine with me."

A part of you was tempted to make an attempt to convince him that checking out every business and house possible would be worth it, but you understood why he was clearly set on only a couple places. A town like this was valuable. Anyone traveling nearby would likely want to pass through just as they were, and running into a large group would be disastrous.

One man with one gun could only do so much. Same went for a dog with no protective gear and a woman with a limited set of survival skills.

Zach lead you over to the local supermarket first, using a crowbar that a previous raider had left behind to pry the sliding doors open enough so you both could squeeze through.

Once inside you both scanned the shelves up and down for anything useful.

As you'd predicted, the store was pretty barren. There were some non-survival items scattered about - a variety of novels, toy animal figurines, and different brands of pet stain remover - but none of those items would be beneficial to your survival.

You passed the pet food aisle and even those shelves were wiped out. You knew it wasn't because so many people were worried about what their pets ate. No, they were definitely eating the food themselves. Just thinking about people doing it made you gag. You understood the concept of desperate times, desperate measures, but oh did you pray to high heaven you'd never be forced to eat any kind of dog food.

The next aisle was themed health and beauty and you wandered down it with Zach in hopes of finding a toothbrush to keep as back up for your current one, but had no such luck.

You were about to enter another row when you noticed Zach had lingered behind and looked over your shoulder to see him on his knees, stretched fully out, reaching for something in the very back of one of the bottom shelves.

When he pulled back and sat on the heels of his hiking boots he had a five pack of men's disposable razors in his right hand.

"Yeesss!" he exclaimed triumphantly, expression gleeful, before he studied the package. You grinned, infected by his enthusiasm.

It was the first time you'd gotten a glimpse of the boy he once must have been.

"I take you don't like letting your beard grow out."

Zach rocked himself back onto his feet and shook his head at you. "It's not my preferred look. Honestly, it grows in kind of patchy. But the real issue is it gets itchy after more than a week of growth. Drives me crazy some days, and anti-itch cream is hard to come by nowadays."

You hummed in understanding, cutting off when you noticed a small bottle on a nearby middle shelf.

You had to reach all the way back for it, like Zach had with the razors, but you managed, and for your grunts of effort and overstretched muscles you were rewarded a bottle of Tylenol.

"Now, this made the trip worth it," you declared.

Zach chuckled. "See? Not completely wasted."

You sighed dramatically, for show. "Yeah, yeah, you were right. Now, can we hurry up so we can hit the riches at the library?"

"Sure."

Six more aisles later you left the store with only the razors and the pills, but at least you and Zach had both gotten something out of it.

You exited cautiously, Zach leading with Athena as per usual, but for once they could not ease the anxiety you felt being in a place that used to be populated with people again.

All you could think about was the sharp crack of a bullet, the last split second you saw your cousin and his wife alive before they'd slumped to the ground so suddenly lifeless that you'd frozen like a deer in headlights while their bodies leaked blood into the cracks of the worn asphalt. Helpless to do anything but stare in horror as their killer dragged their bodies into a pile on the side of the road like they were just another dead animal to clear out, until you finally felt your legs again and bolted.

Civilization was no longer a place that comforted you.

Zach broke into the little library by shattering the glass of the front door with a sharp, heavy stone and turning the lock blindly. As soon as it clicked open he stepped aside so you could enter first.

You choked on the dust and had to cover your mouth with your jacket sleeve, but you pushed forward, determined.

Luckily the building had a lot of frosted windows so you were able to maneuver around easily without the lights.

You started at the main desk, searching every drawer. All you found were a few pens, which Zach pocketed.

Next you tried the janitor's closet. "Oh, well, now this will certainly be a luxury."

You pulled two rolls of individually wrapped toilet tissue off one of the shelves and threw one to Zach, purposely trying to catch him off guard. Impressively, he still caught it. He laughed. "Okay, so we're already even scored. Think you can find more stuff?"

"For sure."

You headed into a corner that had once acted as a little self serve café, littered with rotten food and a reeking coffee machine. You found four unopened water bottles still in the cooler by the back of the space and nearly jumped with joy.

"Never doubt me again," you said as you handed Zach two of them.

He made the motion of crossing his heart at you and you smiled.

"One last place to check."

As Zach shoved his bottles into his pack you slipped into the unisex bathroom adjacent to the coffee corner alone and glanced around. There wasn't much in the room besides the sink and toilet, not even a window, so it was hard to see, but you found one more roll of toilet tissue and a half used bag of pantie liners you could use for when your period rolled around. You hid them both in your pack and rejoined Zach.

"Any luck?" he inquired.

"Just another roll of toilet tissue," you lied, not feeling comfortable talking to him about period products even in passing. It wasn't just because you grew up around men who didn't want to hear a thing about it, who preferred to live in ignorance over the female cycle. It was also because Zach was still just an acquaintance, and that just wasn't something you typically talked about loosely in front of people you hardly knew, no matter their gender.

"I'll share if you admit the library was the more productive stop," you added with a smirk.

"I can't deny it," he said.

"I actually want to look at the books for a second if that's okay?"

Zach nodded. "Hurry up though."

You raced over to the how-to section, scanning them almost desperately for a book you had in mind. You found it on a top shelf, a book on North American plants for survivalists.

You were plucking it from the shelf when Athena barked suddenly and you flinched.

"What's up, girl?" Zach asked her, warily turning in a circle in hopes of seeing what set her off.

She was staring at the back window, suggesting she'd alerted to a shadow or sound from that direction.

Athena wasn't a barker. You'd only known her for a day but it was long enough to know if she was barking there was a reason. That knowledge made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Follow me," Zach whispered.

You nodded quickly and slowly made your way to the front with him, creeping out of the door as soon as he gave the hand signal to do so.

You didn't breath properly until you were a good quarter of a mile back into the forest, back on track north.

You kept up with Zach. "Do you think she heard people?"

"Her warning bark is the same for people and animals so I have no idea," he said. "It doesn't matter. In either case, we got away safe. And if it was a false alarm, somehow, well, it's not like we weren't already leaving."

"True."

You turned the book you'd carried out in your arms over and skimmed the information on the faded back cover. The book had been published in 1985, but that was alright. Plant survival books didn't tend to get outdated too often.

"What's the book about?" Zach asked you when he noticed you studying it.

You told him and he looked pleased. "Great idea bringing it. I know about a few edible plants, but probably not as many as there actually are."

"All I know is berries are usually okay, and never eat the mushrooms," you said. "Even experts used to poison themselves eating wild mushrooms sometimes. Mushrooms look too alike and the risk is too great to be worth it."

"Noted."

You took a moment to stop and slide the book into your pack before running to catch back up with Zach again. "Are you nervous about the crossing?"

"We're still probably a few days out from that," he told you, "But yeah, I've been nervous from the start. Day one. I've heard as many rumors about the Canadian border patrol as you have. Micah said they have a zero tolerance for Americans crossing over. They will try to shoot us if they see us."

He halted to face you. "Are you still okay with this plan?"

"No," you said firmly. "Of course I'm not, I never was, but if I don't go with you to Alaska, I have no future."

He nodded, understanding what you meant. Entering Canada would be dangerous, but not necessarily more dangerous than staying behind, and if you wanted any sort of peaceful living you had to risk it.

Alaska here I come.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed @love-affair-with-fandoms @morallyinept

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Series Masterlist

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#Zach Wellison #Brothers & Sisters #Zach Wellison Fanfic (Mine)#Brothers & Sisters Fanfic #X Reader #Finding Eden Series

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musings-of-a-rose · 1 year

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Since Forever

Pairing: Zach Wellison x f!reader

Word Count: 1150+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: @micheleamidalajedi something happened with your official ask so I had to redo it this way! I am so THRILLED you requested my beloved and underrated Zach!

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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Zach Wellison Masterlist

It took nearly dying while on tour for Zach to realize the one thing he would regret is not telling you how he feels about you.

As he was laying in the medic tent being stitched up, all he could think about was you. Your laugh, your smile, the way you get this sparkle in your eyes whenever you talk about something you really love.

He didn't know he was in love with you until that moment, just making it past the blast radius from a couple of handmade explosives and all he saw was you.

It makes sense though. Looking back on your life growing up together, Zach realized that he'd loved you since the moment you asked him to make mud pies for your wedding in kindergarten. He just didn't realize it until now.

He hoped he wasn't too late.

Due to his injuries, he was sent home from his tour early. He’d be fine but they didn’t want people with injuries to be in the trenches, so to speak. The moment he stepped out of the airport, he hailed a cab, immediately giving the driver your address.

Zach wipes his palms down his pant legs nervously, bouncing his leg rapidly to try and relieve some of the nerves. He’d faced giant desert spiders, starvation, dehydration, literal enemies trying to kill him, but this may be the death of him. All this waiting and the uncertainty of your answer. But he knows he has to tell you - he can’t spend another day alive without telling you.

The cab pulls up to your home and Zach hands him some cash to cover the ride and a tip, thanking him as he practically launches himself from the cab. But once he’s at your door, he freezes, hand curled into a fist to knock on the door.

What if she freaks out?

What if she doesn’t feel the same?

What if she tells me this is too weird and she never wants to see me again?

Before he can run and think more on this, the door opens and there you stand, in a tank top and little pajama shorts, looking half asleep. Shit, he’d forgotten how early it was with the time difference. She blinks and rubs her eyes, trying to focus on him.

“Zach?”

“Hey, Bean.”

She reaches out a hand, placing her palm on his chest. “It’s…you’re really here?”

“I am.”

Without hesitation, she jumps into his arms, flinging her own around his neck as she hugs him tight. He grunts in pain and he hates himself for ruining the moment for as soon as the sound left his lips, she lets go of him, dropping to the floor.

“What happened? You weren’t due back for another 4 months! Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” She palming at his fatigues, as if she were trying to see through it.

“I was hurt, yeah-”

She gasps, hands flying to her mouth. “Are you ok?”

Zach grabs her by the shoulders to stop her from freaking out. “I’m ok, Bean. I mean, I almost wasn’t but I was lucky. They sent me home because they couldn’t have any injuries outside of minor scrapes and cuts-”

“IT’S MORE THAN MINOR??” Worry fills her eyes as she rakes them over his body.

“Bean, look at me.” Her eyes find his and he smiles at her. “I’m ok, really. They stitched me up and sent me home. If I wasn’t ok, I’d still be in the med tent.”

She nods and Zach is surprised to find tears falling from her eyes. “Can…can I hug you?”

Zach pulls her in immediately, moving her around where he has stitches and holds her tight. She holds him back and he hears her sniffling into his chest, so he kisses the top of her head. They stay like that for a minute before she pulls back, wiping at her face.

“I’m s-sorry, Z-Zach. I l-left a w-wet m-mark on your cl-clothes.” She’s still coming down from the crying, her speech stuttered with sobs.

Zach cups her chin and lifts it to look at him. “Bean, it’s ok. I’m not worried about-”

Her lips press to his and he freezes, his brain trying to catch up with what was happening. She feels the same way?

But he takes too long to respond, his body frozen and she misinterprets his non response as a bad sign. She breaks the kiss and backs up a step, her arms wrapping around herself as she avoids eye contact with him.

“I-I’m sorry, Zach. I didn’t mean to fuck things up. Can we just forget about it and move on?”

Work, brain! Make words!

“No.”

Her eyes meet his briefly, filling with fresh tears that were caused by his blunt response.

“Please, Zach. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Zach shakes his head. “No, I meant I’m not forgetting the kiss.”

She sobs and takes a deep breath. “Can’t you? I don’t want to lose-”

His large hands come up to hold her face as he pulls her to him, pressing his lips to hers. His tongue gently brushes against her soft lips and she parts them, her hands coming up to fist in the fabric of his fatigues. She’s perfect and warm and here and she feels the same for him. She has to, right? She is kissing him. Or is this because he was injured overseas?

Zach pulls back, her head still in his hands as he stares into her eyes.

“Why did you kiss me?” He asks.

To his surprise, she shifts nervously, almost looking…embarrassed?

“Bean?”

“Because I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

His eyebrows raise as he takes her in, the same face he’s known practically his whole life, fully appreciating how breathtaking she was.

“But if you don’t feel the same, that’s ok. We can forget it and I’ll just get over it and-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I-what?”

Zach smiles, a little chuckle coming from his chest. “Don’t you dare forget those feelings.”

Her eyes finally find his. “Why?”

Zach makes sure she’s looking at him when he speaks. “Because I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

A smile slowly stretches across her face as she realizes what he’s said. “R-really?”

He pulls her face close to his, speaking low and quiet before kissing her. “I love you so much, Bean.”

She grips the fabric of his shirt and starts to pull him inside, Zach gently closing the door behind him with his foot, neither one of them breaking the kiss that they’d each longed for for so long.

—----

General Taglist:

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#zach wellison #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison fanfic #zach wellison fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #brothers and sisters

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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Coming Home {Zach Wellison x F!Reader}

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Mentions of homelessness, pride, anxiety

Comments: Coming back home after your business trip leads to discovering Zach feels more at home and has some surprising news for you.

**I know it's been ten thousand years since I have updated this series! I'm so sorry. Between writer's block and other things irl and fandom it was pushed aside but Zach and Reader still live in my thoughts.

A/N: Chapter 10 of A Room With a View Series

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s only been three days but you don’t know what to expect when you come home. Not that you have any worries about your apartment, more that you are hoping that you don’t find Zach a worried ball of anxiety. Halfway expecting him to be sitting on the couch if not outside the door as he waits for you.

Zach has…issues with feeling as if the apartment you share is his home as well. It worries you sometimes, the way that he clings to the notion that he has to pay his way. How determined or sensitive he is about money.

There have been times that you have thought about offering to help him find a therapist. You know he has hang ups and issues, not just from being homeless for so long but also his time in the military. Wanting him to work out his feelings and maybe focus them in a positive way. The same way you realized you needed to start seeing a therapist after your relationship with Scott. You haven’t brought it up yet, maybe after you've been home for a while.

Your bag is heavier, plenty of conference swag and you had admittedly picked up some stuff that when you saw it, you had immediately thought of Zach. Especially the tool kit that had been monogrammed with your company’s logo on it. They would put their name on anything and everything. Extra t-shirts and a very lovely appointment book. Hopefully he would use those things for the handyman venture you hope he starts.

Your keys are in your hand, the relief of just seeing your apartment door almost palpable. Relieved that you don’t see Zach sitting on the floor outside, you smell a delicious waft of food coming from one of the units that makes your mouth water. The airport food is never an option unless you are desperate and you hadn’t been that hungry when you were waiting on your connecting flight. Now, smelling that - you’re famished.

The second you get your key in the door, the knob twists and flings open. “Hey! You’re home!” Zach’s grin is wide and instantly yours matches.

You are instantly swept up in a hug that takes you by surprise, both at the ferocity of the hug and the excitement that had been in his voice when he had greeted you. It makes your stomach twist in the best way and your own arms easily hug him tight. “I’m home.” You agree, realizing that the smells that made you drool are coming from your apartment. “Oh god, you’re cooking.” You moan slightly.

Zach pulls away, smiling at you sheepishly, cheeks noticeably ruddier than they were when he opened the door. “I was hoping you would be home soon.” He admits, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck before he seemingly remembers himself and practically jumps forward to take the bag that had been abandoned in your greeting. “So I was making lasagna. Homemade, not the boxed stuff.”

Suitably impressed, you tilt your head and give him a grateful smile. “I am starving and my mouth started watering when I got off the elevator.” You promise him, seeing the table already set and you smile at the sight of wine glasses set out with a bottle of your favorite. Odd, you swear you had drunk the last bottle with him before you had left.

Zach hums happily and there’s a bounce to his stance while he drags your bag down the hall towards your bedroom. “Good, I’ve spent all day on it.” He reports over his shoulder as you trail along uselessly behind him. Desperate to get out of the ‘professional’ attire and into something along the same speed as what Zach is wearing, jeans and a t-shirt. Although you want to wear leggings.

“It smells like it.” Of course the house is clean, you expected nothing else from him. Almost obsessive in making sure everything is in its place, you wonder if it’s a tic from the years of homelessness or the military. Perhaps a mixture of both. “I can’t wait to try it.”

“I know you’re gonna be mad…”

Your stomach sinks and the icy dread of incoming bad news floods through your body. When Scott would always try to play something off he would say those words. Normally followed up by ‘you’re being dramatic’ or ‘it’s not a big deal’. You tense slightly and try to plaster a smile on your face.

When Zach stops, setting the bag near your closet door, he must see the dread that you haven’t managed to cover up quite yet. “What’s wrong? What did I do?” He asks, shoulders starting to creep up as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I- no, nothing.” You shake your head and wave off his concern as you toss your bag on the bed and turn back to him. “What am I going to be mad about?”

“Oh, uh-“ Zach looks sheepish and you wonder if something broke while you were gone. No, Zach would be in full panic mode trying to explain if that were the case. “I bought dinner tonight for us using the money that I’ve been paid.” He explains quickly, making the shoulders that are starting to pull up around your own ears slowly lower.

It’s almost on the tip of your tongue to protest, to tell him that he should have saved the money for himself but the gleam in his eyes makes you stop short. Pride. Not the battered chip on his shoulder that he had held onto for so long that would make him slap away any friendly helping hand. This is the pride of accomplishment. The pride that he has provided something for you and himself.

Instead of protesting, your face blooms into a wide smile, knowing how proud he is of the fact that he has bought the ingredients to make this meal from money that he’s earned. It’s a step towards regaining lost and trampled on confidence. “Then I’m glad my flight didn’t get delayed.” You hum, reaching out and touching his shoulder. “Let me get out of these work clothes and maybe we can drink some of that wine I saw out?”

God, you love that slow, wide grin. The happiness that is practically shining on his face as he nods quickly, almost hopping back and whirling around as he reaches for the door knob. “I’ll get it open!” He promises as he closes the door behind him.

You wonder what happened while you were gone, what caused this seismic shift in his attitude. Was it really just the pay from the handyman work that was putting this pep in his step? Or had something else happened to make him glow like a neon light? Those are the things you ponder on while you change out of the stiff clothes meant for a business meeting and exchange them for worn soft leggings and a t-shirt. Keeping your feet bare so you can wiggle your toes, you trot down the hall feeling relaxed and excited for the meal but mostly the company.

The trip had been good for you, allowing you to come to a conclusion you had been avoiding for a while. You are interested in Zach. Not in a roommate kind of way, but because you were surrounded by charming, socially engaging men at the conference - and all you wanted to do was curl up on your couch with Zach. At first, you thought it was because one of them reminded you of Scott, but then the thought quickly fled when you realized you were bored.

They bored you. Egotistical and self-centered, they wanted to talk about themselves. How their 401ks were doing or how the latest trending stock was going to make them a killing come the next opening bell. They didn’t listen, they didn’t ask questions. They ran their mouths for hours without saying anything of substance.

You had almost sent Zach a text over a dozen times, but ended up closing out the messages. Not wanting him to think that you were worried about him being alone at the apartment or checking up on him. He wouldn’t have believed you if you had told him the truth. You would rather talk to him about the weather than you would the men who had come up to you to chat and network.

Zach is hustling around the kitchen as you walk out, making you smile again at how happy he looks. You idly wonder how much he was paid, but you won’t ask, never wanting him to think that you are worried about him suddenly starting to pay for expenses and feel pressured. You’ve come to know and anticipate how he’s going to react and it hadn’t escaped your attention that the hundred dollars was still sitting in the entryway bowl where you had left it. You had honestly anticipated it, but it made you feel better to leave him with an emergency slush fund.

“Let me pour that wine for you.” Zach slaps a dish rag over his shoulder and moves over to the wine where he had obviously uncorked it, letting it breath for a few minutes before he picks up one of the glasses and starts to pour. It’s not an expensive bottle, the brand you drink isn’t pretentious but it is delicious, and it’s going to be even sweeter because you know how much thought he has put into this.

“Thank you.” His own glass comes next, carefully poured a little lighter than yours. It’s something that you notice him doing on things you love. He will let you have more, a touching gesture for someone who is rebuilding what he has. A glimpse at how thoughtful Zach Wellison can be. When the bottle is back on the counter, you lift your glass slightly. “To making it home from that conference.” You joke.

Zach chuckles, a warm and soft thing that makes your entire body seem to respond. To melt like wax in a warmer and you want to hear just that pitch of joy from him every single day. “To me remembering what wine you like.” So you had finished the last bottle. Your lips pull wide as you tap the rim of your glass with his and take a sip of the deliciously tart wine.

It doesn’t take long for the oven time to go off, making him hurriedly put down his glass and go into what you secretly called ‘server’ mode. He had to have worked in a restaurant at least in high school from the way he moves around a kitchen, or maybe it’s just the flair from moving in a space he was coming to believe is his own. Either way, you are shooed towards the table with a disappointed look from him. Like he is disappointed you offer to help, but you take the hint that this is a night where he wants to cater to you.

Crusty garlic bread is warm, obviously not the frozen stuff but you wouldn’t complain if it was. Soon a heaping square of lasagna is dished up in front of you and Zach is also sitting, his eyes roaming over the table excitedly, making sure that he’s forgotten nothing and it’s instinct to reach for his hand. “Everything looks wonderful.” You gush, making his neck flush slightly, although he doesn’t duck his head down. Instead, he squeezes your fingers and beams.

“Dig in.” He lets go of your hand and picks up his fork. “It’s a recipe that I found that seemed like it was going to be good.”

It is. Your moan and rolling of your eyes isn’t just for show. The happy little squiggle in your seat, something that Zach teasingly calls your ‘happy dance’ comes out and you notice that he is watching your reaction. His eyes seemingly softer and his entire aura proud as you dig into the meal.

“So-” when you finally can speak without your mouth being full of decadent pasta, cheese and sauce, you look over at him again. “Have fun while I was gone?”

Zach chews his own bite and swallows, rolling his head around his shoulders for a moment before he answers. “Yes and no.” He admits, frowning slightly. “Scott dropped by. But before you get upset-” he rushes out when your face drops. “He left and I don’t think he’s going to come back. He was drunk.”

You should have known. The heavy knot that had suddenly dropped into your stomach slowly unravels. Obviously it hadn’t been a confrontation, otherwise you know Zach would have called or texted immediately. Still, it makes your eyes flicker towards the door uneasily. “Okaaaaay.”

“I’ve been thinking about it.” Zach continues on. “Want to change the locks on the door. Or rekey them. He was beating on it when I got home, but it never hurts.”

You probably should have done that when Scott left, but you had felt safe with Zach here. Instantly, you nod. “Absolutely. Yes. Tomorrow.”

Zach nods, probably anticipating that being your answer and he looks happy about it. That makes you relax even more, knowing that you will have a new lock, new keys - things that Scott couldn’t have made copies of. “So, you know how you told me that if I needed anything, you would help me?”

That has your attention. Your eyes find his again and you don’t see anything but hope and maybe anticipation. “Of course.” You smile. “Anything.”

“Will you help me design some business cards?” Zach asks, shrugging slightly. “I’ve been thinking about checking out the pricing of some tools from the pawn shops. Adding to what you are letting me use. If you don’t mind.”

You want to roll your eyes at how ridiculous that comment is coming out of his mouth, but you don’t. You refuse to belittle the insecurities that he still holds on to, or pop up. It’s not healthy and you understand trauma response more than you wished you did, so instead of reacting negatively, you bobble your head. “Absolutely! That’s a great idea.”

There must have been some slight anticipation of rejection on his part because his sigh is audible and he slumps back in his seat with a grin. “Yeah? Great! I’m just- Mr. B on the 2nd floor wants to install a garbage disposal, his apparently quit last year and the Clarks just told me that they have a couple of things for me if I have time and I don’t want to have to run to the store every time I’m working on a new project.”

You sit back and listen to him plan, ramble really and the utter sense of joy that seems to be filling him as he plots makes you grin. “Yes. All of it, yes.” You agree when he finally comes up for air and you swear that you are about to cry. “Why don’t we work on the business cards tonight?” You offer, making him shake his head.

“You just came home.” He argues. “You should just sit on the couch tonight. We can worry about it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow then.” Agreeing quickly, you wonder if Zach realizes the changes that have occurred while you’ve been gone. When he first moved in, he would have been insisting on getting the ball rolling right away. Afraid of taking advantage or overstepping somehow. Coming home, you’ve found that Zach has a new frame of mind and somehow that makes him even sexier than before.

#pedro pascal #zach wellison #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x f!reader #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison imagine #zach wellison fanfic #zach wellison fic #zach wellison brothers & sisters #a room with a view series

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nicolethered · 11 months

Text

Pedro as Zach Wellison on Brothers & Sisters (2011)

#pedro pascal #zach wellison #brothers & sisters

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wardenparker · 1 year

Text

A Second Chance at Life

Part 3 of A Second Chance at Love

Jack Daniels x female reader Zach Wellison x female OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 22.7k Warnings: Mentions of: homelessness, hunger, discrimination, human trafficking, past military service, classicism. Cursing, alcohol/food, awkward flirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, just a touch of a praise kink. Summary: Junior returns to Statesman after a mission with a civilian in tow. Ready to go to bat to Ginger to get Zach a place as a Statesman agent, it shouldn’t be surprising that the whole Daniels family is ready to adopt the young man as well. Especially Jack and his beloved wife’s youngest and most mischievous daughter. ✨This piece can absolutely be read as a stand alone!✨ Notes: Set 23 years after the original ‘A Second Chance at Love’, this part 3 is a celebration of TWO YEARS worth of writing collaborations between myself and absurdthirst. Keri is a divine angel of inspiration and a true friend and I truly don’t know what I would do without her. Thank you for being there through thick, thin, and everything in between. I would not be who I am without the friendship and support you’ve shown me over the last two years. 🧡🧡

Part 1 ~ Part 2

"Jack!" When the alert on your watch goes off letting you know that the Statesman jet is about to touch down, you fully abandon the tray of chips, dips, and appetizers that you were putting together on the kitchen counter and go to poke your head out onto the back deck where Jack is sitting with a glass of Statesman Reserve and a book. "Put the burgers on the grill, honey. I'm going to go pick up Junior from the jet and Janey should be over with the other kids soon."

Anytime Junior comes home from a mission, it's cause for celebration. The whole family descends on the big ranch house and a mountain of cheeseburgers gets demolished to welcome him back again. Your twin girls are grown now, beautiful young women in their own right who dote on and challenge their brother in equal measure, and Junior and Janey's three kids are finding their own footing in the world. The family you thought you had lost for such a long time has materialized around you and become something worthy of gratitude, and you have never taken a day for granted.

Retirement has its own set of challenges, just like getting old does. Groaning, his joints protest slightly as he sets the book down and rocks himself forward to push up out of the chair. “Yes ma’am.” He grunts, tossing you a craggy grin that isn’t quite as lecherous as it might have been about ten years before, but Jack Daniels is still a man who is besotted with his wife. “As long as you give me a kiss before you go.”

"Well, of course," you roll your eyes at him like he's crazy for even asking, but Jack hasn't taken a day for granted either. He still makes sure to show and tell you just how much he loves you every single day. Stepping out onto the deck, you wrap him up in a hug and inhale the familiar scent of his cologne with a grin before tipping your head back to kiss him. You move a little faster than he does these days but it's only because you've done a bit less damage to your body over the years – party planning not having been nearly as physical a job as being a secret agent. "I love you, sweetheart."

“I love you too, darlin’.” Jack promises, the kiss more tender than passionate, but the bone deep resignation of love carries through the simple gesture. “I’m throwin’ some extras on since the grandkids seem to be eatin’ everything in sight.”

“Tucker is trying to bulk up for senior year.” The way it makes you grin is the picture of grandmotherly indulgence. Your youngest grandchild - Junior and Janey’s younger son Tucker - had taken after his older brother in every way. Miles started playing football in middle school, so Tucker did also. Of course, now Miles is working on his medical degree and Tucker is about to start his senior year of high school. Time flies.

“Sounds like Tucker.” Jack shakes his head and pats your ass as you turn, pulling out of his arms. “I’ll even throw on a few of those veggie burgers on the grill for Sam.”

“I put two on a separate tray, and her vegan cheese.” Though the twins were born barely two minutes apart and have been basically inseparable their whole lives, Sam and Riley have grown into very individual women. Sam has joined the front of the Statesman Operation as a distiller, and recently jumped from simple vegetarianism into veganism in solidarity with her wife. So far the hardest transitions for her are actually for her family, and not for her at all. “You’re a good father, Jack. You know that.”

“Try to be.” Jack grins, thinking about the three children that he is damned proud to be called their father. “Never thought I’d ever be able to say that a few years ago.” He reminds you. “Gotta prove myself, to myself.”

“You’re a damn good daddy and a damn good granddaddy, too.” You pause for one more kiss to his cheek before pulling away again. “I gotta go get Junior. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”

Jack chuckles and nods. “I won’t. You just now got it decorated the way you like it.” You are always redecorating or changing something and he loves it.

“It only took me twenty-three years.” Tossing him a cheeky grin, you head for the front door and grab your purse to go pick Junior up from the airstrip.

He knows why. For a long time, you still expected a knock to come. A phone call to tear you away from the life you had with him. Changing things up meant you could focus on a goal, a reminder you were still here. Jack hums, turning on the speakers and playing some music as he fires up the grill and moseys into the house to get the burgers.

******

“We should be on the ground in five minutes.” Junior checks his watch, forcing himself to stop pacing and down the rest of his drink so he can sit for the jet’s descent. He hasn’t technically broken any rules, having gotten the all-clear from Ginger Ale to go ahead and bring a civilian back to Statesman, but the knot in his stomach says that not everyone is going to like it. This man, though? This man saved his life. With astonishing skill, no less, and then turned out to be a military veteran with nowhere to turn. Jack Daniels Jr. has made plenty of sacrifices for his work or for his family, but he has never left someone helpless when he could be their helping hand. His mother taught him better than that.

Zach looks up at the man who has insisted that he come back with him to Kentucky, of all places. He can tell that he’s nervous. “Look, I can just— leave.” Zach offers, drying his hands on his borrowed jeans and shrugging. The streets of Kentucky can’t be too different from where he was. “You already bought me dinner.” All for picking up a weapon and pulling a trigger. It had been instinct. Seeing someone running through the park that was being chase by a group of armed men, he had leapt into action when one of the rifles had been dropped. Picking it up, aiming and pulling the trigger without a second thought.

"No, no, no." The Statesman agent shakes his head, telling himself to relax as he sits down across from the ex-Marine. His knee pops a little but that's a small complaint for a man old enough to have a grown daughter. "The thing is, Zach," he glances at the younger man from under his Stetson. "You've got faster reflexes than most - maybe all - of the recruits I've seen over the years. You said what you did was instinct, but those are some damn impressive instincts."

Zach snorts and shakes his head. “Preservation of self of what the psychologist told me.” Not that he had a lot of help after he got back stateside. Once he had his discharge papers it was ‘good luck and don’t let the door hit you’.

"It takes a strong character to still have a sense of self and not dissolve into apathy during hard times." He had come close to it himself, as a teenager in Witness Protection, but he had been lucky enough to have his mother to think about when he couldn't see to taking care of himself. Junior shifts in his seat, rubbing his palms together and looking straight ahead at the young man in front of him. "I'd like to offer you a job. Not one specific one, but Statesman is a big operation and there are a lot of different opportunities for someone like you." Does he have one specific job in mind? Of course. But being an agent isn't for everyone, and more than anything he just wants to help this man who saved his life.

“Why?” Zach’s suspicions are caused by the nearly three years he’s spent on the streets. Almost thirty years old and the only thing to his name is what is in his pack. Since leaving the military, not one damn person has offered him anything more than platitudes. “You don’t owe me anything.”

"I owe you my life," Junior tells him honestly. "But I'm afraid that would be a pretty shitty life to hand to you, all things considered. And my mama taught me not to give used gifts." He shrugs slightly, feeling the jet start to descend. "Military vets get dealt a raw fucking, deal, Zach. Pardon my language. You deserve to have a life you can be proud of."

Zach clenches his jaw, not answering that. It was true and it stung. He had gotten a raw deal, but he also knows that he’s too damn proud for charity. “You never told me what the hell got you into that situation.”

"My work." He has to stay intentionally vague until he can bring Zach to meet Ginger, and he knows that won't happen until after dinner. Dinner is mandatory. Even with nearly half his life spent in Kentucky with his father, he still never misses a family meal for anything short of a mission. "The man you shot would absolutely have tried to kill me if he'd gotten a hand on me. Unfortunately not the first time a man's tried that, but that's the life I chose."

The other man can’t help but snort at that. “Well, it looks like you get paid better than the military.” He says, looking around the sleek jet. “Swear I’ve heard of Statesman before.”

"Definitely get paid better than the military." Junior chuckles at that, topping his hat back. "Statesman is whiskey. Best sour mash in the world, bar none." It's so much more than that, but he can save that tidbit of information for later.

“And whiskey equals guns….” it’s not a question, because Zach feels like Jack won’t answer it. But something else is going on. “I’m not being kidnapped and forced to have genetic testing performed on me, am I?”

The specificity of the question is what makes Junior bust out laughing, and he shakes his head while he waves off the younger man's concern. "No, but my son is pre-med so if you start hearing a lot of gruesome talk out of him it's just academic curiosity, not a threat."

“Wow.” There’s an undercurrent of bitterness there that can’t be hidden, but it’s not directed towards Jack or his son. It’s more a shot at his own life choices that have obviously turned out so well. “You don’t look old enough to have a kid pre-med.”

"I appreciate that." Never one to deny being proud of his family, Junior straightens his back a little and unconsciously flexes the hand that bears his wedding ring. "Wife and I were young when we got married. Miles is actually the middle child." Like any proud father, he is immediately digging into his pocket for his wallet to show off pictures of his kids. Having gotten the all-clear to bring Zach back to Louisville, he knows that the young vet is going to meet his family anyway. No harm in showing him a photo a few minutes in advance. "There. That's my wife Janey, our oldest Becca, and the two boys are Miles and Tucker."

“You have a beautiful family.” Zach sincerely means that, a little envious at the happy family in the picture. He had always imagined that kind of life for himself, it had just never worked out.

"It isn't always easy, but hard work is worth it." He sits back again and slides his wallet into the pocket of his jacket. "Listen. I don't intend to force anything on you, or to tie you up into something that you're not happy with. That's not the point here." Loyalty at Statesman was earned through respect and hard work, not kidnapping. Although ironically there sometimes was a bit of light relocating involved - like with this flight. "If there isn't a job at Statesman that you think you can be happy with, then you go ahead and say so. I'll have this jet bring you wherever in the world you want to be dropped off and you can pretend you never met me or even heard of Louisville, Kentucky. Just give it a week to decide. Is that a deal?"

Zach looks around the plane again, aware that the shower he had taken an hour earlier was first hot shower he’s had in peace in a long time. The few times he could get a bed at the local shelter, the water was cold and he had worried about people stealing his meager belongings. “Doesn’t look like I have anywhere else to be.” Zach chuckles, lifting the glass of whiskey he hadn’t touched before to his lips. Humming at the taste. “And this is good.”

When the jet touches down a few minutes later, the flight attendants have little to do but bid their passengers a good day and go about tidying up. Junior leads the way, chuckling softly to himself when he steps out onto the mobile stairs and sees the familiar black pickup truck waiting for him. The Bronco died years ago, but that has never stopped his father from having a truck. "Looks like our ride is here," he tells Zach, pointing down to the tarmac just as you pop out of the front seat to wave.

Zach frowns slightly, shuffling his bag over his shoulder and hums. “That’s your mom?” He asks, surprised because you certainly don’t look old enough to be his mother. But he has just seen a picture of Jack’s wife.

"My parents were high school sweethearts. I guess young love sort of runs in the family." With a hearty slap on the shoulder, Junior leads Zach down the stairs toward the truck and quickly shoots a text off to Ginger letting her know that they've landed and will be in to see her as soon as she wants.

"I only asked for a postcard from LA, Junior." Your instinct is to tease a little, knowing that whatever might have caused your son to bring home a civilian and not immediately sweep them off to Ginger's office to be debriefed must be quite a story. Keeping things lighthearted until you know more details is really all you can do considering the classified nature of Junior's work as Agent Absinthe. "Looks like you brought home a friend instead?"

“Mom, this is Zach Wellison.” Junior rests his hand on the other man’s shoulder, feeling the way it rounds slightly in self-consciousness, even though he is wearing a clean set of clothes from Junior’s own bag, with the promise that his own clothes would be cleaned as soon as possible. He introduces Zach to you, telling him your name. “Zach pulled my ass out of the fire, and I decided he would be a damn good fit at Statesman.”

"Well that's a hell of a compliment." The polite thing would be to offer him a handshake, but hearing that this man saved your son's life has you offering him a grateful hug instead – the instinct of a mother still very attached to her son after going through so much together. "Are you hungry, Zach? We've got burgers on the grill at home and all kinds of things to go with them. Family dinner always includes a brave man."

“I don’t want to impose.” The snacks on the plane hadn’t been touched but there’s no mistaking the grumble of his stomach when you mention burgers. It’s been a few days since he’s had a proper meal.

"It's not an imposition at all. I insist." You urge them toward the truck, which has more than enough room for the three of you, and smile when your son tosses his bag in the back without hesitation. "Junior, text your sisters and let them know you're back? I swear getting Sam away from the stills is like pulling teeth these days and your father is making her veggie burgers without a fuss tonight."

“Damn. Junior whistles, sounding impressed. He waggles his brows. “That’s something akin to a miracle.” He tosses Zach a grin. “Dad is a ‘meat is king’ kinda guy. And grillin’ is his specialty. Making veggies burgers hurts his soul.”

The three of you climb into the truck and head for home. It's a short drive with the ranch being just outside of Statesman property, but it's enough for you to note that the civilian your son has brought home with fairly quiet but highly alert. He seems to notice everything but only takes it in without comment. You chat about light things for a little while before refocusing your attention on your visitor. "Are you from California originally, Zach?"

“Yes ma’am.” Zach answers quietly, finding the lush green hills in the background very tranquil. “Sacramento area originally.”

The ma'am catches your attention and you glance over at your son while you drive. "Sacramento's Army and Air Force country, isn't it?" You ask, though you know your casual tone doesn't erase the point of the question.

“I was a Marine.” He snorts, smirking slightly before he remembers there’s nothing to actually be proud about anymore. “Went against tradition.”

"Junior's father was a Navy pilot. Seems like every branch has its ups and downs, but we honour service in our family. Thank you for yours." Though you get the sense from his reaction that he might not be too glad about the decision in hindsight, you would just consider his sacrifices all the more worth recognizing because of it. "How long have you been stateside, if you don't mind my asking?"

“Three years, five months and six days.” Zach supplies easily, having kept up with the time since he had been discharged eight months after he had come back from his final deployment. “Ma’am.”

"Well, you'll still find plenty of 'sir' and 'ma'am' around here and plenty of folks following orders, but Statesman is a lot more laid back than service, thank goodness. And the food is infinitely better."

"Does that mean you made cobbler?" Junior asks, sitting up in his seat like he's suddenly twelve again as he looks over at Zach. "She makes a blueberry and peach cobbler that I swear must have magic in it."

The compliment is sweet, if a little overblown, but you nod as you drive. "I made it with vegan butter for your sister, but don't tell anybody until they start eating it. I want to see if anyone notices."

“You know dad will taste the difference.” Junior laughs and shakes his head. “He swears he can taste the chemicals.”

"He swears up and down," you agree to that, but the smile on your face turns sly. "But I made shrimp and grits last night with vegan butter and oat milk and he had seconds."

Junior grins and looks back at Zach. “My younger sister’s wife is vegan and she just went down the rabbit hole with her. Hence the recipe changes.”

"We just want to make sure Vanessa and Sam are always able to eat with family." Not to mention that your whole family adores Vanessa and were glad to welcome her into the family. Having Sam marry so early was only a minimal surprise. After all, like Junior had told Zach earlier, young love runs in your family.

“You said you had two sisters. Twins?” He asks, wanting to keep everyone straight. “So you have three kids and three grandchildren?” That question is directed towards you.

"Exactly right." Directing the car off the highway toward the ranch, you nod to your son's guest and smile. "We had Junior right after we were married, and his sisters quite a while later. Sam and Riley are around the same age as our grandkids - that's Junior and Janey's three. Actually, the twins and their niece Becca were all born the same year."

Eyes widening in surprise, Zach absorbs the idea that the younger sisters of Junior are younger than he is. “Wow.”

"It's unconventional." You can admit that readily, and you love your big family full of very different and very strong personalities. "But it works for us." In the distance, the top of the ranch house comes into view and you point it out on the tree line. "There's the ranch. We'll be home in no time."

The house is big, and gorgeous. He’s awestruck by the larger house, then the slightly smaller one just a few hundred feet away. “Is it a working ranch?” Zach asks, seeing horses out in pastures. All of this speaks of a lot of money.

"Small, but yes." It makes you shake your head as you turn down the long road that is your driveway. "My husband decided he wanted to retire from his main career on the early side and amp up the ranch work. There's a bit of breeding and sale, but we also have a stable for show horses and teachers that give lessons."

“What did your husband do? After he got out of the Navy?”

Your eyes tick quickly up to the rear-view mirror to see your son subtly shake his head. A civilian answer, then. “He worked for Statesman.” You tell Zach. “From security guard all the way up to CEO.”

“CEO?” No wonder they have a ranch. “That’s impressive.” There’s more that’s not being said, but it’s not his place to ask.

“Things were hard for us in the beginning, so we make sure that we never turn anyone away.” Which is, you suspect, why Zach is here with Junior. The former military man is wearing your son’s clothes, after all. That is a fairly large clue.

Zach’s mouth snaps shut, shame and the anger from that shame nearly making him ask you to stop the truck. He doesn’t want pity and he’ll be damned if he has anyone look down on him for his circumstances.

There are a half dozen cars in the driveway by the main house when you park the truck, all telling you that you’re the last to arrive. A group of three is passing a frisbee in the yard and music is pouring out of hidden speakers, but the real commotion is out in the back deck where your kids and grandkids are digging into appetizers like there’s no tomorrow and the twins are in the middle of a hot debate with their father at the grill. This is as much a family party as it is any regular Sunday - it just so happens that your Sundays usually turn into parties when everybody is able to show up.

Zach climbs out of the pickup, hanging back as if he is hesitant to get near. This is obviously a family function and he doesn’t belong here.

“Come on,” Junior doesn’t let him shrink away, one hand patting his shoulder but not pushing. “There’s always at least a couple of friends at these things.” To prove his point, he directs Zach’s attention to the frisbee players. “That’s my oldest and my youngest. But the third kid is somebody my youngest knows from school. Couldn’t tell you the kid’s name if I tried, but he comes around sometimes. And playing with the dog? That’s one of the guys my wife and daughter work with. I promise I didn’t bring you into the middle of something I thought would be awkward.”

“I don’t know.” Zach huffs. “I don’t want to intrude. Just— point me towards Statesman and I’ll walk and tour the grounds.” He smirks sardonically. “I’m an outdoors specialist after all.”

“We’ll go after dinner,” Junior promises, fully ignoring the joke made at Zach’s own expense. “You want a drink? I don’t know what else is here but there’s always cold beer and good whiskey.”

It’s been so damn long since Zach’s had a cold beer in a relaxed atmosphere. He nearly drools at the thought. “Yeah— I guess a beer will be alright.” He concedes. “Just one.”

“Sure thing.” Leading Zach through the yard behind you, Junior stops to say hi to Janey and the frisbee players, introducing Zach as he goes. There are handshakes and greetings and hugs all around, and you make it up on to the porch to say hello to your girls before they make it halfway through the yard.

“Jay brought home a civilian?” Sam asks quietly, sipping her whiskey as she watches them closely. The girls had long-since picked up on Janey’s nickname for their brother and liked it better than calling him Jack or Junior.

“Yes he did,” you nod and turn to hug Riley next. “And I haven’t gotten the whole story yet, so be nice.”

“We’re always nice, Mom.” Riley contends, although there is a smirk in the corner of her mouth when she says it.

Sam snorts. “Yeah? Since when?” Riley is older by two minutes and she never misses an opportunity to remind Sam of that fact. “Where you nice when you told that old breeder to go choke on a horse co—”

“Okaaaaaaaay.” Riley interrupts, rolling her eyes. “Sometimes I’m nice.” She huffs dramatically. “But that old bastard deserved that.” She contends.

That earns a laugh from you and Jack, who both disliked that particular breeder despite his good work. It was a blessing to be rid of him. “Here,” you hum, handing off two bottles of beer from the cooler to your younger daughter. “Go say hi to your brother.” “Yes ma’am,” she chuckles, accepting the bottles and grabbing the magnetic bottle opener from the side of the grill. “Jaaaaay!” She calls out, trotting down the steps with drinks in hand. "I've got beeeer!"

Turning automatically to the sound of someone shouting, at first Zach is anticipating anger. Until he catches the face of the woman practically racing for him and Junior— not Jack like he had introduced himself as after the firefight. His heart leaps up into his throat and he swears he nearly stops breathing, she’s so pretty and carefree.

"Thanks, Ri." Junior takes both bottles and offers one to Zach, not missing the slightly dumbstruck look on his new acquaintance's face at all. "Riley, this is my new friend Zach." He nods to his sister, miraculously without smirking. "Zach, Riley is the younger of the twins. My baby sister."

"Nice to meet you, Zach." She offers the new arrival her hand brightly, cheery vibrancy making a good cover for how hard her heart starts pounding when he looks up and meets her eyes. His irises are the colour of freshly brewed coffee and his jaw looks like it was cut by a Grecian master sculptor, making Riley practically gulp down a breath. "I—um—it's...I mean...welcome."

“Hi.” Zach takes the beer up to his lips to hide the small smile that Riley managed to bring out. “So your ‘Jay’s’ sister?” He asks before he turns towards the other man. “How many damn names do you have?”

"Three." He shrugs, except the answer is actually four. Agent Absinthe isn't exactly a nickname so much as a title and it's not one used outside of work. "Jack Daniels Junior gives two out of the three. My wife and sisters call me Jay."

“I see.” Zach raises a brow, nodding at the obvious. “So I’m guessing that your father is Jack Senior?”

"Found where all fathers can be found," Riley smirks and points up at the deck where the grill is the center of all activity. "At the grill. But if you guys want any of the salsa or guac that Mom made you better get in there. Tucker brought a friend and teenage boys are bottomless pits."

As much as Zach’s stomach rumbles at the thought of fresh salsa and guacamole, he nods politely and sips his beer. “Thanks.”

"You guys make friends, I'll be right back." Junior glances between his sister and his potential recruit with a twinkle of amusement before he nods and makes off in the direction of the deck.

Shuffling slightly, Zach glances her way, struck again by how pretty she is before he reminds himself there is no way this woman would be interested in him. “So did you grow up here?” He asks, rolling his eyes as soon as it comes out of his mouth. What a dumb fucking question.

Riley catches the way he rolls his eyes at himself and grins, smothering a very uncharacteristic giggle. "That's my room in the top floor corner." She points, indicating the set of windows with linen-colored curtains in it. "Kentucky born and raised, unlike my brother. But my guess is you're not from around here? Since you came home on the jet with Jay, I mean." For some reason the ability to form an original or interesting question has escaped her, but that's probably from the man beside her.

“California.” Zach bobbles his head, glancing up at the window, wondering if it was a nice view out of the window. It must have been to grow up in a place like this.

"I've never been." And why that makes her dig the toe of her boot into the grass is completely beyond her. "It looks pretty in the movies, though. For whatever that's worth, she's definitely not at the top of her game tonight.

“Don’t bother.” Zach huffs. “It might be nice to visit some areas.”

"Not a big fan of California, got it." She nods and shoves one hand into the pocket of her jeans while she takes a sip of her beer. "Well...maybe you'll like Kentucky better?"

“Sorry.” His shoulders roll back, aware he’s sounding like a complete asshole. “The last few years haven’t been the best, so I guess I’m bitter.” That’s putting it mildly, but she wants small talk, not a pity party.

"I'm sorry to hear that." It pulls her attention, though, bringing her eyes up from her toes to find his. "I know we just met, but if you need to vent or whatever..." she shrugs, hearing exactly how strong she's coming on, but there's no chance he would ever be interested in her. It's just being friendly to someone that her older brother brought back from a mission. And it's not like that had happened more than one other time ever.

“You don’t want to hear about it.” Zach huffs. “But thanks. It’s a nice thought.” In what way could this beautiful, rich girl ever commiserate with him? He shrugs. “Junior said to come to Kentucky, and I had nothing better to do. Might not work out. Rarely does.”

"I hate to admit it, but my brother is rarely wrong," she admits, sipping her beer again. "When he has an instinct about a person he's right about ninety-five percent of the time." He had certainly been right about the last guy she'd brought home to meet the family, a fact which stings a little and makes her frown instinctively before she quickly recovers. "Well...come on, Zach from California. Nothing helps smooth over meeting new people like alcohol and food, and we can make both of those things happen."

He hadn’t been going to approach the food by himself, so being dragged over helps. You are standing next to an older version of Jack, so much so that Zach has to blink. Hanging on to his arm and laughing like the picture-perfect family. “You know, being from Kentucky, you don’t have an accent.”

"Yeah, it, uh...it turns out that if you go to a college in New York City to be an engineer and you're a cowboy boot wearing Southern girl with a country accent, nobody takes you seriously." The way Riley rolls her eyes is an obvious cover for a deeper hurt, but she taps her boots on the stairs as they walk up to the food. "I phased it out pretty quickly during freshman year. Not that it eliminated the problem of people assuming girls can't do math, but at least it lessoned the jokes a little."

“Shit. Girls are a shit ton smarter than guys.” Zach snorts then shakes his head. “Sorry about the language.”

"Please, I'm not delicate. Swear all you want." As if to prove it, she scoops up a chip full of guacamole and crunches down with a happy moan of contentment.

An innocent moan over a chip and guac shouldn’t make him think pornographic thoughts. He shouldn’t be thinking about what he could do that would make her make that sound, but it does. He’s lucky that he wasn’t drinking, otherwise he would have choked to death on beer. His cock twitches in extreme interest and he swallows harshly.

“Seriously, try some,” Riley urges. It’s not like she’s oblivious, but she also doesn’t fully process that the hungry look on Zach’s face is more about her and less about the food.

“O-okay.” Zach moves over to grab a chip, anything to take his mind off the way she sounded.

It doesn’t help that she reaches for another chip at the same time, unleashing the sound all over again right before Zach takes a bite. If she had had any idea of how drastic his reaction was, though? Well…she probably would have closed her eyes and tilted her head back just to give him a good visual along with the sound. Zach chokes on the chip, coughing and sputtering as the damn corn chip threatens to go down the wrong pipe. Making him slap himself on the chest as his eyes water and he coughs.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Riley doesn’t really have a panic button but she cringes internally at his reaction and gives his back a gentle rub after he stops coughing. “No dying on us, okay? Miles is only pre-med, he’s not prepared to save lives just yet.”

“S-sorry.” He manages, coughing again one last time and taking a hasty sip of his beer. “Got caught in my throat.”

“Maybe pointy foods aren’t prime for you,” she jokes, more teasing herself with realizing exactly how broad Zach’s shoulders are than him over the chip thing.

“Maybe.” He can’t help but chuckle, even though he is kicking himself over the faux pas. His shoulder tingles where her hand is resting, making him feel like he’s being shocked.

“Better now?” Resisting the urge to offer him mouth to mouth if he should ever need it, Riley clears her throat as little and grins. “That’s alright. Swallowing is hard,” she teases, managing to continue to look completely innocent.

Zach blows out a breathe, the scandalous comment about what she can swallow on the tip of his tongue but he can’t say that. Surprised that he’s even thinking it. It’s been a long goddamn time since he’s really thought about sex beyond some distant memory.

“Cat got your tongue?” Her eyebrow ticks up in curiosity.

“Apparently.” Zach grunts, rolling his eyes at himself again. “Just, trying to breathe without incident.”

“Right. Sorry.” Riley sags a little against the porch railing, feeling embarrassed. Just because she’s all hot and bothered over him doesn’t mean he is over her – and she has to remember that, since it seems like she’s the only member of the Daniels family born without the flirting gene.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Zach frowns slightly, not liking the way that she seemingly deflates in front of him. “How embarrassing would it be to survive war zones and die by a chip? I could never show my face in hell.”

“War zones?” That seems to perk her ears up, and her head tilts slightly. Curiosity is certainly one thing the Daniels kids have in spades. “You’re a vet?”

“Yeah.” Does everyone in this family like military? “Marines. Or used to be.”

“I almost went Navy,” she admits with her signature shrug. “Like my Dad. Went through a recruiter and everything. It was exciting, I was going to go right out of high school. When I went to get checked out…turns out I had some health issues we had no idea about. So I got to go get made fun of in engineering school instead.”

“I’m sorry.” Not that he believes she needed to be in the military, but it’s always crushing to learn you can’t do what you want. “I’m sure engineering is better than having creaky joints at twenty-five.”

“Everybody ends up where they’re supposed to be eventually, right?” She can sense that maybe she’s hit a sore spot, and Riley picks up her beer again wondering if maybe she just talks way too damn much.

“You could say that.” He was meant to be on the street, fuck, what a depressing thought. She doesn’t know that though, unless Junior has already told her. “So what do you do at Statesman?”

“Research and development.” Her actual work right now is in gadgets and equipment, but for the sake of the distillery’s cover story she could talk about things like the distilling process and the chemical complexities of whiskey. Everyone in the family could. “I do the science and then my twin sister does the actual brewing.”

“Hmmmm.” Zach has his doubts that a brewery is all that is going on. There’s too much that is left unsaid between Junior and his mother. Still, he takes another sip of his beer. “So isn’t this like…drinking the competition?” He asks, titling the bottle up in the air.

“If we brewed beer, sure.” The question makes Riley’s lip curl into an amused grin, though, and she takes the last swig from her own bottle. “Statesman is purely a whiskey operation, so it’s more like…embracing the community.”

"Ohhhhh." He knows that, but it's a way to extend the moment. Enjoying the slightly disjointed conversation.

“We grew up with whiskey like some people grow up with a favorite cereal.” By now it’s obvious that Riley’s most frequent gesture while she talks is to shrug. Almost as if she’s afraid of being taken too seriously or inconveniencing someone with talking too much.

“That’s cool though.” Zach insists. “I know about how to get drunk, even if I haven’t done that for years.”

"We can definitely make that happen, if you want to." After all, it's not like they don't always have an abundance of bottles of different kinds in the house. "Actually the bottle room in the cellar is pretty cool. I just upgraded the atmospheric controls about a month ago so."

“You have a bottle room in your house?” Zach’s eyes blow wide, unable to even think about that kind of luxury. The differences are stark and he’s starting to wonder if he will fit in here just working.

"Yeah, it's super fuckin' cool actually—" She flusters, setting down her empty bottle and motioning to the house. "Do you want to see? It's actually a really cool house. The whole story behind it is cute and everything."

It doesn’t sound like she is bragging, and that’s the only reason why Zach nods. “Okay.” He agrees, looking down to check to make sure there isn’t anything on him that he might dirty up the house with.

"My dad basically built the place himself." Through the porch door and into the kitchen, Riley wipes a little nervous sweat from her palms onto her jeans and shuts the door behind them. No one will even notice they're gone, she reasons, and Jay brought this guy home. So clearly she's just being friendly. Just friendly. Right. That's why she's telling him her parents' love story - because it's totally normal and friendly. "My parents were apart for a long time. Mom got mixed up in a mob thing when she was pregnant with Jay and they were in WITSEC for twenty plus years. Dad built their dream house as a kind of tribute to her. And then when they found each other again they started adding a few more things to the house here and there."

“That’s…wow. So your dad thought they were dead?” It explains the age gap between Junior and the twins. “That’s amazing and horrible.”

"Yeah, it was..." Riley shrugs as she leads him into the house, pointing out little things and pausing in front of a wall of wedding photos in the main hallway. Two photos of her parents, one of her brother and Janey, and then Sam and Vanessa's wedding photo from just last year. She's the only one missing from the wall now, but she pushes away the swimming dread that that thought conjures in her belly. "Dad talks about it like it was such a dark period for him. But they're so perfect together, I can't even imagine what they would be like apart. Either way, um...yeah. That's how the house came to be. The...the cellar is this way."

Zach glances at the photos, the ones of her parents’ wedding were obviously at different times. He had to assume one was the original and another, your father looking older and more distinguished, was a vow renewal of some sort. He’s notices she isn’t in a wedding photo of a bride and groom, having clocked the lack of ring on her hand. Not that it mattered, he just noticed. “Lead the way.”

The cellar is fully furnished, having become a playroom when the twins were little and then a dance studio for the two years they took lessons, then a practice room for their high school rock band after that – at which point it had happily been soundproofed. Now it is a games room with a card table and pool table, a large sofa, and a bar built into one wall that stood next to the glass door of the temperature-controlled bottle room. In most houses this would be a wine cellar, but not the Daniels house. This is a glorified whiskey showroom, with a few other things collected over time. Riley punches a code into the panel on the wall and shoots Zach a grin before the panel chirps and the door hisses to indicate it’s unlocked. “Come on in. It’ll be cool inside at first. Like how walking into an air conditioned building in summer makes you feel freezing for about five minutes. But this lasts about a minute max.”

“Holy shit.” Zach eyes widen at the causal luxury and the comfort that seems to be in the game room. Then the sophistication of the whiskey room. “This is better protected than most state secrets.”

"Thank you." Riley fully beams, her shoulders doing a happy little wiggle as she grins. "I designed the system and built it myself."

“This is what you do?” He’s impressed. Looking around and admiring the security. “This is damn good.”

"My sister makes the booze, and I protect it," she laughs lightly. In actuality, she worked like a cowgirl version of James Bond's Q, developing new tech that would help keep Statesman's agents safe in the field - but that's not exactly the kind of thing she can tell this new arrival. Her status as Agent Grenadine needed to stay tightly under wraps just like her brother's active field agent status and her father's former identity as Agent Whiskey. She'll take the compliment, though, enjoying the way it warms through her as they look around the bottle room together.

“So it’s a family operation.” Family is something that Zach hasn’t had in a long time. The men he called brothers had all drifted off, moved on with their lives while he had been stuck in a horrible rut.

"Sort of." He gets a nod from her as she traces her lingers along the label of a limited release bottle produced the year she was born. "There's a lot more than just our family involved, but yeah. Statesman is definitely tight-knit. Once we let somebody in..." She offers him a half-smile, knowing that Jay never would have brought him back to the house if he didn't like the guy or intend on bringing him into things eventually. "That's sort of it. You're family."

He shuffles slightly, aware that she’s trying to tell him something but he can’t quite believe it. Maybe the mangy stray dog that someone takes mercy on. Not family. “Sounds nice.” He admits quietly.

"So far nobody's run away screaming," Riley jokes, laughing awkwardly under her breath.

“With all the liquor, no one would be able to run a straight line.” Zach jokes, laughing slightly.

Riley snorts, hand barely making it up to her mouth to smother the sound, and ends up stifling a torrent of giggles in the process. All she can visualize is her beautiful, proper, and upstanding niece Becca trying to run away tipsy and it’s the funniest goddamn thing she could possibly imagine. So much so that it basically has her sagging against the wall. “That’s—” She cackles once more, trying to catch her breath. “That’s an excellent visual.”

Zach grins, the sight of her laughing at something he said is probably the most beautiful damn thing he’s ever seen. “You drink enough and tell me you can run straight. We used to drink all night and PT still drunk and it looked like we were bobbing and weaving enemy fire.”

"You paint a very vivid picture, Zach." She straight out giggles again. "And suddenly the idea of drunk PT is making me very glad I didn't end up serving."

“Yeah…” he shuffles again and gives a half grin. “It was interesting. Corporal Ivers said the beer shits motivated you to run faster.”

"I mean, I can definitely see that." From one of the racks built into the walls, Riley pulls a bottle of Statesman Blue Label - a bottle frequently shared in the Daniels family between friends or a family events. Since today sort of seems like both, it's sort of a safe choice to bring upstairs. "Have you ever had Statesman before?" She asks, not realizing her own unconscious attempt at stalling down here.

“No?” Zach admits with a small shrug. “Don’t know if I’ve really seen any besides the commercials. What kinds do you have?”

"We've got a couple of open bottles down here if you want to try?" Out in the main room, there is a bar with partial bottles worth looking through. "The Blue Label is a family favourite, but the Reserve is really good and there's a bottle of 2014 Select out there that was a really good batch. Notes of maple and vanilla with this cedar smokiness that makes me feel like I'm at a campfire in the woods every time."

“I’m really good at camping.” Zach is completely ironic and un-ironic at the same time. Camping was a part of life in the military, but the urban camping was the real adventure.

“Come on, then.” Feeling confident enough in herself to nab his hand to lead Zach out into the main room again, Riley still doesn’t look back at his face as she goes just in case he reacts poorly to the innocently flirtatious move. It’s not like she pinned him against a wall and stuck her tongue down his throat, but little touches can all add up to something fun. And Zach is extremely cute.

Shocked that she is holding his hand, Zach lets her lead him out of the whiskey room. Knowing that if she knew what he was, she would probably turn her nose up at him, he tries to just enjoy the moment. Huffing slightly as she yanks him forward. “I’m hurrying.” He promises, wondering what it is about her that relaxes him.

When he doesn’t pull away from her Riley allows herself a silent thrill and decides to open the decanter of 2014 Select and pour their shots with one hand. “Close your eyes and think of sneaking a flask into summer camp,” she tells him, offering him one of the shot glasses. Whether he chooses to shoot or sip, it’s going to be delicious either way.

“Sláinte” Zach offers, nodding to her before he puts the glass to his lips and tosses his head back. Letting the cooler than room temperature whiskey slide down his throat.

“Cheers.” This is the one time she does look him directly in the eye, remembering Jay teasing her about how you have to look someone in the eye when you drink with them or it’s seven years bad sex.

“That is….” Zach feels the burn, the warm heat sliding down his throat, but the normal wince doesn’t come. “Smooth.” He murmurs, looking at the shot glass and then back to her. “Damned smooth.”

“Isn’t it incredible?” There’s a reason this one is her favorite. It’s the ultimate hug, in Riley’s opinion. “When Sam and I turned twenty-one, we made s’mores shots with it.”

“S’mores shots, huh?” Zach huffs and shakes his head. She made drinks out of this instead of just drinking it? “Sounds fun.”

“We were twenty-one,” Riley shrugs like it was a long time ago when she sees the doubt in his eyes. “Everything had to have chocolate in it in order to be good.”

“Chocolate is good at any age.” Zach argues, although it’s been a long time since he’s had chocolate.

“You’re not wrong.” She smiles a little, feeling silly for all of this — this whole attempt to flirt a little or whatever the hell it is she’s been doing. Riley clears her throat, pouring them each another shot and handing him his glass.

“Thanks.” Zach murmurs, feeling his heart race when their fingers brush. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been offered a drink and a nice evening.”

There’s a moment where she could swear she sees him gulp down a breath, but it’s probably wishful thinking. Just projecting her own attraction onto him. Even so, she flusters at the sentiment. “Any time,” Riley murmurs with a grin. “Any time at all.”

“To—” Zach completely blanks out, the idea of saying something charming and witty completely failing him. He doesn’t flirt, or at least, he hadn’t in a long time. “Not choking to death on a chip.” He manages with a roll of his eyes.

Riley grins, letting out a small giggle at that, and holds up her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

At least she hadn’t thought he was completely insane. The tips of the shot glasses clink together and Zach feels the way his entire body relaxes as the next shot goes down even smoother than the first. Riley hums at the warmth as it spreads through her limbs, just letting her enjoy the moment for what it is. Brand new attraction is something to relish after all, even if it’s fleeting or one sided. Nothing is more fun than feeling those first tugs of want.

Zach leans in, about to make a comment about how good it feels to relax when the door upstairs opens. Making him stiffen and rocks back to put the proper space between them again. Reminding himself that he’s a guest, one that is a surprise. “Ri? You down here sweetheart?” The voice of her father comes down the stairs as boots descend and Zach can hear the censure in his voice. Asking why she’s alone with the homeless man his son had dragged back to their picture-perfect home. Maybe even wondering if he’s pocketed something valuable down here.

"Just showing Zach the cellar, Dad!" Riley calls back, almost straight out laughing to herself at the timing. Right as Zach was starting to relax and she had discovered that gorgeous dimple in his cheek, her father's tingling Spy Sense had gone off. "Is dinner ready?"

“Yeah everything’s ready.” Jack descends to where he can see his daughter and the newcomer. “Let’s go eat so Junior can take Zach to Ginger.”

"Sure thing." The drawn look of suspicion on his face lightens when Riley doesn't protest or try to stall, setting down her shot glass and nodding toward the stairs for Zach to follow. After all, it's not as though she was really trying to seduce him. She wouldn't have been mad about it, but she wasn't really trying.

Jack watches the boy – man – he’s not a boy. It’s almost visible the way that his guard goes up, nearly making Jack relax slightly. There’s something about him that he wants to nurture, protect. Like he was one of his own kids. Junior told him quietly about the vet saving his skin, how he had been sleeping in the park that Junior had been chased through. His heart was compassionate, but still, where his children are concerned - he’s cautious. “Hope you like burgers.” He offers. “Plus we fried up some bacon and it’s perfect with the missus’ guacamole.”

Riley groans, the vibrating sound of hunger unapologetic as she nabs Zach’s hand again to lead him upstairs. “A bacon guac burger sounds amazing!”

Jack’s brows quirk under his Stetson, but he doesn’t comment on his daughter holding Zach’s hand. “Well, come on then.” He grunts at her. “Get your tail up here before the boys eat all of it.”

******

The meal is as exuberant and good natured as a Daniels family get together always is, with everyone nursing groaningly full stomach by the end. Everybody gets a clean up job to make things go faster, and after Junior and Zach help to clear the table the oldest Daniels boy gives his wife a kiss and promises they’ll be back soon. “C’mon,” he nods to Zach, swiping up his Stetson from where he had been sitting. “We gotta go see a lady about some arrangements for you.”

“You don’t have to go out of the way for me.” The anticipation of a gentle letdown is already hanging in the air and Zach moves towards the bag that is still in the back of the truck. “I can just hitch a ride out of town. The meal was enough.”

“It’s my boss,” Junior explains, always knowing his family would disown him if he just let Zach wander out of Louisville without help. Especially Riley. “She wants to meet you.”

“I didn’t get you into any trouble, did I?” He hadn’t expected the lack of police investigation, or the way that he had nonchalantly told whoever was in his ear about killing people, but he doesn’t want the man to lose his job.

“Not at all. If anything, Ginger’s impressed.” They climb into the truck together and head back toward the highway, bound for Statesman’s main offices. When Ginger Ale had taken over the running of Statesman from Champ ten or so years ago, the only person who was surprised at the offer was Ginger herself. Since then she’s led the agency fearlessly and honorably, giving the whole place a new sense of vibrancy.

Zach highly doubts that, but it’s easier to just go along right now. He can always leave later on when the boss is yelling at him. “Well, that’s something.”

The drive doesn't take long, just a reversal of the route they drove earlier from the airstrip out to the ranch after landing. At this time of night there aren't many people around and the cars in the lot are few, but Junior parks in a spot by the front entrance and grabs his hat again after throwing the gearshift into park. "C'mon," he encourages, as though it's his catchphrase or something. "Top floor. Right in the bottle cap."

“Well that’s a hell of a view.” Zach looks up at the large building that looks exactly like a whiskey bottle. It’s definitely a statement although he’s not quite sure what it says.

The barrel-shaped elevators give him a good chuckle, and by the time Junior is strolling into Ginger's office with a contented smile, he's pretty sure he knows how this is going to go. "Evenin', Ma'am," Junior drawls, waving Zach into the office behind him.

"Jack." Ginger looks up over the rim of her glasses at the younger Jack Daniels before her eyes move over to the more tentative man behind him. "And this would be Corporal Wellison, yes? Shut the door behind you and have a seat, gentlemen.”

Zach is unsure if he should salute the older woman, but he refrains. He’s not in uniform anymore, nor is he a corporal in the Marines. “Ma’am.” He offers politely, wondering if all the woman are just unreasonably beautiful around here. This Ginger looks like she could have modeled, even now.

“I understand I owe you some thanks.” Ginger looks to Zach directly, her steepled fingers peaking under her chin. “Jack here is one of the best men in my operation and I don’t like to think of what I’ll have to do when I don’t have him at hand any longer.”

“I didn’t do anything special.” The small shrug of Zach’s shoulders isn’t to dismiss Ginger, he had just assessed the situation and chose a side. Apparently, he had picked the right one. “Sometimes back up in a firefight is necessary when you’re pinned down.”

“That’s exactly my feeling.” She nods, looking between the two men. For the last hour she’s been absorbing Corporal Wellison’s file and reading through reports from the clean-up team that deployed to LA. A full background check on the former Marine had been very enlightening. “And it a appears that you’re a very good man to have as back up.”

“I was a Marine.” There is a bit of pride in his tone. “We didn’t leave anyone behind on the battlefield.” In real life was another story, but she isn’t interest in that.

"You're a Marine with an exceptional record and impressive marksmanship." She can't deny that, nor would she even under other circumstances. Of course Statesman had active recruitment processes, but sometimes candidates just fell right into their lap. "I understand that circumstances haven't exactly been favourable for you since you returned stateside." Ginger shifts in her large chair, moving his file forward on her desk for him to see. To show him that she's been looking into him, unapologetically. "From what I've heard and what I've read, I'd like to extend an invitation to you. Call it...an application process. Our own version of boot camp, if you will. We have room for two more people on our team here and if you're inclined? I think you'd be an excellent fit."

Zach’s eyes narrow suspiciously. The idea of boot camp had the wheels in his head turning. “Recruited for what exactly?” He asks. “I was told this is a distillery not a Blackwater group.” He looks over at Junior and wonders what the fuck he’s gotten involved with. “I’m not a merc.”

"No, you're not." A smile tugs at the corners of Ginger's lips as she sits back. "You're a gunslinger. Choosing your battles and covering a victim when you see him being pursued in a park," she gestures at Jack, knowing he isn't innocent or a victim in any way but for the purposes of this exercise. "You sound like a cowboy to me. And if you'll sign on the dotted line..." An NDA seems to materialize on the top of her desk as if from nowhere. "I'd like to introduce you to the other side of what Statesman is all about."

Seconds tick by. Probably the longest twenty seconds of his entire life. Another glance at Junior doesn’t reveal anything beyond the man’s desire for him to sign the paper. Then his eyes find Ginger. Watching her carefully and there’s a slight edge of challenge in her gaze. Enough that Zach is leaning forward and taking the pen to scrawl his signature on the line.

A quick glance down at the paper and Ginger's photographic memory are all she needs to know that that signature matches up with the others of his that she'd seen and this young man is indeed who he says he is. Good. She had been right about him being upstanding - most people would think there was no cause to lie about who you are when you have nothing, but she had found that that was exactly when people started to bend their stories to suit their situations. "Statesman is an independence intelligence agency," she explains, pressing a button on her desk that causes control panels and monitors to appear from behind previously mundane panels of wood around her. "And Jack Junior here is one of our finest agents."

He is struck dumb for a moment, eyes wide as he absorbs the way the room shifts and he frowns slightly as a million different questions pop up in his head. “Independent intelligent agency…” He repeats slowly as if he is weighing his words and reconciling them with what he is seeing. “So those men chasing you…” he turns to Junior for a full explanation.

“Were thugs hired by a human trafficking operation.” Junior sits back in his chair, tilting his Stetson back a little so there is no question that he is looking Zach in the eye while he tells him the honest truth. “They didn’t take kindly to my partner and I posing as buyers to get those girls back to their families. I drew the short straw - pulling their firepower away so the others could get to safety.”

“Then I’m glad I picked up that gun.” Zach scowls angrily at the idea of human trafficking. He’s seen a lot of that shit while he was on the streets and there was nothing he could do.

“It’s not always big operations.” Ginger warns him, seeing the righteousness in the young man’s eyes. “Sometimes it’s small. Observation. Or escorting people who have no way to protect themselves. Sometimes it’s intelligence gathering or undercover work.” Clearly proud of her agents, she does tilt her head a little and smile. “But it pays a hell of a lot better than law enforcement does and doesn’t have to answer to whatever yokel is in office at the time. We operate only on what we see as benefitting of our time. And frankly? We’re damn good.”

“And you want me?” He asks, lifting a brow as if he can’t believe it. He can’t. After the military, no one wanted him. He was used up and slightly bitter about that fact.

“I went over your service record and your background check while you were with Agent Absinthe, and on paper you’re a perfect candidate.” A part of that, unfortunately, is his utter lack of family or friend attachments. Not even a job to put his notice in at or an apartment to pack up. But for those unfortunate circumstances, Statesman could offer him a place to live with a steady paycheck and a proverbial family to have his back. “If you go through the training and decide that being a field agent isn’t for you, we have plenty of secure jobs on the ground as well.” Ginger folds her hands in front of her on her desk and smiles - something her predecessor rarely did but she thinks Zach might find comforting. “You can say no, of course. But not everyone gets a second chance at life. I sincerely hope you take us up on it.”

A second chance at life. Zach remembers what Riley had said about her parents. Twenty years without each other, one thinking that the other and the baby were dead. Only to find each other again and pick up where they left off. He wonders if he could get back a little of the man he had been before. The gun hadn’t felt as heavy in his hands the last time he turned one in with the military. It had felt right, even better now that he knew what kind of scum he had dispatched to hell. “Not like I don’t have some free time in my schedule.” He reasons, giving a slight shrug. “Might be interesting to see what kind of training you’re talking about.”

“Hot damn.” Junior laughs out loud, reaching out to slap Zach’s shoulder gleefully. “Didn’t I tell you, Ging? I knew he’d be in for it!”

“Keep it in your pants, Jack,” Ginger chuckles. It’s definitely not the first time she’s said that to a man named Jack Daniels. “Jack can show you to temporary quarters until we get your housing sorted out. There’s a cafeteria on the bottom floor of this building that feeds employees three meals a day for free, and I’ll have a company ID delivered to your room overnight. Both of you report to the training grounds at 0800 tomorrow. Any other questions for now?”

“I—” Zach stops for a moment, gathering his thoughts and then he starts again. “Thank you.” He offers quietly, aware that this invitation did not have to be extended. “Is there anything I need?” He doesn’t have a lot, but maybe his old running shoes he’s been wearing for the last four years will hold up.

“We have some things ready for you in your room to get you through until your first paycheck is cut.” She had a feeling he’d say yes based on how Jack had told the story of their encounter, but she doesn’t really want to overwhelm the young man by letting him know that the room is the extremely comfortable visiting agent’s apartment on the fourth floor, not just a room with a bed. It’s fully furnished and packed with clothes in a variety of sizes so that he’ll be able to find things that fit without having to ask for help. A little dignity, at least until they had him situated in a permanent residence. “Anything in the space you’ll be staying in, is there for you to use.”

“Thank you again.” He’s a little overwhelmed at this point. Barely hanging on to his emotions. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I don’t expect you will, Zach.” Standing almost in unison, Ginger extends her hand to the young man and can practically feel the vibrations coming off of him. Tomorrow will be a very big day for Zach Wellison, it seems. “I sincerely hope you don’t have an aversion for Stetsons, because we’re going to have you wearing one in no time.”

“Never worn one.” He admits with a grin. “Unless you count when I was two.” There’s a few pictures he had from his childhood, one of them is him in his diaper and a cowboy hat.

"Well, we'll fix that soon enough." She nods when he takes her hand, acknowledging the leap of faith he's taken tonight. Not everyone could do it – they'd deny or lash out or even be upset at the revelation. But she has a good feeling about this man. "0800, gentlemen. I'll let Tequila know to expect you."

Even though it is her office, in the blink of an eye, Ginger has disappeared. Leaving Zach slightly bewildered until he notices the hidden door off to the side. He had been battling the intense emotions and near teared up and she was just…gone. “Now what?” Zach asks Junior.

"I can show you where you'll be staying, if you like." He offers, stepping out from the area surrounding his chair to stretch his legs. "It's an apartment a few floors down. Usually used for visiting agents from the New York office, but that just means it's ready for you now at a moment's notice."

“Are you sure I’m not putting anyone out?” Zach asks. “I thought Ginger said I would be sharing a room?” He doesn’t want any treatment that would have him set apart from everyone else.

“If you’d rather stay on the ranch, that’s fine.” It wouldn’t be the first time that either he or his father had taken in someone to stay for a while, and he knows that there is plenty of room. “Might be less lonesome.”

“There’s no way you have the room at your place, not with three kids.” He would offer to sleep on the sofa, but then people would be tip toeing around him and he didn’t want that either.

"My parents have room at the big house." Out of Ginger's office and back through the hall, Junior presses the call button on the elevator and leans against the wall. Now that Zach has accepted the invitation to stay and try Statesman on for size, he is fully relaxed. "They keep a guest room ready and Mom loves to have visitors, so it wouldn't be imposing." He shrugs nonchalantly. "Dad was a legend when he was a field agent. I'm sure he'd love a chance to bust out some old stories for someone who hasn't heard them a hundred times."

“No wonder your mom was wary about answering questions about his job.” Zach murmurs, understanding now that the entire family is in this business.

"The title of CEO is a cover for senior field agent," Junior explains when the elevator doors open. "There's all kinds of corresponding titles for civilian jobs to agency jobs." He jabs the button for the bottom floor, sure that Zach would prefer to stay at the ranch than alone in the Statesman building. "And, of course, there's some jobs that are just civilian. Like my sister Sam and her wife Vanessa? They really are both distillers."

“But not Riley?” Zach sneaks a glance over at Junior as he asks, trying to be casual about it.

The older man stifles a smirk, keeping his face totally neutral as Zach tries to be stealthy in asking about the woman he spent nearly every second of tonight with. It was abundantly obvious that Riley was attracted to Zach right off the bat, but it seems that the feeling is mutual. "Riley is in Research and Development," he explains, affecting a bored tone. His sister's work has been invaluable, actually. "She's technically an agent, but not a field agent."

He’s slightly relieved, happy she’s not getting chased or shot at. Maybe slightly rooted in that old school belief that women should be kept safe, although he has a hell of a lot of respect for women in authority. “That’s good. She’s a smart lady.”

"You guys seemed to get along pretty well." Junior cracks a grin, but in all honesty he's okay with it. Zach got dealt a shitty hand by life. Not because he made bad choices but because the system failed him. Now, hopefully, a new system could give him a better chance.

Zach immediately rounds his shoulders, aware that he should have kept his distance from Junior’s sister. “You don’t have to worry, man.” He murmurs. “I hear you.” All he can think about is that Junior is warning him off and he can’t mess up this chance.

"Hear me?" The grin disappears from his face, replaced by an expression of worry, wondering if he said something he shouldn't have. If Zach had taken something differently than he meant it. "No, man. No. That's not—" He shakes his head twice as they wait for the elevator to come to a full stop. "She's a grown ass woman. And she obviously likes you a lot. Ri's never been very good at hiding that kind of thing. There's no...warning here, or anything. I wouldn't have left you guys alone together or brought you to meet my family in the first place if I objected to something about you, Zach."

Zach snorts, not believing that. “Yeah, because you want your little sister to be interested in a homeless bum.” The doors to the elevator open and he quickly steps off, angry – mostly at himself – about how this is going.

"As of five minutes ago, you're Statesman." Junior reminds him as they walk to the truck. "Listen, I— I've never been homeless. But I know what it's like to have no sense of your future and the hopelessness of not being able to grasp a real life." He unlocks his pick up and waves Zach in, sighing a little as he shoves his key in the ignition. "Until I was twenty-four, my mother and I were in Witness Protection. Every single thing about my life was a lie. We were relocated five different times because the people after her kept finding us. It was...terrifying. So I know it's not the same, but I also know that you didn't ask for it just like we didn't ask for what happened to us. It can take a while to adjust to something new. Just...I'm asking you to believe that we don't think less of you. Our family knows what it's like to not be able to make your own decisions about life. And it's no one else's business what you were doing before you came to Statesman. No one here comes from the perfect life. No one."

Shame isn’t something that Zach is unfamiliar with, but it’s been a long time since someone made him feel that way because they were being kind. “‘m sorry.” He apologizes quietly. “When you’ve been kicked long enough, you feel like you deserve it. You expect it.”

"I know that feeling." For as much as you ever shielded him growing up, Junior had had plenty of his own battles to fight in every place you had been moved around to. Just because it wasn't exactly the same circumstance as Zach's, didn't mean he couldn't relate. "I don't expect you to turn on a dime and readjust to a new life instantly. That's...that's incredibly unrealistic. Just try to keep an open mind, that's all."

“I’ll try.” Zach tries for a sheepish grin. “Pretty hardheaded sometimes.” He admits with a shrug of his shoulders. “Jarhead is a Marine nickname for a reason.”

"That's fair enough." Junior chuckles as he backs out of the parking spot. "Daniels' are hardheaded and we don't even have an excuse."

He can’t help but snort at that, having experienced it firsthand when dealing with Junior. “I guess it must be in the blood for some.” He murmurs quietly. “Are you sure your folks would be okay with me staying with them? I don’t want to put an agent out of their place. Just give me a sofa or a cot in a back room and I’ll be better than I was.”

“That guest room is sitting empty waiting to be filled,” Junior promises. “I can swear to you the original occupant isn’t coming back for it, since it used to be mine.” Jack had kept the room at the ready for his son for a long time just as a symbol, even after Junior and Janey’s house on the ranch was full of kids. “We can call ‘em from the road if you’d like? So they know to expect you?”

“Just to make sure.” The last thing Zach wants is for there to be some reason you didn’t want him there. Or couldn’t have him. It would just embarrass him even more.

Confident in his plan, the older man uses the truck’s communications panel - a Statesman must-have - to call the ranch, and grins when his father picks up. “Hey Dad,” Junior hums as he drives. “Question for ya.”

“Junior.” Jack’s voice rings out warmly in the speakers. “Shoot. you know I always have time to answer any questions you have.” Since coming back into his life, Jack has made forging and strengthening the relationship between himself and his eldest his priority. Trying to make up for missing the first half of his life.

“It’s not that serious, Pop. I promise.” The younger Jack Daniels chuckles. “Would you and Mom be alright with hosting Zach until Ginger gets his housing squared away? He starts training tomorrow morning.”

“So he accepted?” Jack chuckles, proud of his boy for finding the next wave of talent for Statesman. “Good, good. Of course, we’d be happy to have him here. Your mother needs someone to fuss over beside me.” He’s aware that Zach has to be within earshot and while he’s protective of his girls, he’s aware he can’t meddle in their affairs. You point out what a manwhore he had been when he thought you were gone. It’s not fair for him to coddle her as his last unmarried child.

“That’s what I was thinking you’d say.” Junior grins, flashing Zach a thumbs up. There’s no point in saying an ‘I told you so’ when the outcome is a good one and the concern was only polite. “We’re on our way back to the ranch now. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days for everything to be set. You know how fast Ginger works.”

“Boy’s welcome to stay as long as he’d like.” Jack assures him, wanting to make sure the message is clear. “You know we always enjoy company and I can get a feel for how trainin’ is goin’, give him a few tips.”

“You mean give him tricks so he can get one up on Tequila?” He laughs softly at his father’s enthusiasm, glad to see that he was exactly right about how this would go. So far, at least. “We’ll see you in about ten minutes. Thanks, Dad.”

When Junior ends the call, Zach exhales audibly, relieved that he had been right. It didn’t sound like Jack was wary, and that did wonders to relieve his anxiety. After being invisible for so long, it seems almost jarring to be so in the spotlight. “So, I take it he knew what you wanted to do with me?” He asks, wondering if Junior brought home people all the time.

“Every once in a while, one of us will get a feeling about someone.” It wasn’t terribly common, meaning that whenever it happened the recruit in question tended to get a bit more attention and training, but it certainly wasn’t unheard of. “The agent in charge of training – Tequila? That’s how he came in. Guy used to be a rodeo clown back in the day.”

“A…rodeo clown…” Zach says slowly, grinning slightly at the mental image. “That’s one hell of a job. I’ve never even been to a rodeo.”

“Oh, we’ll fix that soon enough.” The grin that Junior flashes him is mischievous. “Riley loves the rodeo. I’m sure she’d take you.”

“I’m pretty much assuming everyone in your family is familiar with horses or ranch life.” Zach had been a city kid and it wasn’t like he was riding horses in Iraq and Afghanistan in the middle of a war zone.

“It’s definitely a big part of life. The cowboy thing was never something that I felt attached to before coming here, but it grows on you.” After spending a full half of his life in Louisville with Statesman, Junior had come to view it as a way of life. A set of principles to live by. And though his kids were all growing up in a modern world that seemed to move faster than light, the core of their family was always respect and freedom – two things that Statesman valued as well.

“I’ve never even been around a horse.” Zach admits. “Not unless you count a Great Dane.”

Junior laughs, smacking his hand on the steering wheel as he drives. “They’re damn near pony-sized, I’ll give you that. But horses are beautiful creatures. You should give it a try while you’re at the ranch.”

“I—okay.” Zach nods, aware that this is surreal. Nothing in his entire existence prepared him for cowboy spies, although the westerns he had seen flipping through channels as a child makes him think of a romanticized version of it. A more friendly Bond.

“You’ve been to war, Zach.” Junior shoots him an encouraging smile. “I promise you can manage a horse.”

"Somehow I think a living breathing animal is a little different from the Humvees we rode in." Zach snorts, appreciating the vote of confidence. "Although I could say that one of them did buck me when it flipped with me inside."

“See? You’re already an old pro.” It’s nice to be able to laugh with Zach now, even only hours after meeting him. Earlier today he had been understandably caged. Guarded. And of course – his everyday survival depended on self-reliance in every way. It’s good to see those barriers already cracking under the gentle touch of kindness and good faith. “You’ll be a cowboy in no time.”

“I don’t know about that.” He huffs. “I’ll settle for ‘regularly showered’ for right now.”

******

The rest of the drive passes easily enough, this time with Junior pointing out a few favourite sights and restaurants from the road, and soon enough they’re back at the big house. There’s a lot less bustling activity going on now that most people have gone home for the evening or moved on to nighttime activities, but the kitchen is still brightly lit when Junior opens the front door. “We’re back!” He calls, though the path of light in the house shows exactly where everybody is.

“In the kitchen, sweetie!” Your voice rings out, and laughter from two different people rings out almost immediately.

“They must be playing cards or a board game.” Junior tells Zach, already headed in that direction. “Riley and Mom are Scrabble fiends. Dad prefers poker.”

Nodding, Zach shrugs. “I’ve been a card player during my time in the Marines.” He had never played for anything more than fun, or beers, but he had fond memories of nights in his unit playing while pretending they weren’t in danger.

"Dad will be glad to have another vote for cards." With a clap on the back, Junior strolls into the kitchen and immediately goes to say hello to you and Jack. "Ginger's said yes," he reports with a grin. "Say hello to Statesman's newest recruit."

Jack leans back in his chair and grins at the younger man who looks like he's had his world turned upside down. Hopefully that will be the best damn thing to happen to him. "Pull up a chair, son. We'll get you a glass of whiskey and I'll tell you all about some of the missions we've run."

"Told you," Junior laughs, flashing a smirk at Zach.

"You love your stories too," you remind Junior, already hustling to pull up two more chairs at the table. "Like father, like son. Always."

"Bond in a Stetson?" Zach asks as he sits down, glancing over at the older couple.

"That's what I called him the day we found out what it was Jack had been doing." You tell him, patting the back of a chair as Riley disappears down the hallway with a grin on her face. "Cowboy James Bond. It didn't take long for Junior to follow in his father's footsteps. Statesman's been a blessing to our family in every single way."

"Were you recruited from the Navy, sir?" Zach isn't very clear on the timeline for everything, but he wonders if Statesman had been sniffing around military branches for most of their agents or if civilians like Tequila dropped into their laps in equal measure.

"You could say that." Jack's laugh is deep and amused at that, considering the circumstances. "I was recruited from the brig on the verge of a dishonorable discharge. Champ – our old director – he liked a rebel when they had a good cause. But me?" He shakes his head. "I was angry at the world for taking away my sweetheart and little boy. It wasn't a good place for a man to be in. Any man."

"I couldn't even imagine." Zach had been single when he hit rock bottom, he couldn't even fathom what it would have been like to lose a significant other. Especially when pregnant. He might not have survived that, so it speaks to how damn tough Jack Daniels Senior is.

"Junior was twenty-four when Statesman took over our case from the US Marshals." You explain, knowing that your children had already mentioned your time in WITSEC to Zach over the course of the night. "Champ got wind that we were being moved again and stepped in. He sent Jack to pick us up and relocate us here instead."

"And the rest is history." Riley reappears from around the corner with a bottle of Statesman Blue Label in hand and deposits it on the table with a stack of glasses.

"Happy ever after." Zach murmurs, unsure of what that would ever entail for him or if it was even in the cards. He's never really known what he wanted out of life, kind of aimless if he were completely honest with himself.

"Happy ever after." You hum in agreement and lean over to kiss Jack's cheek. "Which we never thought we would get, honestly."

It's probably the most relaxing evening Zach has experienced in a long fucking time. Drinking his fair share of that bottle, he grins as he leans back. His stomach is full because you had insisted that nine o'clock snacks were perfect. Laughing at another story that Jack Senior has told about a time where his ass was in a jam and Tequila, the man who was training him tomorrow, had pulled it out of the fire. "You got them though, right?"

"Statesman agents always get their man." Riley tells him proudly, chin up in the air as she tips back the last of her glass. She may be unsubtly playing on the fact that she, too, is an agent of Statesman, but mostly she's just proud of her father and brother. "Always."

"So don't fuck up." Zach chuckles, shooting you a sheepish look. "Sorry, ma'am." He offers, hating that he had cursed in front of you. You seem like a wonderful woman, but he wants to give you the impression he has manners. He's staying in your house after all.

"No need to apologize for cursing." It earns him a waved hand from you, and a smirk. "We swear up a damn storm in this house. Don't think otherwise." Though you hadn't done it while the kids were young, and generally reserved that vocabulary for when it really counted, that didn't mean you never swore.

Riley laughs and Junior sighs as he leans back. "I should get back to the house. Janey is waiting." He smirks, although it's one of those soft ones that men think that no one else notices when they've been promised sexy times.

"Gross." Riley gripes, swatting at her brother and rolling her eyes heavily even as she snorts a laugh. "Go be domestic and happy or whatever, I guess. I'll retire to my spinster's room and do something dangerous like read a book."

"Can't be readin' now." Jack winks at his daughter and shakes his head. "You're already smarter than everyone, 'cept maybe Ginger."

"Oh no." Another roll of her eyes is fully sarcastic and Riley squeezes her father's shoulder affectionately. "A smart daughter? Whatever will you do with me?"

You just laugh, shaking your head at the two of them and reaching over to pat Riley's hand on her father's shoulder. "Will you show Zach the guest room before you turn in, honey? Show him where everything is?"

"Sure, mama." She bends to hug both of her parents and affectionately nudge Junior's shoulder before turning to Zach. "You ready to turn in, cowboy?"

“I should get some sleep.” Junior had brought Zach’s bag in and told him that everything he needed was in the room. He assumes that means he had let him borrow some more clothes. “I start at eight tomorrow morning.”

"With Tequila, that means more like 8:15. He's not exactly a morning person." You smile, though, and say good night to Zach once more before he follows Riley upstairs.

“So you develop more than just tech for the distillery.” Zach hums. “I thought it was a very impressive system for just whiskey.”

"I would protect that whiskey with my life," Riley tells him with her hand on her heart. "But yes. Agent Grenadine, at your service."

“Agent Grenadine.” He likes that, it’s sweet like she seems to be. A good additive to any cocktail. “I like that.”

"Active field agents are liquors. Ground agents have slightly less pungent names." She giggles at her own joke. "Our boss? Agent Ginger Ale. She was R&D like me before taking over as director."

“Smart. Easy to identify.” Zach absorbs that information. “So that means my trainer is still a field agent?” He asks, wanting to know what to expect tomorrow.

“Tequila still works in the field from time to time, but he mostly trains now.” At the top of the stairs, Riley turned right into a large bathroom with two sinks built into the counter and a bath/shower combo big enough to fit three if the need ever arose. “He’s a good guy. Sense of humor, pretty positive outlook considering the man is a secret agent,” she smirks about that. “He was my brother’s partner for a long time. Sam and I called him Uncle Tequila for years.”

“Sounds like he worked with your dad too.” If he has any questions of why she is bringing him into a bathroom, he doesn’t ask. Just quickly and discreetly ducks his head to sniff himself. It’s been a while since he’s had that shower on the jet, but he should still be okay.

“Towels in the closet, soaps and stuff under the sink.” She says casually before ducking out of the room again and heading down the hall. “Yeah, Dad helped train him. They’re thick as thieves.”

Ahhhh, he’s getting a quick tour. He follows her quickly and chuckles. “So I can expect him to get a progress report on my training.”

“Especially since you’re staying here.” The grin that Riley flashes him is playful, and she stops in front of a bedroom with the door wide open and fresh sheets in the bed. “This is you,” she tells him. “My parents and Sam’s room are on the other side of the landing. But I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“I thought Sam lived off property?” He doesn’t care who is here, it’s not his house, but he just didn’t want to run into anyone on the way to the bathroom or something.

“She does, but she only moved out about two years ago and Dad has a thing about leaving our rooms set up. Jay’s was in tact until I left for college and he hasn’t lived in the big house since he and Janey got married.” Pointing out the window, they can make out the top of the cabin over the tree line across the main property. “The cabin was their wedding present.”

“Wow.” Zach is definitely impressed. “Did he build Sam and her wife a cabin too?”

"Sam moved into Vanessa's house when they got engaged." Riley steps into the room, giving them time to talk some more if they want it. "Their wedding present was their honeymoon...and while they were away he had their backyard redone for them and a pool put in along with fixing up Vanessa's work shed. Dad...tends to go overboard."

Zach lifts a brow and looks around the room that was very obviously set up for a boy in a gorgeous shade of green. “You mean building a house as a tribute isn’t what most people do?”

"I don't know about most people, but it is if you're Jack Daniels." Riley looks out over the property, fidgeting with her hands shoved in her jeans pockets. It's always been the dream – at least for her. To grow up and have her own little cabin with her own partner on the ranch where her tight knit family has grown and prospered. Maybe it's old fashioned, but sometimes old fashioned really isn't a bad thing. The city just wasn't for her. She had tried it and found out that she's just a country girl at heart.

“It’s touching.” Zach doesn’t want her to think he’s insulting the idea. “This is— hell, I’ve not ever been able to dream about a life like this for a long time, but back when I enlisted?” He shrugs and shakes his head, his own eyes finding the same view Riley is looking out at. “All I wanted was to find love and make a family.”

"It's kind of the dream around here." And it's not even something that she is going to be self-conscious about. It's her dream and it's a good one - just because it's not for everyone doesn't make it any less worthy for her. "Definitely what I want. But it's kind of hard when you have to be cagey about what you do for a living."

“Are you not allowed to tell a spouse?” He could see where that would cause issues. It might be a special set of circumstances for you since you had been protected by Statesman.

"We can tell our spouses. There's a clearance level for that." She shrugs slightly. "But it makes dating a little...awkward. Having to lie to someone right off the bat isn't really a great foundation for a relationship."

“I get that.” Zach feels bad for her. “You’ll find someone. You’re way too—” he bites his lip, hating that he had almost said that.

"Too...?" There was almost a compliment there, she's sure of it, and one eyebrow raises at Zach in question.

Zach rolls his eyes at himself. “Pick one. Pretty, smart, funny, loyal, kind.” He almost grumbles it. Sore that he’s meeting a woman he one thousand percent would be interested in when he is at his lowest and receiving a hand out from her family.

Riley flusters, biting her lip to hold back the fairly enormous smile threatening to overtake her face. "You too," she hums, leaning against the windowsill. "Pick one. Any of them. Except maybe sub out handsome for pretty."

Warmth spreads through his stomach and makes it flip pleasantly. “Look, I know—” he breaks off and shakes his head. “You should know your brother literally picked me up off the streets.” He admits quietly. “Yesterday I slept in a fucking park with a metal pipe for protection.”

"I'm sorry to hear that." It makes her swallow a little, not out of fear or concern but out of sympathy. Homelessness is a hell of an issue and she's not blind to how lucky she is to have a comfortable place to live and a well-paying job. "I know that's a big issue for vets coming back from combat, and..." Riley shakes her head slightly. "It doesn't make me think less of you, for the record. I mean, you served your country and you didn't deserve to be dropped on your ass when you came home."

He had a feeling she would pity him, but he shakes his head. “I don’t – I know that you aren’t trying to pity me, but I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, or whatever.” He’s so fucking bad at this. His hand slides out of his jeans to rub the back of his neck. “Just because I think you’re pretty doesn’t mean you have to think anything about me.”

"If you knew what I thought about you, you'd probably kick me out of the room." She admits with a slight cringe. "I'm sorry. I'm really fucking bad at this too, and I always have been. Why do you think I'm the only Daniels still single in a family full of people who tend to find romance very young?"

“Because you deserve better?” Zach shrugs, curiosity piqued now. “What do you think about me?” The worst thing she could think about him that he’s not already thought?

Riley huffs, caught between hoping he wouldn't ask and wondering what he would say if she actually told him. Her eyes drift down to her boots and the rug, not letting herself be so bold as to actually look him in the eyes in this moment. "I think you're about the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life," she admits, shoulders rounding in on themselves. "And it's...it's embarrassing to admit that I feel like I already know you somehow. Like you just feel familiar to me and I don't know why. But Sam said that's how meeting Vanessa felt to her and I can't get it out of my head."

“Are you sure you just don’t want to feel that way?” He won’t dismiss anyone’s feelings but he’s not ever been looked at like that before. “I’ll admit that you’re the first woman I’ve been— that I’ve just wondered about since I got back stateside really.”

"I thought she was bullshitting me." Riley confesses, looking up now even though it's tentative. "How can you know somebody before you've even met them, ya know? But then...I walked up to you and Jay tonight and it felt like the universe was kicking me in the teeth for doubting her. You just..." She sighs, finally looking up all the way to find his eyes. "This is going to sound so ridiculous. But I know that if I hugged you it would feel like coming home."

“It’s— it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had a hug.” Zach admits, pulling his other hand out of his pocket and opening his arms slightly as if to give her permission. “Only one way to find out if I suck at giving them.”

There's only a second of hesitation on her part as Riley tries to figure out if he's teasing her or not, but the look in his eyes is full of sincerity. She stands up straight up, pushing off from the wall to step forward the three strides it takes to reach him. Their arms fold around each other neatly and Riley inhales a ragged breath of surprise that couldn't be faked even by the more award-winning actor. It knocks the wind right out of her, how perfectly they fit together, and with him being several inches taller than her there is such a feeling of comfort and rightness that she could just break right down and cry. Goddamnit. Sam was telling the truth after all. Sometimes you just feel it.

Zach tilts his head, leaning his cheek on the top of her head and closing his eyes with a small sigh. The gesture is just perfect. Comforting and warm, making him relax more than anyone and anything else had tonight.

"You definitely don't suck at hugging," Riley finds herself chuckling softly even at her own reaction, tightening her arms around him just a little bit more.

“That’s good.” He murmurs softly. “I was worried about that.”

"No need to worry." Lifting her head is almost reluctant, but she readjusts against him to just barely look up and ends up nuzzled into his neck with this slight shift of their positions. It's more comfortable than she could have ever possibly thought as she sighs again without thinking.

Zach leans into it again, hesitant to break this wonderfully comforting embrace. Needing it more than he ever realized. A damn earthquake couldn't make her let go now, and Riley stays right where she is happily. Zach is a solid wall of comfort even with everything he's been through, and if she makes him feel half as relaxed as he is making her feel, then it was worth taking this leap of faith.

******

Zach groans, opening the door and shuffling inside. The biometric locks have been updated to include his thumbprint so he can come and go as he pleases, but Zach tries to be considerate. Sore and desperately needing a shower, he feels good about the progress and his footing here at Statesman.

The house is quiet. Only one car was in the driveway when he pulled up in the beat-up sedan that he'd bought off of a repair man's lot with part of his second paycheck. It didn't do much but get from Point A to Point B, but at least it did that. The only car in the driveway besides his right now is Riley's, which points to the elder Daniels' being out for the night. Friday nights are still their date nights after several decades of being together.

“Ri?” Zach closes the door to the house and looks around to see if she is downstairs.

"Down here!" The clacking of billiards balls can be heard and quiet music from the radio float up from the basement games room with the door open. "I've got cold beer!" She offers a second later, as if he needed more incentive to say hello.

“I’m gonna shower and I’ll be right down.” The grin that breaks out is purely in anticipation, he rushes towards the stairs so he can get into the bathroom to clean up. A Friday with Riley, some cold beer and billiards sounds like a perfect beginning to the weekend.

"Okay!" She calls back, not even knowing if he heard her or not. She's got the only pizza place that delivers out to the ranch on speed dial and two different six packs in the cellar refrigerator. If she had maybe known that staying home meant she'd have some time alone with Zach, she isn't trying to make it too obvious.

Being a Marine, he had showering down to less than five minutes. Throwing on some clean jeans and a t-shirt that seems to look better on him than it had on the hanger when he had picked up some new clothes. Smirking slightly as he starts down the stairs. “Need anything from up here?”

"Just some company." There's a smile in Riley's voice when she calls back to him. They've been moving towards things slowly. Small touches, lots of laughter and long talks. Star gazing in the fields, cuddling together watching movies in the living room. Holding hands like preteens. It's been sweet and innocent, and Riley is so deliriously smitten that she can't stop smiling anytime he's around.

“That I can do.” He promises, quickly bouncing down the stairs and smiling when he sees her. It’s been so fucking good. “Although I’m sore as shit.”

"Tequila's been running you pretty hard lately." She goes to the fridge to grab a beer for him and pops the cap off, dropping it into the jar nearby before handing the bottle over. "But that's good. It means he thinks you can take it."

Lifting the bottle in thanks, Zach takes a long swallow. “Yeah I can, but the man is like a machine.” He might be older than Zach, but Tequila can run circles around the former Marine when he wants to. “Said to look at fighting like a dance. Right before he kicked my ass.”

Riley snorts, starting to reset the pool table. "Bet he didn't tell you that he has awards from dance competitions, did he? He's such a fuckin' show off."

“That explains how he flipped me over and managed to not throw my ass on the ground.” Zach grumbles under his breath.

"Rodeo clown and..." This time when Riley laughs, she waggles her eyebrows. "Exotic dancer. Or so the legend says."

“I’d believe it.” He snorts and takes another sip of his beer. “He moves like he’s rolled his hips a few times.”

"Taking notice of his hips, were you?" It just makes her laugh, making even more suggestive faces at him as he pulls a pool cue off the wall.

“Best way to see how he’s going to attack.” Zach rolls his eyes at her playfully. “People who say watch the feet don’t understand you can’t faint where your core rotates.”

“See, this is why I’m not a field agent,” she laughs as she sips her own beer. “You’re talking combat and I just want to make dirty jokes.”

“Nothing wrong with a dirty joke.” The only reason he doesn’t feed into them is because he knows he will be thinking about that with Riley and she’s given zero indication she’s wanting something like that.

“I have never met a man less inclined to a dirty joke.” And it’s kind of a shame, from her point of view at least. These couple of weeks have been very sweet between them but she definitely has a raunchier sense of humor that she keeps in check around him. Originally it was just so that he wouldn’t feel like she was coming on to him constantly, but then it seemed like he just didn’t like dirty jokes at all.

Zach’s brow wings up and he pins her with a confused look. “What makes you say that?” He asks, slightly insulted by that idea. He had a twisted sense of humor, he’s just been trying to be respectful, still aware of stereotypes of people who were homeless.

"Well...I don't know..." she mumbles, suddenly feeling sheepish. "I normally have a pretty decent sense of humor but you never responded to any dirty joke in the beginning so I just stopped going for them. It seemed...less awkward? Although now it's very awkward."

“I’ve been trying not to make you—” Zach huffs at himself. “I didn’t want to push if you weren’t— if it wasn’t to that point yet.” His own tone is sheepish. “Wanted you to know I have manners and know how to treat a lady.”

The way she huffs at both of them and shakes her head, it's clear that she's trying not to laugh at the irony. They were both trying so hard not to make each other uncomfortable that it led to an awkward conversation instead. "The first night you were here," Riley leans back against the pool table and sighs in resignation. "You let me in just a little bit. To hug you? That was already the third time I wanted to kiss you."

There hasn’t been a night where he hadn’t wanted to kiss her, but he had always felt like Riley should make that move. “I wanted— I didn’t deserve to— but I wanted to kiss you too. I want to kiss you now. Hell—” he chuckles and shakes his head. “I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”

When Riley laughs this time it's almost pained, like the irony of the situation is just a knife in her side by now. "Do you know how many times I've had to stop myself from coincidentally being in the shower or changing with my door half open or any other horny bullshit on Friday nights when it's just us at home? Just to give you the opening?"

“I wouldn’t have taken it.” Zach can admit that to her, to himself. “Because I don’t want you to believe I don’t respect you. Or just want to get off.”

"What about now?" Now that he knows she wants him, surely that changes things? Or at least she desperately hopes that it does, because she's been aching to do more than hold his hand for weeks.

He sets the cue stick down and steps towards Riley, his eyes fixed on hers. “That depends on what you want.” He murmurs, edging closer again. “All depends on you.”

"Me?" The smirk growing across her face belies the way she squirms, backed up against the table as he takes a step closer and moves into her space. If he only knew how many times she had imagined this. "I respect the hell out of you." Riley swallows a laugh. "But I also want to know what you look like when you cum."

“Probably a mess.” Zach chuckles, cock twitching at the idea. “Sweaty and satisfied, nearly weak from cumming so hard.” He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s been a while since I’ve had something other than my hand.”

"You're not making it sound less appealing, ya know." If anything, he's making that weeks-old ache between her thighs even worse. Riley has seen him sweaty and disheveled from training a dozen times or more and each time has ended up with her hand between her thighs in bed that night.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought of you while I was showering?” He confesses, reaching out and brushing his fingers over her hip before settling his hand there. Still moving slow, but his gaze is hungry, his voice lust rough.

"About half as many times as I've thought about you with my fingers buried in my pussy?" With no real reason to be subtle about it, and her pulse going about a thousand miles an hour, Riley throws caution to the wind and tangles her hand in Zach's shirt before leading him into the space between her legs. Letting him get as close as possible with clothes on but not going all the way to kissing him. Letting him decide whether or not he's ready to cross that physical barrier.

Zach lets out a cross between a groan and a growl, lunging forward and capturing her lips with his. The other hand not on her waist wraps around her back and tugs her close even as he presses her against the table behind her. For all the hundreds of daydreams she has had about this moment leading up to it, Riley can’t pick a single one of them that stands up to what actually kissing him feels like. A month of working out daily and eating right has made his entire frame broad and strong again, and he envelopes her with every inch of himself as she scrambles to wrap her arms around him in turn. There is no hesitation in the kiss, just fierce hunger, and she moans into it with a need that makes her whole body shiver.

The slide of his tongue into her mouth is natural, almost like breathing. Slowly and sensually exploring the contours of her mouth like it’s a wonder of the world. Riley was already hanging on by a bare thread before Zach deepened the kiss, now she’s one hundred percent certain that she doesn’t have a ghost of a prayer at retaining her self-control. She whimpers this time, one hand finding the curls at the base of Zach’s neck, tugging on them insistently while her other hand starts to map the contours of his waist and chest over his clothes.

He groans, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as he knows that she feels the hardening of his cock against her stomach. There’s no way she couldn’t. The way her back has bowed slightly from being pressed up against the table means that some things are even more pronounced, and Riley tilts her hips forward to get more of that gorgeous pressure from his length against her torso. If he’s half as hard as she is wet they’ll be an even match, but she can’t resist taking another step forward. Capturing one of his hands in her own, Riley slides Zach’s fingers under the hem of the t-shirt she threw on when she got home from work. The invitation to explore is unmistakable, and she moans at how hot his skin feels against hers. It’s like being granted permission to go to heaven. Zach groans into her mouth and his hand closes around her breast, squeezing gently and massaging as he deepens the kiss even more.

Tossing off her bra with her work clothes was the best decision she ever could have made, and Riley presses into his touch as eagerly as possible. His hands are huge, calloused and clever, and his thumb is running circles around her nipple in just under two seconds which makes her gasp and break their kiss for the first time since it began.

“Baby…” Zach blushes slightly, realizing he’s used an endearment. “Can I—” he glances down at her chest and then back up to her eyes. “I want to—”

“I want you to, too. Trust me.” Untangling herself from him is only necessary for as long as it takes him to slip her shirt off, and the cold air of the cellar feels like a wake up call with how overheated she’s become in the last few minutes.

Zach kisses her lips and the starts a gradual trail down her jaw and neck. Not wanting to rush while he cups both breasts and makes his way to take one nipple in his mouth. It draws the most sinful moan from her throat, and Riley’s hands find his bulk again to keep him close as she arches her back into him. His slow and steady tendencies might drive her crazy - in more than one way - but it’s as reverent as it is needy as he closes his lips around the pebbled bud. “Fuck, baby…” her head tips back with a groan. “I knew your mouth was going to be amazing.”

His tongue flicks over the tip harshly, then more gently as the pressure of his teeth increases. He hums against her breast, aware that she is whining so beautifully that he wants to hear more.

“Shit—” Without even really being under him she’s still squirming and panting, letting him explore at his own rate and not interrupting him no matter how desperately she wants to get her hands wrapped around what she’s certain is a beautiful cock. “‘Sall yours, baby,” she promises, gulping down a ragged breath. “Every inch of me.”

He suckles, bites and soothes like he hasn’t done in a long time. Having spent hours thinking about her tits, what he would do to them, to her, if he was ever allowed to touch her. Now that he’s given permission, he wants to make her burn, crave his touch. Needing it like he had needed this place, and her.

Those first touches are intoxicating, letting Zach graze his hands, lips, and tongue across her flesh any way he wants until she’s begging him for more. “Fuck—I—please, baby,” she moans, feeling the ache in every part of her body. Her focus, though, is on getting him to move south. To the point where she’s fumbling blindly to get her own jeans off for him.

He pulls off her tit with a pop and reaches for her hands. “Baby, do you—” he doesn’t know if she wants to do this here or upstairs, but he wants her to be comfortable.

“I don’t even care,” she admits sheepishly, though this time when she leans in to kiss him it’s gentle. “I don’t care where, I just care that it’s you.”

He grins, kissing you again. “You wanna risk your daddy comin’ down here?” He asks.

“They’ll be out for hours,” Riley grins. “He took Mom for a fancy dinner and dancing.” Even thinking about it for a few seconds, her grin turns evil. “And the basement’s soundproof.”

“There’s a couch, right there.” Zach groans, grabbing her and dragging her over to the sofa so he can lay her down. The giggle that rises out of her at his enthusiasm is so light and so free it’s like air. This is all she’s wanted since the day he walked into her life and she just feels how right it is in her bones.

“Shit—” Zach hisses, squeezing his eyes shut as he rests on top of her. “I— I don’t have a fucking condom.” It’s not like there’s been a lot of opportunity for Zach to have sex in the past few years.

“I’m on the pill.” All Statesman agents - field or otherwise - have periodic physicals done so she knows she’s clean, too. “As long as you passed your physical, we’re good.”

“I passed it.” He promises, bobbling his head up and down. “Are you sure?” He asks softly, not wanting her to feel like he’s pushing for raw sex. As it is, a condom might be a good thing.

"Hey." Riley sits up, both of her hands on Zach's cheeks. "If you want to be extra safe, we can go upstairs. I have condoms in my dresser and we'll have a bed. I don't...want you to regret any of this."

Zach shakes his head. “No. I— fuck, I want to feel you.” He admits quietly. “So fucking badly.”

"Then get these things off me." That mischievous giggle returns and he slips one of his hand down to the apex of her thighs where the extra fabric grinds against her dripping slit deliciously.

Shedding clothes turns into a series of giggles and curses when a piece of clothing is being difficult. Until Zach is finally pushing his boxer briefs down and revealing his aching and nearly purple cock. "Fuuuuck." The groan that tears out of Riley's chest is deep and needy as she reaches for him, letting the fingers of one hand wrap around the base of his cock with a slight squeeze. "I knew you'd have the best dick."

He huffs in embarrassment and arousal, rocking his hips forward into her grip. “Shit.” He hisses, throbbing as a lovely little spurt of precum dribbles out and down her knuckles.

They both whine, different pitches and different levels of desperation, but when Riley leans forward to lick the precum off her fingers, she voices such obvious enjoyment that she leans forward further and flicks her tongue across the tip of his cock for more. "You even taste good," she praises, looking up at him through hooded eyes. "Next time I promise I'll suck you dry, baby. But this time I need to feel you."

“If I— if I don’t last—” Zach moans as she guides him towards her core. Nearly pulling him as she doesn’t let up on her grip but it’s probably the only thing keeping him from cumming, so he loves it. “I promise I’ll make you cum on my tongue.”

"I'm not worried." If anything, she's fairly certain that she's so worked up that she might still cum first, but Riley shakes her head and presses a kiss to Zach's lips. "This isn't going to be the only time we do this."

“It’s not.” He promises, shuffling closer and letting her slide him through her folds. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

"Want you so fucking badly." Never having been one to disguise her wants before, she's felt like she was going to implode for weeks. Now, as he sinks into her, Riley can't tear her eyes away. Watching inch after inch of his cock disappear into her pussy is so hypnotizing she doesn't even hear the way she keens at being filled so completely.

The tight clutch of her surrounds him, squeezing him in a way that nearly makes him breathless. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He manages to lean down and press his forehead to hers as he finally grinds deep and bottoms out inside Riley.

"Fu—fuuuck—you feel so incredible. Holy shit." Her legs wrap around his waist, keeping him buried inside her while they both adjust to the perfect way they fit together.

His body is primed, right on the edge of toppling over. Inhaling and exhaling slowly as he throbs inside her. Hissing when she clenches down around him and makes him rock his hips forward slightly.

"Take your time." Riley has no plans on rushing this, needing a moment of her own to adjust to the way his thickness is splitting her open. It has her chest heaving under him even as she trails kisses down the long line of his jaw and throat.

“So fucking perfect.” Zach groans. “Jesus, you feel— it’s perfect. Like coming home.”

In the last month they really have spent nearly all of their free time together, and this moment that they're in now is the place she was absolutely certain that they were going to end up. Maybe not this couch specifically but intertwined together with intimacy at the core of their connection. "You're so fucking incredible." It really is on the tip of her tongue, to say what she's been feeling for weeks, but saying it for the first time with him buried inside her would either be cheesy or seem insincere. And since she doesn't want it to be either of those thing, she pours herself into kissing him instead.

When she says it like that, Zach believes it. Wondering what things would have been like if he had known her before being discharged. With his mouth occupied, he can’t voice anything more than a groan as he slides his arms under her and burrows in closer before he starts to move.

Knowing that they’re completely alone and in the only soundproof room in the house, Riley doesn’t hold back. The moans that cross her lips are salacious and encouraging, rising up through the air to practically float around them. To make them float somehow.

Every thrust feels like he’s being ripped apart. Torn at the seams and reforged in the extreme pleasure that only she can bring. No one has ever felt so good, not even the first girl he slept with. “Fuck, I— Jesus.”

“So fucking good.” The praise seems to be on repeat for her, punctuated with curses and cries that carry his name but break halfway through as another tremor of pleasure tears through her. Other encounters might have been more carefully planned or had more of some element or other, but none has ever felt this right.

Rocking into her steadily, Zach groans his own agreement. Three little words, ridiculous and not appropriate right now, are begging to fall from his lips. Making him kiss her again to not voice them.

Riley shifts under him, angling her hips to take each thrust deeper and letting out a muffled cry when his perfect cock strikes home at her g-spot at just the right time. She’s so close that she’s shaking with it, trembling on the verge of her peak and clinging to him with every stroke.

“Shit— shit, you need to cum. I need you to cum.” He can feel his control unraveling, surprised that he’s lasted this long. Only brief changes in pace have saved him to this point.

“Just like that,” she promises him, feeling the tension coil in her spine, knowing that she’s so close to the edge that if he changes anything she’ll lose it. Four more strokes is all it takes and she’s gasping for air, moaning Zach’s name into the heavy air as she comes apart for him.

“Riley.” Zach moans, unable to do anything other than follow her over the edge, pushing deep and gasping as he cums. Spilling hot ropes of cum into her womb as he seemingly cums forever.

“Holy fuck.” Head dropping back against the cushions, Riley pants for air and giggles wildly with the giddiness of such an intense first encounter. The words dance in her head but she’s able to push them aside for now, not willing to sacrifice the chance of a repeat encounter to her hummingbird heart.

“Holy shit, I’m dead.” Zach collapses against her and pants, smiling goofily as he tries to catch his breath. “Tell me it was good.”

“Baby,” she frowns slightly at the mere idea that it wouldn’t have been mind-blowing, but her fingers card through Zach’s damp hair. “It was so good I’m tempted to try to keep you all to myself,” Riley admits, maybe a little too softly.

“You can.” Zach mumbles, unsure of what she meant by that, but he had no intention of doing something with someone else. He’s never been that type of man.

“I didn’t want to assume.” The slightly nervous look on her face dissipates and she leans up to kiss him slowly. “Maybe you had your eye on someone else, too. Or maybe you’re not a relationship guy. We’ve never…never really talked about that.”

“Not a chance.” Zach grunts, shaking his head and huffing slightly. “I don’t deserve you, no way I’m going to think that I should just fuck you.”

"I just..." she blows out a breath, finding herself gazing into his eyes with a nearly dopey expression. "I really like you. And I think we could have something special. That's...insanely sappy. But at least it's true."

“I love you.” Zach’s eyes widen, even as he blurts out the confession. Cursing himself for not keeping his mouth shut.

For a second the moment is frozen. Riley doesn't dare to breathe or speak until she sees the regret in his eyes. "Please don't take it back." Both of her hands find his face again, cupping his cheeks and smoothing the anxious creases from his features before pressing a firm, earnest kiss to his lips. "I love you, too. I just – I guess I was really off base worrying that you didn't feel the same way about me."

“You are amazing.” Zach huffs. “Fucking amazing.” Relaxing in her embrace as she admits her own feelings. “I— I was worried that I would come on too strong, or someone thinking I’m trying to get in good with your family.”

“You might get a good questioning from my daddy now that we’re together, but that’s about it.” She actually laughs at the idea of it, already having seen firsthand the way her father doted on the trainee agent under his roof. He had taken a personal interest in Zach’s training as well, giving him a few tips in the way of lasso and whip technique. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m an all or nothing kind of girl and I swear I’m all in.”

“Your dad has already spoken to me.” Zach admits, shaking his head and grinning at her shocked expression. “Wanted to know if you wanted more than friendship, what would I do.”

Riley laughs when she finally shakes her head, shaking with it and grinning at him. "Was the answer fuck me into the basement sofa? Because that's a pretty fucking excellent answer."

He snorts and shakes his head. “Hell no.” He moans. “Do you think I wanted to die? He had the electric whip in his hands.”

"I appreciate a man with instincts for self-preservation." She's still grinning when she nudges her nose against his. Still lying wrapped up in him on the sofa is an amazing place to be, but her stomach rumbling gives her away. "I was waiting for you to come home so we could have dinner together," she admits with a slightly guilty expression. "Maybe we can clean up and order a pizza? I kinda want to just snuggle up and relax with you."

“That sounds good, but I’m paying.” The Daniels have been more than generous, letting him stay for free, feeding him, helping him more than he could ever repay. Buying the woman he loves a pizza seems small, but a month ago, he couldn’t do that.

"If you insist." It isn't something she would ever expect from him, knowing how he saves and cherishes every penny in every paycheck, but she also won't push back against his pride. Instead, she just kisses him again, enjoying the lingering moment of affection, and looks back out over the room as they stretch and stand up again. There are truly clothes everywhere and every single cushion on that couch is in disarray.

“It’s a good damn thing your daddy told me that he had disabled the camera system in the basement.” Zach groans as he pulls back with a grin. “Don’t want him to see this.”

"I would not be the first one of his children that he walked in on." Riley snickers, tracking down her panties about four feet away where they landing when Zach threw them. "Jay has that distinction. And Janey was mortified."

“I’m sure it’s a lot different than walking in on your baby girl.” He had heard the nickname one night when Riley and Jack had been talking in his home office and the older man had hugged her and told her how proud of her he was. It was a moment that made Zach ache for a family like she had.

"Younger by a whole two minutes and forever the baby because of it." There's nothing wrong with that, but Riley just shrugs as they get dressed. Once things are back in place, she slips her hand into Zach's and squeezes. "We should just be up front with them. There's no keeping secrets in this family, for better or worse."

“Hopefully they don’t hate the idea too badly.” There’s still the issues with socialization, feeling inferior. He had been working on it, but there was nothing but time that would help that.

"Are you kidding?" They head upstairs together hand in hand. "Mom figured out which coffee mug you like best and won't let anyone else use it now. That's family shit. You're fine, babe. I promise."

“Is that why she’s always got it set out no matter how early I try to get up to make coffee?” He asks with a laugh, overjoyed by the thought and it makes him grin.

"Oh yeah. That's Zach's mug. It gets set out on the counter every night before she goes to bed along with everybody else's." When the house was busy and bustling and full to the gills, it helped to have specific things like dishes associated with each member of the family. It persisted after the house was just down to the three of you and now that there are four again it seemed like a nice thing to also give Zach that little bit of familial normality.

“I like that.” He admits, blushing slightly. “That makes me feel like I’m one of you. Like I belong here.”

"You do, honey." It might be a little rude to surprise the kids by just sitting at the kitchen table like you are, but you didn't plan on it. Date night got cut short by the place you normally go dancing being closed for a private event, so you and Jack had stopped for a pint of ice cream to share and planned on playing a board game. From both of the kids' disheveled appearance, it would seem you weren't the only one having a date night.

"Fucking shit, Mom!" Riley jumps three feet in the air, clutching Zach's hand in surprise and all but clutching her chest with her free hand when she whirls around to find you and her father sitting at the table. "Shi—I—sorry. Just...what the hell are you doing home?"

Jack chuckles, trying not to scowl at the very obvious evidence of what his baby girl and Zach had been up to down in his basement. He had been correct in turning off the damn cameras. “Nowhere to dance in this town tonight.” Jack grunts. “Least not to music I can handle.”

“We were going to order pizza.” Riley blurts out, suddenly nervous at nearly being caught, but she doesn’t let go of Zach’s hand. “Did you—uh…did you eat yet?”

“Not yet.” Jack hums, pulling out his phone so he can pull up the website for the only pizza place that delivers to the ranch. “What’s everyone want?”

“Pepperoni.” Riley answers immediately before looking back at Zach. “And banana peppers. Thanks, Dad.”

“Come and sit.” Honestly, you just want to bundle them up in a tight hug and tell them how glad you are that they stopped tiptoeing around each other, but you don’t know how Zach will react to that very maternal response. “How was everyone’s day at work?”

“I’d like your permission to date your daughter.” Zach blurts out, flushing again at how his mouth runs off without his brain around. Riley. “I mean— I understand that I am a man you haven’t known for long, but I will do whatever it takes to make sure your daughter is loved and respected.” He rallies and looks between you and Jack. He knows that he doesn’t need to ask you anything, but he wants to. He respects you both.

The mutual smile that breaks out across yours and Jack’s face is partially quiet amusement and partially the fact that you’re touched he would even approach it in such an old-fashioned way. “Come on and sit down, kids,” you insist, patting the tabletop even as you get up to fetch a pitcher of sweet tea and four glasses. Serious discussions usually go easier if you have something in your hands to fidget with.

Zach throws Riley a look and dutifully sits down. Wondering if he had misstepped. He had thought the parents of the woman he loves wound want him to be serious.

“First off,” Jack sits up straight in his chair after hanging up the phone and gives you a nod of thanks for putting a drink in front of him. “Ri usually lives by the motto that it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission, so I appreciate you being straight forward.” He shakes his head in his baby girl’s direction, but this is really for the young man directly in front of him.

“I’ve figured that out.” Zach chuckles, looking over at Riley with nothing short of adoration in his gaze. “But I am a guest in your house, and feel like you’ve taken me into your family. I don’t want to insult your sense of propriety after you have been so wonderful.” It’s about respect for him. He’s had the last three years of being looked down on, taken for the worst and not once has this family done this to him. Not even when the chip on his shoulder got in the way.

"And I appreciate that." He won't pretend otherwise. Good manners matter to Jack when it comes to his family and they always have. These are the most important people on the planet to him. "Which brings me to my second point," he looks between the two of them - young adults even older than you and he were the first time you got married. "Y'all be respectful of each other and the shared parts of this house."

Riley tips her head, brow furrowing with interest at her father. "That's it? Just 'be good and don't have sex in the kitchen'?"

Jack closes his eyes briefly, ignoring the way you stifle an amused snort. “Do you want me to pull the ‘not under my roof’ bullshit you would just ignore anyway?” He asks, wondering why, of all his children, his youngest was most like him. Jack Jr. might look like his younger copy, and Sam might have his tenacity, but Riley had always had his fighting spirit, his need to buck the system. It had caused some headaches through her teenage years, but he’s trying to respect the fact that they are grown.

"Hell no," Riley shakes her head, reaching for Zach's hand under the table and lacing their fingers together. "I guess I expected the same 'what are your intentions' speech you gave Vanessa, though." Of course - Zach had said that he and her father had already spoken about her a little. That might be the reason for no speech. But that didn't stop her from being surprised.

“I already know the boy is in love with you.” Jack snorts, rolling his eyes. “He’s the type to want to marry you and have babies.” He shoots a very red-faced Zach a grin. “Am I wrong?”

Trying to save him the embarrassment, Riley puts up her other hand in defeat. "Okay, so no intentions speech. And I'm not upset about that fact, for the record. Just surprised."

"We told your brother and your sister the same thing," you remind her, sitting back in your seat with both hands around your cold glass of tea. "As long as you're happy, we're happy."

“I think your dad understood I have good intentions.” That vote of confidence has Zach straightening up in his chair. Feeling a burst of pride through the embarrassment.

"One of us should," Riley jokes, knowing full well that she is viewed as the most mischievous Daniels child.

Snorting, Zach looks to her father, expecting Jack to say something. The older man just shrugs. “That’s your problem now, son.” He jokes with a chuckle. “That’s alllllll you. Your second chance is here. Grab on and hope to hell like you don’t fall off.”

Zach grins at the advice and nods. “I won’t sir. I’m on this ride for the long haul.”

______ 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 @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Zach Wellison #Zach Wellison x OC #Zach Wellison x female OC #Zach Wellison x f!OC #Kingsman Golden Circle #Brothers and Sisters #crossover fanfic #technically

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rainontherooftops · 1 year

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Soup Kitchen Confessions

Summary: You have been volunteering at a soup kitchen in your neighbourhood for the last five months and had met Zach Wellison. He had shown you the ropes as a fellow volunteer and ex-homeless person. No wonder you've developed a crush, right? The question now is - how to ask Zach out on a date?

Fandom: Brothers and Sisters - Pedro Pascal as Zach Wellison Genre: Slice of Life, Romance, Trigger-Stories, Drama Pairing: Zach x f! Reader Triggers : Mentions of homelessness, Mentions of anxiety and mental health problems, PTSD, sickness, bodyfluids Rating : M

No Beta - Shame on me

Soup Kitchen Confessions

„Help! Volunteer in distress! “

You were holding a big ladle in one hand and the lid of an enormous pot in the other, making it impossible for you to wipe your glasses. The fog of the hot stew had fogged them up and you were rendered absolutely useless.

The chuckle next to you made your heart skip a little. You felt someone gently grab your chin and turn your face to the side, before your glasses were taken off your face and wiped.

The red-white-and-black pattern in front was slowly sharpened and registered as the checkered flannel of Zach Wellison who was stationed right next to you at the food-handout.

“There you go,” he said, “good as new.”

You were grateful for the flush that grazed your cheeks because of the hot stew – otherwise Zach might have thought you were blushing because of him. Which you totally were. But he didn’t need to know that.

“T-Thanks.,” you mumbled and put the lid to the side before giving the stew a good stir. Zach chuckled again with his deep baritone voice, pulled up the sleeves of his flannel and got back to cutting the bread into slices.

Now that you could see again the line outside the homeless shelter was already vanishing behind the corner of the building, five minutes before opening time. No wonder – the forecast was predicting rain.

You and Zach were the first group of volunteers that helped out once or twice a week – food, cleaning, sorting donations and giving information were the things you could provide. It was hard to admit, but you were relieved that you didn’t have to deal with the fact that there were probably not enough beds for all who were seeking shelter tonight.

“Ready?,” Zach asked beside you as one of the shelter employees was walking towards the entrance with the keys in her hand.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said – the answer you had given Zach at the start of every shift since you’d started volunteering five months ago.

As you put the ladle aside to tie your hair back you tried to concentrate on the task at hand – not the task you had set for yourself once the shift was over. Tonight you would ask Zach out on a date. Just like you had planned for the last month or so. But tonight, there was no chickening out.

The hungry patrons formed a line and came by for the dinner rush– some knowing what to do from experience, some unsure how to proceed because they were here for the first time. As you dished out a delicious chicken-veggie stew in disposable bamboo bowls, Zach handed out wooden cutlery and bread. There were water pitchers on the tables and enough space on the benches. And like every Monday and Thursday, the line didn’t seem to end, and your four allotted hours went by in a flash.

Five minutes before end of shift the line had trickled down somehow and you knew that the next volunteers would come in for the evening shift until midnight.

Your heart fluttered as you sidestepped so that Zach could hear you whisper: “D-Do you have a few minutes before heading out? There’s something I want to ask you.”

Zach smiled, handing over a piece of bread to a regular before answering: “Sure I- Oh no…”

Following his gaze, you sighed as you saw why his brows had furrowed.

A regular – a young veteran who shared Zachs past and who had a ‘place to sleep problem’ as he had explained it – had shown up. You thought he was nice, just a man who needed a bit of help adjusting to civilian life. But there was one thing that he had to work on. His other problem.

Zach rubbed his neck in anticipation before stepping out to meet the young man.

“Pete, you know the rules. If you want to come here, you need to be sober…”

‘Pete’ had a drinking problem. He was not an alcoholic, but he was on a dangerous path and in order to escape his PTSD he bought cheap beer and tried to drown his sorrows once in a while. And it seemed today was a particular hard day.

The young man was wobbling, looked pale – but something was off. You had a guess as to what it was when the poor man suddenly puked all over Zach and collapsed into his arms.

Handing your ladle off to another volunteer you hurried over, ignoring Zachs warning look and put a hand to Pete’s forehead.

“He’s not drunk, Zach. He’s sick. I don’t like how high his temperature is.”

Before you had started volunteering at the shelter, you’d done a first-aid course to prepare, and you had always been good at spotting when someone was not feeling well.

Zach sighed, the signs of annoyance on his face quickly shifting to concern. He put Pete’s arm around his shoulder and looked around for Beth, the shelter manager, who quickly saw what was up and threw the keys to you.

There was a separate room that was used as a makeshift infirmary, but it was locked when nobody was in because of all the medication that was kept there.

“C’mon Pete, move those legs for me,” Zach gruntled and you felt shame crawl up your spine because the sight of the strained muscles under Zachs soiled flannel and his voice made you all giddy.

You hurried ahead to unlock the infirmary and were intercepted by Chris and Madeline, a married couple who were both trained paramedics.

“We’ll take care of him. Go wash up, we’ll see what we can do.”

Zach wanted to protest, but his clothes were sticking to him, and he was leaving a trail of puke in his wake. You gave Madeline the keys and followed your volunteer-crush to the shared changing room.

“Switching from puked-on shirt to sweaty gym clothes,” he growled sarcastically. “Now that brings back wonderful memories.”

You had fetched a towel and held it under the faucet so he could clean himself up. Zach was already trying to wiggle out of his white shirt and tried not to get any of the puke on him when you returned. Ignoring his damn good looks – and the scars you could see – you tried to keep your blush under control.

“Let me help,” you whispered and held the towel to his neck where he had failed in his endeavor.

Zach took over before slipping into his gym shirt. Yes, it was sweaty, but at least that was all.

“D’you mind if we talk at the laundromat across the street? I’d like to wash these clothes before I get home. I think he sprayed my pants as well…”

“T-Talk?,” you asked and handed him a plastic bag you had found to put his clothes in.

“You wanted to ask me something, right?”

Ah yes… you had been interrupted.

“Uhm…. Okay? I’ve got time.”

By the time you left the shelter it was dark outside, and when you crossed the street, you panicked. Your carefully prepared speech was gone, you needed more time. A sign down the road caught your attention.

“I’ll be right with you, go on ahead.”

When you came to the laundromat ten minutes later, two helpings of frozen yoghurt in hand, you saw Zach sitting on one of the dryers as he watched the washing machine spin.

He was wearing yet another shirt and new pants– a washed out black shirt with some holes in it and some grey gym shorts – and he seemed deep in thought.

“Where’d you get that?,” you asked, and you saw that he had to suppress a panicked jump. He had been deep in his thoughts it seemed.

“Lost and found. I grabbed it on instinct. I used to do that when I was still homeless, looking for somewhat clean clothes when others couldn’t be saved anymore. Is that for me?”

Smiling encouragingly, you handed him one of the frozen yoghurts with kiwi and salted caramel (your favorite and you hoped he would like it too) before you hopped onto the dryer beside him with some difficulty.

“You deserve that after being puked on,” you said and the faintest of smiles was now decorating his face.

“Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.”

“But…”

“Zach, I didn’t ask you if you wanted it. I just bought it. It’s on me.”

He didn’t argue, although you could tell that he wanted to. The moment was over though when he put the spoon in his mouth and sighed in bliss.

“s’good.”

You smiled, let your legs dangle, and indulged in your own treat, listening to the sounds of the washing machines and dryers around you. Monday night was not a busy day at the laundromat it seemed.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

Damn, Zach was quick on the pick-up.

You wiggled on your dryer, not able to look him in the eyes.

“Nothing important.”

“Come on, spit it out.,” he said, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“I… I can’t ask you while your clothes are still in the washer.”

Zach blinked in confusion and looked first at the washing machine, then at you.

“What does your question have to do with the fact that my clothes are getting a wash?”

You could feel the flush burn your cheeks and your gaze returned to the slowly melting half eaten froyo in your hands.

“B-Because it’s a personal question. And as long as your clothes are still in the wash, you can’t back away from me if it gets awkward.”

Apparently, Zach didn’t like where this kind of conversation was going – but he seemed to pick up on the wrong strings.

“A personal question? Are you okay? Do you need help?”

He was completely ignoring the second part of your sentence, so you decided to change the subject.

“I’m fine, honest. I just… I’ll ask you once your clothes are dry, okay?”

Zach was not okay with that, you could tell. But he was a man who cherished his privacy, probably because he didn’t have one while living on the street, so he didn’t push.

So instead, he picked up the conversation again.

“Okay… Mind if I ask you something while we wait?”

“Sure.”

Zach turned around on his dryer and leaned forward a little – not in a hovering way, but just enough so that you could smell the deodorant he had sprayed himself with when he had put on the sweaty t-shirt that was now also tumbling in the machine.

“Why are you volunteering at the shelter?”

You felt your stomach drop and you immediately turned your head. Somehow Zach had asked the question you had hoped he would never ask. But how should he have known not to ask for the reason? It was just a normal question.

“Oh dear…,” you said, putting the froyo aside. “Two questions that make me anxious. You have a talent, Mr. Wellison...”, you tried to joke.

Zachs reaction surprised you. He clicked his tongue, disappointed and with a hint of anger. He jumped off his dryer when his washer beeped. You could understand him. He had opened up to you right from the start, telling you that he had been homeless himself a few years back, living on the streets and that he still had trust issues.

By now the two were friends, but you had never told him why you volunteered at the shelter. Maybe he thought you were biased? Or didn’t trust him enough? But the reason was – at least for you – much worse.

Still, he had asked and just because you were uncomfortable didn’t mean that he didn’t deserve to know the truth.

While he was putting his clothes in his dryer next to your feet and ignored your gaze, you gripped the corners of the metal machine underneath you and took a deep breath.

“I do it because I’m selfish. And I do it to scare myself.”

Zach banged the door shut, probably louder than he had intended and started the drying program. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were softer, curious – but you know he wouldn’t pry.

“For me being homeless is of the scariest things I can think of. Not having a roof over my head, not knowing where my next meal will come from, not knowing where the next toilet is… It terrifies me,” you confessed.

“You’ve been homeless. And I just know if I ever would be faced with that situation I would never survive. Which is why I volunteer. I want to help the people who are homeless – but even more so I want to be confronted with it, so that I know how fortunate I am. Volunteering because it makes me feel better? That’s the crappiest reason.”

The cocktail of emotions on Zachs face was fascinating. It shifted from anger to pity, to a hint of disgust and the recollection of memories he wanted to forget. But you didn’t really notice, because during your confession his hands had wandered to your knees, rubbing the kneecaps in comfort.

He was standing between your legs, probably not even realizing how close he was.

“Being homeless is scary,” he finally said, lost in his memories. “And it was really, really hard. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your reason to help.”

“You don’t think it’s condescending somehow?,” you asked, always having had the gut feeling that if someone who was homeless knew that you volunteered and did everything just to not be like them would be awful.

“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to be homeless. And you’re helping every week. You support the ones who are less fortunate. You would have supported me when I came into that shelter when I was still homeless.”

The dryer beeped, Zachs clothes finally washed and dry. But he didn’t move away.

“So – what is it you wanted to ask me that’s so personal? My clothes are dry, I can flee now if it gets awkward.”

“I… this is really nothing I should ask you when you have been puked on…”

The sound of your name on his lips made you look him in the eyes. He has slipped closer still and suddenly spellbound, the question refused to keep sitting on your tongue.

“I… I wanted to ask you if... if you’d like to… to go on a… on a date? With... with me?”

Zachs eyes widened in shock, and you felt as tough someone had emptied a bucket of ice water onto your neck.

You were sitting on the dryer, caged in because he had stepped between your legs. It was you who couldn’t escape.

Panicking, you started to stutter.

“Forget it… Forget I said anything. I shouldn’t have…”

A soldier’s reflexes were not to be taken lightly, you realized, as Zachs hands suddenly slithered up your thighs, around your waist and pulled you closer to the edge of the dryer.

His aim was also on point. His lips fit against yours perfectly, finding their mark.

For a few seconds you sat there, frozen, feeling Zachs slightly chipped lips against yours, your heart racing and vibrating against his own heart beneath his warm flesh. But it was impossible not to reciprocate.

You were rewarded with a blissful growl as you ran your hands through his hair, changing the angle of the kiss and deepening it, trying to get even closer to him.

Soon you needed to come up for air though. Neither you nor him dared to leave each other’s orbit, so you leaned your forehead against his, breathing heavily.

“A second date? I’m a lucky guy…”, he finally said.

You blinked in confused.

“Second?”

He chuckled and retreated, finally tending to the dryer that was reminding him to get his clothes with a beep.

“You got me a froyo. We talked, got to know each other. And we just had a genuinely nice kiss. I’m counting that as a date.”

You were sure that the human skin could not turn a darker shade of red than the one that was now on your face.

“O-okay…. So, will you go on a second date with me?,” you asked, suddenly extremely shy again.

Zach shouldered his gym bag that now held his freshly laundered clothes before turning to you, lifting your chin, and placing another kiss to your lips.

“With pleasure.”

AN: Do we want an NSFW! Part 2?

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal Fanfiction #Zach Wellison #Zach Wellison x f!reader #Brothers & Sisters #Pedro Pascal Fandom #friends to lovers #pining

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morallyinept · 19 days

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A full transcribe of ZACH WELLISON'S dialogue/lines from the TV show BROTHERS & SISTERS.

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE: (ALL EPISODES - ZACH WAS IN 2 EPISODES IN SEASON 5)

EP 15 S5 BRODY

Yep. Vista Hermosa Park.

What country?

That’s no fun, name a country?

Norway doesn’t have a president, it’s a constitutional monarchy.

Semper Fi, five-oh from.

Iraq.

Gosh. We’re practically brothers.

See that tree? That. He jumped me outta nowhere.

Maybe I got a swing in or two.

If people sneak up on me, I’m gonna defend myself.

Well I feel a little lightheaded. Maybe if you give me a sixty pound pack and I slung a buddy over my shoulder, maybe I can make it.

__________________

It hurts. Did you come here to check on my head?

What, are you spying on me?

And what did they tell you at the VA?

I’ve been on a list for a year. They stop putting names on a list because it never moves because there are no programs for me.

That's if I have a drug problem. They have programs for that, but I don’t have a drug problem. I have a place to sleep problem. I considered getting a drug problem, but I don't really like drugs, and I’d have to steal things to pay for them, which could solve my place to sleep problem, only jail… isn’t a good option for me. Thanks for trying.

Give it up, you can’t help.

You know what, bro?! You could end up with some issues of your own if you don’t get outta my face!! You understand my problem now?

__________________

What’s up with you, man? Why… don’t you know you could get killed doing that?!

No. Don't be stupid.

What is wrong with you, seriously?

__________________

Hey. Is this a bad time?

Yeah, sure.

__________________

EP 16 S5 HOME IS WHERE THE FORT IS

My support group ran over.

Let me go get my apron and I’m all yours.

Alright, I’m officially on the clock, where do you need me?

You got it, boss.

__________________

Justin. You alright?

You sure? Alright ‘cause, it’s like, the third time this has happened.

No. Never mind.

It’s not my problem I’m worried about, it’s yours.

I was there too, remember? Three tours, just like you. I know what you’re going through. The only difference between my problem and yours, is you got a place to hide.

Yeah, that’s what I kept telling myself my first couple of weeks on the street. And now here I am, two years later, and I’m still living out of a duffel bag. Avoid it all you want, man. But eventually, it’s gonna catch up with you.

__________________

Hey, man. Dan called.

You okay?

Yeah, Dan said. You wanna talk about it?

Okay.

And do you?

You mean until I showed up?

So, you’ve been trying to save me. I’m the straw that broke the paramedic’s back?

Justin. It’s cool. Dan told me about this building manager gig. Gotta go meet the owner, but he said the job is mine if I want it. So, consider me saved, okay?

But what about you, what are you gonna do?

Game? Trust me, not even you can save the Clippers at this point.

Yeah, it’s pretty bad.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#pedro pascal #zach wellison #pedro pascal characters #zach wellison brothers and sisters #brothers and sisters #PPCU #zach wellison dialogue

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mishasminion360 · 1 year

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If Only In My Dreams

Zach Wellison x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff; smidgens of angst; mentions of war; a little Christmas magic.

Summary: It’s never been harder to be in love with a marine when the man in question is overseas for the holidays.

A/N: Sorry to get all depresso but….this past October I lost my father very suddenly. My biggest supporter; my best friend. Mom and I barely made it through Thanksgiving and now Christmas is hitting me hard. I’ve spent the last week thinking how I’d give anything to have him here for the holidays, and my angst spawned this idea. Everyone, please remember to cherish your loved ones, especially during the most magical times of the year. I hope that 2023 will be a better year for all 😊

You can’t recall a Christmas that’s ever felt colder. Even with the fireplace roaring you can’t seem to feel the heat. His embrace warms you more than any flame.

He’s been gone for a year but it feels like 10. True to his word there hasn’t been a day where you and Zach haven’t spoken via Zoom, or a week where there wasn’t a postcard from parts unknown waiting in your mailbox.

The last letter you’d received had been accompanied by a small box. A ring box. An empty ring box. At the bottom of the postcard, following his missive, was a P.S.

“Think about it and get back to me.”

You didn’t have to think about it; you’ve had the answer locked and loaded since the day you’d met Zach Wellison. Now you just need the man to give it to. Home safe and sound.

That odd letter had arrived a week ago, and only silence followed. Now here it is Christmas Eve and you’ve never been more aware of your loneliness. The lights on the tree don’t seem to twinkle; the hot chocolate just doesn’t taste as sweet. All of the holiday magic has faded away, replaced by a heaviness that settles into your head and your heart.

***

You’re halfway through “Elf”—vaguely chuckling at the absurdity of Buddy’s holiday antics—when there comes a knock. You fly to the door faster than the narrator in “Twas the Night Before Christmas”, eager to investigate your late night visitor.

A FedEx driver is the last person you’re expecting to find shivering in the snow on your porch.

“Don’t you folks get the day off?”

“Not as long as there are still important Christmas packages to deliver into the right hands.”

He hands you a small cardboard envelope and instructs you to sign on the dotted line. You watch him wander all the way back to the warmth of his waiting truck before tearing open the envelope and fishing around for its contents.

You can only stare in awe at the diamond ring that falls into your palm, glinting like a snowflake that’s caught the light of the moon.

“Well, what do you say?”

God, you hope it’s not a dream; a holiday hallucination. There he stands on your front lawn, stateside, adorned in his fatigues and rucksack at his feet.

You’re off the porch and tearing through the snow, launching yourself into Zach’s arms with enough force to send you both falling into powder.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he chuckles, wrapping you in those arms you’ve been longing for. You’re instantly warm regardless of the slush filling your pajamas.

“It’s always been ‘yes’, Wellison.”

He slings has pack over his shoulder and carries you inside just as the clock strikes midnight.

“Looks like I made it just in time. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Zach doesn’t let your feet touch the floor until you’re beneath the mistletoe.

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @pascalsky @pascalpanic @heythere-mel @healingstardust @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @kiizhikehn-cedar @hellovanessax-deactivated202209 @fangirling-alert @fromthedeskoftheraven @axshadows @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @pbeatriz-blog @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @foli-vora @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen @supernaturalgirl20 @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @neganwifey25-blog @twistedboxy @emiemiemiii

#pedro pascal #zach wellison #brothers and sisters #christmas magic #fluff

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iamasaddie · 2 months

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can't stop looking at his neck | ZACH WELLISON

#pedro pascal #iamasaddie gif #brothers and sisters #zach wellison #ppedit #ppcu

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chaoticgeminate · 1 year

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You're So Classic (vi)

Summary: When you own a diner there are a variety of people that come to get a seat, Zach has become familiar with the constant and changing guests that come in through those doors. The good, the bad, and the ugly all with their own stories and their own lives. He’s witnessed first dates, last dates, engagements, anniversaries, job gains or losses, and birthdays galore.

Enter Nanette Dougherty.

Former pageant child, debutante, and swimsuit model fresh off a bad date and needing to be somewhere that her roommates and agent won’t try to find her. Where better than a diner full of things she’s never allowed to eat? What Nanette never counted on was the handsome diner owner to change her life.

Pairing: Zach Wellison x Nanette Rose Dougherty [ofc]

Rating: Explicit (Blog is 18+ regardless but this is going to be a bit of a heavy story)

Notes and Warnings: Series will involve some heavy topics including but not limited to body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), eating disorders, body acceptance, PTSD, anger problems, toxic narcissistic parents, and abusive relationships both platonic and romantic. This installment features toxic level parenting, bad relationships with Christianity, and corrupt authority. Beta read by the beautiful, lovely, amazing @leslie-lyman 💙

Last Chapter | Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

BLT (k)

Zach wasn’t usually the type to buy style magazines, he hardly ever saw the need before, but now there was definitely a small stack he kept at home. All of them shared one thing, Nanette was featured in the spread somewhere, and his initial idea was to make a cut-out collage as a sort of time capsule for the growth of her career. Something tangible she could keep since the fashion world was so cutthroat, designers rose and fell in the same day even, but then he’d seen the pictures.

Beautiful, of course, there was no denying that she looked stunning. But Zach could see where the photos had been edited, where the few freckles she had were hidden with make-up and digital touch-ups, her waist was far too narrow here than what he knew it really was. But keeping these around felt like it might be a bad thing, taking into consideration her reaction to waking up bloated, he’d never forget that haunted look he’d caught so briefly on her face as she panicked about it and tried to hide it from him.

Instead he kept the magazines on his bookshelf, he knew that Nanette was aware of them since she’d giggled when she saw the first one earn its place on his side table, but she herself never looked through them so he had opted to put them up. He wasn’t going to assume the worst about what she might be going through since that wasn’t his place, but he kept those concerns in his back pocket for now until he felt they were valid or if she addressed it first.

Ramirez had seen the narrow magazine spines on his bookshelf when he’d shown up but he wasn’t willing to ask questions yet, Zach knew the other man had plenty of them but there was a lot of respect for privacy between the two of them. He’d let Ramirez disappear for two weeks, no questions asked, and just told everyone else it was a vacation when Zach knew it was much more severe than that; he didn’t know the specifics but it hadn’t been his business, and he refused to let the man go jobless because of whatever it was. Since then they’d been close, the other man had plenty of opportunities to leave and just hadn’t, and Zach knew that he had someone in his corner who would go to bat for him at the drop of a dime.

“Miso butter roasted potatoes. What do you think?” He was recipe testing with Ramirez, the other vet was not only his head chef but one of his best friends, and once a month they would spend a day or two off together to tweak the menu here and there. Ramirez hummed as he took a bite of the lightly crispy outside, fluffy inside, potato and the other man nodded in approval. Zach tried it and hummed too, putting a check onto the recipe card and dropping it into the box for approved recipes, and then Ramirez was handing him a ramekin with fish pie inside.

It was a European thing, he was sure, maybe even a specifically British thing but he didn’t know quite yet and would have to look it up later; the soft mashed potatoes and creamy filling were good, it wasn’t necessarily his taste but he couldn’t deny that it was worthy of popping up on the specials board. His diner definitely was known for American classics but LA was a food melting pot and the occasional times he offered something more international always earned new diners coming to check it out.

“This is kind of heavy but it isn’t bad, like a shepherds pie but with fish.”

“That’s what I was thinking, I put a little more mustard than what the recipe suggested to try and brighten it up a little bit. I think we should play with the filling flavor a little because we’re working with US ingredients compared to UK stuff which is bound to have even a little different flavor profiles, but I think this one works.”

Zach watched Ramirez go back to the pie filling and smiled, moving on to the next recipe on the list, and he smiled at the general peace involved with the routine of it all. A knock on the door made him exhale a little, patting Ramirez on the back after washing his hands, and Zach nearly froze at the sight of a police officer on his doorstep.

“Are you Zachary Wellison?”

“Yes, Officer. Is something wrong?”

“I need you to get down on your knees and keep your hands where I can see them. You’re being detained for questioning based on reports of assault.“

Zach found himself blindsided as he was handcuffed, though the officer did allow him to at the very least slide into his slip-on sneakers so that he wasn’t marched barefoot to the squad car, and the officer’s partner was reading off his Miranda rights. Ramirez was talking with the initial officer about options for bail if it led to an arrest.

None of Zach’s neighbors were home at least. Maybe it was stupid but he didn’t want them to think he had actually done what he was being accused of. It was harder to prove yourself innocent than it should be in this day and age.

He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t speak up, because he knew that he needed to get a lawyer stat, but he was genuinely confused. From the wording it sounded like he was a suspect, not that it was a hard accusation, but he had no idea who would even accuse him of something like that. When he did go out to bars with others he never allowed himself to get drunk, he never allowed himself to have more than a few beers or drinks in general because he knew that he was sloppy, but even then he’d never been an aggressive drunk.

The squad car moved through the traffic with ease, finally arriving at the station, and Zach was led into a room with a metal chair and cheap table. As he took his seat the officer took off the cuffs, allowing him to rub his wrists slightly, before someone who could only be a police detective entered the room and sat down across from him.

“Hello Zachary, I’ve got a couple of questions for you.”

“I’d like a lawyer first, please.”

“Of course, there’s one on their way. I don’t want to keep you here longer than I need to, son.”

“I understand that, sir, however I will not be answering any questions until a lawyer is present as is my right.”

The detective leaned back in his seat and nodded, leaving Zach to stare at the table in silence as they waited, the ticking of the clock and the low hum of the fluorescent lights filling the void of the room with background noise. He didn’t know if it had been hours, or days, before the detective got up when a low buzz sounded and someone else walked in. The woman was professional, her salt and pepper hair in a loose bob that fell to her collar bones, and her eyes were sharp.

“Hello Zachary, my name is Margaret McCall. I am your state-provided legal representative.”

“Hello ma’am, thank you for coming.”

“Of course, young man, I appreciate your manners. Now I understand you’re being detained due to accusations of assault?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’s all I know at the moment as I refused to speak with the detective until I had a lawyer.”

Margaret nodded her head in approval before looking at the glass mirror, the detective returning and sitting down his his folder once again.

“Zachary, where were you three nights ago?”

“At work, sir, I own The Chow Hall. The diner on-“

“Ah, yes, the diner for veterans. So you’re a veteran then, thank you for your service.”

His jaw tightened as he gritted out a ‘thank you for your support’ despite wanting to be silent, the cops always seemed to think that just because he was ex-military that he bled blue, and the detective pulled out the photograph of a young woman.

“Do you recognize this woman, Zachary?”

“She comes into the diner after a night out drinking with her friends, it’s a pretty common event, usually weekly. But I only help on the floor when the servers need me, usually I’m in the office or the kitchen.”

“That’s the only place you know her from? You don’t go out partying in her circles?”

“No sir, I only know her from the diner.”

The detective put the photograph away and crossed his arms on the table.

“You have proof that you were at work, son? The whole shift?”

“Yes, sir, we have security cameras. I can access the feed and records from my phone, if you want that proof immediately.”

“Give me a few minutes, son. Let me check with the tech team.”

After he left the room Margaret hummed, scribbling something in her notebook, and Zach glanced at her as she closed the front page.

“The good news is that they have nothing to hold you here, especially with security footage proof on your end as to where you were, so you shouldn’t be detained much longer. In the event that they find something, do you have the name and number of friends or family I could call to confirm details of your week?”

“I do, would you like me to write them for you?”

“Yes, please, Mr. Wellison.”

He scribbled down the information for Ramirez and after only a moment’s hesitation for Nanette as well, though he did make sure to leave a note that she was currently visiting family in Texas and would only be available via video call if they needed to see her face for any reason. He looked up as the door opened and the detective sat down, empty handed this time, before Zach was handed his cellphone.

“If you could access those cameras for me, son, while I can watch you do it I would be appreciative. We’ll need you to send us a copy of the records from 20:00 to 03:30, unaltered. If they’re tampered with we will know.”

Zach made sure to keep his phone tilted so that the cameras in the corner could pick up what he was doing as he accessed the camera app, opening the video feed from three nights ago and creating the clipped segment that he sent to the detective’s e-mail. Once it was received, after the details were confirmed, Zach locked his phone again and handed it back. Margaret waited until the detective left to scoff.

“While I know you’re just looking to prove your innocence, they do require a warrant to request information from your personal devices.”

“I know, ma’am, I just want to go home.”

It felt like hours had passed as Margaret gave him her information, on the chance that they tried to pursue this case further, and the legal protections he had if they tried to disrupt his life over currently unconfirmed charges. He appreciated that she spoke as if he were innocent, because he was, but still with the reality that sometimes innocent people were convicted despite evidence he felt respected.

“You’re free to leave, son, your security footage is clear. Apologies for disrupting your day, thank you for your cooperation.” Zach took his phone back and Margaret led him out, making sure he had her information, and she slipped a piece of paper into his hand behind her business card as she shooed him away. Zach waited until he was in the car with Ramirez, who came to pick him up, to look at it.

Check your phone case for tracking and listening devices.

Zach hadn’t thought about that possibility and held up his finger to silence Ramirez when the other vet went to ask him what he was doing, and the man went on talking about the other recipes he’d gone over while Zach had been in the station instead. Zach found a small device tucked in the back of his case, barely the size of the top of his thumb, and he could see the microphone hole easily. There was even some sort of location tag tracker on it, no doubt they’d be trying to get it back, and he grinned as Ramirez pulled over at the gas station so Zach could drop it in the trash.

Only after he was sure his phone was safe did they head back, sharing a disgusted rant about the LA cops as Ramirez theorized someone had paid the woman to make the accusation against him, and Zach was willing to dismiss the idea. He didn’t have anyone out there who disliked him that badly, at least he hoped not, and the only thing that made sense would be someone who didn’t like that he was a veteran or that his diner was doing well.

Cassie’s nose was busted up but the proud smile on her face had Nanette grinning too, fussing with a rag to clean the blood off as her little sister cradled her trophy, and she could hear Paul’s nerves about facing her mother with Cassie this busted up. It had been right after the last game of the season ended that the goalie from the other school team had gone after one of Cassie’s smaller teammates, who had managed to get a shot past into the net, and Nanette’s sister had jumped in the second she realized Heather was going to get punched and pulled the smaller girl out of the way in exchange for a bloody nose.

“No matter what Paul or mother have to say, Cassie, I’m so proud of you.” Nanette ignored the look Paul shot her in the rear-view mirror, she’d chosen to sit in the back with her sister on the drive home, and focused solely on Cassie’s smile as the teen held the rag in place now.

“Thanks, Nana. Means a lot to me.”

“I’m serious, you’re killing it out there, I have the coolest little sister.” Watching Cassie’s smile turn shy made Nanette glance at her step-father, who was pulling into the neighborhood, and Paul scowled deeper when he realized she was watching him. He knew as well as Nanette did that her mother was going to lose it, the two of them had already been fighting over Paul allowing Cassie to pursue sports instead of pageants and débutante events, and Nanette knew it was in part because her mother didn’t want any other kids and Paul felt slighted that he’d only had one that was his to raise.

The two of them were just selfish and Cassie was being caught in the middle; Paul would always let her get the brunt of their mother’s temper for choosing sports over pageants.

Paul looked even more alarmed when Nanette’s phone rang, since he knew she wouldn’t take a personal or work call inside, and Cassie began heading in with her season MVP trophy. He knew as well as she did that without her going inside beside him that he couldn’t slip away while Nanette dealt with her mother’s anger on the subject of Cassie’s nose. Nanette answered the call and watched Paul skulk inside, hearing her mother’s shrill outrage even from out here, but she ignored it in favor of the call.

“Hi Delaney, is something wrong?”

“Do you remember Francesca’s friend, Lillian?”

“Lillian Hunt? Yes, she wanted to model but refused to follow the calorie restrictions and now she’s looking into acting right?”

“Correct, I called to warn you. Lillian went out three nights ago to celebrate getting a role in a commercial; Cheyenne called me because she showed up to film with bruises all over her and claimed that a stranger assaulted her. The man she described sounds like your boyfriend.”

For a moment Nanette felt that slither of surprise work its way through her, because that was definitely a surprise, but it turned into anger quickly.

“Delaney, first and foremost Zach would never put his hands on anyone like that and I’m insulted you would even believe that of him. Secondly, he was at work at the diner three days ago for a night shift, if the cops were called to the diner it would have been all over social media.” The Chow Hall wasn’t some massive Michelin Star restaurant but it was a very widely known place in LA being so focused on veteran hiring and rehabilitation to civilian life, the countless articles and travel blog posts about it had made it into an internet famous diner.

“As I said, I was just concerned. Please be careful trusting him.”

“Delaney, you are being ridiculous, Zach didn’t do anything like that. Now I have to go, my mother is not patient when it comes to disrupting family time. I’ll see you in a few days when I get back.”

“Of course, Nanette.”

As she ended the call Nanette sent a text to Zach first, asking him if he was okay, and when she didn’t get an answer she simply tucked her phone away. He was recipe testing with Hector today so there was a chance his phone was on silent, it wasn’t a huge deal, and her mother scowled when Nanette stepped inside.

“Was that your agent?”

“Yes, mother, that was Delaney.”

“Are you going to break up with that boy now that he’s proven he’ll run around and hurt people?”

Nanette stared at her mother in disbelief and realized that Delaney had called her already, likely during the game when she hadn’t been answering her phone, and that anger from before returned even as she fought to keep her tone level.

“Mother, Zach didn’t do anything like that and he would never do anything like that, he’s not a man that would go around hurting people. He was at work the night of the incident, if you must know, and the woman who made the accusation simply described someone that looked like him and everyone is up in arms for no reason. Do you know how many guys in LA have close cut brown hair and wear flannels? The answer is, a lot of them.” Nanette kept her tone as dismissive as possible, wanting to just cut this conversation off before it could lengthen, and a part of her felt guilty because the second she did her mother would just start in about Cassie’s nose without a care for how the injury happened.

Watching her mother’s perfectly shaped eyebrow raise and those pale pink colored lips curl into a disappointed expression had Nanette instantly on the defensive. The relationship they had was nothing like when she’d been a child now that she was living on her own and able to see how terrible the woman was. But any time she made the move of cutting her out entirely Nanette would panic and break within days. Her mother had always pushed her to do better and want more for herself, the idea of giving up her family like that was terrifying and she wasn’t brave enough to do it. Nanette’s mother wasn’t a good person but that was her mother, the woman who loved her and raised her, so instead she was as vocal as she could be trying to change her mother’s beliefs.

“Nanette Rose, I understand that you think you love him. I do, honey, I was there once too remember? But the fact that you’re willing to settle for a man that owns some diner in LA when you’re so much better than that feels like a slap in the face for everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t mean to make you feel like I’m attacking you or your choice, God knows you’re like me and have to learn things the hard way, but I just don’t want to see you hurt or ruin your entire career over him.” The resigned tone of her mother’s voice felt like whiplash when compared against her expression, making Nanette back down since it was pretty obvious that her mother was not going to listen.

“He’s a good man, and a great partner, I hope that soon you get to see that for yourself.” Honestly she missed him, a lot, maybe it was the honeymoon phase or whatever but she really wished he was here; his comfort and care was something she could use right now. It was true that she’d begun spending a lot of time with him but Zach brought calm to her life that she hadn’t even known she’d been missing, and his consideration for her work was unparalleled. He respected her even though she was a model, not once had she heard him make any remarks about her intelligence the way others often did, and he even helped her learn about field hockey so she could talk with Cassie about it with no judgment.

Zach was nothing like some of the male authority figures she’d had in her life, who tried to talk down to her because she was a woman or act like her doing pageants and débutante events made her stupid by default.

“Alright, if you say so, just remember that you can always call if you need help okay? Now, please tell me you understand why I hate this sports thing your sister is doing, or are you delighted that her nose is leaking blood all over?” Nanette couldn’t help it, her eyes rolled and she let out the softest laugh.

“Mother, Cassie is having fun and she’s great at the sport, you have a daughter who has pursued modeling and fame. Let her live her life, please? Sometimes it seems like all you want to do is live through us.” The swat to the side of her head with a rolled up magazine was to be expected and her mother looked absolutely thunderous, the sting was just present enough to be annoying, and Nanette scowled right back.

“Don’t imply that I’m some washed up crone, I don’t live through either one of you, I only want what is best for you both. If I hadn’t taken you in after the divorce your father would have put you in an early grave with his drinking habit, all I ever did was give you opportunities.” Nanette’s ire faded as she was reminded, yet again, just how ugly the divorce had been for her mother; she’d talked to her dad who had confessed at the time he had a drinking problem. He’d told her that he didn’t know if he would have been able to step up and be the dad she needed at that point in her life.

“I’m sorry, mother. I know it wasn’t easy for you, Dad even admitted he didn’t know if he could have stepped up back then, but there was a lot of stress I was under trying to live up to your expectations that I couldn’t tell you about because I never wanted to disappoint you. Please don’t put Cassie in that position, let her play field hockey and be who she is, just let her be a kid while she still can.” Her mother’s annoyance softened to a resigned look as she shrugged, nodding and waving her hand to dismiss the conversation, it was a relief and slightly irritating that her mother would just end conversations she was tired of without a resolution but there wasn’t much Nanette could do without risking her mother getting angrier.

Cassie was sitting in bed, nose patched up and changed, when Nanette walked into the room; the three-bedroom house had one room converted into an office, for Paul, so the ‘guest’ space was the bunk bed in Cassie’s room. It was a twin over double style, so whenever there were guests usually Cassie was relegated to the top bunk, but Nanette was more than okay with her baby sister cuddling up to her so they shared happily and talked most of the night.

“Is mom really mad still?” Seeing the very worried expression on her sister’s face made Nanette immediately exhale softly and sit down, pulling her sister into a side hug gently.

“Not as mad but she’s still pretty heated about it, I’m sorry I can’t do more to help you.” It was hard to navigate standing up for her sister, and herself, while still showing her mother respect.

“I don’t blame you, Nettie, you had it worse than I did with all those pageants and stuff. I don’t know how you put up with it.”

“You’re braver than I was back then, I just wanted to make mother proud. I started to like it more as I got older but that isn’t me telling you to give up what makes you happy. You are Cassandra Dougherty, not Nanette or Marcelline Dougherty, you have to make your own way in life; as long as you’re true to who you are then I’ll always be proud.” The two of them switched to sitting on the floor so Cassie could tell her about the different plays, and how she was excited that she was set to be the Captain at twelve if she kept doing what she was doing, and Nanette helped her sister come up with easier ways to memorize the plays so that she had a better chance at achieving that spot.

If she finished out middle school as the field hockey captain for two years then it would make her more likely to get a good spot on the high school team, since Cassie was having a good time so far Nanette wanted to make sure her sister was able to do the things she aspired for. They were discussing teammates and who was cooperative for extra practice when her little sister got quiet, looking very shy, and Nanette waited for her to broach whatever topic it was she had on her mind.

“Nettie? What does it feel like to have a crush on someone?” Nanette’s brows raised a little and she felt her heart stop only momentarily, trying not to recall the days of her own youth when her mother would take her on dates with boys when she didn’t really want to. This wasn’t that situation at all.

“They make your face feel warm, your chest feels like it's exploding with butterflies, and when they’re telling you about something they really like -even if you don’t understand it- you always want to listen because seeing them happy makes you happy.” Nanette thought about Zach, about how infectious his own happiness was, and Cassie’s brow furrowed.

“Is it… is it normal to feel that way with… with another girl?”

“Absolutely, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. People around here think it’s against the word of God, that it's immoral and disgusting, but it’s not.” Nanette’s chest was tight with concern, outrage on behalf of her sister who hadn’t even figured out life but was already questioning it and would likely be mistreated for it because of how it was around here, and Cassie must have sensed it as she fiddled with her tee shirt hem.

“I don’t know if that’s what it is but I’m scared, I know that Harry’s mom kicked Mason out as soon as he was eighteen because he said he liked boys -she told the whole team all about it because she was really upset about losing her brother like that- and I think I like Nora but I don’t know.”

“Cassie, you’re eleven, you don’t need to know all the answers to everything. Did you know there are people mother’s age who realize that they’re actually gay or lesbian, that they’re trans or bi or anything people would consider ‘not normal’ in our community? You don’t need a label if you don’t want one, and there’s no rush at all to try and find one. Just be careful with who you talk to about this, okay? There’s only so much I can do from LA. Harriet seems like she’d be able to keep your secret, from the sound of it, even if it’s total nonsense that you need to keep it a secret to begin with.”

Cassie’s eyes welled up and Nanette crawled over to hug her, letting her little sister work through whatever she was feeling and glancing at her phone when it chimed. Zach had confirmed he was okay, a relief since she wanted to focus on her sister right now.

Zach glanced at Nanette as she read through articles on her tablet, ever since she’d come home she mentioned needing to do some heavy reading and he’d told her to come to his place since Francesca was doing line reads with other peers at theirs, and he had his music on very low so he didn’t disturb her. He trusted her to tell him what, if anything, was wrong when she was ready to do so and for now he focused on finishing up dinner for them both. He’d just gotten the bacon fried up when he felt Nanette’s forehead come to rest against his back, the light grip she had on his flannel making him smile, and Zach set things aside to turn around and pull her into a hug.

“Need to talk or do you just want me to hold you, pretty girl?” Nanette’s lips curled into a smile against his shirt, the very light giggle that escaped her at the pet name proved her mood wasn’t the worst it could be, and Zach wouldn’t ever be able to describe the warmth in his chest when she hummed thoughtfully since it always came with an explanation. He felt honored to have her trust him enough to share what was on her mind, good or bad, to be her safe place to just voice all the things bothering her.

“My sister thinks she might have a crush on her friend from field hockey, Nora, and I can’t begin to tell you how badly that would go over with the people in my hometown. Much less our mother and her father. I want to help her but shy of convincing mother to let her live with me, meaning I’d have to find a place to stay, there isn’t much I can do except tell her to be mindful of who she tells that she’s even questioning it.” He was floored for a moment, digesting this information, but Zach could hardly believe just how wonderful Nanette was sometimes.

“I think telling her to be cautious about who she opens up to about her feelings is the best given the circumstances, she’s really lucky to have a supportive older sister you know. I would hope that maybe your parents might think differently since it’s their little girl but you know them better than I do so I will not try to challenge what you foresee happening here.” Zach felt Nanette nod lightly, felt the way she was holding all sorts of tension over this, and made her sit at one of the tall bar stools so he could finish making dinner.

“Are you okay with telling me more about your parents? Why they’ll go nuclear about this?” Nanette looked surprised for a second and then offered a small, embarrassed, expression.

“Of course, I thought I’d told you about them already. My mother, Marcelline Dougherty, is also a former pageant champion but she never got into modeling; she became a cosmetologist and pageant coach, as soon as I was old enough to compete I was in kiddie pageants too. My step-father, Paul McReynolds, has been her husband since I was six but he wasn’t really a father to me since my dad kept shared custody and I lived with him two weeks out of the month. He lived nearby up until I was going into Middle School when he confessed to me how he wanted to move a little bit away, I gave him the green light because I just wanted him happy, so he moved to a different town in the city that was far enough that he wouldn’t see mother all the time.” He didn’t voice how odd it was to him that she used the title mother but also the title dad, all that told him was who she was closer to in terms of her parents. Zach held up an avocado after slicing up the tomato and earned a nod.

“Mother and Paul are both very religious, if I wasn’t at my dad’s house or doing pageants I was usually at church or bible studies, they don’t see their bigotry as anything but following the word of God -even if they do cherry pick what they follow and what they’re lenient about- and there are plenty of people who have straight up cut ties with their children because they ended up coming out. Cassie is terrified, and unfortunately she should be, so I’m just trying to figure out how to help her.” Zach set Nanette’s sandwich down in front of her along with a small plate of kale chips for them to share, he’d looked into some alternatives for chips and he didn’t mind these so much, but he could tell it was bothering her.

“Would you be able to get a place on your own? Or are you contracted to live where you are? If you got a house of your own, I mean, couldn’t you just tell your parents you want Cassie to get out of the local area and become a temporary guardian until she’s eighteen?” Nanette chewed on her lower lip for a second and shrugged, looking more than a little lost, and he had no doubt that her parents were the nosy type given the way she was addressing this.

“Mother probably wouldn’t care but Paul wouldn’t like it, Cassie is his daughter -his only kid since mother refuses to go through childbirth again- and he’s the reason she’s even allowed to do field hockey instead of pageants. Even if he won’t actually have her back when she needs him, which is frustrating.” Zach found himself nodding, already disliking the man for putting his daughter -and step daughter- in this position at all since it sounded like Marcelline was the worst kind of bossy Southern woman.

“Well, I can help you go over your employment contract to look at your clause for residency, if you need me to, or I can help figure out what you’d need to put down on a place. I can also just mind my business and let you handle this, I don’t want to overstep.”

“I think I’m going to just learn what I can do to support her for now and if I need to take her in I absolutely will, I don’t want to rush her into thinking she needs to come out with some sort of label right away either, Cassie is only eleven so I’m just trying to be mindful of allowing her to start making her own choices.” Zach nodded and unlocked his tablet, to flip on a video to watch while they ate at the table, before he found himself with another question. He’d left the tablet on his messages application, which had Nanette’s question if he was okay from the day of his almost arrest.

“Hey, uh, that day you messaged me? Why did you ask if I was okay? You never said.” He had confirmed he was fine and sent her a question mark in reply. Nanette blinked and swallowed the mouthful of food with her hand covering her face as she tried to eat quicker. It was a cute habit of hers, to cover her mouth before speaking if she was eating during a meal.

“Delaney called me being super annoying about a false accusation, one of Francesca’s friends named Lillian apparently described someone like you as her assailant when she went out drinking and Lillian’s agent called him so he was all worried about me. I reassured him that she was wrong and you’d been misidentified, but it’s still really annoying. He was so upset about it he called my mother while we were at Cassie’s field hockey game, I mean come on really? I knew you didn’t do what they tried to accuse you of, not only were you at work that night but you’d never do anything like that.” Zach felt torn between relief that Nanette so firmly believed in him and immediate confusion that her agent knew about the incident. He didn’t think it was totally left field for the two agents to know what another, but it didn’t sit right with him.

“Is that a normal thing, those two talking?” Nanette hummed as she looked up from the video before rolling her shoulders in a shrug.

“Kind of? Cheyenne -Lillian and Francesca’s agent- takes a lot of aspiring models that refuse to do the calorie restrictions to try and get them minor film roles. I couldn’t imagine why she’d bring it up unless Lillian’s condition is worse than what I’ve been told, and according to Francesca you wouldn’t even know she’d been hurt looking at her. I kind of think she faked it for attention, wouldn’t be the first time and her boyfriend is a make-up artist.” The food he’d eaten sank like a rock in his gut and Zach excused himself, hating what he was doing as he stood in the bathroom and messaged some of his old contacts. He’d been willing to let it go until Nanette mentioned Lillian’s condition and that she’d faked things like this before.

A confirmation and a promise to dig into it from an old commanding officer of his sent him back to the table and he hoped, against all his doubts, that maybe he was wrong.

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