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wardenparker · 1 year

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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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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.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80

You're so Classic Only: @green-socks @whataperfectwasteoftime @harriedandharassed

#zach wellison x ofc #zach wellison x nanette dougherty ofc #brothers and sisters fanfic #zach wellison #model ofc #tw eating disorders #tw food #tw ed #tw abuse mention #tw bdd #tw toxic family #chaoticwrites

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ladyxskywalker · 2 years

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Stardust Reblog Challenge

Sept - Dec 2022 📖☕️🌸

please be sure to check all individual ratings, tags, & content warnings before reading.

OCTOBER 🍂

challenge hosted by @natrace 🌸

fanfic bingo

a reading & reblog effort to show support for writers here on tumblr 📖

the amazing spiderman

don't leave me by @softtdaisy (andrew garfield, peter parker)

the batman

coming up roses, two parts by @eupheme (alfred pennyworth)

bridgerton

gentle stroking of cheeks while kissing by @starryeyedstories (benedict bridgerton)

charlie hunnam characters

dirty talk by @autumnleaves1991-blog (king arthur: legend of the sword)

not all leaves turn in autumn by @rayslittlekitten (jax teller)

marvel

toys by @flightlessangelwings (valkyrie)

moon knight

kinktober, dirty talk by @flightlessangelwings (marc spector)

getting lost in a good book by @dailyreverie (steven grant)

going to a halloween festival with steven grant by @where-dreamers-go

pedro pascal characters

kinktober, mirror sex by @flightlessangelwings (commandante veracruz)

kinktober, outdoor sex by @flightlessangelwings (ezra prospect)

overstimulation kink by @magpie-to-the-morning (ezra prospect)

howdy, pumpkin by @magpie-to-the-morning (jack daniels)

breath play by @chaoticgeminate (javier gutierrez)

size difference by @autumnleaves1991-blog (javier peña)

kinktober, morning sex by @flightlessangelwings (joel miller)

first time by @autumnleaves1991-blog (oberyn martell)

the light in your eyes by @lightsinthedistancee (oberyn martell)

worth the risk by @the-blind-assassin-12 (oberyn martell)

stripping by @clydesducktape (pero tovar)

the halloween hit by @absurdthirst & @storiesofthefandomlovers (pero tovar)

pedrotober by @imtryingmybeskar (silva, a strange way of life, marcus pike, ezra, prospect, marcus moreno, pero tovar, zach wellison, javi g)

rogue one / andor series

having you here is enough by @kyber-hearted (cassian andor)

home by @uwingdispatch (cassian andor)

pretty words by @chosigue (cassian andor)

star wars

locks of hair & heartstrings by @laserbrains (anakin skywalker)

glove kink by @flightlessangelwings (boba fett)

breathless by @lightsinthedistancee (din djarin)

cuyan (series) by @againstacecilia (din djarin)

din djarin finding you asleep with grogu by @archieimagines (din djarin, grogu)

in the dark by @startrekkingaroundasgard (din djarin)

shatter me (series) by @writeforfandoms (din djarin)

set alight by @ezrasbirdie (din djarin & cobb vanth)

too much and not enough by @lowlights (din djarin)

inclinations by @obiknights (obi wan) (old ben kenobi)

goodbye by @tropodyn (obi wan)

helping obi wan kenobi in a space battle by @where-dreamers-go

serve my worries away by @friskynotebook (obi wan)

solace by @pickleprickle (obi wan)

breath play / missionary by @againstacecilia (poe dameron)

checking on poe before you had to leave for a mission by @where-dreamers-go

pumpkin spice and hazlenut by @huffle-pissed (poe dameron)

dead end by @a-reader-and-a-writer (poe dameron)

poe dameron having a team go with him to rescue you regardless of orders by @where-dreamers-go

the first star to fade by @wickedscribbles (qui gon jinn)

rose by @dailyreverie (poe dameron)

triple frontier

dry humping by @clydesducktape (benny miller)

kinktober, floor sex by @flightlessangelwings (benny miller)

a/b/o by @clydesducktape (frankie morales)

drunk sex by @clydesducktape (frankie morales)

love bites/marks by @clydesducktape (frankie morales)

thigh riding by @autumnleaves1991-blog (frankie morales)

witchy woman by @movievillainess721 (frankie morales)

carving contest by @dailyreverie (santiago garcia)

breeding kink by @clydesducktape (will miller)

captain and the siren by @rayslittlekitten (will miller)

#stardust reblog challenge #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #poe dameron fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #multi fandom #pxk reads #fic recs 💫#pxk monthly reading list 💌

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javierpinme · 3 years

Text

Inn Over Your Head

Pairing: Contractor!Zach Wellison x f!reader

Word count: 10.3k (I know, I know. Yeesh. 👀)

Rating: Explicit (Anyone under 18 years old, go away)

Warnings: mentioning of loss of parents, slooooowwww burn, oral (f receiving), masturbation (f), existential crisis?, unprotected sex (wrap it in real life but you know fiction), praise kink (are we surprised it’s me), idiots to lovers, use of vibrator, mild angst, brief mention of reader wanting kids, sickeningly sweet fluff (I think this is it but if you see anything let me know)

Summary: “I have all these empty rooms and I’m not a terrible cook so I was thinking w-what if you…stayed here? We wouldn’t even have to see each other unless working on renovations. Not that I don’t like seeing you, but if privacy is an issue.” Jesus christ. You stammer your way to the end of your proposition and avoid staring at his face in fear of rejection. There is a pause and you try to retract what you said before you get interrupted by him gently saying your name.

A/N: I never intended to make this one shot wonder so long, but here we are. And look, before anyone says anything I am very well aware that I said that I was going to cut down which believe me I did. I really did, but I also added more so it kind of balances out. This is my first smut piece, so yeah. That’s it. This is about as self-indulgent as it gets. In my brain contractor is the job I imagine him having post his job in B&S. 🤷🏻‍♀️

AO3

Inn Over Your Head Masterlist

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***

“No, no, no. Ugh!”

In your haste to move your kettle on the counter and boil some water for tea you accidentally knock one of the screws you had unattached from the vintage sink into the garbage disposal. All you wanted to do was see what kind of screws it would need since the screws that it currently had were a little eroded. You thought you were being proactive since you knew next to nothing about owning an inn. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath and grip the counter trying to ground yourself. You can do this, right?

You were recently single after a long-term relationship that went south. The two of you wanted different things, but it wasn’t until recently when that all came to a head. You’ve always wanted to get married, have a couple kids, and you were vocal about that. You had thought your boyfriend was on the same page as you, but when the topic of marriage came up he told you that he wasn’t on the “same level” as you which absolutely broke you because of how long you were together.

Which brings you to where you are at the current moment. You adored inns as a child; they always held some of your best memories with your parents before they passed. Every summer as a little girl you would travel to different states and you loved the historic feel that seemed to encompass within them. Whether it was the aroma of fresh pastries wafting in the air traveling to your bedroom in the morning or the fact that there were several generations before you that sat on the very same furniture as you. You felt a little lost and wished you had your parents with you to help you navigate this change in your life, but they never would be and that brought you down even more.

“Well, hardware store it is then.” One last glare at your kettle like it betrayed you and you walk out the door with the faucet in hand.

“How many different screws can one sink have?” You exasperated to no one other than your own ears.

You dig through all types of screws and none of them are fitting correctly causing your annoyance to increase. In the midst of you rolling your eyes at the situation you spot a figure in the front of the store greeting the cashier and fail to remember why you were irritated in the first place. The first feature that comes to your attention is how tall he is and the warmth of his smile when he passes by the employees. Your feet think before your brain does and move of their own accord silently following him through the aisles you definitely didn’t deem necessary to be in on any other day. You start picking up supplies only to put them back down to make yourself look less obvious about your ogling.

You can only see him from behind, but even with being covered by the navy and burnt orange plaid flannel he’s wearing you can tell his shoulders are broad. He rolls up his sleeves while grabbing what he needs and you almost moaned at the sight of the veins on his forearms. His hands are calloused as far as you can tell which means he probably does physical labor. You’ve always loved a man that can work with his hands.

An employee walks up to you asking if you needed any assistance which you politely declined and by the time she comes out of view the target of your attention is also nowhere to be found. You sigh in disappointment and make your way back to the aisle you actually needed something from. Your hands mindlessly grab the first box of screws you can find on the shelf while fantasizing about the size of his hands on how they would feel around your—

You gasp at the intrusion of your beginning to be very filthy thoughts when the subject of that fantasy comes into view from the opposite aisle and smiles at you. You blink subtly shaking your head and thank whoever is up above that there is no such thing as mind readers. The close distance between you even with the separation of shelves permits you to appreciate his prominently curved nose, his ebony eyes, and the dimples that seem to display even deeper as his smile grows when you are silent following his introduction. A chuckle breaks you out of your daydream and you ask him to repeat what he said. Your brain filters back in when he tells you his name is Zach and you return it with yours.

“Working on a home project?” He nods to the box that is sitting in your hand that you conveniently forgot about.

“U-Uh, yeah. I dropped one of the screws that at one point was attached to this faucet in my garbage disposal when trying to make tea so I’m buying replacements for it.” You stutter out holding the faucet in the air when he disappears from your peripheral leaving you confused at the interaction.

The sound of boots filter in and become louder prompting you to turn around and almost knocks the wind out of you when you realize how close he’s standing in front of you; the scent of bergamot and sandalwood overwhelming your senses. God, is this how he always smells?

“Well, let's see what we got here.” He grabs the faucet out of your hand inspecting the hole in it and eyes the box of screws in your hand while yours are focusing on how much bigger his hand is in comparison to what he’s holding. “First of all, these are completely the wrong screws for this. This is vintage. They don’t make these anymore. You’re not going to find those here.” He chuckles out which you misinterpret for teasing when you’re already a little sensitive from the events of the day.

“You know what? I think I’m capable enough that I don’t need a self-righteous know-it-all to tell me what to do.” You huff out in frustration at his picking of your unknown insecurity.

“Just tryin’ to help you out. That’s all, sweetheart. Didn’t mean any disrespect.” Zach raises his eyebrows and lifts his hands up in surrender.

“Thanks for your help, but I’m good from here.” You emphasize none too delicately pulling the faucet out of his hand and walking out the store in embarrassment empty handed.

***

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Kit. I mean I'm way in over my head with thinking that I could even do this with no experience. I can’t even pick the right fucking screws. Something so simple. My parents would be so proud.” You release a self deprecating chuckle and bury your head into your hands ignorant of the fact that there are other tables of customers trying to enjoy their meal. You feel the warmth of your friend’s fingers wrapping around your wrists to bring them back to the table.

“Hey, you’re doing a brave thing and your parents would be so proud of you for creating your own adventure on something you always enjoyed as a family. If I could help you know that I would in a heartbeat, but I might have someone to recommend. He is an absolute sweetheart. He dropped everything to help when my pipes burst. He’s a former marine and was spit out by the VA so he ended up homeless.” Your heart breaks for whoever it is at that moment, but you make a mental note not to meddle since it wasn’t your business.

“He’s not anymore but-speak of the devil. Zach!!” Kit calls out to wave him over and you momentarily freeze hoping it isn’t the same man that you snapped at at the store.

You slowly shift in your chair to face him and you feel heat cascading from your chest to your neck at the confirmation that it is indeed the same man. You spot that same warm smile pointed in your friend’s direction and you see the shift in it the moment he recognizes you, but he never breaks it which brings you an odd comfort. He was attractive in the fluorescent lighting of the store but even more so with the sun settling into night. Kit smiles at you unaware of the predicament you’re in and catches up with him while you’re trying to appear nonchalant about seeing him in front of you again. She introduces you and all you can do is squeak out a hello.

“The reason I called you over here is because she just purchased an inn and she has no idea what she’s doing. She is stressing about being in over her head and I know you have experience with doing that kind of thing so I figured I could hook you guys up.” You can’t stop the wince from forming on your face at the words your friend is repeating to the man that you were so hell bent on showing that you’re capable.

“Well, I wouldn't go that far.” You cover your embarrassment with a laugh, but it comes out unsteady.

“What do you mean? You said it yourself.” Kit narrows her eyes at your reply and repeats your words much to your chagrin.

“I thought you said that you were capable and didn’t need help from a self-righteous know-it-all. I believe those are the exact words you used.” Even with the repeating your stinging words it sounds like honey coming out of his lips. Your eyes meet his with what you now realize was teasing in a different sense than what you assumed it was in the store. Your defensive stance deflates and you can’t help the laugh that comes out. He’s poking fun at you and you start to feel a little ridiculous for your outburst.

“I….deserve that.”

Zach’s smile grows even wider accentuating that dimple again and shrugs his shoulders in mock agreement. Something about you made him want to help you and he’s trying to convince himself that it has nothing to do with how beautiful you are.

“I’ll help you. Here’s my number. Text me the address. We can do a walkthrough and make a list of anything that takes priority.” Zach grabs one of the napkins on the table and pulls a pen out of the pocket of his plaid flannel to write it down. The fragrance of bergamot and sandalwood tickling your nose again and making you yearn to know how that smell would mix with the perspiration of certain activities. An awareness hits you at the last second that has you ungracefully call out his name.

“Wait! I won’t be able to pay you.” Your voice starts wavering as you’re nearing the end of your sentence. I put everything into this.

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not expecting to get paid. Text me.” He motions to his phone and walks off. You turn around to face Kit again and she has a shit-eating grin on her face with her arms crossed in amusement.

“What was that?” She raises her eyebrows at you and you finally manage to maintain a straight face now that the physical manifestation of your awkwardness has left. “What was what?” You drink your tea to hide the obvious smile you hid behind your mug.

“Uh, that. You had a moment.” Kit points between you and the empty space where a cute brunette had resided a minute ago. You shrug your shoulders and feign innocence which makes her even more suspicious than she was before. “Okay, it was nothing. You’re paying then.” You roll your eyes and release a quiet sigh in relief at the drop of that subject.

***

You pace back and forth over analyzing a text message you had prewritten the night before to send this morning. “Personal or impersonal?” The arm holding your cellphone goes to your side and you laugh at your overthinking of such a simple task.

So you just crank out a quick message of your address and begrudgingly tap a smiley emoji putting your phone down on the coffee table before you regret it. The ding of an incoming message goes off in the otherwise silent living room if you count the rhythmic pounding in your chest at the anticipation of his answer as silence. You try not to think about the speed at which you walked from the other side of the room to see what he said. Sounds good! I’ll drop by later today and take a look at what we’ve got ahead of us. Saving you from the total embarrassment of being overeager he also included a smiley emoji at the end of his sentence making you slightly more relaxed.

***

Consciously you know that this is not a date, but that doesn’t stop your illogical brain from changing your outfit three times in the last half hour. He’s just here for a tour of the inn and you’re working together now, kind of. This is the first male interaction you’ve had since your breakup and your heart feels like it's in hyperdrive at that. You wring your hands together waiting near the front entrance for his arrival. A knock raps against the door and you take a deep steady breath before opening it to a to-go cup of coffee with that same cute brunette attached to it.

He greets you with a soft smile and a good morning. “That was fast. Were you near the door?” He hands you the coffee and you try to hide your mortification that he noticed.

“No, I was moving some stuff around when you knocked. Thank you. I love that café. They have the best coffee in town.” You open the door wider to allow him to walk inside.

Zach clears his throat and walks inside carrying a clipboard in the opposite hand; the sound of his workman’s boots on the creaking floorboards. “You’re welcome. I wasn’t sure if you liked it since tea seems to be your preference.” You swallow a gasp at him noticing what drink you had during your second meeting. He clicks the pen he had in his pocket and immediately goes into business mode writing out future renovation projects throughout each room.

You both squeeze into the powder room and you mention that you want to replace the toilet. “I don’t want to open up with that one. I want a new one.”

“Why? It’s clearly functioning. I thought you liked historic things.” He grumbles proving his point by flushing it and raising his eyebrows in your direction.

You narrow your eyes and cross your arms bringing his attention to your chest. “Yes...I do. I’m just not comfortable with the hundreds of years of shits that took place in it. We’re getting a new one. Add it to the list.” You walk out of the tight space in defiance and effectively end the debate. You might have imagined the huff he released and you definitely missed him calling you stubborn. You walk through all the rooms within the inn skipping your bedroom since that wasn’t on your list of priorities before guests rooms and you weren’t sure if you could handle the visual of Zach standing in your bedroom with you.

You walk downstairs in silence and make your way back to the front entrance. “Well, we have a shit ton of work cut out for us. It’s not going to be easy, but I might be able to shave some additional costs where we can.”

He must see a flash of irritation in your eyes and brings his palm up in defense. “Woah--hey. That’s why I’m here. To help you get through this. Together.” The last word a plea to understand he means no harm in his words.

A warmth fills your chest at the last word. Together. You tamp down that feeling as soon as it appears. You nod, shooting an apologetic smile his way before focusing on a scratch on the floor. “On the topic of money since as you know I can’t pay you I was thinking of some alternatives.” Your eyes finally meet his to see him shaking his head telling you it wasn’t necessary, but you insist on letting you finish your words.

“I have all these empty rooms and I’m not a terrible cook so I was thinking w-what if you...stayed here? We wouldn’t even have to see each other unless working on renovations. Not that I don’t like seeing you, but if privacy is an issue.” Jesus christ. You stammer your way to the end of your proposition and avoid staring at his face in fear of rejection. There is a pause and you try to retract what you said before you get interrupted by him gently saying your name.

“Yeah, okay. I’d have to go home and pack, but yeah.” Your heart flutters at the scene of that familiar dimple you’ve come to love directed at you.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at 7 then?” Your voice picks up volume now that he’s given you his answer. You open the door to let him leave and he turns around saluting you with a grin. You could get used to that.

***

Like clockwork, Zach arrives at 7AM on the dot which you tease him for while helping him bring in his belongings.

"Punctuality is a virtue, sweetheart."

You remember Kit mentioning he was a former marine, but you keep that information to yourself while directing him to the bedroom he will be sleeping in. You inform him that breakfast is just about ready and leave him to familiarize himself with his new surroundings alone.

Zach appears from the opening of the kitchen while you’re plating the french toast slices with berries. He pours the two of you mugs of coffee and you sit on the stools at the island to dig into your breakfast. At first bite your eyes widen and feel a heat rising to your cheeks at the filthiest groan Zach releases. "Damn, if this is what I get everytime you cook I will be very satisfied." Me too.

***

The both of you start to really pick up a rhythm and tackle your projects room by room. There are even some days he beats you in waking up in the morning, but his idea of a hearty breakfast is toast. You forgive that when he gives you the largest mug you own of coffee to soften the blow of his lackluster cooking skills.

This morning you’re going to be working on the faucet that continuously haunts you and you change into a worn white t-shirt with leggings in case you’re doing any dirty work at any point in the day. It’s been spraying water erratically since yesterday when you tried to make chamomile tea for you both before going to bed.

“Alright, let's see what we got here.” Zach tinkers with the aerator and it immediately starts spitting out water at him. In the midst of his struggle to turn the faucet off he isn’t fast enough because when he eventually turns it off he is absolutely drenched. There is a silence in the room other than the sound of droplets hitting the floor before you break out in laughter at the sight before you.

“Zach, you look like a wet rat.” You put your hands on your knees and lean in a folded position losing your composure. Your stomach starts cramping and you wipe the tears in your eyes basking in the moment.

He huffs in annoyance and you hear him trying to shake off the excess water on his clothes. “You done?” You’re not even remotely done, but his tone makes you act otherwise.

“Yeah, I’m-ZACH!!” He turns the sink back on and grabs you by the waist to bring you in front of the stream in sweet revenge. You don’t even have time to react before you end up in the same state he’s in drenched to the bone. He finally turns the faucet off and you force yourself out of his arms to slap him repeatedly.

"Now who's the wet rat?" He grabs a piece of your hair and moves it behind your ear. That tentative touch alone could have made you melt right there and then.

The boyish laugh he lets out has you beam with delight and you take a moment to admire each other before his smile falls. You furrow your brows and follow his line of sight; your first instinct should be to cover your chest but you swear you’re not imagining the swirl of lust filling his eyes. Wearing mesh undergarments today probably wasn’t your most brilliant idea.

Your breath hitches when you follow where his eyes travel. Your lips, to your neck, and slowly returning his gaze back to your chest causing a heat to pool between your legs. Out of the corner of your eye Zach’s hand that was flat on the counter twitches as if he’s fighting the urge to touch you and he takes a step closer before stepping back to this original spot to your dismay. He shoots his face away from you; cheeks tinted red before clearing his throat and huskily speaks.

“You can go ahead and get changed. I’ll still be here fighting with it.”

You nod your head and sigh in disappointment at the broken moment before making your way back upstairs to change. You can’t figure out why he hesitated when it was clear to both of you what you wanted. You throw on a dry shirt and walk back to the kitchen hoping the awkwardness has faded.

Zach is still in the same spot messing with the faucet, but has the water shut off to avoid any more accidents.

“We should just buy a new faucet, Zach. It’s hopeless.”

He shoots you a glare startling you when he breaks his reserved nature. “No. It’s part of the history and just because something is broken doesn’t mean they’re disposable. They deserve a second chance.”

You sense a shift in the atmosphere and you know he isn’t talking only about the faucet anymore. You slowly nod while picking at a chip on the counter and your mouth speaks before your brain has time to filter it.

“Like from when you were home-” You shut yourself up as soon as you started. You freeze hoping that he didn’t hear you, but the pause in him working on the faucet confirms that he did.

“How...how do you know about that?” His tone is as quiet as you’ve ever heard it and it breaks your heart even more to know that you’re the cause of it.

Your sharp inhale fills the room and you save yourself some time to come up with an explanation by pushing the flakes into the sink from your frantic picking. Regardless of planning out your words your voice still quivers when you speak.

“Someone told me. I’m so sorry, Zach. I was never going to mention it, but-” You never get to finish your apology when you hear the padding of his bare feet on the tile leaving the room. You turn the knob to the sink—looks like it’s fixed but you royally fucked up.

He avoids you the rest of the day by working on projects on the opposite side of the inn. There's no explosive argument. No demanding an apology for invading his privacy. You would have preferred that over the silent treatment. You deserved that. It only seems fitting to your situation when the cracking of thunder roars outside like the universe has been wronged and its demanding vengeance. I know.

***

You’re cleaning the living room area wallowing in your self pity when the flickering of the lamp catches your eye. Before you can even process the thought you can’t see anything other than the lightning in the distance through the window. Figures. The power must have gone out.

Your line of vision follows the stomping from the floor above you and a deep exhale can be heard from the man that has been avoiding you all day.

“You alright?” You can’t see him through the pitch blackness, but you know if the creaking of the staircase is any consolation he’s on his way down to you.

You blindly feel your way around to the dining room table where the candles you purchased earlier in the day to give Zach some space are located. “Yeah, I’m just going to go grab some candles.” You know he can’t see you, but you hear a grunt in approval.

You start walking back into the living area extending your arm in the air to avoid ramming into something before you feel a hand gently grab your forearm to direct you back to him. The coffee table screeches from being shoved away and his hand smooths down to your own to pull you to the floor. His hand is so warm around yours prompting your heart to lose its stable rhythm. He lets go way too soon and you fight to shove down the whine that was crawling its way up your throat in protest. The flick of a lighter goes off illuminating the room in a soft orange glow while Zach finishes lighting the other candles. If it wasn’t so awkward it would actually be pretty romantic.

You wonder what would have happened if you had never opened your mouth; so critical of yourself over your word vomit that you don’t hear Zach saying your name. Your attention is brought back to the man in front of you and the dam breaks spilling apology after apology. His hand hovers in front of you and asks if you could politely shut up.

You shift yourself backwards to lean your back against the front of the couch and he mirrors the position next to you taking a deep breath before he speaks. “I was homeless. I was in the marines.” He lifts up the sleeve of his shirt to show you the tattoo on his right arm.

“When I got back I couldn’t adjust to civilian life. I got diagnosed with PTSD and the VA helped for a little bit until they didn’t. It would have been easier if I had a drug problem, but I had a place to sleep problem which is how I ended up sleeping in a park.” Your heart shatters at the visual and you intertwine your fingers with his rubbing gentle circles on his knuckles in comfort.

“I mean I had to sleep with a pipe at all times because you just never knew when the next threat was going to be. I was scared. Scared of being jumped and scared of when my next meal was going to be. I’m not mad at you for bringing it up. I just...for once wanted to be someone other than that homeless guy. I didn’t want you to think of me like that.” A humorless laugh falls out of his mouth and you scooch closer until your thighs touch, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Zach, I would never think of you like that. I can’t even begin to imagine how scared you were. You really want to know how I see you? I see a kind hearted man that makes everyone he talks to smile. I see a man who dropped everything to help a friend with a problem and not to mention a complete stranger who definitely didn’t deserve it after certain rude comments. I see someone really brave and despite the circumstances you overcame it. That’s what I see.” You feel his head move to lay on the crown of your head and with the exhale he releases so does the tension from earlier.

You’re not sure when you closed your eyes or how long but it isn’t until Zach breaks the tranquility of the moment that you open them. “What about you? What’s your story with the inn? Since we’ve established you don’t know what you’re doing.” He flinches in pain when you pinch his side at the remark, but neither of you can stop the smile directed at the other.

“Well. The cliché story is that I’m recently single after being in a relationship for years. I thought we were both on the same page as far as marriage and kids goes, but he either changed his mind or appeased me to get me to shut up about it.” You sigh and the tear in the rug becomes really interesting until you feel Zach squeeze your hand encouraging you to continue.

This memory does actually make you smile unlike the other one. “When I was a little girl I traveled with my parents all over the country, always staying in inns. I mean, really old historic ones like this one. When my parents died I was devastated and I guess I felt like I was holding onto a piece of their memory when I bought this place. That I wasn’t completely alone because I had this.” Zach’s lips press into your head and you melt at the significance of the gesture.

“There’s this one memory I have of being in Cape May with them. I never forgot it because we stayed in what was called the “lavender room” and it was as you can probably figure out all shades of purple. Well, in this particular inn they had a clawfoot tub in the bathroom and I begged my parents to let me use it. I couldn’t get over the fact that I could use the lavender scented bubble bath in the lavender room. They wouldn’t let me and I was devastated so every trip afterwards they would bring lavender body wash to appease me when I would ask. Purple walls or not. I was a brat as a kid.”

“You got a thing for tubs?” You hear more than see the grin on Zach’s face and you hum in confirmation.

“When I bought this place and saw there was an attached bathroom to one of the rooms I was ecstatic because in the picture it had this beautiful vintage clawfoot tub. It felt like everything fit into place and then when I walked in I could see where there used to be a tub but it was an empty space so you can only imagine my disappointment.” You laugh at the memory of your mini temper tantrum at that realization.

“Sorry.” Zach rests his cheek against your temple and you bury your head into the crook of his neck.

“There are worse things. Maybe someday I’ll fulfill that dream, but it just isn’t high on our priority list right now with everything we need to get done.”

“Hm.” You bring your head up to ask him what he meant by that not realizing how close he was to you. He meets you halfway slotting his nose against yours and you stop breathing afraid that you’ll somehow break out of the trance you’re in. The silent question in his eyes asking if this was okay and you nod.

Your gaze follows his tongue peeking out to lick his lips and you raise your head to surge forward until you’re blinded by the lights turning back on. Zach’s forehead presses against your own and you grin at the devastation taking over his features even with his eyes closed. He opens his eyes and the boyish grin returns on his face at the comedic timing of it all.

“Come on.”

You blow out the candles now that you don’t need them. He grabs your hand lifting you up off the ground and presses that hand on your lower back to move you towards the stairs. There’s a comfortable stillness that you don’t feel it’s necessary to fill it in with conversation. You walk to your respective bedrooms wishing each other a goodnight before closing your door.

***

Sleep is not coming easily to you, too frustrated at the recollection of events of the day. You can’t help but laugh at the cruel joke the universe seems to be playing on you while staring at the ceiling. All the interruptions it seems to be inciting on you just when it seems like that cord of sexual tension will finally snap, the push and pull between you finally coming to a head. The only sounds heard in the room are the crickets outside now that the storm has died down and the rapidly growing thumping of your heart and core. Your brain replaying and rewriting that moment with Zach in the kitchen. What if he hadn’t stopped when he had? What if he had succumbed to the obvious desire you reflected back?

There is a moment of hesitation between you; a question before you surge forward at the same time in a bruising kiss. Zach’s tongue begs for entrance and you grant it lightly sucking his bottom lip between yours. A groan similar to that morning while eating breakfast comes out of his mouth before he presses you against the counter and the evidence of his arousal on your hip. His one hand is playing with the bottom hem of your shirt while the other wraps around your lower back; not quite reaching where he wants but respecting boundaries until he requests permission.

“Is this okay?”

Your eyes flicker between his eyes and lips; you grab his hand slowly, never breaking eye contact to move his hand under your shirt until he reaches your breast—“Yes.” He curses rolling his hips into yours squeezing your clothed breast not able to hide the grin at your responsive moan. You impatiently remove your shirt and bra baring yourself under his stare.

“Fuck, these beautiful tits. These beautiful fucking tits.” He returns his hand to your breast using his index and middle finger to pinch and pull at your nipples alternating between the two. His hips grind into yours hitting your clit just right and you’re powerless to fight the whimper crawling up your throat.

The sound of a drawer opening and frantic rustling breaks the silence in the room before you find what you’re looking for. Your soaked pussy begging for attention and you’re hopeless to ignore the ache. All you can hope is Zach is either asleep or too far away to hear the vibrating circles focusing on your clit.

Your fingers run through and pull his hair at his ministrations, his hands smoothing down your back, kneading your ass until he lifts you onto the counter. He grasps the back of your knees to spread you further allowing him space to admire the view of your breasts, smoothing his fingers up and down your thighs. You cup his cheeks and pull him back to your lips, your tongues fighting for dominance and dancing melodically all at once.

A soft gasp breaks it when you feel Zach’s thumb circling your clit through your thin leggings creating a perfect friction. You could come on this alone until his hand moves to your waistband slipping into your panties to return to your clit rubbing those soft circles.

His middle and index finger trace down your folds to your entrance. “Fuck, you’re so wet. I want you to come for me sweetheart. I want to hear-”

You bite the back of your hand just in time to muffle the moan you let out when you come hard, maintaining feather-like strokes to prolong your high. Your heart beating erratically until you slowly come down evening out your breaths. You open your eyes to blindly find your way to the attached bathroom to clean up and crawl back into bed. Even after relief, sleep still doesn’t come easy.

***

A groan escapes you followed by a yawn while you’re making coffee the next morning. After taking care of your needs last night you only managed to sleep for a few hours before the sun was rising.

“Good morning.”

Zach lazily walks into the kitchen and you fight the giggle at the state of his sleep mussed hair. You yearn to run your fingers through it and your fantasy from last night comes roaring to the surface causing a heat to rise in your cheeks.

You clear your throat and hope he doesn’t notice your internal dilemma. “Do you want breakfast?”

He walks behind you to open the cupboard, pulling two mugs out to fill them up, shaking his head at your question. “Can’t. There’s an estate sale going on today and I thought I might see what they have to bring back here. Now that the groundwork has been laid as far as renovations we’re just about at the point where we can consider a grand opening date.”

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of an opening date. On the one hand you’re excited because this is what you’ve wanted but on the other hand that puts a deadline on your time with Zach. You must take too long to answer because his hand rubs your shoulder blade and he’s asking if you’re okay.

You get yourself together nodding your head while turning to face him. “Okay. I guess I’ll work outside and get the garden to something you can actually stand to look at.” You hope the lighthearted tone covers the distress on your face and it seems to because he’s already on his way out the door. You had gotten used to this little domestic bubble the two of you lived in, but it wasn’t real.

***

You’ve been working tirelessly all day picking at weeds and turning soil to get prepared for planting. Zach still hasn’t returned from the estate sale so you use this time to go to the plant store for supplies. Your mind wanders to Zach while shopping. Regardless of the fact he is helping you there was never agreement of what would happen afterwards. Logically speaking you would go your separate ways, but that thought made your stomach turn.

You couldn’t deny that you’ve grown feelings for him and the close quarters certainly haven’t aided in your denial since he is there everyday. Those lingering looks and unnecessary touches when passing coffee or tea to each other often made you wonder if he feels the same. That moment you shared in the kitchen has you thinking he does unless it was just the heat of the moment. You were practically almost half naked in front of him and that puts you down a spiral of self doubt of his possible feelings for you.

You’re carrying your bags of supplies opening the front door and pause when you hear loud grunting from multiple men. You kick the door closed and you’re about to panic until you hear Zach’s voice echoing which brings you at ease. “Uh, Zach? Everything okay?”

A curse shoots out and you’re about to walk over to the stairs before you hear Zach protest. “Y-Yeah, we’re good. Just go outside and finish up gardening. We got this.” At his reassurance you start planting some of the flowers you got at the store until dark.

***

You’re sweating like a pig by the time you’re finished and just want to relax when you hear Zach opening the door calling your name. “Wow. This looks amazing. You did a great job out here.” He’s sporting a proud smile on his face and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Thanks.”

He grabs your hand to help you up off the grass while you brush off the dirt from your leggings. “Come on. I have a surprise for you.”

His hand hovers on your lower back directing you to the stairs and tells you to close your eyes. “Surprise? You really expect me to go up these steps without seeing where I’m going?”

He takes a minute to think that through and ultimately grabs your arm to help you up the steps. You want to trace your steps to figure out where you’re going, but you don’t want to ruin whatever has him so excited so you choose to instead ignore it.

The first thing that hits you is the scent of lavender overwhelming your nose and the humidity in the air. Zach permits you to open your eyes and your knees almost buckle at the sight before you in your bathroom. There’s candles strewn about on all the open surfaces and tears blur your vision at what sits in the corner in what used to be an empty space. A clawfoot bathtub.

A throat being cleared brings you back to the present and you don’t think before you crash into him with a crushing hug. “Zach…”

Zach returns your hug bringing one of his hands to rest on the back of your head stroking your hair. “I was at that estate sale and saw it. It was pretty beaten up, but we gave it a fresh paint job to match your bathroom. I-I hope you like the color. It’s no lavender, but it wouldn’t have gone with the color scheme in here.”

Zach reluctantly lets you go and rubs the back of his neck nervously when you’re not having any kind of reaction. You’re too speechless to find the words to describe how cared for you feel right now. How much he cares for you. “Thank you.”

You see how the tension in his shoulders deflates at the confirmation that he did the right thing. “Of course. You work so hard. You deserve to relax.” He tells you to get into the bath before the water gets cold and walks out.

You release a contented sigh and dip deeper into the warmth of the scented bubbles; thinking about that cute brunette waltzing into your life when you desperately needed it. You think back to your earlier self doubt, but this puts that to bed. As kind hearted as he is this wasn’t something you do for just anyone. Maybe, just maybe, he returns your feelings and you’re determined to find out. You must have been in the bath a long time in your thoughts because the water starts to cool, suddenly realizing you didn’t have a change of clothes other than what you wore before you got in. You don’t want to put your clothes back on so you have no choice—

“Zach? Can you grab me some pajamas from my nightstand? I forgot them before I got in.”

“You got it!” Zach bypasses the bathroom and walks into your bedroom shaking the picture perfect visual of you right now. The bubbles being the only thing standing between your soft skin, flushed cheeks from the steam, and—the zipper on his pants never felt so uncomfortable after opening the first drawer. Definitely not that one. Maybe someday. He desperately hopes you let him.

He clears his throat and adjusts his pants, opening the second one to grab a pair of pajamas for you, knocking on the bathroom door to let you know he has them.

“Thanks. You can bring them in.”

You hear the creak of the floorboards from him shifting his weight on the other side and then a pause. “But you’re...taking a bath. I can drop it off in front of the door.”

“The bubbles are covering me. It’s okay. You can bring them.” You find it endearing that he’s so nervous even with the wall separating you. You hear a deep exhale and the knob being turned, his head poking in while covering his eyes.

You can’t control the laugh at his expense. “I said you couldn’t see anything. That’s not necessary.”

Zach clears his throat and you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. You don’t need to see his eyes to know the cogs are turning in his head. “I’ll keep them closed.” I won’t be able to fight the urge to join you in that tub and everything that comes with it.

He feels around the bathroom to deposit them on the counter and speeds out of the bathroom.

You think you hear him mumbling under his breath but you can’t make out the words.

You go about your normal nightly routine and head downstairs to Zach making chamomile tea for you both, depositing the mugs on the coffee table in the living room. The two of you sit on the couch consciously scooting closer until your thighs touch, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

You put your mug back on the coffee table and Zach’s arm swings on the back of the couch behind you, not quite touching the back of your neck but close enough to make the hairs stand up anyway. “Thank you. No one’s ever done something like that for me.”

“Anytime. You deserve that, you know? You’ve been working so hard and I know it hasn’t been smooth sailing so you deserve a relaxing moment or two. You can put yourself first sometimes. And you know, you’re not going to be needing me pretty soon so take it while you can. The work is almost done.” Your heart drops at the implication and you decide it’s now or never. When did your mouth get so dry?

“I-I’m always going to need you.”

Zach’s features soften at your words and you feel his fingers gently stroking your cheek, shifting to cup it. You subconsciously lick your lips bringing his attention to them and his thumb grazes your cheekbone.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You’re not even embarrassed at your quick answer. You think you’d say yes to anything he would ask you.

He brings your face close to him, his hot breath tickling your face, and pulls you in for a chaste kiss. He breaks the kiss leaning his forehead against yours and breathes you in. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

“It’s the bubble bath, Zach.”

“Yeah, but it’s also just you. You smelled good before you got in the bath.” You narrow your eyes playfully but if you weren’t already sitting down your knees would have given out.

“I was sweaty and dirty.”

“It’s just the way you always smell.” You lean your elbow on the back of the couch, laying your cheek on your hand, and raise your eyebrows in false shock.

“I always smell like sweat?”

“What, no. That’s not what I mea-” He realizes you’re teasing him when he sees the smile you’re trying to hide behind your hand, forcing a laugh out of him. “You always bite back at everything I say.”

You close the distance between you with an inviting smile, a whisper away from his lips. “Yeah, but you like it.”

“I do. It’s what I like about you.” His thumb and index finger grasp your chin to pull you back in, but this one is not as chaste as the first kiss. He pulls your jaw down to open your mouth to him and licks into your mouth, massaging his tongue against yours. He releases a groan at your taste and oh—this one is so much better than what you heard in the kitchen. You use the opportunity to nip his bottom lip and he grabs your thighs to pull you into his lap; your hips straddling his until you feel his hardened bulge against your core.

You experimentally roll your hips and smile when he gasps, burying his head in the crook of your neck—his hips chasing yours. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, you know it does.”

You decide to spare him and stop your teasing to start unbuckling his belt, his lips trailing kisses on your neck before biting at your pulse point when you wrap your hand around his cock. He bucks his hips up to meet your slow strokes.

“We can’t do this here.” He whimpers when your thumb smooths over his slit to spread his pre-come and you kiss his ear, suckling his earlobe between your lips.

“Why not?”

He abruptly pulls your hand out of his pants and gently pushes you off of him. He is the perfect picture in front of you and you feel pride at the state you’ve brought him to—his chest heaving, lips swollen from your kissing, all the blood traveling to his cheeks. Well, almost. Your eyes zero in on what must be an obviously uncomfortable erection.

“Because guests are going to sit here and I don’t think they would appreciate this as much as I am right now. Upstairs. Now.”

You somehow make it upstairs in one piece despite the fumbling of limbs and hungry kisses and your back slams against your bedroom door once you’ve made it to your destination. You lift your shirt up and throw it on the floor followed by the unclasping of your bra before that drops to the floor as well. He grabs your thighs lifting you up to carry you to the bed, his hips pressing into yours on the mattress, pressing one last lingering kiss before shifting off the bed to admire you laid out in front of him.

“You’re beautiful like this.” Even with desire crashing through your veins your heart still flutters at the sentiment, his warm hand wraps around your ankle and rubs up and down your calf.

His hand sets your nerves alight and you conjure up the sweetest smile you can muster. “Hm. Are you going to stare all night? Or-” You open the leg he doesn’t have a hold on and you know he can see the wetness through your shorts if the growl that comes out is anything to go by.

“Or are you going to do something about this?”

He grips your ankle tighter pulling you towards the edge of the bed and the visual of him kneeling down is a sight you will never forget. His hands grip the waistband of your shorts and slowly pull them down—his eyes meeting yours in a hungry gaze once he throws them over his shoulder.

“No panties?”

You think he’s going to go straight to where you weep for him but he smiles leaning back up to give you a soft kiss on the lips—then another one and shifts back off the bed to his original position. Even in your collective lust he still manages to make your heart skip a beat at his softness.

He grabs your leg and places it over his shoulder peppering kisses up your inner thighs to where you desperately need him. Your eyelashes flutter when he places open mouthed kisses sucking what will surely be bruises you’ll wear with honor tomorrow.

He spreads your folds to reveal your clit and the first kitten lick has your back arching off the bed, the pleasure shooting through your core when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. A raspy moan you didn’t even know you were capable of comes out and you grasp his hair pulling while your other hand grips the sheets under you to try to keep yourself grounded—needing something to hold onto or you’d float away. Not yet, not when it feels this good.

Your head shoots up of its own accord when you feel Zach’s finger circling your entrance, his eyes a question if he can continue. You nod and your head falls back down on the pillow; whimpers falling out of your mouth at the feeling of his finger finally pushing into your entrance before adding a second finger.

You can hear the squelching from how wet you are when he pumps his fingers—in and out slightly picking up speed until he curls his fingers rubbing against that spongy spot of your pussy before pausing his ministrations. You look back down at him in frustration to him sporting a half smirk against your inner thigh.

“That feel good?”

"Shit. You..." You have half a mind to push his head back home for repeating your earlier words back to you, but you wait to be rewarded for your patience.

"You know it d-” Your words are cut off when he pulls your clit back between his lips relentlessly curling his fingers back against your walls. His teeth graze against your clit lightly and the tension in your core snaps, your walls clenching tight around his fingers. You hear a moan from below and he laps up everything you give him until you push his head away when it becomes too much.

You slowly come back down from your high and your fingers curl around the strands of his hair that had fallen over his forehead basking in your post-orgasmic bliss. Zach kisses from your navel back to your lips, pushing his tongue into your open mouth so you can taste yourself.

“We need to take these off.” You chuckle and play with the hem of his shirt until he raises his arms up so you can lift it up, his golden hued abdomen revealing itself to you and you hear the rustling of his pajama pants and boxers being pulled down his legs to join his shirt on the floor.

You cup his cheeks and roll your hips. He gasps when his erect cock slots between your folds and he peppers kisses on your collarbone. You bring his head back to face yours, kissing his cheeks and lightly stroke his cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”

His eyes become glassy and he attempts to shift his face to the side to break eye contact but your grip remains firm. “Even the parts you don’t like. Beautiful.”

He crashes his lips against yours pouring all his emotions into it—all the unsaid love he can give and just hope you understand. You trace your fingers starting from his brows making your way up, your nails scratching his scalp, and a release of air comes from his nose before going boneless against you—the weight of him a comfort that he’s here with you before he’s leaning up on his forearm to notch himself at your entrance. “Are you sure?”

You dig your nails into his shoulder blades and lock your ankles over his ass to push him inside. “What do you think? Yes.”

“Just checking.” That boyish grin returns to his face and only then does he slowly inch his cock into your entrance and the sheet next to your head creases from Zach gripping it in restraint—fighting the urge to push himself home all at once. God, he’s big. He rolls his hips until he’s to the hilt and you feel his pubic hair meet your pelvis. You experimentally clench around his cock and smile at the curse that he shoots out at the feeling of you.

“Fuck. Don’t. It’ll be over before it starts if you keep that up, sweetheart.” He doesn’t move—savoring the feeling of being inside of you that wasn’t in the form of his imagination.

You mouth at his ear, nipping his earlobe lightly and whisper. “Move.”

He looks down at you with a smirk calling you impatient. “Oh, shut-” You’re interrupted by your own moan when he picks up his thrusts.

“Shit, you’re so wet—so hot around me. Can you hear how your perfect pussy takes me?” He punctuates his words with hard thrusts and you’re not even embarrassed about the squelching sounds in the room your arousal leaking down to the crack of your ass. He grabs the back of your knees and pushes them towards your chest—his thrusts going even deeper than before.

“Fuck, you feel so good—so fucking good.”

You feel the softness of his hair moving down to your chest and you let out a moan when you feel his hot mouth wrap around one of your nipples, his tongue flicking around it making you arch your back in response. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your sternum before switching to your other breast but not without pinching the nipple that stands at attention for him.

You feel the tightening in your core build higher and higher but not enough to throw you over the edge. Zach must sense it because you watch him grab the back of your knees and lift your legs over his shoulders—the weight of his body leaning against the back of your thighs so he can lick his thumb—a whimper releasing from you at the lewd display of his tongue before he brings it down to your clit rubbing circles. You buck your hips to meet his thrusts as best you can with your position and your pussy clenches around him when your orgasm surges through you making you sob out his name.

“Shit. So tight. So fucking perfect for me.” His hips stutter as he tries to reach his release until you feel hot ropes of come paint the inside of your walls, his hips turning into a slow grind to ride out his high. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and his lips press light kisses on your throat. “That was-”

“Yeah.” You don’t even hide the satisfied smile that is surely taking up your whole face. You almost whine at the emptiness when Zach pulls out and lays next to you, your collective pants filling the room. You felt too sated to move so you close your eyes and listen to your slowing heartbeat.

You feel the sheets moving from under you as Zach shifts his weight. “You got one more in you?”

“Hmm?” It takes you a few seconds to catch onto what he said, your eyes still closed when you hear your nightstand drawer open and rustling, followed by a gentle buzzing sounding in the room. He makes you come two more times after that with his fingers and the vibrator all while whispering praise into your ear of how good you feel and he’ll never get enough of how you feel when you clench around his cock. How he never wants to stop.

***

The sun delicately making itself known through the curtains wakes you up and you feel a weight on your waist. The night before comes back to you when you feel a welcomed ache between your thighs, a reminder of your activities. You trace your fingers along the arm that is wrapped around your middle and you hear a tired sigh from behind followed by a croaky good morning from Zach.

“Good morning.” He grabs your hand so he can play with your fingers and you nearly cry at the intimacy of the moment. How different everything is compared to a few months ago; a relationship that wasn’t making you happy, the loss of your parents, and the lack of purpose you felt in your life.

“Are you happy? We’re almost done.”

You release a deep sigh at the sad interruption of the moment. “Happy to be done with the stress. Not happy because I won’t have a reason to keep you here.” Zach’s fingers clasp your chin and slightly turns your face to kiss you and then kiss your shoulder.

“You don’t need one.” His response muffled by his lips still pressed against your shoulder.

You turn around in his hold and ask the question that has been plaguing you for months. “What if you stayed?”

A furrow forms between his brows and you run your thumb along it to release the tension. “What if you just worked here….with me? As partners. You could keep everything in working order and I can make french toast and we’d do it. Together.”

Zach pauses his strokes on your waist and you inwardly panic that he’s going to reject you.

“Yeah.”

You release the breath you weren’t aware you were holding at his answer. “Yeah?” Your vision starts to blur as tears fall down your cheek and bury your head where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Together. I did do most of the work after all.” You raise your head up to fight him on that statement but you soften at the loving look in his eyes when you meet them.

“Kiss me?” The emotions you’re feeling are so overwhelming that the question just barely breaches the surface, but in the stillness of the room he hears you.

Zach’s fingers clasp under your chin to bring you close to his face—his steady breaths through his nose tickling your upper lip until your lips meet in a soft kiss. You lick at his lips requesting access and he grants it before leaning over you. You feel your soft linen sheets slide off your naked body and you open your legs to allow his hips to slot against yours—his morning erection making itself known.

“Fuck, you’re already wet for me?”

***

You’re at the front desk going through your list of errands for the day when you feel a presence behind you and a kiss on your neck. “All booked?”

You tilt your head up to allow him to continue his ministrations and your cheeks begin to hurt from how wide your smile is. “Almost. Just one more empty room so we’ll see how today goes.” You turn around and give him a chaste kiss on his lips; a contrast to the assault he did on your neck seconds ago.

You grab his shoulder and push him away from the front desk but not before delivering a slap on his ass. “Now get back to work, Wellison.” He salutes you with a grin and turns to leave to deal with whatever needs fixing. You never did get used to that.

You hear the door chime and you turn to face your possible customers with a genuine smile. “Good morning! Welcome to-“

Taglist: @pedros-mustache @sharkbait77

#zach wellison #zach wellison x f!reader #zach wellison x female reader #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison fanfic #zach wellison fanfiction #brothers and sisters #zach brothers and sisters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javierpinme fanfic #javierpinme fanfiction #contractor!zach wellison #contractor!zach #pedrostories #tw kids #tw pregnancy

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cyantomatos · 3 years

Text

Kinktober, Day 19

Day 19 of the Kinktober list provided by @the-purity-pen

Prompt: Impact Play || Overstimulation || Glove kink

Character: Zach Wellison

“Baby, please.” Zach grins up at you from his position between your legs, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His grip on your thighs keeps your legs wide for him, right where he wants you.

He presses a kiss to your thigh, grin only widening when you whine at the touch on sensitive skin. He’s held you on the edge for what seems like hours now, although you don’t really know how long it’s been. You have an almost vice-like grip on his curls with one hand, the other alternating between gripping the sheets and stifling your sounds when you think you get too loud. Of course, that invariably prompts Zach to nip at your thigh, a subtle warning that he doesn’t care who hears, he wants to hear you.

Instead of answering your pleas he dives back in, licking a wide stripe up your soaked pussy, groaning loudly enough to rival your own moan. “Love the way you taste, baby.” His voice is hoarse with desire, and you whine in response, unable to form the words to beg him to have mercy.

You lose track of how long he pushes and pulls, keeping you right on the edge and not giving you what you need to finally get your release. Eventually, what feels like an eternity later, you realize he’s not stopping. Before you can react to the realization he slips two fingers into your aching hole, curling them just right to push you over the edge.

It doesn’t feel like you make any sound when you open your mouth, but later you realize your slightly raw throat means you must have nearly screamed when he finally let you come. It might have also been from the constant whining and moaning and begging you’d done; you’d certainly done enough of that to damage your vocal chords.

You expect him to stop when he finally lets you come but he doesn’t, instead continuing to lap and suck and spread you around his fingers. He adds a third finger and you arch your back, trying to squirm away from his touch.

“F-fuck, Zach, too much…” He acts like he doesn’t hear you, instead slipping his fingers out of you to replace them with his tongue, shifting his hand up to rub slick-soaked fingers over your swollen clit.

You’re sure you do scream when he pushes you over the edge this time, body squirming on the bed, unable to decide if you want to pull him closer or shove him away. By the time you come down from your second orgasm you’re boneless on the bed, and you’ve also realized he still isn’t stopping. Your boyfriend lifts his head, eyes dark with lust as he gazes up at you. “You can give me one more, right baby?”

When you whimper and nod, eager to please him, he grins and lowers his head again, this time much gentler with your over-sensitive skin.

You’re almost in tears by the time he’s worked you up to a third edge just a couple minutes later, thighs trembling from the sensations overloading your brain right now. The third time is much gentler than the first two. Still overwhelming, but the waves of pleasure come in further and further intervals than before, and your body settles quicker this time. It’s starting to feel less like being pulled suddenly under a raging sea and more like drifting gently off into cool water.

You think he’s done. Surely he’s done? He must be getting tired, and you can tell by the way he desperately grinds his hips into the bed he’s eager to find his own release.

But he doesn’t stop.

He just lifts his head again, fingers gripping your thighs so hard you know in your tired, lust fogged brain you’ll have marks later. His eyes are wide, and they would look almost innocent if it weren’t for your wetness glistening on his lips and chin.

“You can give me one more, right baby?”

Taglist:

@knivesareout @writeforfandoms @gorgeousgrogu @leto-duke @marvelousmermaid

#tppkinktober2021 #zach wellison #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison fanfic

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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#9 our first dinner party, with Zach?

To my lovely @tardisfangurl , I am so sorry that you have had to wait so long for this but what with trying to work full time and apparently, I have to parent too (wtf is that about?) BUT IT IS HERE NOW!

Thank you to my beautiful, @yespolkadotkitty for the beta - YOU ARE A TRUE STAR ⭐️

Zach Wellison x Reader (Brothers and Sisters)

Warnings: PTSD, anxiety, food, smut

Zach and the Dinner Party

“C’mon you,” you tug at Zach’s sleeve as he stands by the sink, staring off into the middle distance, obviously at a loss as to where to begin, “Everyone is desperate to get to know you properly. You don’t need to worry because they love me - they will welcome you and you’ll be part of the group before you know it.”

When he turns to face you, you see his khaki t-shirt is trembling from his heart racing. “Yeah, and they’ll see that I’m not good enough for you. A washed up ex- marine doesn’t really offer much.”

“I wish I could open up that head of yours. Take out those thoughts and throw them away as they’re not doing you any good. Just making you feel rubbish and for zero reason,” wrapping your arms around your boyfriend, you squeeze him until he grunts due to the lack of oxygen, “Anyway, this isn’t your granny’s dinner party. This is just friends who work stupid hours, getting together to eat and drink before we put our noses back to the grindstone. It just so happens that you’re here and instead of me feeling like I’m the only one out of my friends who can’t hold down a relationship, I will have you to pass me beers and kisses all night.”

After sucking a sharp, juddery breath and nodding, Zach manages to smile down at you, “I can pass beers. And kisses - I can definitely supply some of those too.”

“That’s not all you’re going to be doing, mister,” you pull rank with your former marine, hauling yourself to your full height, despite your head just reaching his shoulder, “It’s field day, soldier and there’s lots to do.”

“Oorah!”

Throwing a cloth and spray at him that he catches effortlessly, you bend over to unravel the flex from your ancient vacuum cleaner and notice from between your legs that Zach has not started to clean, “Why haven’t you started moving yet, soldier? You waiting for a goddamn invitation from the president?”

“Just admiring the view, ma’am,” you catch Zach’s eyebrow twitches minutismally as he gazes at your butt, that you can’t help but wiggle at him - garnering a sweet chuckle in response.

“The quicker you clean, the quicker I can let you admire the view up close,” you purr, tapping him on the leg with the head of the cleaner.

Putting on some nostalgic rock from the nineties, you turn the volume up as the two of you quickly scrub through your tiny shared space. The beautifully domestic feel of singing out of tune - totally fucking harmonising but somebody doesn’t appreciate your talents - and dancing ironically badly with air guitars as you land on sofa cushions to save your poor old knees, isn’t lost on you. It has only been a short time of knowing Zach, but when you know, you know right?

You first met him whilst he was helping in the kitchens of the VA office where you supported vets to complete their high school education with their maths, reading and writing, find vocational courses or for those who were ready to go further, their college applications. Every time you popped by to grab some food, he’d always sneak you a bit extra so that he could be treated to one of your beautiful smiles that totally eclipse your face, making your eyes disappear.

One day, you put on your big girl panties and leant across the serving hatch to say how much you looked forward to seeing his face every day and that you’d love to take him for a drink after work. Amusingly, you had to repeat yourself several times as he gazed dumbstruck at you - almost as if you’d been speaking in Klingon and had three heads with the level of confusion painted across that poor man’s face.

Later, he owned up that he’d felt like an IED had gone off in his head - that there’d been literal ringing in his ears. That the pretty girl he looked forward to seeing asked him out for a drink. His shock at being asked - genuinely asking if you meant him - had made you roar with laughter as you passed him your number on a serviette.

One date bled into another until three months later, here you were, virtually living together (he totally had moved in but neither of you were ready to own up to that obvious fact) with all your spare time either tangled together across the couch or snuggled up in bed. Tonight would be the night where he met all of your friends at once. He’d met most of them individually and was well liked amongst the crowd, but you knew that the thought of your looming turn of the dinner party was making him tremble with anxiety.

When you’d offered to cancel with your friends, there’d been a flash of anger from him that had ripped through his body like a hurricane - pouring out during his dreams. The anxiety that you thought him weak - not worthy of being around your friends - had left him a sweaty damp mess that night as he woke screaming, flailing - still thinking he was in Afghanistan. He’d tried to push you away when you’d cradled him to your chest but the tears that flowed on him realising that you weren’t going to let go, were the sweetest release he’d felt in a long time.

“You look hot,” Zach rubs his thumb across the beads of sweat collecting like a tiara of hard work upon your forehead as he becomes distracted by you cleaning near him.

“Yeah, I do,” you wink, grabbing his butt so that his hips are flush with yours.

The laugh this brings from Zach is music to your ears as his face crinkles at your cheesiness. Standing so close, you nuzzle his cheek - his sandalwood scented soap making every nerve within you fizz and tingle as you allow your lips to lightly graze his skin. Tilting his head slightly - a smile still playing upon his mouth - he searches for you. With his fingers finding your hair, your heart catches in your throat as his lips brush tenderly against you.

You don’t want this moment to end but as Zach draws back and places a small, loving peck on the tip of your nose, you stick your bottom lip out like a truculent child which elicits another chuckle from him, “C’mon sweetheart, we need to get started on dinner.”

“Can’t believe you are going to have me making pasta from scratch. Did you know - there are places that make it for you so that all you have to do is throw it into boiling salted water,” you grumble sarcastically, brow furrowed.

Zach shakes his head at you - rolling his eyes slightly as he takes your chin between his fingers, “When you cook for people, it’s nurturing them - that’s something everyone needs. For years, all my food was ration packs and eaten quickly as if you take your time, that can make you and your whole squad vulnerable.

“I know I’m not the greatest catch - I can’t offer you everything I want to give you but I can cook. And knowing that my food nourishes you, eases me here,” he taps his chest on the left before bringing his fingers to stroke your cheek, “It’s also great to have the time to enjoy creating something where I’m not at risk of being shot at.”

A brief flutter of guilt at your laziness flickers within your chest as you consider everything Zach has been through before he arrived at your door. You bury your face in his chest to hide your wincing, not feeling worthy of his gaze - breathing the smell of your shared laundry soap and conditioner, and that smell that is just just entirely him. Always immaculately clean and scrubbed, Zach still takes militaristic care with his showers - only ever becoming preoccupied if you decide to join him.

“Hey, hey beautiful - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” a kiss is pressed into the top of your head, “If you want, I can run out and buy some pappardelle.”

“No, I’m sorry and I deserve to feel guilty as I was entirely being a dick,” you mumble into his chest, “Let me swim around in it until I get all prune-y.”

Prising your head gently back from his chest, Zach smiles down at you, “Nope, soldier. I can’t let you do that, I need you fit and ready to concentrate, stat.”

“Yes, sir. ‘Oorah.”

✪✪✪✪✪

“I stole my mom’s pasta machine,” You throw over your shoulder at your boyfriend, as you scrub your hands at the sink behind him in your galley kitchen - your bums almost touching due the narrow proximity.

A chuckle vibrates the air by your ear as a pair of arms wrap around your middle, “Not stolen. I asked her if we could borrow it for tonight.”

“Oh,” you huff, “So there was no need for my cloak and dagger tactics to get it out of her kitchen?”

You watch as a large hand tries to muffle the laughter erupting from Zach’s mouth, “I wondered why you were being so weird that night. You kept disappearing.”

“Yeah, I was loosening it surreptitiously from the table so it didn’t have to be a smash and grab,” you frown at the unnecessary effort you’d put into pickpocketing until you catch Zach’s twinkling eyes, “Look, I warned you that this was a thing with my family. We all try to steal things without the others noticing - you know this! You hollered at my brother when you caught him - what can only be described as - sashaying away from here in my heels.

“It’s like a really irritating bit that has gone on far too long but now you messed it up by asking for my mom’s permission - gah! I will never live this down, teacher’s pet,” you playfully jab your boyfriend in the ribs.

With nowhere to easily escape, Zach’s hands simply catch your wrists to try to cease your tickling torment of him, pinning them effortlessly above your head to an overhead cabinet before growling in your ear, “That’s right, I’m a good boy. I asked your mom for permission to borrow her pasta machine.”

After pressing a line of kisses into your neck, he suddenly releases your hands leaving you desperately wanting more as he grabs the eggs and flour from the side, “C’mon you, we have pasta to make.”

Biting your lip and wishing that Zach had continued in that vein, you follow his broad back through to your living room where your dining table is for once, not only clean but clutter free. Using a large bowl, you watch as he pours in three cups of 00 flour to one cup of fine semolina flour - his large hands gently whisking the two together, barely causing a cloud of dust to rise.

“Right, beautiful, while I mix these - you beat these eggs,” Zach instructs as he brushes floury handprints onto his joggers before passing you a bowl, six eggs and a fork.

Diligently cracking each shell against the side of the bowl, the contents of the eggs plop satisfyingly as you whips them together into a frothy orange concoction, “Where did you learn to make pasta? Is it since you’ve been working in the kitchen?”

A small snort to your right makes you look up at the gorgeous crinkles emanating from his eyes, “Hah, no. Not much fresh stuff served in the canteen.”

With a small kiss to the side of your head, Zach disappears momentarily to reappear cradling a pile of rosemary, garlic, anchovies and a small bottle of white balsamic vinegar, “When I was small, my mom and dad just worked all the time or went out with their friends, which made me the typical latchkey kid of the seventies and eighties. Our apartment was next to a lovely Ligurian lady who’d immigrated here in the fifties and she hated that I was left alone so often.

“Signora Guilia would have me finish my homework at her table and then make me scrub up to help her make dinner. The food was always much tastier than whatever my mom left me to make with the microwave chef at home and I loved spending that time with her.

“She had this heavy wooden dinner table that must have been passed down generations before it got shipped across the seas. The knots that surrounded the pasta machine were always slightly floury as it was constantly in use - it was my favourite point to sit at the table.”

Feeling your heart grow within your chest, you watch avidly as Zach traces the imaginary knots of the old lady’s table gently across the Formica surface in your home. He so rarely shares anything willingly about his past - only allowing you in when he’s at a virtual breaking point - that you treasure these moments of peaceful reflection.

Perching on a barstool by the kitchen door, you swing your legs whilst you watch him confidently moving around - your favourite pastime even when you’re both at work. The moments you snatch together between classes, with you leaning against the stainless steel surfaces of his work space with a steaming coffee in hand, chattering away to Zach as you watch him preparing the canteen lunches with his sous chef hat on. - him sneaking small kisses and sharing shy smiles with you.

Having roughly chopped the ingredients, Zach throws them all in the blender, adding a good glug of vinegar to the mix before blitzing it into a green sauce and setting it to one side. After checking the beaten eggs, he creates a well for them in amongst the mix of flours in the bowl slowly bringing the ingredients together with a couple of tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil until it creates a ball. Plying and pressing back and forth, Zach’s knuckles effortlessly knead the gloriously golden dough - adding a little more flour after initially finding the mixture too sticky beneath his warm palms.

“Signora Isabella would cut the dough into smaller sections - flattening each piece with her rolling pin before handing them to me where I’d feed them into the machine, watching them grow thinner and thinner and longer and longer with each pass through the rollers. I loved being in charge of that dial, turning it until the dough was papery thin.”

Not realising that you’re just gazing at him adoringly until you catch the rosy hue upon the tips of his ears, you avert your eyes to try to quell the embarrassment building within Zach, “What can I do to help, honey?” you offer, “I’m just sitting here like a lemon while you do all the work.”

“Wanna get the meat started?” Zach’s eyebrows question as his brow furrows, “Needs seasoning, a layer of flour and browning in the pan.

Think you’re up to that, chef?” he winks at you, flashing that delicious dimple your way.

“Oh I dunno, you’re testing my skills of domesticity there,” you tease before shaking your head and gesturing at the comfortable yet mismatched living space of randomly gathered nicknacks and creaky second-hand furniture, “As you can see, it’s not my strong point.”

After sliding from your seat, a slap on your bum sends into the kitchen as you shoot your boyfriend a mock shocked look across your shoulder. Opening the fridge, you not only grab the neck of lamb but two bottles of beer that seem to call your name. Blindly passing it through the doorway, you can’t help but smile when the bottle in your hand is swapped for a gently pressed kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Heavily seasoning the meat, you roll it in flour before heating the oil beneath a cast iron casserole that you’d discovered for a steal in a local goodwill. Sneaking up behind you with the green sauce in one hand, Zach comes to check on your progress as you absentmindedly flick through your phone and steal an amaretti biscuit instead of turning the steadily browning meat.

“Browning not burning,” he mutters as one arm removes the meat from the gas to a nearby plate and the other arm slips around your tummy. Biting the juncture between your neck and shoulders as a playful warning, Zach then deglazes the pan with a splash of white wine, reducing it until the liquid from the pan disappeared. Still working one handed with you snuggled into one side, he throws the lamb and the green sauce back into the casserole before spinning you into him to swap places so he can grab the chicken stock from the fridge to add to the dish too.

Both Zach and you stand there in silence watching the meat stew come to a simmer upon the stove - the worn, softness of his t-shirt against your cheek.

“Ready to help me make the pasta?” Zach muffledly asks into your hair.

Against his chest, you nod albeit entirely reluctant to let him go. Following Zach back into the living room, you stand beside him at the table - whilst you were browning the meat, he’d separated and rolled out the blocks of dough, ready to be passed through your mom’s machine.

“So what do I do?” You ask, peering over the machine as despite it being a permanent fixture in the family kitchen of your childhood, you’d only ever run your playdough through it as a kid and gotten such a telling off, that you never went near it again.

“We’re gonna start with it on the widest setting, and keep passing and tightening it until it’s about the thickness of a dime,” he passes you a piece of dough to start feeding into the machine - you catch a slight smile curling up at the corners of his mouth as he takes in your confused expression, “C’mon, you must have used this with your mom as a kid?”

“Nope,” you pop the p, shaking your head in response to Zach’s question, “We weren’t ever allowed in the kitchen as we’d make a mess. Ruin something. Probably what cemented my love of microwave dinners.”

“Time to put that right then,” he brushes your cheek with a warm, slightly floury thumb, “‘K, so you need to feed it in from the top really slowly and crank the handle - don’t look so panicked - I’m gonna help you.”

As you start to send it through the rollers, you watch the magic being created - the dough being squeezed ever thinner and flatter. Over and over, again and again, Zach adeptly changes the setting each time until you are left with an impossibly long, papery thin pasta, ready to be cut into chunky strands of pappardelle.

You cannot help but be amazed by this transformation - all big eyes and mouth agape as you turn to Zach. The tug you make upon the seam of his t-shirt is entirely unnecessary as you notice that he’s grinning at your childlike expression of wonder.

“Look what we made! That’s so cool,” you enthuse emphatically, “I do feel like that’s the best you’re going to get from me unless you let me have a coffee break though.”

“‘K soldier, at ease. Want a cookie with that coffee?” Zach asks, pressing a kiss into your forehead.

“Only if you insist.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands clasped tightly around mismatched mugs of steaming coffee, the two of you stretch out together on the sofa with the tv softly playing out some comedy in the background. You still giggle at the lines you’ve heard a million times before but you notice the tap, tap, tapping of fingers against the ceramic of Zach’s cup. Placing your cup upon the creaky floorboards, you remove the mug from his hands - putting it down next to yours - before moving to the opposite side of the sofa to snuggle into his chest.

On placing your head upon him, the rapid thud of his heart sends a wave of worry through you and as a response, you tuck your arms around him, squeezing Zach tightly. Oh how you wish you could squash all those fears that roar away inside his brain. How you wish you could pull him out of that reaction to retreat inside himself and switch off that constantly ringing alarm inside his head.

“I’m right here, you know,” you utter gently, as you nuzzle into him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A heavy swallow comes from above you but no verbal response. You stick your hand between the sofa cushions behind you - rummaging through broken remotes, crumbs and hair grips before your fingers find purchase on what you were looking for and triumphantly pulling out your half rolled up tube of intensive hand cream.

“I love the special places you have for keeping your things,” Zach chuckles tightly.

“Hey, I knew exactly where it was,” you shuffle yourself so that you’re now sitting between Zach’s legs - holding out your hand for him to place his in yours, “C'mere baby, let me sort those hands out for you.”

Massaging Zach’s hands is one of your most favourite things to do. When he’s constantly scrubbing them at work to ensure hygiene, they often get cracked and sore and so they benefit from the miracle cream that you rub into them but that’s not the only reason you do it. Squirting a large blob into his left hand, you start to relax the muscles by using your thumbs to caress large circles into his palms - working in spirals from the centre to the edges.

Stroking downwards from his knuckles to his wrist, you start to feel a little of his tension ebb away as his head flops back on the armrest and his thick, dark eyelashes flutter softly upon his cheek.

“I swear, your skin is like lots of little straws just drinking up this moisture,” you utter as you wrap your hand around each finger, gently rotating each joint, “It’s so dry. I’m gonna get you a tube to keep at work.”

Your only response is a deeply satisfied grunt from the other end of the sofa, followed by a settled sigh as his breathing evens out. Starting at the base of each finger, you rub in anti-clockwise circles until you reach Zach’s fingertips - at which point, you realise he may have dropped off. Still keeping the soothing movements going, not wanting to startle your handsome boyfriend from a much needed doze, you watch his chest slowly rising and falling, remembering his initial fear of sleeping next to you - how he used to fly out of bed to lie upon the sofa.

It took weeks of gentle cajoling to convince him that you were at no greater risk from his nightmares than he was from your bed hogging nocturnal activities. Gradually, Zach allowed himself closer and closer to you and spread himself more evenly across the mattress rather than trying to sleep on the edge of the bed. Now, you are pretty confident the only reason he ends up there is because of your need to starfish during the night.

As you switch to his other hand, Zach shuffles slightly - one eyebrow raising his eyelid to check it was still you between his knees. His lips part into a sleepy soft smile as both eyes slowly blink back open.

“Think you’ve got magic in those hands of yours,” he mutters thickly through a yawn, sniffing as he rubs the heel of his left hand in his eyes.

You feel a glow beginning in your tummy at his words. Kneeling forwards you press a kiss to his forehead, “What’s left to be done?”

“Dessert, and entrée - but I’ll sort the antipasti once people arrive,” Zach scratches his chest, gazing up at you, “The tiramisù needs making.

“Listen, I’ll go get the ingredients and put some fresh coffee on - you sit here,” Zach pulls himself upright, ready to get back to work, patting your bum to get you to sit further back so he can slide past.

Grabbing your now almost iced coffee from the floor, you watch your boyfriend’s ass disappear back into the kitchen from where you can hear the electrical hum of the kettle, the bangs of cupboards being rummaged through, and the soft clunk of the fridge closing again. Moments later, Zach reappears with his arms full of delicious things - including that box of amaretti biscuits that you may have dipped into several times already.

Setting the things down upon your table, as a gesture to get up and help, Zach then strokes the back of your neck.

“‘K so Signora Giulia would always make her tiramisù with amaretti biscuits - might have to be a bit lighter on how many she used to pack into hers though,” he chuckles, shaking the nearly half-empty box in your direction.

“Must be those damn mice again.”

“Yeah, I’ve never met mice that are as neat as yours,” Zach drops the last biscuit into the freshly brewed coffee, “I mean, they even put the wrappers in the bin.”

“I’ve trained them well.”

“If you could do that with the ones that hang out in the dry storage larders at work, that’d be great,” Zach muses as he whips double cream, mascarpone, golden caster sugar and Marsala together.

You turn back to enjoy how the brisk whisking of the delicious mixture highlights the lean muscles in his arms, “You know the mice aren’t so keen on lady fingers. They told me that the sponge isn’t as moreish as the almond flavour.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Zach chuckles as you sidle over, wrapping your arms around him, “Hey, you here to cause trouble?”

“Always,” your hands slide beneath his T-shirt, enjoying the soft, smoothness of his back muscles as you rub up and down his body.

“I can’t concentrate with you doin’ that.”

You giggle, sliding the worn material up before nuzzling the bare flesh between his shoulder blades, “Y’see why I always smack your hands away when I cook - you do this to me all the time!”

“Okay, okay - just stop kissing me while I grate chocolate across the top of the desert. I need my fingers, if you don’t want to serve your friends Pot Noodles and donuts from the bodega,” Zach pleads with you as you continue placing delicate kisses down his spine.

Sliding your hands around to his tummy, you keep them travelling lower until you reach the thick cotton waistband of his joggers. For a moment - as you feel his hands rapidly grating dark chocolate back and forth - you hover your fingertips just above his sensitive skin, refusing to touch until the need for band aids has passed. A satisfying clunk of metal upon Formica tells you that the danger has passed so your hands wrap around Zach’s steadily growing erection. The breath that catches in his throat makes your pulse quicken.

Pushing away the bowl of trifle, Zach suddenly spins around. After a short, hard spank to your ass, he wraps you in his arms. With zero hesitation, you search blindly forward until you find Zach’s lips upon yours - little shivers of pleasure rushing through you as he deepens the kiss. A moment of guilt passes quickly when you consider that he can probably taste the almondy sweetness of the stolen amaretti mixed in with the bitterness of the espresso from earlier.

All thoughts rapidly subside as you hear a small growl emanate from the back of his throat when your fingers snake into the curls of his hair. His hands are on your hips, steering you towards the wall - your head bumping a poorly hung frame to the floor in your desperate need for each other. You catch a small worried look from Zach as he quickly checks you for gaping wounds but on seeing that you are still in one piece, he returns to devouring you.

Tugging the hem of his shirt upwards, Zach breaks away from you momentarily to pull it off before his hand finds purchase on the back of your head to pull you close again.

“You are such a fucking tease,” he growls in your ear - nibbling and licking a stripe up your neck, “I’m gonna have the image of you clasping my cock, kissing my back whilst I cook all next week.”

“It doesn’t just have to be an image,” you softly pant, “Perhaps I’ll have to come visit you - not just for a coffee.”

With those words, Zach swiftly dispatches you of your T-shirt - and oh, how the sensation of skin upon skin maddens you. Just jammies means no underwear. His hands find your breasts - softly squeezing them as his thumbs brush relentlessly against your nipples. He pushes the wall away from behind you, guiding your body backwards until the back of your calves hit the sofa where you fall in a puzzle of limbs.

Leaning on his elbows over you, Zach nudges your nose with his to get your attention, “You sure?”

Had it been any other man, you’d have teased him but with Zach’s bruised and weary soul, you remove the element of sarcasm, “Yes. Yes, I want you. I want you to fuck me.”

You catch the tic in his bottom lip as he kneels up between your legs - his warm calloused hands skirting gently over the curves of your body. Zach then gets up from the sofa, grabs the leftover mix of tiramisù from the table and flicks your torso with it - the coolness of the liquid making your skin twitch.

“Oh,” your breath catches in your throat, “Zach, you made a mess.”

“Yeah,” he considers as his eyes rake over your body, “Better clean that up, huh?”

Small huffs of warm breath tickle your skin as he lowers his face towards you. Starting with the smudge upon your collarbone, his tongue expertly laves across your body - not missing a spot of mixture. His mouth descends further south - every lick inciting fire inside you - until he sucks upon your nipple when every meaningful thought ceases to be.

Your desperation builds as he continues to feast upon your breast - your hands clawing, scratching at him. Zach only breaks momentarily to swap sides, fastening his mouth around the other nipple with an indecent slurp. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing tightly, you crush his head into you before tugging his hair to bring him back up for a kiss - his tongue delivering a sweetly creamy flavour from your skin.

Zach’s hands stroke and grab at the flesh upon your hips before his thumbs find the elastic of your pj bottoms to slide them off. You tug at the string of his joggers, rolling them down over his hip that his cock suddenly springs free, tapping his tummy with a tiny bead of precum. You stroke your finger through it before bringing it to your mouth - making sure that his eyes are upon you as you suck upon your digit.

Quickly shucking himself of his socks and pants, he settles himself back between your legs but now… now it’s your turn. Grabbing the spoon from the bowl on the floor, you trickle a trail of mixture down from his tummy button, over the sweet little curve of his belly. You keep the trail of sweetness going right from the base to the tip of his cock.

The shallow hitch in his breath and groan he releases as you slowly pay attention to this most sensitive part of his body is music to your ears.

“You are so fucking delicious.”

Your hands clasp around his peachy butt as you lick the mixture from the head of his cock - swirling your tongue back and forth, licking the little drips from where the head meets the shaft. There might not have been too many there but you take your sweet ass time sucking and licking there whilst keeping your eyes upon his face.

Occasionally, you feel a soft stroke upon your cheek or a rub into the knots in your shoulders as Zach watches the movements of your tongue. As there was still a lot of mixture upon the top side, you suddenly take the whole of him into your mouth eliciting a thunderous growl from him. The mix acts as a tasty lube - adding extra wetness that makes it easy to slide Zach’s cock in and out of your lips.

As his hips start to roll towards - meeting the forwards and back motion of your mouth - and you see his head drop back, you know that it’s time to slow it down again. Ensuring that you’ve licked and sucked every bit of the mixture from his skin, you release his dick with a pop.

With a gentle shove, Zach pushes you backwards - a grin upon his lips, “Two can play at that game, beautiful.”

Scraping the metal spoon against the sides of the bowl, Zach takes the remaining mixture and splatters it against your tummy and thighs. And then he pauses. Staring deeply into your eyes, he waits. Stretching the moment out before lowering his head to lick the batter from your belly - licking tiny circles into you, nuzzling the softness and kissing your sensitive skin.

Trying to send wordless hints to Zach by lifting your hips and opening your legs wider goes seemingly unheard with zero response. It isn’t until your tummy and thighs are licked sparkling clean that he gives a hint that he already knows where you want him. Need him. Shuffling closer to you, he lifts your knees over his shoulders before sliding his hands between the couch cushions and your bum. His fingers squeeze the ample flesh as he takes a deliciously long pause to gaze appreciatively between your legs.

You are wide open in front of him with his face hovering less than an inch above your pussy. Slowly, you watch him drag his eyes up your body until his eyes catch yours. He begins to lick - softly, delicately right upon your clit and it’s almost too much for you. Flattening out his tongue, he laps long, slow stripes, hungrily tasting your slickness before returning to the mind-bending, ultra-light flickering.

Feeling his eyes fall upon the heat surging through your body, you glance down to watch how he wrecks you beneath his tongue. Breathing hard and fast, you writhe under his touch before Zach moves slightly lower, sticking his tongue right into your cunt. Thrusting back and forth - making the muscle as hard as he can - he prepares you perfectly. Riling you up, making you wild for his cock - the best control Zach exerts over you.

Easing himself up, you feel Zach leave you once again. Leaving you wanting and desperate for more.

You call teasingly after him as you hear your bedside table drawer go, “Grating chocolate over me next or dripping lamb ragú across my body?”

A soft baritone chuckle tickles your ears, “Neither of those are good suggestions- I’d end up grating my fingers and I’d have to blow on the ragú before spilling it over you.”

Taking the condom from his hands, you roll it down towards the tight curls at the base of his cock. A frisson of excitement rushes through you as he lines himself up at your entrance - the thickness and weight of his length pressing against you. With one small thrust, Zach pushes the head inside and you instantly clamp down with all your might - your muscles trembling, fluttering around his hardened flesh. You look up to see him smiling down at you before pushing in a little deeper.

His spread of you is exquisite. How he opens you deeper and deeper until he bottoms out inside, with you both moaning your pleasure to invisible gods. You lock him in place by wrapping your legs around his back - your eyes focussed on each other in the golden afternoon light.

As your cunt clenches upon him again and again, a switch is flipped in Zach’s head. Gone are the gentle slow strokes and in their place are short sharp hammers from his hips and small bruises under his fingertips. The slapping of skin upon skin as he draws you in and pushes you away all starts building to a delicious crescendo as he finds that sweet spot inside you- hitting it again and again.

As he hammers away, you can feel your muscles start involuntarily squeeze and buck around Zach’s cock as you drown in waves of pleasure. Crashing through your tummy and spreading to your limbs, you allow yourself to be swept away as pleasure ripples throughout your body - not only submerging you but pulling Zach under too. He groans deeply in your ear, driving back and forth for a final time before permitting his own orgasm to overwhelm him.

✪✪✪✪✪

A cloud of steam puffs out as the silhouette of your boyfriend appears from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and one draped around his shoulders. His dark curls are hanging damp and soft over his eyes as he roughly rubs them dry, you can’t help but watch him rather than focus on the book you have open and resting on your tummy.

“You gonna get dressed, or are your friends so used to your exploits that nakedness is an option for you?” Zach teases as he sits on the edge of the bed - the hand not drying his hair, lazily squeezing your breast.

A cheeky grin spreads lopsidedly across your face, “Yeah - skin is always fashionable and surprisingly, always fits - no matter how much my boyfriend feeds me!”

The giggles and chuckles that fill the air are rudely interrupted by the sharp buzz from the intercom. The fun and ease dissipates quickly - a flash of panic distorts Zach’s features replacing the easy smile that was so recently there with a furrowed brow and mouth agape, gasping for air.

Raising your eyebrows insincerity, you grab his chin in your fingers as you gaze deeply into his eyes, “I can tell them to fuck off,” you gaze over at the alarm clock on the side, before turning back to him, “They’re fuckin’ early for a start. Listen, it’s still not to late for me to tell them all to fuck off - you and me, we can have a week of eating lamb ragú and homemade pappardelle until it comes out of our noses.”

A huffed laugh breaks through the short breaths, “You’d do that for me?”

“Course I would,” you laugh, “want me to?”

A few droplets fall like tiny diamonds upon your skin from where he shakes his head firmly. The intercom buzzes again, so you jump up - as naked as the day you were born to answer it, “What do you want?”

The tinny voices beg to be let in from the burning sun so you throw one last look at Zach over your shoulder, checking he is ok before responding, “‘Spose you can come in but take the stairs slowly, I’m still naked.”

A mock yelp of disgust echoes through the speaker with promises of pigeon steps to your front door.

“See, I bought us some time,” you grin, pinning Zach between your legs and pressing kisses all over his soapy sweet skin - his lighter chuckles muffled by your neck.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You alright, love?”

A bunch of brightly coloured gerberas are thrust into your face on opening the door of your apartment by your old colleague from when you both worked together in the local high school. There’s a flurry of kisses, handshakes and hugs before you push ice cold beers into Alex and Gray’s hands. Alex follows you onto the sofa chattering ten to the dozen about some of your former shared students. Half listening to him, you watch over Zach’s buzzing around the room protectively.

“How’s he doing? Tonight must feel quite overwhelming for him seeing all of us at once,” Alex mutters quietly as he catches your wandering gaze.

“Not great, but he did manage to sleep without any major nightmares last night - which is fucking massive progress,” you twist the fabric of your shorts between your fingers as you continue to watch him flit to and fro between the table and the fridge organising the antipasti.

Alex’s boyfriend, Gray sits upon the bar stool making small talk about where he likes to buy his prosciutto from, trying to take Zach’s mind off his obvious discomfort. Eventually, you watch him jump up to help alongside him - asking how he can help. You hear a small murmur from your boyfriend asking for the focaccia dough to be brought through from where it was resting in the kitchen.

You allow a little relief to run through your veins as you watch the two men working alongside each other, preparing sundried peppers and tomatoes, bresaola, and mozzarella across the plate - sprinkling them with olive oil, basil and chilli. Zach gives a muttered instruction to Gray who seems to understand as he retreats into the kitchen to find whatever it was your boyfriend asked him for.

“Gray’s being beautifully patient with Zach,” you whisper in Alex’s direction, your fingers tugging at the label of your bottle.

“He’s been there. He gets it.”

“What, being the new guy in the group?”

Alex snorts, “No honey, not just that. He was Delta Force. Fighting for president and country fucked him over too. We still have nightmares, sobbing and panic attacks.”

“Shit.”

You watch Alex drain his beer, nodding at you across the sofa. He sniffs before responding, “Yeah, no plain sailing here. But, he’s worth every crushingly tight hug. Every set of sweat soaked bed linens. Every welfare phone call from the police checking we are both okay from the shouting our neighbours hear.”

“I love him, Alex,” you quietly confide.

“I love Gray,” he agrees, patting your leg, “They are both two incredible men but fuck, have they both been used up and spat out.

“Want another?” Alex waves his empty bottle at you.

You nod smiling at him before returning to watch the two men preparing food quietly next to each other, their hands happy to have something to do.

✪✪✪✪✪

The door buzzes twice again with you answering to more friends and their partners, who are laden with beers and plants that soon fill your minuscule apartment to the brim. Zach finds comfort in adopting his work role - ensuring everyone is fed and watered adequately - managing tight smiles through his anxiety. Every time you pass him, you kiss and stroke him, whispering in his ear, kissing him between his shoulder blades as you squeeze past him in your tiny kitchen and passing him beers as soon as his empties.

“Thought that was my role tonight,” Zach mutters into your hairline as you press the latest ice cold bottle into his palm.

“Yeah, well, you’re slacking in your duties,” you tease before tugging his hand to get his attention away from the simmering pasta, “How are you doing?”

“S’a lot of people,” he honestly responds.

You nod at him, “Yeah, it is. A lot of people in quite a small space. If you need a break, go lay down - no one here will judge you. In fact, I remember a dinner party at Alex’s where he’d split from his previous partner and he spent the entire time in bed, sobbing whilst we all sat there eating gyoza and sushi we’d ordered in as he couldn’t bring himself to open the fridge.”

The tale brings a smile to Zach’s lips, just enough to make his dimple flash, “Nah, m’okay but thanks. Thanks for everything. You’re so fucking patient with me.”

“Just as well you’re hot, eh?” you wink at him, pinching his butt as you grab the mix of pasta bowls and plates from the side.

“Right folx, we fucking made the pasta from scratch so be grateful bitches or I will personally sling each one of you out of here,” you jokingly warn your friends.

“Like fuck you did,” Chimi pipes up from the sofa across the room, “You are telling me that the person who would probably burn a Pot Noodle has made pasta from scratch?”

“Zachary Wellison, what have you done to our favourite these-hotdogs-are-only-a-week-out-of-date human?” Chimi’s husband, Anthony, questions.

Zach spins with an air of alarm in your direction with the pot of ragú held tightly in his hands, “You served out of date food? I thought these people were your friends?”

Alex chuckles across the room, “Yeah, you should see how she treats her enemies.”

“You’re fucking mean, the lot of you. Anyway, dig in you ungrateful bastards,” you moan as Zach slinks over to swap a kiss for a plate of food, squishing up next to you on the sofa.

An air of slurping silence fills the room as everyone tucks into the delicious food. Groans of delight gradually trickling through the room as the freshly prepared food hits tastebuds perfectly.

“Zach, this is incredible,” Soph gawks at her plate wide-eyed as she spins another strand of pasta around her fork.

You furrow your brow in mock anger as you grumble, “Where’s my praise?”

A chorus of wows and well dones bring a rosy hue to Zach’s cheeks and you feel him shift awkwardly next to you. Where your thigh rests against his, you try to send him a small signal of just being there for him by knocking your knee into his.

“Zach, my sister is looking for a sous-chef in her restaurant - if this is how you cook, she’d be really interested in having you work for her,” Anthony calls across the room, “She has a lot of ex-military and homeless working for her so she’d get your background completely.”

Pushing himself up suddenly from the sofa, you watch as Zach marches out of the room - his knuckles white and his mouth a thin tight line- hiding himself in the bedroom.

“‘Scuse me,” you place your plate next to Zach’s on the floor.

“I’m so sorry — I didn’t, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just thought it would be the perfect opportunity for him,” Anthony apologises profusely as you turn to leave the room.

“I know, honey. Just give me a minute,” you pat his arm as you pass him.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hot tears run in rivulets down his cheeks, pooling on the pillow beneath his head. You quietly shuffle onto the bed next to him, running your fingers through his curls.

“They all think I’m a fuckin’ waste of space. Utterly useless and undeserving of you,” Zach stutters into the thick material.

“Is that what you took away from that conversation?” You gently question, stroking the wetness away with your thumb.

Zach sits up with a snarl in his throat, “I took from it that I’m in need of saving. Of pity jobs passed my way, ‘cause they can see that I’m just a washed-up vet who’s draining and using you.”

“Okay,” you pat his thigh. “Give me a moment. I… I want to tell you something.”

A creak signifies your weight leaving the bed and you swear you hear a louder gasp from Zach as you walk away into the living room. Five concerned faces and one guilt-stricken one turn towards you as you come into the room.

Chimi quietly asks, “How’s he doing? We can all go if it’d make it easier for him?”

You shake your head confidently, “No, I don’t think that would help him. Just… Can I borrow you for a second Alex, please?”

Pulling him closely behind you, you knock at the door before entering, “ Zach, honey. I have Alex with me. You know we used to work together at Laguna Creek with the seniors?”

A silhouetted nod comes from the hunched figure sat on the opposite side of the bed to where you and Alex come to rest.

“So when the job at the VA came up, I couldn’t help mulling it over as it seemed perfect for me but I couldn’t actually make myself sit down and write the resume or cover letter. If they didn’t shortlist me, it would have been a confirmation of every teacher’s nightmare that they’re no good at their job and letting the kids down.”

A tearful snort comes from Zach, “That’s ridiculous, you’re amazing at what you do.”

“Might seem like it but it felt very real at the time,” moving closer to him before continuing, you add, “If I made it to interview but they didn’t hire me then it would have been confirmation of the same and I don’t know that I’m tough enough for that rejection as before you came along, all I was was a teacher. It was my whole personality. I lived for every kid who passed through my hands but it wasn’t really living.

“Anyway, it was Alex who made me do it. He sat one night and rewrote my resume - adapting it perfectly for the job. He also wrote my cover letter too. And… and drove me to the interview.”

You watch as Alex’s phone lights up in his hands as he scrolls back through his Google Docs - you see your name written next to the acronyms of CV and CL as he slides the phone across the bed.

“And thank fuck he did, or I wouldn’t have you here with me,” You place your palm between his shoulder blades - still feeling the erratically fast pounding of his heart through his shirt.

You see a small shrug from Alex, before he responds, “That’s what friends do. When they spot a great path for you, they lift you up. Encourage you to go for new experiences and explore ways for you to grow.”

“I don’t know what it’s like working with my life at risk. I don’t have your lived experiences. Nevertheless, I do know what it feels like to not feel worthy or good enough and I now know that the paralysis from that fear, almost held me back from meeting you.”

With a tug of your arm, Zach pulls you across the bed into him, wordlessly sobbing into your hair as you hold him tightly in the darkened room.

✪✪✪✪✪

“…Then the surgeon had the audacity to ask me to make him a cup of tea, as if I hadn’t been there for entire fucking 12 hour surgery making sure that his patient was suitably anaesthetised and moved fucking regularly,” Soph splutters over her story as you shake your head in wonder as to how she hasn’t murdered one of those egotistical maniacs yet.

A soft shuffling in your hallway alerts you to a presence in the doorframe. The corners of your mouth instantly turn up on seeing Zach’s beautiful face as he shyly enters the room. A genuine, caring welcome back cheer erupts amongst your friends on seeing that he’d rejoined you.

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Shhh,” Chimi quietens him abruptly, “You have nothing to apologise for. Want me to heat your food up?”

“Oh, that’s really kind but I think I’m done, thanks,” Zach smiles gratefully at Chimi, patting his tummy before turning towards her husband, “Anthony, I’m truly sorry and I’d love to take you up on that offer.”

Anthony shakes his head at Zach, “You have nothing to apologise for - I should have thought about how it looked to you. I’m truly sorry, man.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve boxed some up to drop at hers tonight - already texted her about you and your food and she’s really excited.”

“So, who’s ready for dessert?” you jump up from the floor, grabbing licked clean plates from your friends’ hands.

Zach quietly sits on the couch listening to another of Soph’s tales about the OR - even allowing himself a small chuckle at how she had gotten her own back on the baby doc who’d been so rude to her.

As you pass around heaped portions of the tiramisù on mismatched plates, a collectively indecent groan is sung in chorus by the guests. The hum of approval, you deflect from his cheeks by piping up and winking at your boyfriend, “Yeah, it had a similar effect on me earlier when Zach gave me a little taste.”

Your comment has Soph snorting the trifle through her nose as Chimi’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. Zach gives you a playful shove as everyone resumes eating before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m gonna need another container if there’s any left over,” Anthony mutters thickly, his mouth full of mascarpone.

Chimi narrows her eyes at this, “Thought she had Moretti on desserts?”

“Nah, this isn’t for her,” Anthony shakes his head as he loads up another forkful, “It’s for me - once you go to bed.”

✪✪✪✪✪

The happy sighs of full tummies fill the room as Anthony and Gray gather up the remnants of a meal well enjoyed. A whoosh is then added as the two men get on with washing up while Chimi and Soph grab the empties, popping them in the box by the front door with yawned promises from Alex that he’d take the box out as he leaves.

Coffee cups drained, you sit cross legged on the couch with Zach’s head resting in your lap - your hands alternately trying to plait his longer curls and stroking gently through them. You watch as his eyes grow heavy under your tender touch, his breathing slowly becoming heavier and his face morphing into a little boy’s - the day’s stresses and tribulations ironing away the furrows and creases, leaving slightly parted, pouty lips.

“Listen,” Chimi interrupts your reverie, “I think we’re all agreed that if you ever want us to come over for dinner again, Zach needs to be busting your ass with the cooking ‘cos that was fucking amazing.”

“Not just for his cooking skills though,” Soph agrees, “He’s softened your edges and it’s genuinely lovely watching the two of you together. He’s a good man.”

Alex nods over the top of the cushion he’s curled around, “I like him. He’s a keeper.”

You nod, gazing down at the precious soul in your lap.

“I just got a message from the sitter that they’re still awake,” Anthony grimaces at Chimi.

With a roll of her eyes, she holds her hand out to him to be pulled to her feet, “Guess that’s us, theydies and gentlethems.”

Alex ruffles Gray’s hair before adding, “We’d better head too. Soph, did you Uber over?”

“Straight from work, baby. I am dedicated,” she stretches out her arms in a ta-da of sorts, “Mia’s got the car as she’s on nights so a lift home would be really fucking appreciated.”

“Yup, gotchu girl,” Alex leans over to kiss your cheek as his goodbye - your arm pulling the back of his neck into an upside down and slightly awkward hug.

“Has everyone got their doggy bags?” You question as they head towards the door to find their shoes.

Lots of confirmations, thank yous and shout of goodbye echo through the hallway before it’s just you and Zach again.

“‘K you monster, you can stop faking it now.”

“Wasn’t faking it. Was dropping off at points but then they started saying nice things and I fought the sleep to hear what they said,” a thick, low rumble from Zach is spoken into your thigh.

“Yeah?” you tease, tickling his sides, “Ego suitably inflated?”

Snuggling his head into your thigh, you feel the cock of his cheek as he grins, “I think they missed the fact that I’m devilishly handsome but talking about how I bring out a softer side in you and that I’m a great cook - that’ll do for now.”

“Cheeky fuck,” you dig your fingers into his tummy before stroking the jab away, “I was thinking that perhaps we should get a key cut for you. For here. Cos it seems like you might not be working at the VA for much longer.”

“Baby, don’t get too ahead of yourself - I don’t know that she’ll like my cooking let alone hire me,” Zach gulps as he props himself up a little. His eyes dart around a little before he focuses on the sean of your shorts, “Also, I don’t know if I want to leave the VA. The thought of not seeing you all the time is not one I’m sure that I want to consider.”

“Sweetheart, you’d be coming home to me. You’d still be laying in bed next to me and making my coffee first thing in the morning,” you assure him as you stroke his slightly stubbly cheek, “The VA isn’t meant to be a permanent stop for you. But me? I’ll be permanent for as long as you’ll have me.”

Zach pushes himself to his creaky knees before taking your face in his hands, “Guess we’d better get that key cut.”

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musings-of-a-rose · 2 years

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Zach Wellison Masterlist

*=indicates smut or eventual smut (see fic warnings for details)

One Shots:

100 Followers Thanks/You Pick the Prompt: Pinned Down

Ask: Since Forever (1k followers celebration)

Series Masterlists:

Search and Found - Coming Soon!*

#zach wellison #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison fanfic #zach wellison fic #brothers and sisters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character ff #pedro pascal characters #my masterlists

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bluestar22x · 23 days

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Finding Eden: Chapter 1

Summary: Zach stumbles upon you under attack

Pairing: Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Attempted sexual assault, violence, death, fowl language

Word Count: 2,300(ish)

Author's Note: I've watched all of Zach's scenes and I'm very excited to take my shot at writing his character. I've enjoyed the fics I've read based on him.

xxx

October 2017 (4 years after the end of the war)

Seated on the recently fallen trunk of an old pine tree Zach Wellison struck another line down on a mostly empty page in the leather bound journal he had spread out on his lap.

Fifty-two days.

He'd traveled a thousand miles on foot through rough terrain in under two months. Not bad.

He closed the journal with one hand and chucked it into the backpack leaning against his right leg along with the black ink pen he'd been using before standing up.

"Time to get back at it," he announced, throwing the pack over his right shoulder and snatching up the semi automatic shotgun that was to his left. He turned in place, glancing down at the large but lean tawny mass that had been lying at his feet and patted his thigh. "Athena, volg rechts [heel]!"

The mass stood, shaking off a red leaf that had swooped down onto her back while she'd been waiting for him and she barked happily before obeying, eagerly stepping into her spot by his side.

He patted her head gently, just above the dark mask that covered her face and he headed north, towards a far way destination he wasn't even sure actually existed.

At least it gave him a goal. Something to encourage him to continue placing one foot in front of the other.

There wasn't much left in the world that could do that anymore. Everyone he'd known before the war was either dead or missing, and he'd been forced to abandon society only a year after the riots had begun.

A motorhome parked in a secluded area in the Sierra Nevada mountains had become his after that for a long time, until a friendly drifter had informed him of a new city being formed in Alaska that was promising a return to before, but better.

Eden. Even the name made it sound too good to be true, but the drifter had insisted it was real, and had a map on him that he claimed he'd been given by a recruiter for the city. A map that marked where the city was.

A map that was now heavy in the front right pocket of Zach's faded and torn up light blue jeans.

With long, purposeful strides he carefully picked his path through the serene forest, eyes always searching, ears always listening.

As beautiful as his surroundings were, with colorful leaves and moss covered rocks everywhere, with nothing but the bright chirps of sparrows filling the air, Zach's old military training always kicked in when he was on the move.

When everything felt safe, too safe, that was when he was most alert.

Though he had Athena by his side and a shotgun hanging by a strap over his left shoulder, being without a comrade, someone to talk to and rely on, was making him wary, like an enemy could be just around a tree at any moment.

They could be, but it wasn't likely. More likely was a big ol' brown bear beating him down for being in their territory, which wasn't anymore appealing to him and equally deserved his hypervigilance as far as he was concerned.

Though he hadn't seen another person for almost a full week, it was actually humans who he ended up stumbling upon an hour into his hike that day.

He heard them before he saw them, so unlike any of the usual inhabitants of the northwestern wilderness.

There were indistinctive shouts from two men, and a sharp protesting cry from a woman in the distance.

A part of Zach, the survivor, wanted to move off away from the noise but the stronger part, the one that had naively signed up to fight a war in the Middle East, had him rushing towards it.

He hid behind trees as he made his way towards them, the barrel of his shotgun in the palm of his hand and his index finger pressed alongside the trigger.

Peering out from behind a thick copse of young deciduous trees he spotted them. Two middle aged men, both of larger statures than his, were hovering over you. You were down on the ground, propped up on your elbows. You looked disheveled, dark red long sleeved shirt partially torn at the shoulder seam, jaw clenched, eyes furious. Even in that state Zach couldn't help but notice your beauty.

"Over my dead body," you spat.

"That can be arranged," the oldest of the two men told you, mouth twisting into a sick grin that could easily be seen despite the wild beard he sported. "But I'd rather have you while you're still fighting. More fun that way."

Zach felt his stomach churn at the words and he jutted his jaw out. The two older men's intentions couldn't be more clear, especially as they started to close in on you like the two predators they were.

He had numbed, to some extent, to many different kinds of violence over the course of his adult life, but one of the kinds Zach had not grown a tolerance for was this.

When the slightly younger man forcibly shoved you against the ground by your shoulders and the older man knelt beside you to reach for the button of your jeans as you struggled against his companion, Zach took action, precisely aiming his shotgun and firing twice in quick succession.

The bullets hit both their targets, the center of each of the mens' heads - if they could be called men.

Their bodies collapsed limply on top of you and you screamed. You wiggled your way out from underneath them quickly, an expression of disgust on your face as you scrambled to your feet.

"Who's out there?" you shouted demandingly, obviously trying to sound commanding, but failing on the delivery due to your nerves.

Zach had two options. He could slink away unnoticed or he could reveal himself to you and risk a confrontation.

Typically he'd choose the former, but you were alone and apparently unarmed, what would be the harm?

He slowly stepped forward into view with his arms raised over his head and Athena loyally stuck by his side, looking up at his face for direction.

"Stay right there," you ordered him, eyes scanning his body up and down, analyzing his appearance. Though a person's looks could be deceiving, a lot of the time that's all people had to go off by before making decisions in this world.

Zach knew you didn't have the weapons to back your demands up but he listened to you anyway, not wanting to come off as pushy. "I'm not a threat."

You huffed and nodded at the bodies at your feet. "They said the same thing."

"I didn't shoot them to save you for myself," Zach promised. "I couldn't just let them do that to you."

Your eyes darted away from his for only a moment, but it was long enough for him to tell that knowing he witnessed their attempt bothered you. He may not have known you then, but he hated seeing it on your face. Embarrassment. Of all things.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said, "But any half decent person would've done the same."

"There's not many of those left," you pronounced.

"I know. I'm Zach, by the way. Zach Wellison."

You stated your name hesitantly, then gestured at Athena. "What's hers?"

He answered and you smiled a little. "The goddess of warfare. Fitting for the current state of the world."

"She is a veteran of the third world war," he informed you.

"And are you?" she asked, nodding at the black inked marine corps tattoo on his upper right arm that was partially peeking out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He shook his head. "Afghanistan. Even if I'd wanted to fight in another war, they wouldn't have had me."

"PTSD?" you guessed. "My father was a marine vet too. Vietnam. Fireworks across town would have him flying out of bed and reaching for a gun that was no longer there."

"That's just good training," Zach argued. "You can take the soldier out of the war zone, but you can't take their training out of them."

He could see you visibly relaxing as the conversation went on, trust being built on his honestly and on the veteran status he shared with your father. Maybe Athena being there had something to do with it too.

"Can I pet her?" you inquired, glancing back down at the dog.

"Sure," he replied. Athena was fairly friendly when she wasn't taking commands. He knew she would be alright with you touching her as long as he was.

You approached Athena confidently but not too quickly, squatting before her to rub her cheek, making sure not to go over her head.

"You know reactive dogs?" Zach quizzed. Most people would've petted a dog on top of the head, no matter if it was their first interaction or not, which was fine for most dogs, but for some it would be seen as a threat.

"My father owned a retired army K-9, a German Shepherd," you explained. "He wasn't as great with strangers as Athena here. He tolerated me though. Athena's a Belgian Malinois, right?"

Zach nodded. "She is. I didn't adopt her from the army though. I inherited her from a friend."

Your expression turned solemn but you didn't say sorry and he appreciated it. It was pointless. Most people had lost all or most of their family and friends during the past several years and as far as he was concerned those two words were far too meager to soothe any of that kind of pain away.

After a few seconds of silence you stood back up and walked over to the dead men to collect a couple knives from their jacket pockets and a glock. "Mine," you said when you noticed him watching you add them to your person. "I ran into these guys yesterday afternoon and I thought we'd parted on friendly terms after trading some items, but turned out they trailed me after. Sneaked up on me while I was having a nap and stole my weapons then...well, you know the rest."

"What are you doing out here all alone?" Zach asked. It wasn't a smart move for a woman to choose to be alone in these times. Equals or not, the reality was that many men were physically stronger than a woman like you and would try to take advantage of it. Those two men would only be the first.

"I was traveling with my younger cousin and his wife," you responded bitterly, "But they had the brilliant idea of trying to steal a car from one of the old settlements the government set up and I couldn't convince them to not go through with their plan. They were both shot on sight by a pair of former policemen patrolling the outside of it. I managed to flee before they saw me.” You tilted your chin up at him. "You?"

"I was traveling with Athena's previous owner, Micah," he answered. "He got bit by a rattlesnake last month. There was no anti-venom at the abandoned hospital we tried raiding after."

"Awful way to go," you murmured, eyes downcast.

"It was." The memories of Micah's final hours had haunted Zach for many restless nights. Though he hadn't known Micah long, they'd become good friends in that time and he'd felt painfully helpless watching the other man swell up and die suffocating, all from a tiny bite he'd incurred because he noticed a snake a little too late.

Zach thought he should've known better, but that was the human condition, right? Everyone needs a connection, even if that means getting hurt when it is lost.

And for that reason, he was driven to make the same mistake again. "Do you wanna travel together?"

If your ears could've perked up like a dog's, they would have. "Where are you headed?"

"Some place in Alaska," he replied. "Micah's idea. There's supposed to be a new city forming up there called Eden. Supposed to be safe."

"I've heard of it," you told him. "It's fiction."

"Micah swore it wasn't," Zach said, pulling the map of Alaska out of his pocket and unfolding it to show you a circled area on it. "He claimed a guy from the place gave him this."

You pursed your lips. "It could be a trap."

"That's a stretch."

"So is this being real," you retorted, pointing at that circled part of the map.

Zach shrugged. "I'm not forcing you to come, but it's not like you have anything better to do, am I right?"

You sighed and kicked up some dead leaves that were by your booted feet. "You're right. Besides, even if it doesn't exist, Alaska in itself is an eden. Supposed to have the lowest violence in the states due to the isolation."

Zach had heard that too, on the news just before the violence in Los Angeles got too bad for the newscasters and reporters to do their jobs. He was sure it hadn't changed. Alaska's environment was tough, especially during the frigid cold winters. Most people wouldn't hack it up there or wouldn't want to.

"How are you planning to get into Canada?" you questioned.

It was a good one. Canada's border patrol was no joke since the last world war, and since they were traveling by foot crossing the country was the only way to get to their destination.

"Like many people trying to escape into a country different from their own," he informed you. "Going to cross late at night and book it for the nearest mountains."

"Sounds fun," you said, a hint of sarcasm in your tone.

Zach grinned. "Yeah, that's why all the cool people are doin' it."

"Well, if they're cool..."

"Is that a yes?"

You gave him a nod. "Let me find my backpack and you can take the lead, Mr. Cartographer."

"Sure thing."

He helped you search for your pack, finding it tossed behind a spruce tree a few feet away, and then you both began your journey, Athena keeping pace between you.

Neither of you truly had an inkling of what you were getting yourselves into.

xxx

Note: Volg Rechts is "heel" in Dutch. The US police and military tend to use commands in either German or Dutch by tradition since many of their dogs were trained in those countries.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed @morallyinept

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

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

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absurdthirst · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022: October 10th

Day 10: Boot Worship // Ageplay // Size Difference

Zach Wellison x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Work Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Teacher/student dynamics, role play, costumes, mentions of spanking, oral sex

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“Now Mr. Wellison, if you cannot concentrate, I’m going to have to give you a spanking.” You cringe as soon as the words are out of your mouth and you pull back to give him a mortified glance and a giggle that completely breaks character. “Oh god, that was so bad.”

Zach huffs and reaches for you, dragging your tits back to where they were shoved right in his face. “No it was fucking hot. Say it again.” He insists, dragging his nose over the edge of your bra and looking up at you with a naked, hopeful expression. “I’m a really, really bad boy in school and I need my teacher to punish me.”

There’s a split second of silence before both of you crack up, the laughter in your bedroom something that is natural and happens often. Especially when the two of you try something new to ‘spice things up’. Not like it’s never not been spicy since you’ve started sleeping together. That is something the former marine had in spades. His kinky side was surprising and adventurous at times and you love it.

It’s why you didn’t even hesitate when he brought up ageplay. Often in the daddy/little girl category that didn’t exactly interest you - you had been surprised again when Zach wanted to be the younger of the roles.

Admitting to having a huge, painful crush on one of his teachers when he was younger had fueled plenty of Mrs. Robinson fantasies, he had worried that you would judge him or think that it was too far.

So here you are, dressed like a schoolgirl - or slutty teacher, with glasses perched on your nose for theatrical use and leaning over Zach as he sits at the computer desk like he would be seated in a desk in school.

“Oh God, I’m so horrible at this.” You moan and do a little full body shake to get you back into a semi-serious role before you bite back your grin when Zach reaches up and squeezes your ass.

“Zach! I’m going to have to get the ruler out.” You tell him breathlessly, making his eyebrows shoot up as if he’s never considered a spanking with a ruler before. “You have to concentrate or you will stay late after school today and clean the board.”

Snorting, he shakes his head and smirks up at you. A sexy little look that makes your cunt clench and his hand slides down your ass - where you are wearing no underwear - to caress the back of your thighs. “Maybe you want me to stay after school.” He challenges. “You seem to give me detention a lot.”

You sigh and your thighs spread slightly to let his fingers between them before you close them together, playing hard to get. “It’s because you’re a troublemaker. You’re a bad boy.”

“I can be badder.” He coos, biting his lip and waggling his eyebrows. “I could probably get that A if you tutor me. Show me what to do.”

It’s all you can do to keep from snickering again, but you manage it this time. “That’s it.” You shake your head as if you are disappointed in him and straighten up to your full height over him. “You need to come with me. The other students need to concentrate and you are a distraction.”

There’s no one else in the entire damn apartment, but the chair practically flies back as he shoots to his feet to follow you down the hall towards the bedroom. The short skirt you are wearing sways and you can hear Zach groan as he gets peeks of your ass underneath.

Just to make him sweat a little more, you stop and bend over, legs spread slightly so he gets a good view of your wet cunt. “Tease,” he huffs, making you smirk over your shoulder.

“Keep up, Mr. Wellison.” You coo. “Otherwise, I will fail you.”

“Oh I’ll keep up alright.” He grunts, reaching down and palming his cock under the sweats he is wearing. It was too much to actually have him dressed in clothes that would be hard to get off and you love his grey sweatpants anyway.

In the bedroom, you turn and wink at him, making your fiancé grin. “Now, what should I do to punish you?” You hum, toying with the little collar and tie of the outfit you are wear. “A spanking?”

Zach shakes his head, stepping closer to you. “I act out because I want your attention.” He confesses, making that the most honest statement of the century. Why else would he pinch your ass every time you bend over? “You should teach me a lesson.”

You snort, shaking your head. “You’re too young for me. You’re nothing but a boy.”

“Boys need to learn.” He huffs. “I’m better than that crusty old man you are getting married to.”

“Boys need to learn, huh?” You ignore the other comment and smirk at him. “Pull down your pants.” You order. “Show me your cock.”

“Miss-”

“Do it.” Zach shudders when you order him again, a little harder this time. Obviously enjoying the supposed ‘authority’ you hold over him in this role.

He strips off his sweats and you pretend to be unimpressed with his cock as it juts out proudly. “Have you jerked off thinking about your teacher?” You ask, making him flush and shuffle. He’s already told you that he had, but it’s still slightly embarrassing for him.

“Y-yes.” He confesses, biting his lip. “You- you’re so hot and fuck, you have great tits and- and that ass.” He rushes out, probably a better actor than you are in this little scene.

“Is this okay?” You break character for a second to once again ask if this is what he wants.

“Babe-” Zach steps over to you, a frown on his face and for a moment, it’s not teacher and student, it’s you and your boyfriend. “Do you not want to do this? We don’t have to. I said that it’s-”

“No, it’s okay.” You promise, shaking your head. “I just wanted to make sure that we are still on the same page.” You give him a sure and steady look when he looks into your eyes to check and see if you have any hesitations. You know that if you didn't want to do this, you don't have to. Zach would never want to pressure you into doing it. It's about having fun and exploring together, after all.

“Quote unquote ‘teaching me’ how to lick your pussy and then riding me.” Zach grins and shoots you a little wink. “I’m all over that page.” He promises and steps back. “Now, are you going to put me in my place, teacher? This rowdy, mouthy, teenage boy?”

You snort and put on a cocky look. “I’ve got a place for your mouth, Mr. Wellison.” You scoff getting back into character. “You want to run your mouth all day? Get on your knees and get ready to put it to use.” Stepping forward, you smirk when he groans as you pull up the tight, sheer dress of your teacher’s outfit. “Today I’m going to teach you how to eat pussy and fuck properly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #pedro pascal #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x f!reader #zach wellison smut #zach wellison imagine #zach wellison fanfic

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Once Upon a Time... part 1

Zach Wellison x plus size f!Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Zach’s life gets turned upside down when his visit to the local library sends him all the way back to Camelot - and he meets another time traveler who has made the kingdom their home.

Rating: Teen Word Count: 12k Warnings: *This is a Zach fic so there WILL be discussion of homelessness.* Cursing, nudity, and some sexy conversation. The yearning starts early, folx. Summary: Zach falls asleep in the library and wakes up in Camelot, only to find that he isn’t the first American to ever grace King Arthur’s court. Notes: Y’ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH! This is my way of saying YOU’RE ALL THE BEST for following and reading and generally being lovely humans. Keri and I really dug into this one and had a blast. It’s a sweet little love story with all the indulgent trappings. Normally I don’t mention my faceclaims in the notes, but in this case I want to spread the love for Charlie Hunnam’s Arthur - he is our fc for Sir Gareth!

Of all the libraries that were in LA county, Baldwin Park is probably Zach’s favorite. The librarians never hassled him. As long as he was quiet and not bothering other patrons he was allowed to stay for as long as he wanted to. Bypassing the technicality that he wasn’t a patron. A patron had a library card, but to get one of those, you needed to have an address. Something else that was on the list of things that Zach Wellison didn’t have.

It was close to the park that he slept in most nights. Across the street actually. So, it wasn’t like he had a long walk to get ’home’. And unlike the community center, they didn’t get huffy about him bringing the large pack where he had all of his possessions. If it weren’t for all the stuff inside, he could pass for an older student studying, rather than a homeless man relishing time under a roof, access to a bathroom where he might discreetly wash up; and lose himself in books for a few hours.

"Good morning, Zach." Some of the librarians are fussy about having the homeless inside but it's mostly because many of them are ill or disturb the other patrons. Zach never has. He's polite, respectful, cleans up after himself, and really just likes to read. "I think I might have seen a cup of coffee and a Panera bag back in the mythology stacks..." The librarians who aren't fussy are more than happy to welcome a bookworm vet into the building any day of the week.

Zach frowns, even as his stomach grumbles. “You didn’t have to do that.” He mumbles, feeling guilty for someone spending money on him. It’s not that he isn’t grateful, he is, it’s just a hard hit to his pride when he used to be one of The Few, The Proud. Hitching his pack up higher on his shoulder, he shuffles his feet slightly. “Thank you….do you want me to grab the return bin down for you?” He asks. In an effort to prevent kids from shoving disgusting things in the chute that the book return system has - like food wrappers and used sanitary products - they had moved it up. The downside was that when bin was full, it was heavy. As nice as the ladies were to him, he felt like it was the least he could do.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you." The older woman nods, shrugging a little when she shows him the extra trouble her arthritis is giving her today. "You're the most reliable employee that I can't pay," she always jokes, but she won't pour salt in the wound by reminding him that she'd bend over backward to find him a position if only he had an address.

He gives her a half grin and sets down his bag, behind the counter so no one could walk away with it. “I think breakfast is payment enough.” He tells her, not mentioning that it would also be lunch and dinner.

"Go enjoy, dear." This particular branch librarian has never told his particular veteran about her family’s connection to his, and she doesn’t intend to. He's human, and deserves to be treated with kindness. So she does and that's the end of it. And if his breakfast happens to be stacked on the windowsill beside some new arrivals from a recently closed branch of the LA Public Library System across the city? Well, that's just a coincidence.

Zach pulls the hefty box down from its spot under the chute and empties it, making easy to handle stacks for the older woman on the rollaway cart before he puts it back. Then he runs into the bathroom before anyone else can get here. While the urge for hot coffee was high, there was something to be said for having it while he's freshly washed that just makes him feel normal for a moment.

******

The Lost Tales of Camelot proclaims the scrolling, embossed title of the leather-bound volume on top of the stack on the windowsill. Compiled, Translated, and Edited by Anne E. Pluto & Dr. M. Dockray-Miller. It's old - well-loved, if you would rather - but in beautiful condition and the pages are Bible-thin. It looks fully out of place beside the modern coffee cup and paper sack of food, but right at home on the library windowpane.

Zach moans, the smell of the coffee and the food is nearly overwhelming, and he opens the sack and sniffs appreciatively. She had bought too much, but then, she always did. Steak, egg and cheese everything bagel and a cherry cheese danish. He brings the bag and the coffee cup over to the table before he goes back for the book. His bag propped up in front of him, he will use it to hold the book up and read while he eats. Letting him pretend to have a moment of normalcy.

Within the first pages of The Lost Tales of Camelot, it is obvious that the volume has been loved. There are notes and markings, the kind librarians hate, and as well as breaks in the binding that speak to unanimously agreed upon favourite stories. Pages still bent where once they were dog-eared. Small stains where soup or coffee was splashed in moments of excitement. The book falls open to one such page - a cracked binding and drop of what might have been tea signaling a good place to start even if it is halfway through the volume. Caisearbhán and Her Loves is printed neatly at the top of the page, with a small drawing of a lute lying in the grass beside a dandelion.

The Lady Bard Caisearbhán was not of Camelot, though she loved it well. Her banquet seat as King Arthur’s guest was an honorable one, and he sat her at his nephew Gareth’s side that she might love him and call his kingdom her own. And she did, sweet songbird. For a time.

******

The sounds of rushing water and dogs barking pricks at his consciousness, but he doesn't wake up. The sleep is heavy and his hand jerks but other than that, he lays still, unaware of thundering hooves and yips of dogs working their way closer. His lower body still being pulled with the current of the water where his legs are in the river. "Over here!" A shout rises up, quickly followed by the blowing of a horn. Men rushing over to the unconscious body of a man.

“A traveler?” A deep voice asks over the pounding of hooves as the man is pulled from the river without fuss or flailing. “Is there any life in him?” The knight on horseback is meant only to observe, but he dismounts to kneel on the riverbank.

Zach's brow pulls together, and he flinches even if he doesn't wake up when footsteps approach. Boots crunching against the rocks and a man kneels down next to him. "He breathes!" He calls back, flipping Zach over to look at him.

“You’re fortunate these men found you, boy.” The deep voice is gruff but not unkind, and the hand attached to it reaches to help him sit up. “What misfortune nearly drowned you in the King’s river this day?”

Zach's eyes fly open and he's choking out as he sits up, that flight or fight instinct starting to kick in and he blinks. Water in his eyes and he's shoving away the hand from his body. "What the fuck!"

“Steady.” That deep voice becomes a rumble. He may not speak the same tongue as this wayward boy, but he does not like the tone. “You are directly addressing a Knight of Camelot and you will keep a respectful tongue or lose it altogether.”

"Knight of—" Zach scrubs his eyes with his hands again and blinks them, looking at the man before turning and looking at the horses - why are there horses? - and then at the river. "Where are we?" His tone lowers but he's wary, knowing that there is nowhere in LA that looks like this, unless he's somehow on an elaborate backlot movie set. "What are you shooting?”

“Shooting?” A younger man - younger than the traveler most certainly - looks confused and concerned as his eyes turn to his companion. “My lord, we brought no archers.”

“Nor should you have, Cailan,” the slightly older man shakes his head reassuringly. “This man is hurt. Help me lift him.” There is blood on the traveler’s trousers, and though he has seen it only once before, the knight knows this material. “My friend, you have reached the lands of Camelot. You have traveled far to reach us, I think, and will be desiring to see your countryman.”

"Cam— Camelot?" Zach doesn't resist when the two men help pull him to his feet. He must have gotten mugged and dumped somewhere. He can't remember anything beyond this morning at the library. He groans and sways slightly. "Countryman?" He winces when he presses down on the goose egg on the back of his head. Their accents are unusual and definitely not LA. "Are you method acting?"

The larger man’s brow furrowed this time, but he doesn’t let go of the traveler, instead helping him to his horse to ride. “I do not know who Method Acting is, but I am Gareth,” he explains. “Knight of the kingdom of Camelot and nephew to its king.”

Zach stares at the horse, having been years since he had been on one. Like middle school, seventh grade trip to that dude ranch in Palm Springs. And that horse didn't look nearly as mean as this one. "Zach." He mutters, looking around at the men in armor and what looks to be realistic swords. "My name is Zach."

“Zach.” Gareth repeats it, grimacing at the awkward way it feels in his mouth, but he nods. “My squire, Cailan.” He gestures to the younger man, and then the others around them. “We will return to the castle. Cailan, ride ahead and inform His Majesty. Have a bed prepared for my lady’s countryman before we arrive.”

"I— It's been years since I've been on a horse." Zach admits, flushing when all the men looked shocked. "There aren't a lot of them where I am from."

“You are welcome to walk the distance,” Gareth is obviously skeptical. “But it will be some hours yet.”

Zach grimaces and eyes the horse. "Shit." He huffs and reaches for the edge of the saddle. "I guess I'm relearning." He mutters as he sticks one of his tennis shoes in the stirrup.

It is less than elegant - the effort of getting the traveler into the saddle - but when it is finally achieved, he seems reasonably secure. Gareth swings himself up into his own steed much more easily - soft leather armour shining in the afternoon sun as the rest of the party falls in line behind them.

Zach watches the landscape, finding no roads but the worn paths of animals and carts. The surrounding area is quiet, too quiet. There is not the background of cars or the noise of a set. Nothing sounded like it had before. He was confused, wary, and his head hurt. "Anyone have any Advil?" He asks, looking back at Gareth as the horses start moving.

Gareth’s head tilts in curiosity. “Do you usually travel with smithing equipment?” He asks, surprised at the idea. “You do not ride, and you carry no weapons. For what could you possibly require an anvil?”

He is utterly confused for a long moment until he realizes. "No, not anvil, Advil. You know, aspirin?" He corrects himself. "Medicine, for a headache?"

Still not utterly convinced, the knight simply nods. “If you require a healer, I will summon one when we arrive.”

Biting his lip, he decides to drop it. Maybe there's a medical tent or something set up. This is apparently the most elaborate cosplay. Kind of like those Ren Fests where they live like the time period. "So how far away is the castle?" He asks.

“With everyone on horseback?” The larger man chuckles, actually breaking a smile. “I will be in my lady’s arms before the skies darken.” He points toward the horizon, indicating the long outline of a stone wall and a massive building with half a dozen turrets nestled safely inside its walls. “Home is westward. Toward the setting sun.”

He nods and spends the rest of the trip trying to make sure that he doesn't try to fall off the horse. While he might not understand why, but he feels like this group already thinks him unusual for not knowing how to ride. He doesn't want to cause any issues until he is back to some kind of civilization and figure out where the fuck he is.

******

It’s rare that you actually have any errands to speak of. Life at court is nearly as luxurious as every single book and movie always made it out to be, but the days are getting warmer and longer, so you had relished the chance to leave the castle walls on your own today. As on your own as you can be when you have a resentful servant following you for feet behind every step you take.

The local weaver who has made your new cloak - lighter, bless her, and somehow mostly water repellent because of how she has treated the wool - had sent you on your way half an hour ago and now you’re walking in awkward quiet back up to the castle with the servant girl behind you. It could be worse. You think, rolling your eyes to yourself. She could be telling you how much she doesn’t like you instead of just staring at the back of your head. Even after being here for almost a year, some people still were wary of you as an outsider.

“Cailan!” The young squire that rounds the corner of the bustling village inside the castle walls is a welcome sight for your chatty self today. If Cailan has returned from the forest, that means Gareth is returned as well. You wave across the busy crossroad and hurry to catch Cailan before he rides out of sight. “Cailan!”

Cailan is well used to you shouting out for him in your accent unique and he turns his head. "My lady!" Pulling on the reins of his horse, he directs the beast over towards you, pulling short a few feet from you and dismounting. "My lady, we found one of your countrymen!" He blurts out excitedly as he rushes up to you, excitement written on his young face.

You laugh, enjoying the teen’s joke, and shake your head. “Cailan, have you been too long in the sun?” There is absolutely no chance in hell that they found one of your countrymen anywhere near here. You still don’t even know how you got here.

"'Tis the truth! We found him near the river, close to where you were discovered." He leans in and lowers his voice. "He speaks in the same strange accent and wears the unusual clothes you said are from your country."

It takes longer than you’re proud of for you to react - nearly swallowing your own tongue and choking on your breath as your mind starts to reel. “Cailan, are you positive?” You ask him slowly, belying the fact that you’re vibrating in place. Someone else is here? How did they get here? Do they remember? Where are they from? WHEN are they from? “He was wearing the same clothing I was? Denim? Sneakers? You’re sure?”

Cailan frowns at the words, trying to remember what they correlated to in your strange clothing. “The shoes on his feet, they had - they were strange. A symbol on the side.” He raises his hand and draws a Nike check mark in the air. “They were very worn.”

“Mary, mother of God.” You cross yourself - the product of growing up with intensely Catholic family and then being dropped into this intensely Christian kingdom - and look up to the sky as though this Nike-wearing countryman of yours might have simply fallen out of it. “Take me home, Cailan.” You’re not even asking, just demanding it as you gather your dress and cloak over one arm and sling yourself up onto the squire’s horse behind him. “Aisling,” you look back over your shoulder at the servant girl who you know is even more confused than you are. “If my countryman is in any condition similar to myself when I arrived, he will need a bath and mead.” Someone else is here!

******

Zach starts to worry when he doesn’t see one fucking car in sight. Where the fuck is he? He squirms in the saddle as the group on horseback make their way through the village surrounding the castle. Everything looked and smelled authentic. Not disgusting, but those pigs in a pen next to what was obviously a butcher, weren’t just brought there yesterday for a set. What the fuck is going on?

******

You’re practically pacing a groove into the stone floor of the receiving room, wringing your hands and waiting for Cailan to return with Gareth and the traveler as Cailan continues to call the man. You were specific, probably asking for things far above your status, but considering you practically never asked for anything at all, you would risk it this time. The second Gareth and that man set foot inside the castle walls, Cailan is supposed to bring them straight to you. Here, in a public space. Because asking for him to be brought straight to your quarters might as well be asking to be fucked right in the middle of the throne room. And although the King and Queen favour you, that is definitely pushing it.

******

Zach groans as he dismounts the horse, barely keeping from falling on his ass. Gareth come and slaps a hand against his back. “Come. My lady will have prepared a proper welcome for her countryman. We must not disappoint her.”

The sound of boots in the short hallway gives them away. Gareth’s sure-footed stride is one you know by heart, and while you’re certainly always glad to see the handsome, brawny knight, he’s not who you’re itching to see turn the corner.

Now Zach is in shock. Trying to hide the panic when he realizes this is actually a fucking castle. This isn’t a set, and he knows for damn sure there are no stone castles like this in LA county. He’s pinching his arm, trying to wake himself up as he follows the knight through the halls.

“My lady waits within.” Cailan turns one more corner, holding his head high as he’s certain that he has followed every instruction from both Sir Gareth and you to the utmost.

Zach follows and stops when Gareth walks up to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Gorgeous curves, in a dress that does nothing but flatter your bust and accentuate the dip of your waist. He swallows and stands there nervously as Gareth picks up your hand and presses his lips to the back of it.

The smallest goddamn breeze in the world could knock you over when Cailan and Gareth escort a third man into the receiving room. Slightly shorter than Gareth himself and not quite as broad, olive skin and chocolate coloured hair compared to the Knight’s blonde hair and paler complexion - this man is absolutely, unmistakably, one hundred percent from the twenty-first century. From head to toe, his faded t-shirt, nearly destroyed jeans, and worn through Nikes are pretty much the same as every guy you ever passed on the way to work in the afternoon.

Gareth is Gareth, as always, and while his traditional greeting of a kiss to the back of your hand would normally have you melting into the stonework, there’s a slightly more pressing matter at hand today. “Sir Gareth…” the doors are open, and any ears could be listening, otherwise you wouldn’t bother with his title. “My lord, will you introduce me to this stranger? He has the look of my countrymen about him.” And it’s been so long since you could say that.

Zach twitches as he wonders why you would say that, until he realizes you don’t speak with the same accent as the men. You are…you are American. Stepping forward, he holds his hand out to shake. “Zach Wellison.” A million questions roll through his mind, but he can’t ask them now.

He’s American! You move to shake his hand immediately, a move with completely confuses Gareth and Cailan, and you suddenly can’t stop smiling from the shock of it all. “Hi, Zach.” You break out into a grin. “Welcome to Camelot.” A handshake is more contact that you have with most men these days - Gareth excepted - and Zach’s hand is large and warm around yours.

Camelot. The fact that the same place he was reading about before this happened makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Or maybe it was your touch. “Interesting to run into a fellow…countryman here.” Zach offers as he reluctantly drops your hand.

“The only two of us to have ever been here, as far as I know.” The affectation you’ve picked up after a year here - the speech pattern you’ve slipped into and gotten comfortable with - seems to immediately evaporate with him. “Can I ask…how you got here?” Because you can’t remember a goddamn thing.

“I— I don’t know.” He admits, shaking his head and looking around. “I was at the library and then - poof, I’m on the bank of the river.”

“The library?” Your jaw drops to the floor, but you have a pretty good instinct that this conversation should be continued in private. “Gareth?” To hell with formality for the moment. “I have asked Aisling to draw my countryman a bath in my chambers and retrieve a bottle of mead to welcome him. To offer such comforts is…traditional for us.” In the world of lies you’ve told since getting here, this is completely minimal. “But I am afraid I neglected to think of clean clothing for him. “I do not suppose new things could be procured for him before supper?”

Zach’s eyebrow wings up, but he doesn’t comment or argue with your statement. Instead, he watches the larger man frown at what he could only assume is the impropriety of a man bathing in a woman’s room. Although the mention of a bath and clean clothes makes this place seem like Heaven.

You breathe, thinking about what you’re asking of him, and step in closer to Gareth to lower your voice. “Think how strange the ways of Camelot once were to me, my lord. And try to remember that just because my request is strange, does not make it wrong.” Honestly, you’d only asked the servant girl to draw a bath because you remembered how disgusting you’d felt when you arrived. And Zach Wellison would definitely need new clothes before being presented to Arthur. It wasn’t an unreasonable request.

Gareth softens slightly, remembering how timid and nervous you had been when you arrived, he would think that this strange country of yours taught you nothing about surviving. He nods. “Of course, my lady. I shall have fresh clothes brought to you chambers.” He picks up your hand again and kisses it. “Make your countryman feel welcome. I wish only for your happiness.”

“Thank you.” It’s a soft little whisper, one of pure appreciation, and you beam at him for a second. This very normal day is now anything but, and frankly you’re ecstatic about it. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your own kind of person until the chance to talk to one had arisen. “Zach?” You turn to catch his attention but find his eyes already on you. “Please, come with me? Hopefully we can get you feeling a little less…confused.”

Disappointment hums through his system when he discovers that Gareth's lady is the woman in front of him. Of course the first woman he had actually seen for the first time was already with someone. He nods, unable to help with way that his stomach flops when you smile at him and hold out your hand. "Thank you, uh, Gareth." Zach tells the knight with a grateful nod.

“Put your hand under mine.” You whisper, when Zach looks confused about why you are holding out your hand in midair. Walking side by side is a slightly more formal prospect here, right down to the distance apart you should be standing. “And come this way.”

He nods, biting down on his lip to keep from asking you a million questions. Sensing that right now, in the open, is not where he needs to grill you on what the fuck is going on. Instead, he follows your directions, your hand warm on top of his and tries not to break his neck as he tries to take in the details of everything around him all at once. Situational awareness, it was what he was taught in the Marine Corps and he was out of his element right now. Too many changes coming at him at once.

Castles are huge things - stone cities contained behind high walls - but you are lucky to have very centralized chambers. Properly, it is so that Arthur never had to wait long for you to arrive after summoning you, but right now it’s a blessing you’ll gladly take at face value. “So…” Your voice is still quiet as you walk, but you’re brimming with energy. “Where are you from?”

He glances around. "LA. You?" The answer is more convoluted than that, but it's where he was when he was brought here. "Where the fuck are we?"

“Camelot.” You hum the word at him even as you’re practically bouncing with every step. “I-I was in LA before this, too. That can’t be a coincidence. I mean originally I’m from New Hampshire, but the fact you’re here and you know where that is and you speak twenty-first century English is fucking wild.”

"Camelot." Zach shakes his head. "I was reading a book about Camelot. It's the last think I remember..."

Your eyes widen when your head snaps over to search his bewildered face. “The Lost Tales of Camelot?” The name of that book will be burned into your brain forever. It’s the last memory of LA you have, as well. “Is that what you were reading? The library book?”

His own eyes dart over to meet yours. "Yes!” That was it. That was the book." He bites his lip and looks over at you. "Is that— is that what you were reading, too?" He asks, trying to figure out a connection between the two of you being in this place together.

“It’s the last thing I remember.” Nodding slowly, you continue to navigate the winding hallways of the castle you have called home for so long. “That means…shit.” Knowing that time has marched on without you isn’t quite the comfort you had forced yourself to think it would be if you ever got home and found that it was months and months later there, too. “When are you from?” You ask him cautiously. “It was the first of May in 2020 when I fell asleep on my living room couch reading that book.”

Zach makes a strangled sound and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Ma- 2020?” He looks around because his voice rose in his surprise. “It’s March 14th, 2021.” He tells you, voice much lower than before. “At least it was when I was at the library.”

A rueful smile is the best you can do to stifle the way your stomach lurches. “It’s…it’s March 14th,” you tell him with a nod. “In the year of our Lord 498.”

He stops short, nearly tripping over himself as he sputters. "4-490-498?." He chokes out and starts trembling as he processes it. "There's no— no." He shakes his head. "There's no way."

“It’s insane.” You can agree to that wholeheartedly as you approach your chamber door and find Aisling there waiting. “Try to keep it together until we’re alone, okay? Then I promise you can have a nervous breakdown in the tub.” The girl lets you pass, of course, with a curtsy and thin smile that is entirely for Zach’s benefit. You know Aisling doesn’t think much of being a bard’s servant, but Zach is exceptionally handsome so apparently that is going to make it okay for now. “Stay here,” you instruct her as kindly as you can while trying to convey how important it is that she stay put. Thankfully, you don’t usually have visitors. Except for important ones.

Zach takes in the room, a bed that has a canopy over it, something out of every little girls dream. A stone hearth with a large fire that has been built up in front of it and a large wooden tub right in front of it, small footstool next to it with a cloth and some kind of jar sitting on it. "I—"

“It’s not exactly the Beverly Hills Hotel, but it’s not bad.” The fact that you have one whole room to yourself and that you only have to share your bed for sex and not necessity actually showed the status you hold - the celebrity - even if it’s just one room. “The bath is hot.” It’s a lot to take in. You know it is. You had only been so lucky that you had had a woman to show you around early on. The Queen is kind, even if she had found you a little odd at first. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get the hang of a medieval bath bomb, but there’s beeswax and ash soap beside the tub, and…” you pick up a bottle from the long table against the opposite wall. “The best mead I’ve ever had in my life. Better than any hipster IPA or bitch brunch rosé you could possibly find on Rodeo Drive.”

Zach snorts and looks around again. "It's better than anything I've had in a long time. Unless you consider that week I slept in a storage shed display in front of a Home Depot." He blurts out before he realizes what he said and flushes, shuffling slightly and there is a belligerent expression on his face, like he expects you to look down on him. Why wouldn't you? Everyone else does now.

Five or six different stages of confusion make their way across your face before you even have a prayer of processing what he means, but the utter sympathy on your face speaks volumes when you finally work it out. His clothes. The library. The homeless population in LA was astronomical when you left and COVID was only making the problem worse for those who had to suffer through it. “You were homeless?” You shake your head adamantly and grab two drinking horns from the carved shelves beside your table and immediately pull the cork from the mead bottle in your other hand to pour two drinks. “I’m so…Jesus Zach, I’m so sorry. You won’t be, here. I promise.”

He shrugs his shoulders, embarrassed about his circumstances. Defensiveness is his protection, had been for a long time. "No need to be sorry." He spits bitterly. "Did it to myself, right?" He scoffs, remembering how often that sentiment was thrown his way. "Obviously I must have done something or I'm a junkie."

“To be homeless in LA? You just aren’t a millionaire.” You scoff and hold out a drink as a peace offering for making him uncomfortable. “I had four roommates for what was legally a three bedroom apartment. My room was a converted laundry room.” There’s a slight pause before he takes the horn from your hand and you see the blink of a tattoo on his hand. “Military?” You guess softly, knowing how many homeless vets you saw in the park every week.

He looks back at you and relaxes his shoulders slightly before he takes a large drink of the mead. "Ooh-Rah." He huffs. "Marines." He sighs and looks at the horn before he grunts. "You were right, this is good. It's been - fuck - two years since I've had a beer?"

“Go easy on that, then,” you warn him with a grin. “I didn’t water it down. It’ll kick your ass on an empty stomach and your new equivalent of an over the counter pain killer is a poultice from the heater.”

"No wonder they didn't know what the fuck I was talking about when I asked for an Advil." He chuckles and takes a smaller sip of the mead. "Is that offer of a bath serious?" He asks after he lowers the cup again. "Because I have to say that a bath and the rest of this drink -er, mead, sounds like heaven."

“By all means.” Motioning to the tub with one hand, you refill his drink with the other and settle down on the trunk at the end of your bed, using it as a seat. “I don’t know what Gareth will dig up for clothes, but we definitely can’t have you showing up to supper with Arthur in jeans.”

"Arthur." Zach shakes his head and starts to strip off his clothes. He had spent too much time in the military to be too modest and you didn't look like you were leaving. "Is this— so Arthur really existed or is this some kind of— what? Alternate reality?"

“I’m not sure.” There isn’t much for privacy in this small space, but you angle yourself away to give him as much as possible - frankly you’re way too fucking excited to see someone else from the twenty-first century and afraid that if you leave him alone, he’ll get too disoriented. You would have given anything for another ‘countryman’ when you arrived, and you weren’t going to desert him now. “I mean, no one was really sure if this place was real or just legend, so for all I know we’re just magically inside a fucking book. I just know that I’ve been here for almost a year and…” You swallow thickly and take a long sip of your drink. “And this is my life now. I don’t know how I got here so I don’t have any clue where to even start in getting back again. This is reality now. Whatever that means.”

He nods and groans, stepping into the water once he is stripped down before he lowers himself into the hot water. "Jesus." He hisses in pleasure. "I - what do you do? What are you doing here?” He picks up the horn and leans back in the tub. "Do you have a role in King Arthur's court?" He chuckles slightly at the statement.

“It gets less weird to say, I promise.” You chuckle and try not to bite your lip at the blatantly pornographic sounds he makes as he sinks into the water. Don’t turn around and make it weird, you remind yourself. “I am His Majesty’s bard. On-call entertainment any time he wants. In exchange I am always fed, have my own room, beautiful dresses, and a servant who thinks waiting on a bard is beneath her.” You chuckle at the last bit, knowing Aisling can probably hear you. “It’s hell of a lot better than waiting tables at the Encino Chili’s while I tried to weed out the actual singing auditions from hundreds of porn offers.”

He closes his eyes, humming slightly. "Entertainment, huh?" He chews on his lip. "Is that like court jester?" He jokes, feeling the hot water seep into his muscles and he relaxes for the first time in....years.

“Thankfully, no.” You’ve seen what that poor jester goes through when the king is in a bad mood. “I’m his personal singer and storyteller. King Arthur is a big Elton John fan, for the record.”

The entire situation is completely surreal, and he can't help but laugh. "Is he more of a Candle in the Wind or Rocketman type of man?" He asks, unable to resist the image of a man who was essentially a myth enjoying the musical works of Elton John. He couldn't exactly blame him, Crocodile Rock was his own personal favorite. Reminded him of working on his dad's truck with him when he was little.

“I think I would get myself executed trying to explain what a rocket is in the first place. No. But he loves Your Song,” you admit sheepishly. “Although he definitely thinks I wrote it, so please don’t ruin that for me.”

"My lips are sealed." Zach promises. "Anything that I know would definitely get me killed, especially military-wise." He huffs. "Our swords were ceremonial only."

“We’ll find something for you to do.” There’s very little translation between modern military technique and the Knights of the Round Table beside the mentality, as far as you can tell. Certainly the weaponry is vastly different, and the Marine Corps doesn’t ride horseback. “Unless you want to continue to be a soldier. In which case I could ask Gareth to see if anyone is taking on squires.” He’d be much, much too old to be a squire traditionally, but all kinds of exceptions can be made for the right favour.

Zach shakes his head. "I don't think they have any clue what PTSD is." He mumbles. "I don't want to kill anyone else." He wasn't the type of man to brag about the people that he killed. It had been war, but it still doesn't mean he wants to continue to do it. Especially given the fact that this was close combat, not bombs and guns. There was no calling for an airstrike.

You turn, instinctively reaching across the small space to touch his shoulder. “Then we’ll find you something else. Something peaceful. I promise.”

Zach chuckles. "I'm sure I'll be so useful." He takes another sip of the mead. "My street skills will translate to something. although I'm sure that the ability to read and write will be impressive."

Quick to avert your eyes so you’re not staring at a stranger in the bath, you nod and swallow another sip of your own drink. “There’s no standard spelling here which drives me up a wall, but being a scholar is incredibly prestigious. Enough to get you a few offers of obedient daughters for a wife, if you want one.”

That makes him nearly drop his horn of mead. "W-what?" He sputters out, face flushing at the idea that people would pursue him to marry their daughters.

“Only if you want.” You shrug your shoulders at him. “But…this is it, Zach. I don’t know how we got here, and I don’t know if it’s even possible to get back. So we’ll find something for you and get you settled in.” Shoulders shrinking, you shrug at him helplessly. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think it’s possible to get back to LA.”

Zach's heart sinks at the idea that he might be stuck here for the rest of his life but his brow furrows. "Have you— where were you discovered? Was it the same place that I was? Or was it someplace else?" He asks, trying to figure out if there is a particular portal.

“Cailan said they found you in almost the same place I—" A soft knock on the outer door interrupts you and Aisling sticks her head inside with an armload of clothing and leaves it on the table beside the tub and goes out again, but not before you catch her eyes running over Zach’s figure in the tub. “Thank you, Aisling,” you usher her out of the room with a noise that barely stops short of a hiss. No one here has tattoos and the men aren’t circumcised, so presuming Zach is like most American males - you don’t want his dick to become a talking point. For his sake.

Zach lifts a brow at your tone and sits up as she walks out of the room. "Is everything okay?" He asks quietly, sensing the there is some tension and an underlying issues that he's not aware of next.

“She’s a gossip.” You murmur, shutting your chamber door behind the girl’s back. “And, um…assuming you’re like most modern American men…you were…I-I mean you don’t have…” You huff out a sigh. “The last thing you need is to be labeled the foreigner with part of his dick cut off…”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. "Oh." He bites his lip and gives a small shrug. We can always say that it is a part of our ways." He offers. "Along with my tattoo." He nods to the side of his shoulder where he is sporting the Eagle, Globe and Anchor of the Marine Corps with the script Semper Fidelis underneath. "At least the phrase is Latin?" He jokes with a grin.

“Trust me,” you snort, shaking your head. “She’s not interested in your arms. People around here gossip their asses off and then turn right around and pretend every girl is a pure little angel.”

"Well, she won't get an opportunity to find out if I'm circumcised or not." He tells you with certainty. He didn't like the fact that she would look down on taking care of you, even if you were strange in her eyes. It smacked too close to the prejudice he had received while living on the streets.

You’re not entirely sure why you find that reassuring - his determination in the subject. Maybe it’s just nice to know all men aren’t horn dogs. Either way, you motion to the stack of clean clothes with a small smile. “I hope you’re not too manly for leggings. Boxers won’t be invented for another fourteen-hundred years.”

He snorts and shoots you a grin. "You want to know how we kept from having chaffing on forced marches in the Marines? Marching twenty miles is no joke." He asks you conspiratorially. "Women's panty hose. We all wore them under our uniforms."

The sound that comes out of you is practically a snort, and your shoulders shake with laughing. You can’t even imagine some of the asshole Army fucks you grew up with having the balls to admit to wearing pantyhose. “Think of those like long underwear,” you tell him when you stop giggling. “In a few weeks you won’t need them anymore, but Wales in March is cold before global warming.”

He frowns slightly at the mention of it being cold. Despite your assurances that he would have a place to sleep, he was in a time and place that was not his own, with nothing but the clothes on his back. He couldn't even imagine trying to survive a cold night here. "I'm sure I'll find out." He sets down the empty horn and picks up the clay pot of soap and scoops some out while he leans forward and dunks his hair in the still warm water.

Something about the way he says it makes you frown, but you shake it off in favour of giving him some privacy while he actually washes up. “Arthur’s nice.” You offer, hoping a change of subject is a good idea. “Likes dirty jokes and hearing stories about how great he is…just like you would expect any king to be. Just stick to calling him ‘sire’ until he says you can call him something else. Guinevere really has a thing about manners but she’s also incredibly kind. And Merlin is kind of like everybody’s meddling aunt. He knows everything. Every little bit of gossip and rumour. I’m fucking shocked that he hasn’t been more suspicious of me, honestly.”

His head reels as you casually drop names that he's only read in book or seen in move portrayals. Talk about them as if you have talked to them yesterday, because you have. It makes him shake his head in wonder even as he moans at the feeling of the soap being worked into his scalp. His hair had been getting greasy and it's been at least four days since he's managed to wash his hair in a sink.

“I can have some of that soap sent to your chamber.” It’s a small offer, as far as you’re concerned, but you can’t imagine how long it’s been since he’s had a proper bath if he’s been homeless. “It’s not the usual stuff…that’s handmade just for me…beeswax, honey, ash, and clover from the forest. I know it sounds precious, but the normal stuff they use is lye soap and I just didn’t feel as clean.”

"I— thanks." He continues to scrub his head, nails scratching against his scalp deliciously. "I guess if I have a room, it would be nice." He says that part softly, not wanting to insult your offer, but there was always the chance he would be kicked out on his ass.

“You will.” You’re sure of that. Arthur won’t deny your request on that front. Not when there’s plenty of rooms to spare since the last group of traveling artisans cleared out when the snows lifted. “You’ll have your own bed to sleep in tonight.” Shrugging a little, you toss him a huff and half-smile. “Or you can visit the House, if you want a shared bed. But that’s up to you.”

Zach's eyes widen slightly, and he shakes his head. "No, I— I prefer to share a bed with someone willing, not paid." He's only ever slept with a prostitute once, after his first deployment and he really hadn't liked the way that he felt about himself after.

“If you change your mind, only go to the House, and tell them Dandelion sent you.” You don’t really mind admitting to being a patron of the local whore house, mostly because the girls there love having a customer who specializes in eating pussy. Knowing they could trust you went a long way towards gaining their favour when you were supposed to sing while they entertained the knights. “Th-that’s me. Dandelion.” You shrug a little at the moniker. “I loved The Witcher, so I kinda stole the stage name.”

Zach lifts a brow and looks over at you. "Hmm." He hums and looks towards the door and lowers his voice. "Does Gareth know that?" He's not judging, he just hadn't expect you to engage in something like that during this timeframe. He scoops more of the soap into a cloth and leaves the soap in his hair while he starts scrubbing every inch of his skin he can reach while he is sitting in the tub.

His discretion is appreciated, if nothing else, since you had told Zach that Aisling likes to gossip. “I haven’t been a patron since Gareth started courting me,” you tell him quietly, a little surprised that you’re so keen to open up to him. Zach is easy to talk to in the first place, and he’s like you. And it’s such a relief to talk to someone like you. “The reason I say to only go there is that they’re Merlin’s favourite, so he makes sure that all the girls and boys there are clean and protected.”

"I appreciate that, but—" He flushes slightly. "It's been a while since..." He trails off and concentrates on making sure that every inch of his feet are squeaky clean before he stands up. The military and the streets have left him with less modestly than most and he honestly doesn't care if you see him. You are familiar with a man's body obviously and you are being courted by someone, so he studiously keeps the idea that you are a nurse or caretaker in his mind.

“Totally up to you.” You rush out, quickly turning away again when he just stands up in the bathtub without turning away or feigning any kind of modesty. It’s not that you have any kind of Puritanical ideas about nudity, it’s that Zach is really fucking attractive. And hung. Fuck you definitely just looked right at his dick by accident. Clearly your throat awkwardly, you down the rest of your drink and get up to put the empty horn on the table across the room.

Once he has soaped up his body as much as he can, he can honestly say he feels like a brand new man. groaning when he sits back down and starts scooping up water so he can rinse his hair. "God this is— I could live right here." He groans as the soap runs out and he can feel the squeaky clean strands between his fingers.

“If you want to.” Steadily facing the wall, there’s still a smirk in your voice. “Slightly unconventional, but the Ballad of the Bath Man might be my greatest story yet.”

He chuckles and looks around at your back. “I don’t have anything you haven’t already seen.” He tells you. “I used to shower with thirty other men daily. You lose all sense of modestly.”

“Just trying to be polite.” And not have his body end up in your fantasies, which are currently strictly reserved for the equally magnificent Sir Gareth. It’s not like you can’t always tell when men are walking around with hard ons in this world, so dick size never stays a secret for long, but goddamn. “For all I know, you’re extremely precious about no one seeing the fucking third leg you’re packing.” Alright, so you’re not exactly the delicate flower you have to pretend to be in public. Of anyone, Zach might appreciate that.

Zach snorts and chuckles while he finishes washing off the soap and leaving his skin shiny and clean. He stands again and steps out onto the freshly laid reeds in front of the fireplace, groaning at the heat seeping into his body. "That's why my nickname was Tiny." He jokes.

“Very appropriate.” Clearing your throat a little is the best way to make sure he sees that you’re pointing to the table beside the bath, because if you turn around to face him again he’s going to see how flushed and bothered you are. “There’s a towel there for you. Or the Arthurian equivalent, anyway. Not as soft as terry cloth but it does the trick.”

It's cute that you are embarrassed but he does follow your finger and grab the cloth so he can wrap it around his waist. "So I'm assuming these hose, leggings whatever you want to call them are held up with a belt?" He asks, not believing that they would have anything like elastic for at least another 1500 years.

“They’re drawstring.” From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s wrapped up in the towel and it’s a relief to be able to turn around to talk to him again. “The actual trousers that go over them need the belt. Then you have a tunic, and a surcoat. Then another, bigger belt goes over the surcoat that you can hang stuff from. Sword, knife, pouch, whatever.”

"Are we sure we can't wash the jeans and t-shirt I was wearing?" Zach asks, not really meaning it but it's a hell of a lot more complicated than the modern clothes.

“We can.” If that’s what he really wants, you’ll be happy to send them to the laundresses. “But I promise you’re going to be more comfortable than you think.”

"No." He shakes his head. "I shouldn't advertise that I am an outsider when I meet the king." Even if it does sound fantastical, he knows that he needs to tread lightly and adopt their ways while he is here.

Rifling through the stack of clothing, you can see it’s a combination of things. The hose, pants, and tunic all look like they might have been Cailan’s, but the surcoat, belts and boots are all beautifully crafted and embroidered leather that are very obviously from Gareth’s own wardrobe. “You’ll look like a gentleman in these,” you tell him with a smile. “They’re Gareth’s, I think. Which means they’ll hold up well until we can have some of your own made. It takes a few days…since we can’t just go to the mall.”

He walks over and lets his fingers glide over the embroidery. "It's very nice." He nods to the very fine velvet dress you are wearing. "Much like the dress you are wearing. You look like the heroine or love interest in a period piece."

“Oh, this old thing?” You laugh, knowing that he is literally the only one in the world right now who would understand that line as a joke. “I-I changed…before you got here. Cailan found me in the courtyard and said they’d found you and I just…well, it sounds silly. But I wanted to look nice.” It’s worse than silly. It’s probably downright dumb that you had immediately put in your favourite dress to try to look like a fairy tale princess when another modern person arrived in Camelot. Like he was walking into a movie or something.

He gives you a slow perusal and nods. "It - I couldn't help but think you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." He admits with a slight flush to his cheeks. He knows you are spoken for, but you had admitted wanting to impress him, so you deserved to know how much you had succeeded in that.

“That’s…” you shuffle a little in place, hating the momentary flush of self-consciousness that comes over you. All your curves and extra bits weren’t desirable in LA. They weren’t fashionable and they made it even harder for you to book gigs when you even got past auditions. The notable discovery that fat is fashionable in Camelot because it means you’re rich enough to feed yourself was almost a slap in the face. But once you had settled in? It was remarkable to feel desired. Sought after. The first time you’d walked through the courtyard garden with Gareth had made you feel like a whole new woman. But Zach is from LA. In 2021. He’s just being nice. “That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.”

He can tell that you don't believe him. Or maybe his compliment doesn't mean much. After all, he might be from your time but he hadn't exactly been a desirable person to have compliment anyone. His jaw clenches slightly and he turns to study the clothes carefully. "Sorry." He mumbles quietly, reaching for the leggings. Getting dressed is probably needed and better so you don't have to be around a naked man who makes you uncomfortable.

“Don’t be.” Fuck. You cringe and drop your face in your hand. “I-I’m just…not great with compliments.” Shrugging helplessly, you shift to face the wall again so he can get dressed. “Being a plus sized singer in LA was fucking torture on what little self-esteem I had left. Which wasn’t much to begin with.”

"Plus sized?" Zach's eyebrow wings up and he shakes his head. "Because you aren't a size zero 'thanks I'll just have the small garden salad, no croutons, salad dressing on the side' type?" He mimics. "That's bullshit, you're fucking gorgeous." He always gets upset when he sees people be shamed for having a little extra weight on them. Fuck there were times when he would give anything to have a few extra pounds to spare.

You laugh a little despite yourself, just glad to hear that he’s a decent human being under all that conventionally attractive coating. “Lucky for me, there’s no sizes and no thin-is-in paradigm here. Not even any make up. I guess…lucky for you, too? If that’s your type.”

Zach pulls up the hose and pulls the drawstring tight. "I'm covered." He huffs but he does shoot you a grin when you look over at him. "I mean, anyone who doesn't like someone based off dress size or not looking like a completely different person with makeup is an idiot." He tells you. "Soft, warm and when they first wake up."

“How a person looks when they wake up is the purest version of them.” That’s something you’ve always believed, and you’re fully smiling again when you turn around to help him on with all of his new layers. “I can help with the rest.”

"Well, I would hate to embarrass a countryman of mine by improperly dressing." He jokes, happy that the smile on your face reaches your pretty eyes. His hand comes up and he rubs his jaw. "Do they prefer if I shave?" He asks.

“At the moment, Arthur is clean shaven. He thinks it makes him look younger.” Rolling your eyes slightly, you hold up the tunic for him to slip into. It’s longer than a standard shirt and therefore requires a little maneuvering. “You can use my knife if you want to shave.”

"I should probably do that before we dress me." He looks around. "Is there a mirror or should I beg milady to take pity on a fellow countryman and assist him in shaving?" He asks loftily, adopting a fake accept to make you smile again. He likes that smile when it's happy.

“Your countryman is very willing to help.” It makes you giggle, the silly little things, and the way you can relax around him. A looking glass is something you have no desire for since you still can’t stand your own reflection and they are extremely pricey items - but you’ve shaved Gareth on a few occasions and the small moments of intimacy have helped you hone the skill. From the table, you produce a delicate and extremely sharp, short bladed dagger. “We’ll get you a knife, too. There’s no utensils here. Just hands and knives to eat with. So everyone carries a knife.”

"I have a knife." He tells you. "In the pocket of my jeans." The pocket knife might not be the best form of protection to have but it was better than nothing when the pipe he had carried in LA didn't deter someone. He's a bit proud that he is able to contribute something for himself.

Curious, you dig into his pocket with the expectation of a Swiss Army knife of some kind and come out with a modern military-issue blade that is definitely sharp enough to shave with amongst other things. “Definitely keep this concealed.” You tell him, rolling it over in your hands. “Someone might want to steal it. Because it’s unique, I mean.”

“Oh, right.” He rolls his eyes at himself and pulls out his wallet. “I’m sure that I need to hide the wallet with my ID in it. Considering what they don’t have here.”

“I’ll take you into the village tomorrow and we can get you a trunk or a lockbox of some kind.” It’s far too late to go tonight. All the tradesmen will have closed up their stalls for the day and supping with Arthur is an hours-long affair when he’s in the mood to celebrate. “Oh shit.” You frown instantly. Celebrate. “You don’t…dance? Do you? By any chance?”

“Uh,” There is a slightly panicked look on Zach’s face. “I learned to dance for a buddy’s wedding, but just like- formal.” He doesn’t think you mean dancing like a club. “I’m sure it doesn’t translate to 5th century AD.”

“Remember how I said Guinevere loves manners?” You can’t help the way you cringe apologetically when he sits down on the edge of your trunk to let you get a better handle of shaving his face. “She loves dancing. The day I arrived, she asked me to show her a dance of my country.” Which had been her exact words, and you had been proud of yourself for not giggling. “So I’m positive she’ll ask you the same thing.”

“Okay.” Zach is rusty, but the steps were simple. “So I show her the waltz?” He asks softly.

You blow out a relieved breath and nod. “Yeah. That’s perfect.” The first small touch of your hand to his skin shouldn’t feel so good, and you remind yourself to focus. “I taught the minstrels a bunch of Elvis over the winter and Can’t Help Falling in Love is a perfect, short waltz.” It’s a hell of a lot better than you had come up with, but you were on the spot back then.

He huffs a laugh and cuts his eyes over at you. “Arthur must believe his bard is the most talented musician ever.” He knows that you are just trying to get by, and he doesn’t fault you for it, but it’s hilarious to think of Arthur and his Knight of the Round Table listening to Elvis before the man was ever born.

“It’s been my way to survive.” The blade against his skin is sleek and smooth, and beautiful in its own way. “I don’t take credit for writing most of it. And some of what he likes are my own songs.”

“I’m not faulting you for it at all.” He’s quick to assure you, not wanting to think he’s insulting. “If I could carry a tune? Shiiiiiitt.”

“It’s a good life.” Honestly, that’s a bit of an understatement, you think as you scrape the blade carefully along Zach’s jaw. “I have a good life here.”

“Do you miss home?” He asks softly, eyes closed in pleasure as you remove the hair from his jaw.

“I guess so? A little?” You sigh softly, concentrating on what’s in front of you. “Sometimes. Mostly I miss comforts. Indoor plumbing, pizza, Netflix. Things like that. But a world without COVID or the godforsaken state of American politics? No Puritanical Christianity? No blatant mistreatment of military vets by the institution that made them? Camelot is a lot closer to the paradise we read about in books than I ever thought it would be.”

Zach understands that, he really does. But he also has the very strong feeling that the two of you don’t belong here. “Who wouldn’t miss pizza?” He murmurs.

Your hands stop moving and you chew in your bottom lip for a second while you look at him. “Things are good here.” You repeat, a little bit to yourself as much as him.

He doesn't push, especially since neither of you know how to get back home. It wouldn't be a good thing to try to alienate a person from his own time that has been living here for nearly a year. Instead, he tilts his head back farther. "Thank you." He is quiet about thanking you, not wanting his throat to move too much while you are scraping a blade over it.

“Of course.” There’s not a single damn reason in the universe you wouldn’t help him. No one in the world understands each other better than the two of you right now because of one weird library book.

Zach feels as if he is starting fresh when you are gone. Rubbing his hand on his cheek, he gives you a grin. “Add a steamed towel on my face and you could charge $200.”

You chuckle a little and shake your head, offering him the towel again to wipe any soap remnants off his face. “Maybe if we ever do go back, I’ll go to beauty school. Just for you.”

He stands and looks at the other clothes. “Well, let’s play dress up.” He hums, holding up the outer layer of pants. “Always wanted to be a knight.”

He could be, with time and training, except for the part you completely respect about not wanting to kill anyone ever again. “Technically,” you throw him a smirk. “We’re dressing you up like a prince.”

“Wha—oh yeah.” He won’t begrudge you deciding that a technical prince is who you needed to have in your bed. “Gareth is Arthur’s nephew, right?”

“Arthur has six nephews and no legitimate heir.” Something you know all too well, both from Gareth and from the countless conversations you’ve sung alongside. The king has a penchant for using your singing as white noise that used to really irritate you, but you’ve gotten over it. “Agravain, Gaheris, Gareth, Gawain, Yvain, and Galeschin. All Knights of the Round Table.” Helping Zach on with his tunic, you step back a little and nod, pleased that the clothes all seem to fit him well. “No one has been crowned, though. There’s no official heir. I think Arthur is still holding out hope that the queen could carry a legitimate child before she gets too old.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Good luck to him.” He ignores the pang of jealousy. “I’m literally the last living person in my family and doubt I will ever have kids the way my life was going.”

“Things are different here.” You remind him softly, hoping your hand on his arm isn’t taken as pitying when it’s meant as an offer of comfort. “We are whoever we want here. You can be whoever you want.”

It’s not his place to tell you that this isn’t where you belong, not with no clear way home. So he just nods and gives you grin. “I’m sure I will learn all about it. What was that movie when we were kids? A Kid in King Arthur’s’ Court?”

“I think about it every day.” The laugh that bubbles out of you is relaxed again. Happy. “I wish I had had some bubble gum in my pocket when I got here. I would have relived that Mad Dog Bubble Gum scene so fast.”

Zach snorts and bites his lip. “So what would you give if I had bubble gum?” He asks slyly. It was a trick he used sometimes when he could only have water. Chewing on gum would trick his body into thinking he was full for a while.

“Zach, you beautiful fucking human.” The utter childlike delight on your face is undeniable and you practically jump up and clap your hands. “Do you really? “

He laughs and nods to the pile of clothes he had stripped out of. “Look in the flannel shirt.” He tells you as he pulls on the borrowed pants.

The stack of clothes he arrived in is fairly untidy now, and it doesn’t take you long to locate the pack of Juicy Fruit with a few sticks missing. “Oh my god,” you giggle again, holding out up. “You really do. Oh, today is the best day.”

Zach grins, proud that he can provide you with some joy and a little taste of home. “What is mine is yours milady.” He tells you with a dramatic bow.

“Likewise, my lord.” The practiced curtsy you offer him is essentially second nature now, but it feels playful and silly here in your chambers as opposed to the seriousness that happens in the rest of the castle. “Surcoat next, and I promise you’ll be warm.”

He shrugs into the garment and realizes you weren’t lying. It is warm. Not in a stifling way, but the thick brocade is nice to ward off what is most assuredly a chilly night after the sun goes down.

You hum a little, stepping back to look at him once you’ve set the wider of the two belts around the outside of the surcoat and made the whole look complete. “You look…” It suits him. The whole thing suits him. Dignified and handsome in a whole different way than you had expected. “You look like a prince.” Not a borrowed one, not dressed up like one. He really does look it, through and through.

He snorts and gives you a grin while he widens his arms. “Just call me the Prince of Paupers.”

“Prince Zachariah is not an impossible thing to be.” You’ve only met one other man with the name since arriving - a kind of slightly too preach monk called Brother Zechariah - and it makes you glad that he won’t have to deal with any name confusion. “Boots, your Highness?” They’re the last thing for him to put on. Hopefully they’ll fit as well as the rest.

Zach comes back over and sits down so he can try the boots on. “Somehow, I doubt I would look as noble with my worn out Nikes on.”

“If Heath Ledger could pull off the Nike swish in A Knight’s Tale, you can too.” When was the last time you even made this many movie references? Let alone to someone who understands them?

“Heath Ledger, I am not.” He rolls his eyes even as he tucks his tongue in his cheek. “Although if I have to fight for anyone’s honor here, I expect the 5th century rendition of We Will Rock You to accompany me to the ring.”

You snort, smirk splitting your face in two. “Look me in the eye, your Highness, and tell me you don’t fully believe that I would get out there and introduce you like Paul Bettany in the lists while I teach the crowd how good a stomp-stomp-clap feels?”

“Are you going to walk down a road naked and spouting Chaucer too?” He hums playfully.

“I have done far more scandalous things in my day.” It was a hidden garden and Gareth hadn’t found it quite as amusing, but still.

“I’m sure our stories could make everyone in this kingdom either faint from shock or burn us for depravity.” Zach huffs, reminding himself that you are used to the causality of modern life, but these people are not. The boots are on his feet and they fit perfectly.

“Camelot is still way more in touch with its pagan side than history wants us to know.” Despite the sizable medieval cross necklace you’re wearing - which was itself a gift from Gareth at the new year. “Honestly, Zach?” Taking a step back, you cross your arms and appraise his appearance one more time. “You’ll blend right in, in the castle.”

“Until I open my mouth.” Zach tells you, rolling his eyes at himself. “Then it’s obvious I’m an outsider.” He doesn’t mind though, and he’s grateful for all your help. “Now I guess we find your Knight?” He asks cautiously, reminding himself that even though the two of you were getting along, you were with Gareth.

“I’ve already trained them to think Americans are charming in their weirdness.” It had been easier, when you arrived, to just admit you were from somewhere else and your customs were different, then to try to blend in and fail. But he has a point - he needs to learn the castle and meet people. Not just stay here and talk to you. “It’s almost supper.” The darkened sky tells you so. “We should go to the Great Hall. Gareth might already be there.”

Zach offers you his hand again like before and you take it, making him again marvel at how warm and soft you are. “Then show me to the great hall milady.”

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Zach Wellison #Zach Wellison x reader #Zach Wellison x you #plus size reader #Brothers and Sisters #Camelot #time travel au #cursing #IT BEGINS!#1k celebration fic #thank you so much my lovelies #it means the world to me!

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chaoticgeminate · 1 year

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You're so Classic (v)

Enter Nanette Dougherty.

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 sexual harassment at a work function, implied bad parenting, and smut. Beta read by the beautiful, lovely, amazing @leslie-lyman 💙

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Chicken and Dumplings (8.4k)

Nanette didn’t usually remember her dreams, it was rare that she got anything aside from whatever emotions came from the images her mind created for her, and today was no different. Waking up warm and comfortable, calm in a way she hadn’t felt in some time, with only happiness and a low buzzing content to ease her into consciousness; soft breaths puffed against the back of her neck and Zach’s arm was draped over her waist and with the blessing of central air the room wasn’t too hot even though both of them had slept without clothes on.

Sometime during the night she’d rolled over, closer to the edge of the bed, and Zach had given chase; she’d almost forgotten about her habit of moving in her sleep, it was something she’d probably have to mention since she’d fallen off her bed a few times as a child. Nanette settled back into Zach’s embrace as he continued to sleep and the sun continued to rise, it was still very early -likely around five or six- so she didn’t even try to move away.

Nanette took stock of how she felt, the ache between her legs was familiar but there were only good memories attached to it, and her heart was racing when she slowly recalled all the things Zach had said he wanted to do with her. This was the first time she’d taken a weekend to herself, to just stay away from her apartment and Francesca and all of that other stuff, so there was part of her that wanted to explore all of Zach’s promises now.

But patience won out, it would be best to take this slow, she knew it was probably a dumb idea to rush into things just because she had a good time once. While she didn’t doubt Zach or how attentive he was to making her feel good it was still her own worries that she would learn something was wrong somehow, or that Zach would want to do something that just wasn’t doing it for her and he’d be disappointed in her. After exhaling softly she managed to slip out of bed, feeling jittery and like she needed to move, so she opted to go to the bathroom and then work on breakfast.

Pausing when she saw her reflection, running a hand down her stomach, Nanette bit the inside of her cheek since she felt bloated. It wasn’t a great feeling, she turned to the side to see if there was a noticeable change and tried to fight down the mild panic since she was sure there was. It just meant she’d have to go lighter on meals, which was perfectly fine, and she did have a higher weight allowance now so it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she weighed in above her usual. She stepped back, taking in the shape of her hips and thighs, just trying to remind herself that it was impossible for such drastic change to happen overnight, that she was fine and it was okay that the hefty meal she had the day before wasn’t going to ruin her life.

Tying her hair back into a messy ponytail to escape the judgmental stare of her reflection, picking up Zach’s flannel and letting it hang open, she slipped on fresh underwear and tip-toed down the stairs into the kitchen. He had a one-cup coffee maker and Nanette made a note as she rustled through his cabinets on what his coffee of choice was, that way if she ever had him over at hers for breakfast she would have some on hand, and after making sure she had what she needed for the two cups of coffee it was time to see what she could make.

Zach had a variety of things in the fridge and she couldn’t help but smile seeing it organized in clear bins with labels, things specifically set aside for different meals like vegetables he’d separated from bulk purchases or proteins for each meal, and she decided on making omelets. One cured ham steak, an onion, bell pepper, a few mushrooms, and the sliced colby jack cheese made their way onto the counter with the eggs after she found a cutting board and his knives.

Nanette had just cooked the water out of the mushrooms and gotten some color on the onions and peppers after she added them to the pan when she heard the sound of footsteps in the hall, Zach’s hair was still a tousled mess and he’d thrown on some boxers and new sweats, but his eyes landed on her at the stove and she swore they went black.

“Good morning.” His voice was soft and rasped and sent chills down her spine in a good way, it made her feel beautiful and wanted better than any camera or job offer ever could, and her lips lifted at the corners before she could really even try to play coy.

“Good morning Zach, hope you’re hungry.” The words made him groan and walk over, hugging her from behind as he looked over her shoulder, and she giggled when the stubble of his facial hair rubbed against her skin as he nuzzled her neck. Nanette swayed with him as she tended the stove top, the fact that Zach hadn’t immediately jumped to take over made her relax, it was a real calm between them and just an easy morning.

“If you didn’t have the stove on I would start with dessert and bend you over the table.”

Zach stepped away from her to start the coffee as she cracked the eggs into a bowl, her brows shooting up as her entire face flushed, and Nanette knew the sound that came out of her was garbled and not really words but she just couldn’t find a way to form words after that. The conflicting emotions raging in her heart and the thoughts racing through her mind were all over the place from dread that he’d go to make good on his word until he noticed she was bloated to excited that he wanted her still, her grip on the whisk tightened as she beat the eggs she’d cracked without another word or sound.

“Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?” Zach was leaning on the counter beside her, his coffee in hand just watching her face, and she blinked before schooling her expression into a convincing calm. It wasn’t hard since she’d been forced to do this thousands of times before, even if it felt wrong doing it to Zach, but she didn’t want their weekend together to turn into her word vomiting and scaring him off over all the superficial bullshit that popped up in her head. Maybe Leon was right about her, that she was shallow, but it had to be different since hers were usually self-targeted right?

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to react.”

Zach’s concern melted to something smug and she felt an ugly sense of relief crawl through her, it wasn’t fair that she couldn’t admit what she was feeling to him but she was scared that he’d walk away, and it would just be easier to hide it for the weekend and face it later when she was alone to process everything. Louis would be able to help her with date dinner ideas that wouldn’t leave her feeling so gross the morning after, she could also have green smoothies for breakfast for a few days if she had to as well.

“I suppose that’s fair, Nanette.” Zach leaned over to kiss her and she turned her head to capture his lips with hers, it was slow and deep and made her whole body ignite like kindling in a wildfire, but before it could go too far she pulled away to keep cooking, Making two separate bowls for the eggs, hers having just the whites while Zach had her extra yolks, and he didn’t say anything but she did notice the very slight downward turn at the corners of his mouth.

“So, what are today’s plans? You mentioned wanting to go somewhere? Or are you going to change your mind and request a weekend in?” His frown became more pronounced and Zach leaned over to catch her chin with a gentle hold between his thumb and pointer so she looked him in the eye.

“We’re going out, don’t you worry, as much as I’d love to keep you here Nanette there’s no way I’m going to push you into more when I can tell you aren’t ready for it. You don’t have to hide or fake anything with me, okay? If you aren’t in the mood, or something is bothering you that has you up in your head, then don’t be worried about my reaction. I’m a grown man, if I really need to get off that bad I can do it myself without forcing anything on you.” Nanette felt her throat tighten with each word, a little glad she hadn’t poured any of the eggs into the pan yet since her eyes began to water embarrassingly, and Zach pulled her away from the stove to hug her tight to him after setting his mug aside.

Nanette felt relieved and conflicted and overwhelmed at the realization that things could be easy with the right person, she’d grown up seeing her mother and step-father have their fights and she could never forget the way her mother used to scream at her dad over every little thing, and other pageant parents had been just as intense and quick to fight their partners. This easy thing with Zach was so different that she didn’t know what to do. It was so good because the weight of expectation was gone but it was making her feel like she might end up messing up, that her bullshit would be what fucked it all up.

“How- how’d you get so insightful?” Nanette wanted to feel as emotionally stable as Zach appeared to be, he was so sure of himself and aware of others, she wanted that same peace.

“Therapy, a lot of therapy, I still go. I have anger issues, still do sometimes, I’m getting better but I don’t think I’ll ever be one-hundred percent. Can I- is it too heavy to ask you what you’re thinking? If it is then we can change topics.” He was giving her an out, of all things, and Nanette leaned against him more as Zach pulled her to sit down at the table, he had her perched in his lap and was just holding her.

“I just- it’s so easy with you and I’ve never… seen that. Experienced that. I felt pretty, like you still wanted me, even without make-up or having my hair done up and it feels nice but terrifying that it’s this easy. I’m scared that my superficial bullshit will get in the way.” Nanette didn’t see the way Zach’s eyes narrowed since she was too busy looking down and away from his face, ashamed to admit this much.

Zach bumped his forehead to hers, gently, so she looked up and met his gaze again; he looked worried again but it was a subtle look hidden under his softly fond expression.

“I want you to know that I think you are beautiful however you choose to present yourself, in or out of clothes with your hair up or down, make-up or not. As for your superficial bullshit, if you’re talking about your career I’m going to do my best to adapt to it, if you talk to me and communicate with me about what you’re feeling then I can offer insight and reassurances.” Nanette was so used to keeping quiet when things bothered her, to accepting the bad in someone because the good was always enough, and that was the exact opposite of who Zach was as a person. He valued her input, wanted to talk with her about any and everything, and if she was feeling down he wanted to know.

It was a stupid way to think about it but she felt less like a doll and more like a human than she ever had in her entire life.

Zach finished making the omelets for breakfast, tasking Nanette to put together a small fruit salad, and while he put everything together he studied her. Seeing her in his shirt definitely had woken him, and his libido, up for the day; he was a simple man and there was something about seeing his girlfriend in his shirt that ticked off the boxes in his caveman brain. But more than that he was seeing the way she was standing with most of her weight on one foot, the slight turn of her body away from him, and he chose not to say anything about her choosing to give him her yolk.

It was clear that something had happened after she woke up to make her feel like she had to hide from him and Zach hoped that, soon, she would feel comfortable telling him about it. He was just as guilty for hiding things, glossing over his anger problems instead of giving her deeper details, but he also didn’t want to scare her off by telling her about something that he’d gotten mostly under control this early. Instead of making a big deal over it Zach hoped his words were enough, that she would understand that he was here for her as long as she met him half way.

They sat down beside each other and Zach flipped on Animal Planet, it was some show about an alligator rescue, and Nanette settled beside him with her own food looking a little better than she had. After a beat of silence between them, just watching the team head out to some flooded church field where two gators were at, he felt Nanette lean against him and turned his head to glance at her.

“I, uh, woke up feeling… well feeling bloated from last night’s dinner.” Zach almost asked her why that would be a problem, he caught himself at least, but it sort of clicked before he managed to make himself look like a total idiot; to him it was a non-issue but he had a feeling something like that was a bit of a hard blow to Nanette’s routine.

“Do you want some lemon water? I know that helps some people at least lessen the feeling.” Zach was half out of his seat before she even said yes and he handed her the cool beverage with a smile as well as a Gas-X tablet. It wouldn’t be the perfect solution but he had a feeling that he’d have to work around the requests she made if they were heavier foods like yesterday, choosing leaner meats or going light on certain vegetables. Like her intimacy situation there was a lot of things Nanette was still learning about her body, adding calories and food types would be no different, and Zach made a mental note to look into some more lean versions of his favorite recipes.

“Is that why you looked upset earlier?” He didn’t want to make assumptions about what she was feeling and if she was willing to tell him then it would be easier to figure out how to handle it going forward.

“Yes, I uh, I was worried it was noticeable.” Zach had to admit her worry flew right over his head for way too long, mostly because he didn’t really get it, but when it finally clicked he caught her hand in his to kiss her knuckles lightly. Nanette’s eyes went round as she stared at him and he offered her as gentle of a look as he could manage, even if he was hurting for her and what she was dealing with, and her little hints about how easy they had it didn’t spell out a good image for what she’d gone through growing up.

“Nanette, I’m going to be entirely honest, there is nothing you could really do to change your appearance that would make me want you any less. I’m not going to dictate what you have to look like to be attractive to me because you’re always attractive to me, what matters is if you feel comfortable with yourself.” He had no idea if she had ever had anyone say that to her before, he was starting to think she hadn’t, but her watering eyes and relieved smile made him brush her tears away with his thumbs and kiss her forehead gently before he kissed her on the nose.

“Thank you, Zach.” He nodded and kissed her on the mouth, deep and slow and just trying to show her how much he cared without any additional words, and Nanette was panting when they parted with a flush on her face that he knew he could get to travel all the way down her neck and shoulders.

Finishing breakfast with much lighter conversation topics, as he recognized she was a little too raw and needed a break, Zach told her to go get dressed while he put the dishes in the dishwasher so that they could go out. Nanette looked stunning in the loose sundress, he didn’t know exactly what to call the light shade of pink or what the colorful flowers printed along the skirt actually were, but it looked very pretty. Zach went upstairs and grabbed one of his gray plaid button downs, a pink tee-shirt underneath paired with his dark gray shorts; Nanette looked up from where she was braiding her hair and smiled, the shade of pink he’d chosen was lighter than the one she wore but looked like it was in the same family of pinks.

Nanette walked over and undid the buttons on his shirt, leaving only one of them done to loosely hold the top together, and he slipped his watch onto his wrist before he could really think too hard about the way her eyes had raked down his figure. After she slipped into her sandals Zach got his socks and sneakers on, making sure she had her purse and he had his wallet and keys. And instead of his car they walked the short distance to the pottery workshop he’d told her about.

The owner was another vet he’d met through the VA, she had handmade figurines and piggy banks, plates, sets of cups and saucers, and really anything you could think of. He and Nanette would be painting something and then Katherine would dry and glaze them, whatever they chose, so it was exciting since it was a chance to experience and create. Nanette was beaming when they got inside, taking in the large stock of unpainted wares, and Zach told her to look around while he greeted Katherine.

“It’s been so long, I cannot believe how far we’ve come now that we’re civilians again.” Katherine earned a nod as Zach grabbed his wallet to pay for the booking, he’d gotten unlimited time for the day and the top tier selection on what to paint.

“At least it’s things we like to do, yea? I know you have to have fun with all the kids that come in.” Kat had always loved kids, Zach remembered meeting her at the VA building when they’d been waiting for their appointments, she’d mentioned coming from a massive family and that as much as she sort of resented her parents for depending on her like a third parent she did miss when her siblings were kids instead of teenagers.

“Loads of fun, I did get lucky that Sasha -the twelve year old- wants to do more pottery stuff so she’s here pretty often whenever she can catch the bus over.” Katherine handed his card back and Zach noticed Nanette looking between a teacup and saucer as well as a mug, making him smile as he walked over to see what she was thinking.

“Mug or teacup?” He paused when she asked him, realizing she’d seen him approaching in the small mirror on the shelf, and Zach grinned as he winked at her.

“I go with mugs because they end up at the diner, I try to come here a few times a year since it’s relaxing for me and it’s fun to see what I can come up with.” He watched the realization flicker across her face, the standard white mugs mixed and matched with the very vastly different painted ones finally making sense, and Nanette’s eyes softened before she grabbed one of the larger mugs since it was the ones he used. Katherine chuckled from the register.

“If you’re both doing mugs take two each.” He knew it was because he’d paid for the most premium choice but Zach still couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the other vet, earning a cheeky wave, but he and Nanette grabbed their mugs and made their way over to the painting tables. They picked one against the window since it had the best lighting, with Zach grabbing two palettes and filling them with a little of every color paint, and Nanette was beaming as she accepted the pack of cleaned paintbrushes from Katherine and Zach took his with a wave.

“I noticed you use a lot of warm shades, fire and autumn colors, for the mugs you have at the diner that are painted. Do you not really like cooler tones?” Nanette was already at work with a pencil, sketching a really rough design onto the unpainted clay, and Zach found himself watching her make the rough outline of flower petals and leaves.

“I tend to avoid green, which you generally see paired with blue for ocean themes or other shades for floral themes.” The motion of her pencil paused before she made a soft sound, returning to her sketching.

“You were deployed then.” Not a question, then again he hadn’t really tried to hide that his time in service had left it’s marks, and Zach whispered the soft ‘yes’ as he began painting the mug in his hand. His method was more abstract than planned, random swirls and patterns of color, but the motions of the brush were soothing and Nanette leaned more against him to tap his shoulder with the side of her head.

“My dad is a vet too, it got ugly for a while and that’s why mother stopped my visits with him, you don’t have to worry about it scaring me off. You said you’re in therapy, I don’t doubt that’s part of it.” Zach let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and nodded, the wide brush stroke that looked like a flower petal made him continue the pattern before Nanette winked and used her brush -dipped in green- to draw a stem for him.

Zach didn’t think about the fact that there were kids in the room already, he just pressed the softest kiss to her mouth as she smiled so softly at him, and Nanette pulled away first with a smile on her face that was so understanding that it made him feel like it was safe to open up more to her about his PTSD and everything he’d been through. To an extent, at least, he’d never tell her about active combat or the true horrors he’d seen but he could talk to her about the lingering nightmares and emotional baggage.

They fell into much gentler conversation after that, mindful of the giggly children and protective parents, instead talking about plays and concerts they wanted to see; Zach loved that Nanette preferred orchestral music and jazz bands, even if she did enjoy every other genre the instrumental pieces were her favorite, and decided that sometime he’d have to plan a trip to the East Coast where they could see a proper Christmas orchestra performance in the snow. His Mama had taken him to Boston once in the winter, his uncle had a boxing match there, and Zach would never forget how it felt seeing snow for the first time.

“So what’s the most exotic place you’ve traveled?” Nanette blinked at his question before turning an almost rueful gaze on her mug, the pattern was a lovely floral and he had no doubt her skill at applying make-up attributed to her steady hand as she worked over her sketch.

“I’ve only ever seen San Antonio, Houston, Austin, and LA; pageants, when I was younger, in Texas while modeling was here. Now that I have the evening gown exclusivity there’s a chance I could go to other places depending on shooting location, my goal is to be on the runway for Paris Fashion Week even if its just once.” He loved that it wasn’t a dream, that it was a goal, that she knew what she wanted and that she’d been working on the moves to get her there.

“Tell me what you need me to do, if anything, so I can help you achieve your goal.” Nanette glanced at him and smiled, the finished mug set down so she could get started on the second, and Zach felt that tension from the morning slipping away.

Katherine was sweet and she’d offered a gig to teach painting to the kids, if Nanette wanted it, but the model had to refuse. Instead she hit up a few make-up artists that she knew who specialized in costume and decorative make-up since the hours Katherine wanted were super flexible, it was a win-win for her to get steady-handed artists and for the make-up artists to find something to pad their wallet when they had no job lined up. Zach held her hand as they left, their mugs would be dried, glazed, and baked with the next batch before they were ready for pickup.

It had been a longer time than she expected but Nanette had a lot of fun, it was nice to do something creative and calming, so by the time they got back to the apartment she was no longer as anxious as she had been upon waking up. The measures Zach had taken helped too, she felt worlds better, and he led her to the couch with a promise of a light lunch; it was honestly the best she’d ever been treated by a partner and Nanette allowed herself to enjoy it.

Eventually she’d have to face the reality that for so long she’d allowed people to be awful to her, maybe with help she’d learn how to stop that from happening with people she worked with too.

A low chime from her phone made her check the device, a message from Madame LeMarc about her first contractual shoot for the Wednesday coming up, and after confirming the location and details she promised to have Louis send over her updated measurements when she got into the agency on Monday to verify that nothing had changed. That way Madeline wouldn’t have to worry if minor alterations needed to be made, or if there were touch ups to be done she could handle it before the day.

Zach set down a bowl of ramen, made with shirataki noodles instead of regular wheat noodles, and while the noodles had always failed to work as a spaghetti substitute they were great in a soup dish like this. The protein was just lightly poached eggs, so the yolk was runny, and the flavorful broth was meaty enough to not need something like chashu or chicken. He’d added mushrooms, lotus root, and bamboo shoots that Nanette had a feeling were all things he made regularly since they didn’t have the same canned taste as the few times others had made ramen from scratch.

Nanette flipped on ‘How It’s Made’ after they migrated to his dining table, sitting next to one another and trying not to stare when he sat down in a way that she would have hated on any other man. Zach tried not to manspread, she’d seen him fidget and shift in seats to avoid taking up so much room, but here at home he didn’t have the same reservations. If anything though, knowing he was hers, it made her want to crawl into his lap and straddle his thigh.

Before she could accidentally choke herself on her food Nanette turned her attention back to the screen, another chime from her phone making her glance at the device, and she noticed Zach look anywhere but the small touchscreen.

“It’s my mother, I’ll call her later.” Nanette wasn’t going to interrupt her meal to call, it’d be bad manners anyway, and there was nothing of major importance she could think of that her mother would need to speak to her about. Unless Cassandra had begun doing pageantry again, which was unlikely, her sister had loathed the dresses and jewelry and everything about the child pageant life to the point that she’d gotten banned from three for picking fights. At eleven there was probably little chance of Cassandra allowing their mother and her father to force her into that setting, if anything she was probably fighting back harder if they were persisting.

Nanette was seventeen years older than her sister, by the time Cassandra was the age to start child pageants Nanette was starting her modeling career, so most of their interaction was done through video calls. There’d been the odd visit here and there but nothing that would really lead to the two of them having a real sisterly relationship. Before she could even tell Zach about her suspicion, that it had something to do with Cassandra, her phone began to ring and he nudged her gently.

“Go ahead, if you want some privacy you can go into the office.” Zach’s offer made her nod before she was heading to the other room, not closing the door but respecting that he didn’t seem to want to get involved with potential family drama just yet. Which was fine, they’d only just gone exclusive had had only been dating for a short time.

“Mother, I was in the middle of a lunch date, is everything okay?” There was a small chance that would stop any of the long stories, since her mother was big on manners, and the camera finally loaded her mother’s face and the woman beside her. Marcelline Dougherty was the kind of woman that would go without voicing her opinion even if it was unwanted, the woman beside her was probably the exact same, though.

“Nanette Rose, are you serious right now? You’re at the biggest turning point in your career, do not throw it all away for some boy-“

“I can juggle my career and my dating life, I’m not a child and Zach has already begun asking questions to take measures to avoid problems over it. Is there a reason you’re calling?” Nanette could admit that she had a hard time talking with her mother, she’d grown up being taught to respect her mother and step-father while getting nowhere near the same respect in turn, sometimes it was a remedy for a bad mood and other times it made her want to rip her hair out.

“This is Alexandria Maldonado, she is the new chairwoman for several of the pageants you’ve won in the past, we think that it might be a good example for Cassandra if you came back and did a few of the adult pageants.” As she expected it was something to try and push Cassie into doing something she didn’t want to do, the wedge between her and her sister was already big due to the age but the fact that Nanette had done pageants and went on to be a model had caused more resentment from her younger sister.

“Why is Cassie doing pageants so important to you? Why can’t you just let her do what she wants as an after-school thing, she’s into field hockey right?” Nanette had tried to keep tabs on her sister’s hobbies so that maybe there was something they could talk about when she came to visit, the school paper had run an article that Cassie was looking at getting a spot as the team Captain next year if she played good and kept her cool.

“Nanette Rose, I cannot believe you want to allow your sister to continue to do something so crass.”

“If you force her to do things she doesn’t want to do, Mother, all you’re going to do is alienate her when she’s legally allowed to leave. Do you know how many people I’ve met that have gone no contact with their parents for the same reason?” That shut her mother up, the outraged look on her face melting to something else, and Alexandria’s smile had fallen too. As if they just expected her to try and make Cassie give up her thing just to fit into shoes she didn’t want to wear.

Nanette hadn’t wanted to be some role model for her sister, she wanted Cassie to be able to do her own thing, and it was clear that her mother didn’t agree.

“Where’s Paul in all of this? If Cassie is doing sports now then clearly someone had to sign it off, so you’re trying to go behind their backs to get your way?” Nanette didn’t mind coming back to try and cheer her sister up when she was down, to try and reassure Cassie that she was allowed to make her own way in life, but she wasn’t going to be a tool her mother could use to try and make Cassie feel like she wasn’t good enough. Nanette had plenty of her own hours crying over the harsh words her mother would throw her way whenever she didn’t do good enough at a pageant or whenever she wasn’t keen on whatever little new talent she was supposed to learn.

“I am her mother, just like I am your mother, I know what’s best for her and playing some sport with a bunch of fat teenagers will lead to her being ruined. Do you know that she doesn’t wear dresses to church?” Nanette looked up at the doorway when Zach appeared, holding up her food, and she nodded as she tapped the desk but grabbed his hand to squeeze it in gratitude before he could walk away.

“Mother, please, it’s not the nineties anymore; Cassie can wear pants and a nice shirt to church.” Zach shot her a look of full sympathy and Nanette leaned back in his chair, making sure that her mother didn’t see him at all just yet.

“Do you know she’s the only girl doing that? All the other girls her age are in pageants and doing débutante events, just like you did, but not Cassandra. No, she’s too busy beating other girls up with a field hockey stick and planning to go to university in the Northeast. All of my children leaving their poor mother-“

“Don’t you start that now, you’re the one who encouraged me to work with Delaney, as soon as I was offered a spot at his agency you were practically packing my bags for me.”

“Because I wanted you to be successful, to become famous, and now you’re going to work with designers who aren’t large names and ruin your figure. Honestly, you look like you’ve gained weight, you’re not trying to throw your whole career in the toilet for a boy are you Nanette Rose?”

“What? No, why would you think that? I haven’t gained weight either, I’ve been keeping track of my measurements and weight with Louis, so don’t try to scare me with that.” Zach was already back downstairs and Nanette barely managed to get her mother off the phone before she was escaping to the bathroom to inspect her reflection again.

She didn’t feel any bigger, she could swear she didn’t look any bigger either, but she began poking her cheeks and her hands itched for a measuring tape that she didn’t have. The tremor in her limbs faded when she reminded herself that her dress fit the same as it had the last time she’d worn it, loose only after it was past her hips as it needed to be and fitted everywhere else without being too tight. The pattern wasn’t pulled or stretched in a weird way, it’d been easy to get on and off, so she was fine.

Heading back to the study and pocketing her phone, bringing her food back downstairs, she earned a smile from Zach as he looked up from the book he was reading on the sofa. Nanette finished eating and went over to cuddle up to his side, looking over at his book before deciding that he was too far into whatever the plot was for her to pick up on it. Instead Nanette laid with her head on his thigh, just relaxing, and Zach used one hand to play with her hair as she watched How It’s Made.

Offering to let Nanette use his gym was an easy choice, it was clear she was used to exercising often, and Zach stared openly when she came downstairs in her sports bra and leggings. He helped her pull her hair up into a bun as she slipped on some flat sneakers, and he joined her in stretching out their limbs so that they were less likely to cramp up after. Nanette was slim and it was obvious, as well as what she told him, that her workout wasn’t to gain muscle but that she hated doing just cardio. Which meant stretching was a must for her since any overworking over the muscle she did have could lead to cramping if she didn’t stretch or hydrate.

The cardio thing was understandable, after his time in service and the PT tests he hated running for cardio even if he got a treadmill for that purpose, and Zach watched her get started on some dumbbell hammer curls while he decided to go for bar curls.

“Do you usually do bench press and dead lifts? Or do you skip those since you aren’t trying to build muscle?” He wasn’t sure what her routine usually was and if he didn’t have something she needed in terms of equipment it’d be no problem to get a hold of it, Zach didn’t necessarily want her to solely work out here but he wanted it to be convenient so if she had an issue like this morning she could go through her usual routines to quell her anxiety.

“I don’t, even though I know I should, my problem is that my dead lift form isn’t great and I’ll either over-correct it or I won’t correct it enough. I just tack on a few extra back exercises like rows and some push-ups to superset my workout to target my chest muscles.” Zach hummed gently and as they finished their curl sets he walked over to his rack, setting for dead lifts at her weight capacity, and Nanette came over as he beckoned her closer with two fingers.

Zach hummed and walked her through her form, to see what she was talking about, before he very gently corrected her starting stance.

“Try now.” He watched her go through to motion and hummed.

“There we go, you were trying to use a stance that was better for someone taller, that should make it easier for you to keep your stance. Do a set.” Zach focused on her back and knees, watched her run through the set of ten, and when she finished he was grinning because she’d done a really good job. Nanette set the bar down and hugged him tight, he had a feeling Louis had skipped her adapting to dead lifts since she had been willing to sub that out with additional exercises.

They worked through her entire routine, which was pretty well covered for what she needed, and Zach was definitely sweating by the time he was done since he might’ve definitely pushed himself to show off a little. After he started up the slow cooker, the meal he’d planned for dinner inside it already, Zach followed Nanette upstairs.

“Are we showering together?” Nanette’s curiosity might’ve come across as genuine if not for the glint in her eyes and Zach thought about this morning and how she’d reacted to the idea that he’d turn her down over being bloated. If there was one thing he didn’t want to do it was make her feel unattractive, even if it was unintentional, but he didn’t want to push her either. Zach nodded gently, since he wouldn’t be able to get a condom on he wasn’t going to let it go too far if she got handsy but he wanted to make sure Nanette didn’t think he was the kind of guy that had his fun and would walk away.

His shower was pretty big, perk of being able to renovate his bathroom on his own, and Zach grinned when Nanette actually chose to scrub him down first. She wrinkled her nose at his 2-in-1 shampoo and bodywash but didn’t say anything against it, he knew that it wasn’t the best thing to use but he did at least have conditioner. His sigh at the feeling of her nails lightly scraping down his chest didn’t get lost in the sound of the water and Zach almost hunched over as she got down on her knees, very carefully cleaning him up and skipping his now hardening cock as she lathered up his legs.

“Nanette-“ His attempt at getting her back up was lost when she toyed with his shaft before gripping him gently in her hand, the fact that her hands were so small hadn’t occurred to him until now and Zach throbbed as his brain finally registered the size difference between them. She wasn’t exactly petite but Nanette wasn’t above average height either, seeing her hand on his cock made him wheeze as he hunched over her with his arm braced on the tile as she slid her hand along his length.

“I want to take care of you, Zach.” The way she let her lashes flutter, the gentle smile on her face, made him surrender with a groan and fuck if she didn’t look gorgeous with water dripping down her and all her focus on him. The soap was washed away and he almost protested until Nanette’s furnace hot mouth engulfed the head of his dick, his body jerking as he immediately halted his hips to avoid hurting her, and Nanette didn’t even slow down.

He was panting hard with each bob of her head, with how she hollowed her cheeks out and licked a flat stripe up the underside of him, and Zach had his breath punched out of him when she used her hand to stroke what her mouth couldn’t reach. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, so that he didn’t tangle his fingers in her wet hair, and Nanette moaned at the gentle touch before she let him fall out of her mouth with a pop so that she could suckle at the head of him while stroking his shaft.

When her tongue brushed against his frenulum Zach moaned low and deep, the sensation making his thighs tremble. The wet and slick sounds of her hand on him, of their combined panting, the

“Fuck, Nanette, so fucking good-“ Her answering moan made him look down, her eyes locking with his as she mouthed at the side of his cock like it was an ice-pop, and Zach felt his balls pulling up before he could even try to breathe and stop himself from spilling his cum all over her face.

“Gonna cum-“

“Are you? Gonna come all over me?”

He groaned at the idea of his cum dripping down her chest and Zach didn’t even have a chance to fight it as she suckled at his head again, lines of his spend painting her skin as he moved the hand on her face to high thigh so he didn’t bruise her with how tightly he dug his fingers into his skin. Nanette was gentle helping him work through the last of the tremors, his eyes blinking open to see the line of spit break as his cock softened and the sight of him dripping down her chest.

Nanette stood up when he stepped back and Zach pulled her against him, kissing her deep and pressing her back into the tile as her hands went up to his hair.

“Let’s get cleaned up, I want you in my bed again.” Nanette moaned softly and whimpered when he slipped one hand up to feel how wet she was, her soaked folds making him change his mind, and she clearly was okay with it as she tilted her hips against his hand so his fingers caught her tight little hole.

“Too far, want you now-“

“Not going to do anything other than my hands or mouth without a condom.” Nanette whined and he used one finger first to see if she was sore from the day before, she didn’t even flinch and instead she whined like he was teasing her. Still tight as hell but no longer as cautious about being intimate with him, it made Zach groan into her mouth and slide a second finger into her carefully. Nanette gripped his hair tighter and her hips rocked back before she angled them forward again, he let her control how fast he filled her and when his hand was cupping her pussy Zach curled his fingers and smirked at her throaty whine.

“Zach please-“ He nipped at her throat as his free hand circled her lower back and angled her hips just a little more.

“Zach please~ please what, baby?” He teased her a little, wanting her to ask for what she wanted, and Nanette whined in response to it.

“Want to come all over your hand, want to go to bed so you can fuck me through the mattress.”

“Someone’s bold now that she knows how good it can be, I like that.” He began moving his fingers with them curled, pressing against that spongy part of her, and Nanette keened as her head pressed back into the tile and one of her legs reflexively lifted to wrap around his hip. Zach was mindful that she had surrendered her balance, making sure his feet were planted better, and his thumb played with her soaked folds as he pressed himself against her more.

“Do you hear how wet you are?” Nanette nodded, the very slick sound of his hand moving against her was almost louder than the shower, and Zach felt her getting close.

“Look at you, coming apart for me like this, so fucking sexy. Gonna take care of you always, gonna make you feel good whenever you want it, want you to fucking soak me until you’re begging me to stop.” His mouth was just running and his thumb pressed her clit with the intent to circle it before she was wailing his name and coming hard, panting in his ear like she’d just run a marathon, and she was so wet that he was hurrying through washing her off so he could get her to bed faster.

Nanette was giggling, breathy still, but not against his rushed shower or the way he basically carried her out of the bathroom and barely dried her off before he got her onto the bed.

Sore, in the best way, and now she was being served a lean version of chicken and dumplings; it was thick and warm and delicious, and Nanette knew that she was going to sleep like a rock tonight. Zach smiled as they sat together on the sofa but she couldn’t help the way she smiled as he turned on an old episode of Project Runway, right as the contestant was working with her model, and his eyes widened before he turned to look at her.

“You never told me you were on the show.” His grin was wide and she laughed too.

“I was still new to modeling then so I was only used twice, though it was crazy to meet Michael and Nina and Heidi in person, but that’s actually how Delaney got me into the swimsuit contracts that I had.” Zach watched them fit the cocktail dress on her, it was slinky and black leather with sharp cut-outs and had a long cape on one shoulder only, the shoes and accessories were all neon colors since the theme was city lights.

“So neither designer of yours got to do Fashion Week?”

“Nope, both got eliminated pretty early in. It was a bummer but it is what it is, I had fun and it was a great opportunity. If I hadn’t taken it there was a chance I’d been going back to Texas, since rent here in atrociously high, and then I wouldn’t have gotten to meet you.” Zach hummed and nudged her gently before the episode ended and the next one began to play.

They stayed up talking about what it was like to be on a show, Zach even mentioned he’d gotten suggested for the Guy Fieri show and was unsure of whether or not he wanted to be on it at all, and Nanette couldn’t help but smile knowing that if he was she’d have some major competition coming in. There was no way the local ladies would miss the chance to get someone like him in their lives.

“I think you should, if only to raise more awareness to the fact that it’s still a struggle for veterans to find work, but when you do warn me so I can be ready to beat off other women with a stick.” He blushed at her compliment and Nanette straddled his lap to kiss him.

“Don’t get all blushy with me, sweetheart, you know you’re hot as fuck.” The grip of his hands on her hips as she peppered gentle kisses to his cheeks made Nanette pinch his side, there was no way she could go again yet, and Zach locked gazes with her as he tapped his forehead to hers.

“I’ll take your word for it, baby.”

“Good, you should take my word for it.”

They laughed together as he tickled her and Nanette shrieked as she wiggled out of his hold, earning a laugh before he was dragging her against him to cuddle up for a movie.

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#zach wellison x ofc #zach wellison x nanette dougherty ofc #brothers and sisters fanfic #zach wellison #model ofc #tw eating disorders #tw: food #tw food #tw abuse mention #tw ed #chaoticwrites

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