Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, leaving Jack alone with his cigarette. The smoke fills his lungs, his inhale slow and steady. He can practically feel his lungs turning more and more into stone.

“Hey, Are you still there?” he hadn’t intended to sound as irritable as he had. His day had been pretty shitty though- and it would be nice to know he hadn’t been talking to dead-air for the gods know how long.

“Yeah,” a sigh of relief escapes the pale redhead- smoke billowing out in a thick putrid smelling cloud.

“Well? What do you think? Can you get the shipment in tonight? We’ll be losing out on tons of cash if we don’t,”

“Mr. Spicer, Suffice it to say, There’s no way. Not with the roads being this bad,”

Jack looks up from the payphone- probably one of the only payphones left in existence. How the times change.
The snow hasn’t stopped falling yet, cold and clingy- grasping onto the faux leather of his jacket.
Due to the extreme weather, he’d been caught up in a town somewhere near Houston for the past week.

Because of this- shipment had slowed down exponentially. Travel even moreso- and he couldn’t get his supplies in to check them- to send them out.

Despite being the son of an infamous mob leader, he seemed to get stuck peddling drug exchanges. He personally wouldn’t touch half the stuff. He stuck to the toxic cigarettes and A-grade Cannibis , but usually didn’t do much else. On occasion, he was known to slip in an ecstasy pill to melt away the stress of living up to his family name.

The phone hummed sharply- letting him know his time was running out.

“Fine- I guess we’re waiting a little longer. Hey, transfer more money over to my account before you go. I’m running low. I can’t believe I’m still stuck here,”

“Yeah, you got it,” The phone hangs up- leaving a dead sounding whine in the calls wake. He backs away from the phone now- retracting his gloved hands into his sleeves, dropping the stub of a cigarette on the icy sidewalk. He stomps out the remaining ashes and walks away, head hanging low, Jack deep in thought.

Why did everyone treat him like he was some sort of idiot? He knew what he was doing- sure they’d risk losing a few runners but, it would save the rest of them. They had to do it soon though, this weather seemed to be spiting them.

A thick cough scratches his throat- and he brings his elbow up to muffle the noise. Nobody was even bound to be out this late- especially during the beginning of a blizzard. Why should he even care?

He rubs the sides of his face- his cheeks numb and prickling with the cold.

“I need to get back to the hotel...and sleep. I can’t do anything else right now,” it was habit to speak to himself- remind himself what he SHOULD do, what he DOES do, and what he DID do. It’s not like a lot of other people commend him- so someone had to.

Ten minutes into the walk, Jack hears the faint sound of footsteps crushing snow. Immediately, his hands hovers near his pocket- where a sharp little blade is just waiting to find some action. His heartrate speeds up as the footsteps grow closer- his cheeks, nose, and fingers warming up a bit as the blood rushes.

They’re right behind him now- they’ve stopped. His hands are tucked into his pockets- making him seem casual as he turns around. He half expects to see the barrel of a gun, or the point of a knife.
Instead, there’s a well built though slightly chubby man standing there.

Messy blonde hair covers the man’s eyes- which when the hair is moved, appear to be a brilliant blue. His skin is tanned and rough looking- incredibly freckled. He wore an expression so soft it would make a puppy weak.

Jack drops his guard a bit- realizing this guy probably isn’t a threat.

“Sorry to interrupt ya, but I’m a bit lost. I can’t find Elm n’ Ashmore anywhere,” The man tips a comically large cowboy hat at the shorter man, or he simply readjust it. Jack isn’t sure- this guy was like a cowboy caricature. The only thing keeping him from bursting into a laughing fit is the tiredness weighing him down.

“....Well for starters- you’re in the wrong part of town. This is the North- you want Southeast. It’s by like, a hundred different fast food places. I haven’t been there personally so I can’t really say a lot more,” As much as he REALLY wanted to get some shuteye- he spewed out the directions. If anything, it was to see if this guy really had any kind of other motive. His blade was still ready to spring if necessary.

“Thanks- I’m here visitin’ A relative and I got lost. The plane came in late’cause o’the weather,”

“Ah,” he hadn’t asked for an explanation- and just wore an unimpressed frown on his face, coughing again.

“You okay there pardner? That didn’t sound like no healthy cough,”The man takes a step closer to Jack, making him a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m fine,” Jack snaps back a bit- only to cough a little more. This cold was really irritating his tobacco ridden lungs. The man looks like Jack had just shot him in the gut or something, and he immediately feels a little bad.
In his profession- feeling bad would get you killed.

It was just the expression this guy wore- it just struck him in the heart. The heart he really hated having sometimes. He was supposed to be training to take over an empire! Here he was though, 23 years old peddling drugs, and being treated like a common lacky. Still he wasn’t jaded.

What was wrong with him? Well- the cowboy yeah, but Jack himself.

“I didn’t mean t’offend ya- thanks for all the help though,” it was apparent this guy was just putting up a smile because he kind of wanted to punch Jack. He could read people like that.

“No- you didn’t. I’m just tired….and ugh. It’s cold as fuck out,” He rubs his hands together, deciding this man was not a threat at all.

“Tell ya what-For helpin’ me out, I’ll buy ya a drink t’warm you up. ‘Course, if you don’t got time now we can do it another time,”

This was the first time Jack really paid attention to the way this guy spoke. It was a heavy southern drawl- an accent he’d rarely heard in most of the state. He talked in such an inoffensive way it made Jack feel secondhand embarrassment.

To top off the voice, that somehow matched this guys friendly yet intimidating build, this guy had the most sincere smile Jack thinks he’s ever seen. His face heats up a little bit. It wasn’t exactly a secret he swung in every which direction. Not that having a wider playing field actually found him any longterm relationships so far.

He looks this guy up and down, giving a small nod to himself. Was this cowboy flirting with him or just being nice? Was he misreading the gesture? He realizes he’s been staring too long when a puzzled expression shows up on the guy’s face.

“....The name’s Jack. Jack Spicer,”Even if he had heard of jack- which wasn’t likely, considering their organization ran normally in L.A.- there were enough deals with enough cops to get him out of almost any kind of jam. Sharing his real name at this rate was nothing. Of course, to his luck, this guy had no idea who he was.

“Nice t’meetcha Jack. I’m Clay- Clay Bailey,” Ugh. That sweet smile again- that stupid smile. The more he saw it, the more he wanted to punch this guy in the face. Or kiss him. Or do something a bit more akin to stress relief- he slows down. Whatever happens happens.

“Yeah- I guess I’ll take you up on that offer now then if you don’t mind. Rough day,” He gives a nonchalant shrug- something more subtle than his younger self might have done. Of course, everyone would cringe at their younger self one day. Jack included- though he did miss that spark of hope he used to have. Thinking he’d be a bigshot- that he had it made from the getgo. Pah. As if.

“Alrighty then- erm..y’know any place good ‘round the area?”

“Yeah- I guess it’s an alright place. It’s by Poplar ,”

“Just lead the way then pardner,”

“Yeah- Alright,” He gives a little cough again- this one not nearly as violent as the previous- and begins walking in the complete opposite direction of where he was headed.

What the hell right? What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

The sign flickered in bright neon colors through the frosty window of the bar, casting odd shadows into the packed ice on the sidewalk. There was an awkward silence the entire walk, and it didn’t seem intent on breaking.

Swiftly, the door swings open before them, a woman stumbling out with her head in a single hand Clearly she was out of it. Without so much as a glance, she passed them as they walked in, brushing shoulders with Clay awkwardly. Jack found himself just following behind the cowboy now, giving a careful sweep of the place. Nobody he knew and nothing weird. At least he could have a drink in peace.
Clay approached the counter of the bar confidently, giving a friendly greeting and a wave before taking a seat. The almost too thin man hopped up on a nearby seat without the same formality. It wasn’t his style. What WAS his style however, was the almost breaking hum of music through ancient speakers hoisted in the corners of the bar. A catchy tune slid around, helping him find a rhythm for his thoughts.

“What’s yer Poison?” The blonde’s voice brought him back to reality- letting music and stress fade into the background. It took a moment for him to find a proper response, getting fixated on analyzing this guy again.

“......Jack,” he gives a slightly off kilter grin as though he’s told the funniest pun in history, followed up by the modesty of a saint. He sees a glint of amusement in the others eyes but earns an eyeroll. Even Jack knows that was the most groan worthy thing to have said. Aside from the thrill of a cheap pun, he really was feeling up for something kind of hard. At least after the awful day he’d had.

“If You insist- A bottle of bluemoon and some Jack Daniels,” He slides the money over the counter, including a fairly decent tip. It was almost a bit disgusting how nice this guy was being. Yet somehow, Jack continued watching the transaction with intent. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about this guy that had him so intrigued.

The bartender set to work with stilted eagerness- clearly wanting his shift to end. The attention shifted off of him rather quickly however, and back onto the tall Texan sitting beside him.

“...So Cowboy, if you’re visiting a relative how’d you get lost so easy?” The words are carefully placed, more teasing than genuine.

“Well Y’see, my sister just moved here not too long ago. It’s my first time here,” The man wrings his hands and gives an awkward smile. “You a local or an outta towner?”

The Bartender sets the drinks on the table, turning away to help another customer, clearly having no interest in their conversation.

“I’m only here on business, but I’ve been stuck here for a week. This fucking weather, I swear to god,” irritation crawled from his throat as a growl.

“I s’pose it’s been pretty bad everywhere this winter,”

“Yeah? It still blows. No offense or anything but, I wasn’t planning on spending this long in Texas. I prefer my cities bigger,”

“Oh? Where ya from then?”

“L.A.-Where I don’t need to worry about getting frostbite,” Jack takes a swig of the dark alcohol, face screwing up for a moment and processing the fact he’d just taken a large drink. The Cowboy follows suit, taking a large swallow of beer. “I’m assuming you’re from Texas though?”

“Yeah, born and raised,” Clay lets out a light laugh- but it has a bass to it that sends chills down Jack’s spine.

Ever since They’d started talking, he’d found he was unable to stop trying to analyze him. The problem was hiding the fact he thought this guy was a very very very very VERY tall glass of water- and he was thirsty. OH god was Jack Thirsty.
How long had it been since he’d even kissed someone? Probably at least four or five months? There wasn’t exactly a good reason to keep track. It was considered unusual to brag about how many guys you’d snogged in the alleyway of a K-mart. Girls not so much, but, only the rare few didn’t have the broad shoulders and roughness that Jack adored.

At somepoint, he’d completely shut out the world- in his own head contemplating what it would take to get this guy hook,line, and sinker. He wasn’t even sure this guy was the least bit interested in any gender other than female. Clay had apparently been prattling on about life on the farm- which, he’d only caught bits and parts of. Still, it was something to work with.

“So- You have a girlfriend back in bufu?” it was just a casual line, disinterest in his eyes but sincerity in his voice. It was throwing Clay off a bit- if only because he hadn’t been able to read Jack at all. Something about him was so cold and secretive...but he wasn’t completely turned away so that had to count for something.

“Pardon, bufu?” Having never heard the term before, he was more stuck on figuring that out rather than giving an answer. Jack seeming to realize this, gave a heavy sigh.

“Bufu- middle of nowhere, if you want the short and sweet,” Alright so technically it meant butt-fuck nowhere but if this guy didn’t already know he didn’t want to give him all the details. Middle of nowhere sufficed perfectly well. He felt a bit bad being so snappy- but he was pretty stressed.

“Oh- never heard that before. Oh uh, a gal? Can’t say that I do. I mean, they’re all fine ladies but- none of ‘em are much my speed. I guess I just haven’t found the one yet,” there was a sheepish smile on the cowboy’s face that Jack was fighting himself for finding cute. Was this guy some kind of romantic?

“Ah- I see. Too plain for you?” he was mostly just teasing but...he did have his ideals about countryfolk- simple, predictable, archaic most of the time. If that was the case this guy was probably straighter than a stainless steel ruler.

“Not at all- I just think they can do better, and I think I make a better friend than boyfriend,” there’s a hesitance when he speaks- like he didn’t mean to let that slip out. It was like an insecurity wasn’t it? Jack was still focused on the others words- fingers stroking the lip of the glass. “How ‘bout you Jack? Got a special someone?”

Ah- he was expecting this question.

“Not really- Girls don’t exactly appeal to me most of the time. Only sometimes- but even then I’ve never had anything serious,” he throws in a small shrug, and wonders if this guy’s getting the implications.

“Dating not your kinda game then?”

“No- it is just...not really girls. But it’s pretty annoying trying to find someone that you can deal with, that can deal with you. At least when you’re expected to carry out gruntwork at the foot of the family business,”

Clay was confused for a moment- not even considering the fact that Jack was probably Bisexual. He was more focused on the fact that this guy said he did gruntwork in a family business- but looked thinner than a vampire from a gothic romance.

Another casual drink, the blonde still not processing Jack’s words. All he knows is the guy’s giving him this weird sort of stare, expectant and curious. Then it clicks. He finishes his drink coughing a little bit. Oh.
“.. So uh, you’re into guys?” he can’t mask the accusation in his voice. It was just so bizarre meeting someone who well, didn’t follow the set values his family had been raised to follow. Somehow it was amazing to know that people like this actually existed- homosexuals that is. There had been a point as a kid Clay thought homosexuals were mythical creatures like vampires and werewolves.

“Mostly yeah- You got a problem with it?” Jack cocks an eyebrow up, taking another long and deliberate sip. He was clocking in the guy’s reaction.

“No sir- I just wasn’t expecting it’s all,” Tentatively, the cowboy takes a long drink from his glass. The glass has been empty longer than a few seconds before it’s set down again. Clay orders another beer, drinking it down rather quickly. He was trying to drown his embarrassment in the buzz of alcohol- but was only managing to make his now stumbling mind rotate over the words more and more.

“Huh. You must come from some small hick town then. If there aren’t any people who are, you know, not straight,”

“No- There are..it’s just….often my family doesn’t associate with them. I’ve never gotten the chance to talk to any of ‘em unless they’re ringing up groceries. That was only if my grandma wasn’t with me,” He sounds desperate- trying to stay on Jack’s good side. It was kind of funny honestly, this big tough cowboy stumbling over his words to keep in favor. Jack decided he really pitied this guy- he really liked him too though.

“So you’ve never questioned your sexuality then? Always knew in your heart you liked girls and only girls?” The taunt seemed to make Clay red in the face.

“I can’t say I much thought about it. So I don't know..,” he catches himself. “I mean, Yeah I like girls. I always have- so why wouldn’t I now?” it was a question directed at himself. Like he’d said, he hadn’t really ever thought about it before.

Now that he was thinking about it, an odd sensation ripples through him. It was like he was a tree being ripped from the roots- he’d never been given the liberty of actually questioning his preference. All his life, Clay had been conditioned into ‘marrying a pretty little thing and carrying on the family name’. That’s as far as it ever went. He folds his hands- having difficulty due to the heavy buzz the beer gave him.

Both of the men had lost count of how many beers Clay downed- but it was enough that the cowboy teetered in his seat. If Jack was going to try and get anywhere with him, now was probably his best chance. Jack let’s a hand slide onto the other guy’s knee, softly resting it there. He looks the cowboy directly in the eyes.

“You seem like a nice guy Clay- I usually don’t like nice guys. If you’d want to, I could help you figure out if you still just like girls,” his hand raises a little higher- near the thigh. “It’s your choice though,” he drags his hand back down to his side. He has to suppress a grin- The other seeming to be fully flustered, but not offended. So this time, maybe the risk was worth it.

“How would you do that?” Clay had an idea but- he wasn’t sure if it was mutual or his imagination was running away with him. His throat was getting dry again- he drinks more beer.

“How would YOU want to do it?” Jack’s staring into his nearly empty glass- swirling the liquid inside. “We could just talk about it, or we could test it out for ourselves,”

“Test it out for ourselves?”

“Yeah- If you wanted to. We could hold hands, kiss, or something else if you really decided you didn’t like girls so much anymore,” The scrawny man makes a show out of sipping his alcohol- lips pursed and pressed to the glass eyes focused on Clay like a predator.

“I...Uh..,” his head is spinning now. His face is flushed and his stomach is doing turns. Whether it be from the alcohol or Jack- he couldn’t tell. That was what scared him. After a bit of thinking, his thoughts ran away. They ran away with Jack, leaving him there on the stool watching.

In his mind- he was kissing the man’s thin and strong looking lips, running his thick fingers through that pretty red hair. In his mind- he was bare chested, face buried into the other’s neck. He snaps back to reality as his thoughts tried to escalate further.

“So cowboy, Are you making me go home alone tonight or do you wanna join?” the confidence in his voice was simultaneously obnoxious and alluring. Jack slides off his stool, slapping some money on the table despite Clay’s offer to pay. “I’ll be out front taking a smoke break, meet me in five minutes if you’re n,” He leaves the bar, the tail of his long coat fluttering behind him. It was sort of mesmerizing, the way he left.

Jack, only just getting the cigarette between his lips, can hear the door closing and heavy footsteps fall beside him.

“Yeah- Uh, I’ll go with you. I mean, so long as you know..uh,”

“We take it slow?” Jack’s dealt with the hesitant type before- though the slightly drunk hesitant type was new- so seeing the flustered reactions really brightened his mood. Clay nodded at him, not wanting to say anything himself. The shorter man offers the other his hand, and begins leading him off. So maybe tonight wouldn’t absolutely suck after all.

Chapter Text

The motel room was definitely nothing to write home about- neither positively nor negatively. It was an average if not small room with average and recent carpet in an ugly shade of green. The walls were a shade of smoky yellow with small faint beige flowers papered over. A few adequately bright lamps sat in the room, and the lights installed themselves were somewhat dim and unimpressive.

Clay could vaguely catch the scent of cigarettes and alcohol staining the carpet- unsure if all of that was Jack or all of the customers that resided in the room. He wanders into the bathroom, unsure if he’d mentioned he was or not. Jack didn’t seem to mind much either way.

It was a somewhat cramped space for him, consisting of a pedestal sink, no counters, a toilet right beside that, and a small walk in shower squeezed into one corner of the almost blindingly white room. The only colors in the bathroom were the belongings of Jack (a comb, a can of hairspray, a stick of eyeliner, etc. etc.) and two ash grey rugs in front of the shower and sink respectively.

He turned his gaze from the unimpressive linoleum floor and stared at his reflection in a cloudy mirror. His hands were at either side of the sink, and he could see his lower lip trembling. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and his eyes had a somewhat wide and bright look to them. The cowboy definitely wasn’t even remotely relaxed. What was he doing? Well, he knew what he was doing but why? The buzz of the beer had been wearing thin the past ten minutes, giving him some space to think. He had followed someone that could rightfully be called a stranger back to his motel room to experiment with his own sexuality. A chill climbs his spine and a pit of dread rest in his stomach.

If he wanted to drop out of this he would have- he still fully intended to go through with this. Besides, the red haired fellow had promised not to push him into anything. They weren’t getting married, they weren’t doing anything that drastic at all! A few deep breaths and he feels better, the sick bubbling within him dulled into a harmless fizz.

With his shoulders rolled back and his chin up- he emerges back into the main room. His face is still pulled into a tight lipped expression, but his eyes flash with curiosity and determination.

Jack puts out his cigarette and lets it lay in the ashtray, taking down another swig of alcohol and wiping his mouth dry. He nonchalantly pats the spot beside him, ruffling the ugly moss colored bedding. The smallest hint of a grin is threatening to turn up on the corner of his mouth.

Tentatively, Clay takes a seat. He can faintly feel the other's body heat and hear the soft easy breaths. Well, easy until Jack coughs a bit- smoking isn’t good for your lungs but he doesn’t care enough about that. Cold thin fingers snake around Clay’s own hands. Jack hums as he gives it a squeeze. Thick and rough calloused hands- strong and firm- probably almost the size of his face if he was being honest.

The other squeezes the others hand right back, letting Jack trace lines in the palm of his hand as he watches with a vague feeling of anticipation. Somehow it was like the oxygen in his veins was trying to escape- the oxygen in his lungs already long gone. There was nothing but empty vacancy inside of him as his head begins to thrum with his quickening pulse.

Neither of them were even moving: simply staring here or there- never making clear eye contact, never making a move of any sort. In fact, the electric alarm clock alerted them that around eleven minutes had passed before Clay even made any sort of movement aside from rolling his eyes. He continued to hold Jack’s hand as he scooted a little bit closer, his free arm wavering in the air as though it had lost its direction.

“So, uh, how do we start this partner?”

“That depends, how do you want to start it cowboy?”

“ I, er, that is….,” Clay takes a deep breath through his nose. “More simple than a baby its first minute,”

Jack offers an amused chuckle, more to the blonde’s jerking and jittery movements than the odd comparison.

“If you want I can start, just let me know if I get ahead of you,” The cowboy only nods slowly at first, then a bit more determined. His eyes were fighting to stay open, trying to squeeze shut and find an answer in his brain.

The shorter man knew he wasn’t going to find his answer at this rate- and he ought to move before the other guy started pouring smoke from his ears.

Thin and pale fingers traced shapes through the freckles on Clay’s face, rubbing small circles at the sideburns and the temples. He leaned in, his presence meek but not unnoticed by the other. With amusement, he watched the taller man roll his shoulders back- as though to pretend he weren’t afraid. First times were always scary- even if that first time was just kissing another man.
Smoothly, the redhead brings his face close to clay. So close that the cowboy can feel the warm and steady breath of the other, and it grew warmer to closer they got. The smell of cheap cigarettes and alcohol assaulted his nostrils, and somehow managed to make his determination steadfast. This man he had only met tonight was sitting so close to him, and he was letting him get this close. It was his decision- he was still able to focus, despite the very faint if even existing haze of drunkenness.

Like a chain reaction, the second Jack brings his hand to Clay’s cheek, the other brings his own hand to the other’s face. It was cold to the touch, and his fingers mindlessly grazed it as though to strike warmth into it. Within a second, the space between them evaporates. A firm and assertive kiss is placed upon the cowboy’s lips. It softens, becoming more malleable- making Clay more malleable.

It was like a cloud of electricity was consuming his body, leaving his arms and legs weak. For a moment, Jack pulls back to see how the other was doing. Heat sprang up to Clay’s face, painting it the color of clouds promising another hot summer day. In fact, it left the other gravitating back for another take. He obliged, pressing more soft and deliberate kisses to the others lips.

After a few moments, the smoker gave a soft but certain nip to the other’s lower lip. A small gasp of surprise fills the room, but they do not stop. He nips again, and the other’s mouth gives a brief amount of passage. Jack takes it almost hungrily. His tongue rolled indistinguishable shapes against the lips- then the inside of the mouth, prodding cheeks and pushing at the other’s tongue.

Clay felt his mind stretch and compress and waiver, allowing this to take place. The sparks had long charred him, leaving his skin warm and his stomach bubbling excitedly. The smaller man had him grasped by the collar of his blue button-up, pulling him as close as possible. He gave a pleasant shiver as the tongue brushed against his teeth before finding his cheeks again. A small hum of glee escaped the other in response.

That bubbling in his belly was becoming a blaze dangerously quick- and it was a bit frightening. Jack’s hands were at his hips, then his chest, then his back. They moved around him in quick patterns he couldn’t pin. Any time they pulled apart, heavy breathing was audible from the both of them. The shorter of the two had a more focused look- a pleading and curious look that was hard to place.

In the lapse of their break, staring at one another breathing heavily- Clay felt the words bubble from his throat.

“That’s all I can take,” his voice is breathless and airy. For the first time, he notices that the other had crawled over him at some point.

“You’re fine. You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would,” Jack on the other hand, sounded unphased. He relit the cigarette he’d put in the ashtray- and took a deep puff. “How was it?”

It was hard to understand why the other seemed so unaffected, considering a second ago he looked voracious and ready. All of that was gone now behind a cocky smirk and heavy lidded eyes.

“Good,” Out of everything he could say, ‘good’ is what had come out. How articulate. Clay clears his throat and tries again, seeing the other’s eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “It was better ‘n i expected it to be . It was like bein’ set on fire from the inside, but in a good way,”

“I have a question,”

“Whaddis it partner?”
“Am I the only person you’ve ever kissed, or are you just naturally that bad at kissing,” Jack had completely brushed it off- well, not completely. He did have his right to express his feelings as well. Rather than being offended, the cowboy just seemed a bit shocked.

“....I may reckon you’re the first I’ve ever kissed like that. Y’know, in a way you wouldn’t kiss your ma good night as a boy,”

“Makes sense I guess,” another long drag of the cigarette, and out slithers a plume of grey suffocating smoke. “You seemed to be pretty into it though,”

“I s’pose so,” Clay nervously chuckles, adjusting his shirt back the best he could. “It probably helps I like you,” he muttered almost to himself.

This was not brushed off by Jack, rather, he took an interest to it.

“If you like me why didn’t you go further?”

“I couldn’t do somethin’ like that ‘less I knew the fella. It seems like somethin’ special to do,”

He’d never understood how people viewed sex as special. To him, it had always been something people did to get out their frustrations- or to act on the hormones making their heads mess up. It only made a little sense to him that is, considering he’d never really gotten to know his partners. Nor did he usually care to.

“You’re the weirdest hick I’ve ever met,” Jack gives a bout of soft laughter. “Probably the nicest though. I think you could land anyone you want cowboy- with your manners and ideals and whatever,” He finished the cigarette, leaving it among the ashtray for a second and now permanent time.

“Well, gettin’ to know you tonight was real nice. This was real nice too. I was wonderin’ if you wanted to do it again sometime. I mean, go out and have a beer- or talk, or whatever you want,”

A coughing fit rudely takes up the space that could have been silent, but it at least gave the red haired guy a bit of time to think.

“Getting to know me? Seriously? Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes,” Even though the big guy was staring at him dead on and focused- his voice cracked with anxiety.

“All there is to know is I’m the kind of person your god doesn’t let in. i’ve done too many things. Look,you seem nice- but that’s the problem. I can’t get a nice guy like you tied up with a bad guy like me,”

“Ma always told me that God makes it easy to repent so long as you meant it. Besides, it’s not like you’ve murdered anyone right?” Cold sweat dots the back of his neck. This guy really doesn’t know who he is huh? He had a few more skeletons in his closet than most- and a lot of them were there by his own hands.

“I don’t even know if I believe in a god. I don’t think I care to,” he chuffs. “I’m being real honest with you. I’m not a good guy and you can do better,” his words were hard and crisp- but Clay seemed unmoving on his stance.

“Jack, it doesn’t matter what you did. I want to know you better, I feel like if I don’t- I’ll be struck by regret greater than waltzing with a rattler,”

The sincere look in his eyes were doing him in. He didn’t even have a reason to like him this much did he? He was real fucking determined though- and while it was annoying, it was kind of endearing.

“Fine. We can hang out some more. I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck here anyways. At least having someone to talk to would be nice right?” Jack had conceded defeat- and the light that sparked in Clay’s eyes made his stomach do a flip.

“I promise you won’t regret it,”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” rasped the redhead. “It’s late- you got a place to stay?”

“Well, not really. I wasn’t expected till tomorrow,”

“I don’t mind sharing then. You can take the other bed. It’s not like I was really using it for anything,”

“You sure? I have cash. I can’t put you out knowing I can fend for myself,”

“Positive. Look, just buy me lunch tomorrow and we’ll call it even,”

A wide smile stretched across Clay’s freckled face. It was warm and welcoming- an expression he’d never experienced firsthand. He stared silently for a moment, letting the silence steal a break.

“Deal,”

Even though the cowboy was reasonably happy with winning...something in Jack’s gut still wanted to tell him to leave and never come back. Something else, wanted him to stay. It was uncharacteristic of Jack to be this nice to anyone- whether he slept with them or not.

He needed to figure out what made this country boy so different.

Chapter Text

Raimundo took a tentative drink of his beer, keeping his peripherals set on the woman beside him. Four in the goddamned morning his phone goes off, and against better judgement he’d answered. At first he’d thought maybe it was a callback from the dirty talk hotline with bad news about his credit card payment. It was a perfectly normal assumption, the voice belonging to a young sounding woman talking in a polite but stern voice.

He wished his credit card HAD been declined- it’d be a hell of a lot easier to deal with than the situation at hand.

The pale woman beside him sat stiffly, legs crossed and bright red lips pressed into a wavering line, waiting for him to speak. A potential client or a potential nutcase- either way she kept up on herself nicely, and seemed intent on meeting as soon as possible, which for him was 8 AM at a dive bar near Los Olivos, California.

“So, let me try and tell you what I get. You called me because you’re worried about your boyfriend?” He pinches his forehead with his fore finger and thumb, staring at his murky reflection in the alcohol. “...and I’m supposed to help you get him where?”

“EX Boyfriend,” the woman emphasized sharply. “I was having a drink with a friend when they mentioned him. I was curious and kind of eavesdropped..but that’s what I heard,”

“A brutal gun toting old school mafia is planning a hit on your EX BOYFRIEND….and you want my help instead of the police?” Either she still had a thing for this guy or he owed her money- he jokes inwardly.

“Everyone knows the cops are on Papa Spicer’s payroll, and….it’s kind of a big deal since that’s Jack’s dad,”

Oh great- The big boss was Herman Spicer. How a guy with a name like that struck fear into the hearts of anyone enough to take him seriously, Raimundo had no god damn idea.

“Did he take his daddy’s car for a joyride and wreck it? Did he get into the family vault for dope money? Did he kill Spicer Senior’s mistress?”

“...,”Nothing but silence met his ill humored questions,whether it was because the woman calling herself Kimiko didn’t know, or if she was unamused by his lack of interest to participale- he couldn’t tell.

“ It just seems Kind of over the top to put a hit out on your own kid,” He swishes the glass, watching the deep amber liquid swirl. “I just wanna know what he did to get his own dad so angry,”

“I don’t know why it’s happening….I just know that you can help Raimundo,” Her warm slender hand rested on the side of his arm- nails barely digging into the flesh. Her stress was barely being held back- still peeking through the unnatural cerulean sheen of her eyes.

“Look, I run more of a ‘Hey I’ll get you over the border and blackmail your husband’ kind of business. I’m into Smuggling, getting dirt, and money. Not suicide,” The brazilian frowns at her almost apologetically before pushing his empty glass forward. He didn’t even recall finishing it off. His hands are folded now, and he tries to think of a way to excuse himself.

“It was hard to find you and I have money, I can pay whatever you want- just help me get Jack off the grid, out of the country, somewhere he isn’t in danger. He might not be the nicest guy but he doesn’t deserve to be killed by his own father,”

“His father's goons,” Raimundo corrects her with a hint of a chuckle. “Getting in between a gang conflict isn’t really ideal. Maybe when I was younger I’d have agreed- but I didn’t know how stupid I was then,” Instinctively, he presses a hand over his left shoulder- feeling the metal that replaced the part of his long ago damaged arm.

“I can help provide you with everything you need, I can even help you with an Alibi if it comes to that. Jack fell into some messed up stuff, but he deserves help, not death,” The woman was clenching his arm now- standing out of her seat and gaining the eyes of a few nosy bar patrons. She was clearly putting a lot of faith in him, overestimating him even. Border police were one thing, An LA gang with enough firepower to level all of california was another.

“I don’t know- how do I know you’re legit?” Raimundo inquires sharply. He’d been conned by pretty women before- his fault for thinking with the wrong head.

“I promise you I have the money,” still seeing the doubt in Raimundo’s cloudy green eyes, she leans in and whispers. “I’m Kimiko Tohomiko- my dad owns the entire tohomiko brand,”

This catches his attention- if she wasn’t lying, then she really did have serious money- or at least her pops did. He gave her a once over- still skeptical.

Kimiko was well dressed, her hair sleek and full- the shiny black mass pulled into two pigtails on either side of her head. Her nails were expertly done- only idetifiable as fake if you stared long enough, and just as red as the lipstick that somehow hadn’t smeared on her teeth yet. The bag over her shoulder was definitely imported, definitely cost more than a few months rent. Just to be sure though...

“What’s your ID say?” he could spot a fake miles away, and though she seemed insulted at his lack of trust, she presented it cautiously, letting him grab it and give it a good look. It didn’t take long before he made his verdict.

This was Kimiko Tohomiko alright.

“Well Satisfied?” irritation rumbles in her throat as he gives her the piece of plastic back.

“Checks out- alright. Normally I would tell you how crazy you are and leave...but if you’re willing to pay I’ll risk my neck. I won’t lie- I’m charging quadruple my rates for this,” He waited for her to refuse or try and barter, but she looked him dead in the eyes and sighed with relief.

“Deal, Thank you,”

“Don’t thank me too much. I haven’t done anything yet. Alright then, where is he now?”

“Somewhere in Texas, That’s all I overheard,” she admits somewhat bashfully. He rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Well that narrows it down...but Texas is still huge. Can’t you ask him?”

“I don’t have his number, I don’t even know if he has a phone. The last time we talked was around a year and a half ago…,”

“Great...great. I can try and work with this. I’ll ask a few friends what they can do-I’ll just leave out the part where he’s Herman’s kid,” hopefully they didn’t already know that.

“So um, Do you want my number?” He raises an eyebrow at her- wondering if she was hitting on him with the abruptness of her request. He wouldn’t decline her- she was pretty, and rich, and if she made the first move that made things easier.

“Well, since you asked nicely,” he gives a cocky grin, and feels a rush of embarrassment hit him as her eyes fill with realization.

“Oh- no...Not for..that. So you can keep me updated. I uh….sorry it’s just.um,” Kimiko tries desperately to think of an excuse, and it becomes both insulting and painful to watch.

“Don’t sweat it- just kidding I know, I know,” he jumps in as smoothly as possible, and she seems to buy it,or at least pretends to buy it. She grabs a napkin and digs a pink ballpoint from her purse, jotting down the number and sliding it towards him as though it were a common practice.

“Thanks again- I’ll do what I can too, I just need all the help I can get,and I hear you’re the best,”

“From who”

“A friend,” It was obvious she didn’t want to say who, he felt he had a decent idea anyways.

“Your friend must have good judgement then- Thank you for your business Miss Tohomiko,” he nearly laughs at his formality. She lingers for a moment before standing and leaving. When he’s left alone, he feels all the worry enter his skin once more. He really hoped the money would be worth the risk.

He stares at the glittery pink number with an inquisitive expression. His finger traces the lid of the glass, and he decides not to get another. Now he’s in game mode- trying to think of ways to smuggle some brat off the grid. He digs the crappy flip phone from his pocket and palms through the saved contacts contemplatively. Who to call first?

XxXxXxXxXxX

Kimiko makes the drive back to Los Angeles in silence, partially relieved to have help in saving an old friend- and partially irritated with Raimundo being less heroic than her friend had prattled on about. He was cute sure, but cute didn’t buy admiration or respect for her anymore. Her car was an orange blue in the night, flying along the highway until she reached town. Even this late traffic was a bitch.

The second she entered her chic apartment, she flopped onto the couch, not even registering she still had her purse on until it jingled. Exhaustion weighed in on her- mental more than physical. She felt a bit bad that she didn’t have more information to help Raimundo- but it had been hard to get what she did without gaining unwanted attention.

She found herself dozing off, and gave into the alluring temptation of sleep. She dreamed she was surrounded by fire- spires and pillars shooting all around her. They parted for her as she passed through, the heat hardly registering upon her no matter how close she got to the flames.

A faint breeze began, and the fire vanished- an enormous storm left in their wake. She struggled against the shove of air, and it eventually pushed her along, only to become an enemy again, and then move her along. It refused to stay consistent. It was flat here- and even though the surroundings changed, it was so vague and subtle she didn’t notice at first. Irritation was lighting within her at the stubborn wind, changing its mind so frequently.

As she continued ahead, the windy moors tapered out into a vast desert full of mountains, hills, and flooded with rocks. Kimiko felt very misplaced, clambering over the hills- feeling as though her hiking got her no further. Whilst clambering along a particularly large rock, it slid down a slope that became muddy. She lost control and flung from the rock- meeting the ebbing waves of a seemingly endless sea. She wasn’t sure why- but she knew she had to get past them.
Her head broke the surface- and she filled her lungs with air, splashing around in a desperate attempt to find safety. In the distance is an island- one that hadn’t been there before, and it grows closer. It’s made of metal and scrap. She doesn’t know how, but she knows this trash island is haunted- violet smoke wearing eery mask wrapping around the darkest corners and watching her.

She made way into a clearing- and soon, the metal platform is all that remained. The air was still and the sky was colored by a setting sun. Beneath the cliff she now stood on, she saw a dark slinking figure undulate through the reeds- eyes like dull fire. It was joined by many others- their eyes nothing but a sleek white mist that filled her with fear.

It is not one enemy, but many. It is not one ally, but many. It is not one trial, but many. Echoed a strange voice within her head. It didn’t feel directed at her- but it didn’t feel like she wasn’t meant to hear it either. She stands over the cliff for a few minutes- watching the world shift between elements and colors, the figures attacking faceless rabbits- the horror clawing her chest.

She is back on the island of metal and scrap, but there is more here. Mountains reach endlessly in the sky, most of the trash piling along them. A bubbling stream runs carelessly across, trapping the cruel shadowy hunters in and away from her. A chill but confident wind carries her ahead and carries the scent of ashes and smoke to her nose, filling her with determination. She needs to head towards that direction.

It is all to be found in Santa De Rojo… The world seems to speak with some hidden knowledge. What was Santa De Rojo? What was there?

She is brought out of the dream by the incessant ringing of her phone and the sunlight in her eyes. The caller is unknown, but she answers.

“Hello?” she tiredly groans, sitting up- the dream still etched into her brain. Santa De Rojo…..

“Good- You didn’t give me a fake,” the other voice jokes. “It’s Raimundo. I think I know where Jack is…..and don’t call me crazy but….I got it in a dream,”

“Oh yeah? Did Freddy Krueger tell you?” She sarcastically chides.

“I’m serious..Something kept saying Santa De Rojo. I looked it up…..it’s a small town in Texas. I can’t explain it, but...it fits our leads,”

Kimiko nearly dropped the phone , but her jaw dropped instead. She was glad Raimundo couldn’t see it. Had….they shared a prophetic dream or something? No way….that was crazy!

“When should we head out” she finally asked.

“We?”

“Well, Yeah. I’m going to. He’s my friend- and besides….I feel like I have to,” An unsteady silence passed between the line, and Raimundo gives a breathless chuckle.

“Is it weird I kind of felt like you were going to say that?”

“Absolutely- See you there Raimundo,” They share a brief goodbye before Kimiko hangs up. Santa De Rojo, Texas...

Chapter Text

A weird arrangement of uncomfortable dreams caused Jack to wake up earlier than he’d like. Five or so hours of sleep, but it beat going back to sleep and seeing that cryptic metal island again. He remembered a plume of smoke in the distance, the crisp and sharp wind, the winding stream trapping him on one side of the island, and the mountains he perched upon comfortably. Below the rock several unidentifiable monsters lurked- white sightless eyes somehow staring right at him. At the head of them set a pair of Amber pools intent on reaching past Jack- it aimed higher than him. The rest however, were unaware of their leaders goals.

He didn’t like it. He knew that the monster would need to crawl over him to reach what lay higher- he knew the monster looked at him with contempt, and a familiar dismissal. Across the stream a gaggle of ghost watched and waited with wicked intent. His own father stood behind them- stone faced as ever, slightly disheveled, throwing faceless rabbits towards the flock of monsters below. He gestured for Jack to jump into the pit of writhing hungry monsters- a plastic smile made of fake welcoming on his weirdly discolored face.

Don’t jump, You will die. Don’t Jump, they can climb. Don’t Jump, He has been lying. Don’t Jump, Reach the summit to see the truth. Something in his head had monologued. The almost plastic man resembling his father unnerved him more than the literal monsters staring at him hungrily. He remembered turning around to climb up the mountain when their claws scrabbled- and he woke up to the sound of drunk teens breaking bottles outside. It had been around 5 AM.

He watched basic cable on the shitty outdated motel TV for a couple hours, took a low water pressure shower, minded his appearance despite nobody here seeming to care about their own let alone his, and went through the money left in his dilapidating wallet. He never had enough time to pick out a new one.

He’d Stepped outside for a smoke to clear his thoughts soon after- scaring the kids who were still loitering, half to death. They seemed unbothered by him now though, seeing as he just shrugged at them to enjoy his Cigarette. They left on their own about five minutes into his smoke, and by then he’d found another train of thought. The other day- one of the first days in a while that hadn’t been absolutely boring and terrible in this absolutely boring and terrible Texan town.

The snow is more blinding than the now fully risen sun infront of him, his red eyes narrowed and his hand raised over his forhead in an attempt to shield his retinas. A coil of smoke slithered its way into the Dawn sky, leaving Jack and his troubles behind it. His free hand was shoved in his jacket pocket, thumb running idly over a sheet of crumpled stickynote. On the stickynote was Clay’s cell number- a number he’d warned would be unavailable for a few days, at least until he got more minutes.

Everything that led up to him getting the number two days earlier was still a blur. A confusing and oddly unnerving blur. He’d been under fire and shown less anxiety- well, visibly at least. Being attacked wasn’t common by any means, but it was still more common than a date. In either scenario he was likely to try and bolt or let out a slew of terrified swears.

After a laughably normal date (laughable for Jack and his lack of proper dating experience), The cowboy gave Jack his cell number. It wouldn’t do him much good, seeing as he tried to avoid having any kind of phone on his person. He wasn’t worried about others getting a hold of him- he got a hold of them if something was up. With payphones dropping off the map though, each day threatened him to suck it up and get a disposable flipphone. Until then, he was adamant he’d use every other phone available.

Normally he’d be happy enough to let the ocean eyed man slide away and never talk again, but something was really making him debate finding a way to call the cowboy anyways. Jack didn’t fully understand why- he couldn’t call Clay an easy mark, an easy one night stand, an easy anything- it was complicated as all hell.

The date had been considerably average- nothing exciting. They’d gone to lunch and talked for a couple of hours. Jack now knew :
-Clay’s favorite color was Red (Lucky for Jack.)
-Clay liked agriculture and hiking.
-Clay was a former rodeo star back in his tiny town, apparently capable of making even the most ferocious bulls vicous, and apparently able to do some unbelievable shit with a lasso.
-Clay and his sister were close while His father and him were somewhat estranged.
-Clay’s mother left for the city when he was young but kept in touch- even sending gifts.
- Clay’s grandmother raised him and his sister and he was kind of afraid of her.
-Clay could punch a boulder into pieces nearly effortlessly. (Not believing him at first, Clay later beat the tar out of a stray chunk of concrete to show off. This assured Jack he should not get in a hand-to-hand fight with the cowboy.)

Clay was overall so considerate and so nice Jack was surprised he wanted to be associated with him at all.
After all, Jack had been in a pretty sour mood when they met, had been very snappy, and had his tongue down his throat with hardly a second question all in the same night they met. When he brought it up, Clay just said he though Jack was ‘interesting’ and that he seemed like ‘A good guy to get to know’. He didn’t claim to understand jack, nor did he claim to not understand him. He seemed eager to learn more, which terrified Jack.

Any sane person would have flipped Jack off and left after such a shitshow of an introduction. Clay was more than willing to dig past the surface to see what else there was to him, which is something nobody had done for him before. His longest lasting girlfriend had been more of a title than an actual fling, probably because she felt bad he didn’t have any friends and spent all his spare time fucking around in the tech lab or in shop building inane gadgets.

All things said, she’d been a pretty solid friend until he graduated. Being two years older than her, it was probably better to break it off and not be accused of statutory regardless of any sex or not. That, and her father really disliked him- probably having an idea of who Jack’s father was. If he did, he never told Kimiko, and Kimiko never held it against him. Up until around two years ago they were still in contact- that was before this shitty gig though. The shitty gig where he was sent cross country to make sure their business partners were legit and to make sure everything arrived as needed. Literally the last thing the son of the boss should have to do.

Papa Herman said Jack needed to ‘earn his name before being allowed near the top’. He had a feeling that was his dad’s way of calling him a disgrace to the Spicer empire, calling him a spoiled brat, or maybe even calling him Lazy. He’d never once before considered actually taking up a line of work in their shady underground Mafia bullshit. He’d wanted to maybe borrow a bit of money, start up a robotics company, and surpass even the Tohomiko’s own brand. He wanted to work his way to the top without getting dragged into the City’s underworld of drugs and crime. Meanwhile his parents gave his snobby cousin Megan all the money she asked for, and she didn’t have to do SHIT to earn it.

Just as he’d began his intricate thought process about the complexities of life and its relationships, the loud rev of a motorcycle brings him back to the cold texan plane of existence. He’d recognize that figure anywhere at this rate. Who the hell was with him though?

“Christ Clay, Why couldn’t you make any friends on the good side of town?” a rough and tough chick hops from the front of the motorcycle, removing her helmet and running a hand through her short blonde hair. She was kind of squat, and somehow more intimidating than the larger blonde- but was pretty much a genderbent copy of her brother. If he didn’t know better, he’d call them twins.

She donned a leather jacket- real leather unlike Jack’s pathetic excuse of a pleather wannabe-trenchcoat. The second she caught sight of him looking, her gaze became venomous. He was half worried she’d charge him and rip his eyes from their sockets if he blinked.

“What’re YOU lookin’ at?” she demands gruffly. Her chest puffs out, and its clear she’s identified him as a no-good lowlife vagrant, not that the assumption is entirely incorrect. He takes a nervous drag off of his cigarette and blows out the smoke. Should he even respond? Clay hops off the motorcycle after his sister, struggling to get the helmet off. He sets it in the sidebag and grabs his hat- adjusting it on his head snugly.

“Jesse, take it easy, That’s Jack,” She seems to hesitate before backing off, still keeping a sharp look at him for a moment. The scowl on her face rewrites itself into an apologetic smile. If she could switch her aggression on and off like that, he didn’t want to fuck with her.

“Did you call your sister to beat me up? I didn’t think our hangout was that bad,” Jack gives a faint hint of laughter- smoke fleeing from his open mouth with an accompanying cough. God what a great first impression.

“I uh, might have mentioned makin’ a friend after landin’. She insisted on meetin’ the guy who helped me find a place til mornin’,” it could be assumed he had not mentioned exactly EVERYTHING Jack tried to ‘help’ Clay with, otherwise he’s sure the girl would have him six feet under the pavement by now.

“I’ll admit- he ain’t the kinda guy I imagined when you said ‘upstandin’ and helpful’ Clay,” wow she was certainly blunt. “Still- Guess I’ve been wrong before. Nice T’meetcha Jack, The names Jesse. Jesse Bailey,”

She offers her hand out, and he grabs it- shocked to feel the vicegrip nearly break his hand. Jesse seemed unaware of his eyes watering or the amount of pain her grip had. When he was younger, he would have cried right then- not caring who saw, but nowadays he shoved it to the back of his throat. He retracted his hand the second he had the chance.

“Helluva grip,” he mutters as a compliment, though inwardly seething.

“I try,” the girl proudly grins. “I wanted to firsthand thank ya for takin’ care of my big brother. ‘Course, if this knucklehead remembered to pay his darned phonebill, he coulda called me t’come’n get ‘im!” She lightly punches her brothers shoulder, and he shoves her with his shoulder softly in return.

“Oh, uh, no problem. It’s dangerous to be out so late at night y’know?” he fumbled for his words a bit, not adjusted to the shift in her attitude towards him.

“Sis’n’I wanted to take ya to a movie or somethin’ to say thanks,” Clearly Clay didn’t tell her he already brought Jack out to lunch.

“I tried to convince Clay to take y’too a good ol’ fashion Rodeo, but he says yer not into that kinda thing,”

“Yeah, sorry- not my thing. A Movie sounds cool though. You get ghostbusters here yet, or did you just get Reefer Madness?”

“Hah!” Jesse rams her hand over his shoulder so hard he worries it’s broken for a second. “ Whadda kidder! We have modern cinema. Whatcha up for?”

“Oh, Something with monsters in it maybe? I dunno, something thrilling,”

“You a horror junkie?” Jesse gets a wide grin on her face- it threatened to split her head in two. “I like a good jolt of terror myself- but Clay here’d be scared of his own shadow for a week,” her laugh is a bellowing laugh- a laugh that shouldn’t belong to a girl so short.

“C‘Mon Jess, I ain’t no chicken,” Her brother argues quickly.

“I couldn’t even getcha to finish Nightmare on Elm Street the last time we hung out,”

“Well I reckon I’ve toughened up since then,”

“It was four and a half months ago Clay,”

“Hey, A lot can change in four months sis,” The cowboy interjects quickly, side eyeing Jack with embarrassment. Was he….trying to impress him? He had to hold back a chuckle imagining the large man getting scared by Robert englund in makeup while making one liners about bitches and power gloves.

“Fine- If yer so sure, let’s go see ‘Babysitter Bloodbath from Hell’,” she seems to expect Clay to back down, but he just swallows and nods.

“Fine- Well that is, if, erm, Jack’s fine with that,” The larger man’s glance is almost pleading, unaware of the sadistic smirk that found it’s way on the scrawny man’s face.

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to see it,” he cooly replies. Personally he wanted to see how much Clay would writhe in fear during the horror gorefest the trailers promised. No matter how much he grew up, He was still a little shit at heart.

XxXxXxXxX
It wasn’t like Jack had never been on a motorcycle before, but he’d never been sandwhiched between two muscular blondes. Well, at least not like this. He towered over Jesse, his arms awkwardly around her shoulders, and Clay towered over him, clutching Jack’s sides for dear life. He must prefer horses- he chortled softly to himself.

The 3 dismount, fully aware of the curious stares. The two blondes and the redhead walk into the theatre, like the start of a bad joke. Not even bothering to stop for snacks, they pay for the tickets and enter the relatively empty theatre. A few teens are shoving eachother playfully in the most middle row, a middle aged couple sits closer towards the front left, and four kids (clearly not old enough to see the movie)- are perched cautiously near the rightmost side, obscured from the projector room. They must have snuck in.

With haste, the trio ascend the carpeted stairs towards the backmost row and sit as centre as possible. A sibling sits on either side of him, the younger one sending a message to someone under the moniker ‘bgf’. He tries not to snoop over her text despite the urge- he’d rather not get punched in the stomach by Jesse for being too nosy.

Clay is notably on edge throughout the trailers, flinching during the previews with obnoxious jumpscares. By the time the actual movie starts, his hands are clasping the arms of the seat tightly. He looks determined- trying to seem unphased as he watches the movie.

Unable to resist himself, during the swell of ominous background music, he sneaks his hand to clay’s back and jabs him as the demon leaps from the cabinets on screen. Three yips emmit from the movie goers- one of which belonging to the cowboy. Clay whips around and grabs Jack’s wrist before he could retract it- grabbing it so tight it felt like it might snap. Air slides in through his teeth in pain.

“That was sneakier than a bandit snake!” his southern whisper is sharp and offended, but his grip looses slightly. Jesse holds back a laugh, turing back towards the screen with tears welling in her humored eyes.

“How could I not? You were susceptible,” Clay’s hand slides down to his own, holding it firm but not painfully. The redhead raises an eyebrow. “Smooth for a country boy,” A red hue overtakes Clay’s freckled face.

“You owe me this much,” the reply is almost inaudible- and it’s clear he’s just taking advantage of the situation, and Jack wouldn’t stop him. This kind of movie theatre flirting wasn’t usually his style, but it was too damn amusing for him to rip his hand back.

He could feel Clay’s grip tighten everytime something particularily tense or unnerving happened on screen, and the actual scares nearly brought his circulation to cease. He didn’t mind much, finding himself enjoying the warm clasp around his icy fingers. Every once in a while, Jack caught Clay side eyeing him and biting his lip- or peering to see if Jesse was paying attention. She was way too transfixed on the screen to even acknowledge their existence.

At one point, she stood, and Clay let go of Jack’s hand so fast, he nearly went to grab it again- to feel the warmth again. She glanced over for a second to whisper.

“I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she left it at that- more than likely having to use the bathroom. Clay cautiously grabbed Jack’s hand again,pressing their sides as close as he could from two separate seats. He looked sweaty and scared- but not because of the movie. He was staring at jack, like he was thinking. Seeing he wouldn’t make his mind up anytime soon, the shorter one moves in. He wasn’t sure WHY he did it- only that he did, and Clay seemed more than happy about it.

Jack felt like a middleschooler making out under the bleachers- praying nobody would catch them. Small airy noises came from the cowboy’s throat, noises that hopefully the movie’s loud sountrack masked. He pulled away not for breath, but to think. To him this was all more or less a game- something he could drop if he wanted. For Clay, it was probably something else. Seeing the warmth and excitement in those glittering blue eyes made him refrain from going back for more. It was something serious to this guy, he wasn’t even open to his own sexuality until a few days ago. Why did he feel bad exploiting this guy? He never had before. Then again, nobody else had been so nice to him.

“You look like an armadillo in headlights, What’s wrong?” the blonde croaks helplessly, a large hand moving to the side of Jack’s face. He tentatively grabs the hand with his own, Fingers curling around fingers as he tries to find words. Those doe eyes, the way his brow furrowed with concern, the way his glistening lips trembled with the aftershock of something as simple as a kiss. This poor guy already looked head over heels after only a few days.

Jack didn’t want to lead him on, he didn’t want to be the reason Clay never moved on or found happiness. He’d only been on one fucking date and he was already sentimental about this simple country hick! A part of him still wanted to go back in though, to take everything he could. He wanted to- he just wasn’t sure if he’d be able to leave like normal if he did.

“It’s just -I’m not used to… THIS,” he makes a vague gesture with his arms towards Clay. “I...don’t,” the words continued to evade him until the other spoke.

“Takin’ it slow?” the words are played at a snails pace, the cowboy having guessed Jack’s Dilemma. It seemed he was already aware- he wasn’t as slow as he looked. Jack nods. “It’s okay, I’m flattered yer slowin’ down for me. I’m happy yer givin’ me a chance at all,”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” the words arrive, and they’re full of a bitter sorrow. A sad and knowing expression shadows Clay’s face. “There’s just too much you don’t know about me, and you’re just...so nice. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, then don’t,” came the simple reply. “Look, I really like you- and I WANT to know you. Jesse seems to already like you, and that’s as sure a sign as any I should chase you down. If you don’t want me to though, I get it. Some fellas just can’t take one step at a time,”

The stunned silence fell over them and remained. When Jesse arrived they simply finished the movie together- Jack watching the movie but focusing more on his own thoughts. He’d never had anyone outright PURSUE him for anything more than a night of fun. He kept glancing at Clay- aching for the warmth of his hand again. He takes a deep breath and resigns to his decision.

The movie ends and the trio exit the theatre, Jesse heading ahead to start the motorcycle, Jack staying back for a smoke. He grabs Clay by the sleeve once he’s lit up.

“I think I’ll try it- taking one step at a time. So whatever your grand scheme of winning me over is….I guess I kinda wanna see it,” He takes a drag, staring at his feet as he speaks. “But...It’s only fair if you still want to afterwards,”

“After what?”

“After I tell you who I am, what I do, and why I’m here,” He makes eye contact- it’s uneasy and he wishes he could go on without warning the other. He wanted to- he didn’t want to see the other’s face fall and turn into a distasteful sneer as he explained. Clay deserved the truth though, and it was better he wasn’t disillusioned with jack.

“I’m listening,” The cowboy calmly informs him.

“Not here- not right now. Could you meet me at the park a block from Ashmore tomorrow night? It’s confidential. Jesse seems nice- but...you’re the one who needs to know this stuff. Not her,”

Clay cast a glance towards Jesse, waving them over, and back towards Jack. He gives a faint nod.

“Sure thing- you seem serious ‘bout this. I’ll be there, and Jack...Just know that no matter what ya say, I’ll do my best to listen,”