#golden circle | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

letsgobarbs · 1 month ago

Text

Part (2/6): That Was The Worst Christmas Ever

Series Index

Part 3

Chapter warnings: Toxic family situations, mentions of drug use, death of partner and child, mentions of unwanted sexual advance (nothing too graphic), canon typical violence, discussions of queerness and coming out, panic attacks

Jack was working himself into a real temper. He had awakened at first light cozy and well-rested, an arm banded around Marley keeping her curled into his side, his face pressing into her hair. He had laid several lazy kisses to her temple before registering the sheer magnitude of his actions. He’s an agent. He wasn’t here to lollygag with some woman. He was supposed to be investigating possible treason within their ranks. And he could NOT be cuddling up with the target’s niece. Within a few hours, she had unravelled him— made him lose control— and distracted him. He was supposed to be alert, and here he was curling around her form when she so much as quivered. Despite years of training, he was unable to extricate herself from bed, from her.

His body felt entirely foreign to him, so unaccustomed to the feelings that coursed through his limbs. Contentment? There was also something bittersweet curling in his gut that reeked suspiciously of nostalgia. As Jack cradled the curve of Marley’s leg she had swung over both of his, feeling its weight, the shape of the muscle, the strength of the bone, he recognised the elusive feeling of home engulfing him— like a warm blanket straight out of a dryer. It was this thought that got him out of bed, his body protested at the rude treatment of exposing it to the morning chill. But he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve home and he most certainly didn’t deserve Marley.

It still stung, the way she could sleep so peacefully even without him in bed— seemingly unaffected by him when he was so affected by her. An agent would get back in bed with her, coax her awake with kisses and false promises, then sweet-talk her into keeping his tryst in the barn a secret. Agent Whiskey would gauge if she noticed her uncle acting odd or out of character recently. But Jack couldn’t even bring himself to shake her awake. It was only because her eyes were still puffy with fatigue and lined with dark circles. Frustratingly, he could not return alone to the mansion. It would be easier to corner her here, in this cabin, than back there with all the guests. So he was left there, in the ugly, yellowed armchair, watching her sleep.

How could she look so adorable sitting up in a daze, still partly in dreamland, when she had wreaked havoc over his mind? How dare she look confused at the sight of him when he was so enraptured by even the steady rise and fall of her breath? How could she smile so sweetly up at him, when Jack was simply furious? He didn’t want her so mellow and amiable when he felt raw.

“Merry—”

“You drugged me.” Jack wouldn’t let her exchange pleasantries, they were way past that. This was no merry Christmas, he was losing his touch.

Marley’s eyebrows scrunched up as she looked around the room still gathering her bearings. Whatever satisfaction he thought he would glean from riling her up died a very quick death when she reached for the blanket at her waist and pulled it to cover her shoulders— shielding herself from him.

“Um”—the noise came out more as a croak, she reached for the water on the bedside table, pausing to drink before looking back at Jack—“I’m sorry. I didn't know they were pot brownies but I should’ve been more careful.”

The apology snatched the wind out of his sails, it wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. Marley wouldn’t meet his eye, looking at the armrest of his chair while addressing him or looking down at her lap, smoothing over imagined wrinkles on the covers. He realised he missed her, the soft, pliant Marley from last night who looked up at him with trusting, twinkly eyes.

Of course, he knew she was blameless. So he had expected her to scoff at his accusation, argue with him and then leave in a self-righteous huff. He'd follow her back to the main house to ensure she spoke to nobody, and that she actually got home safe instead of meandering about the estate, knee-deep in snow.

“What did you think you would achieve, huh? You fixin’ to land yourself a rich man to compete with the one your cousin is marryin’?” She looked at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed as if she were concerned he was losing his mind. He felt crazy too.

“Ah, my apologies, sweetheart.”—He stood with a hand placed mockingly over his heart, walking closer to the bed until she was looking up at him through her lashes—“ You’re shittin’ in high cotton with your granddaddy’s money.”

Jack grew meaner with every word, his tone progressively more scornful, lips curled into a sneer, a cold look in his eyes, “Reckon’ you just can't help hankering for whatever your cousin has, huh? Even if it’s men?”

His words landed like a physical blow, she whipped her gaze away from him to stare out of the window into the dreamy Winterland. Jack watched her face darken, lips pursed, jaw clenched, nose flared and her eyes ablaze with fury. Yes, that’s it.

“Well, there’s a reason I was in the barn with her and not you.” Twist the knife.

But then he watched her struggle to swallow as if a stone was lodged in her throat, and her eyes dulled, not into a cold look that mirrored his, but into a soulless gaze that focused right past him.

“You do not know me enough to cast aspersions on my character, Mr Daniels. I apologise for interrupting your plans last night with my affianced cousin. Rest assured, that I will not be imposing myself on your time or wealth.” Aspersions? Affianced? Imposing myself? Damn it, Marley. Who talks like that? Get angry, rage, fight.

She turned away from him again, a proud tilt to her chin, and he had been summarily dismissed. Jack had never felt more unseen, or lowlier, or scummier. Fuck. Well, he supposed he had asked for it. But, not like this— not with her hurt. She should be angry, yell at him, slap him; and get the anger out of her system so she can move on from him.

Last night, something had changed. They had both been disconnected from the world, encased in a bud, and come morning, that bud had put forth tender shoots that pierced both of them— holding them together. And the connection needed to be severed.

They had to go back to the polite distance and disregard of last evening’s supper. It was for the best. She should have no misconceptions about last night, it was just a freak accident, drugs and Christmas hormones coming together to make a soup of feelings that was impermanent. She had to realise that. Jack knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of her when she fluffed her pillow and lay down again as if he wasn't even in the room.

“You are far more trouble than you’re worth.” His sentence had been no less cutting even when the door slammed behind him before the last word was out.

Marley stared at where he had been standing long past Jack had pitched a hissy fit and stormed out. That stupid, pretentious, distressingly hateful man. Fucking prick. Asshat. Very, very ugly toad. She tried not to let his words smart, after all the man had known her for less than twelve hours. He was just goading her, and she hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction of rising to his bait.

Jack had arrived last evening for supper as a special guest of Uncle Mattew, they worked together at Statesman Distillery— Uncle Matthew had beamingly introduced him as his protégé. Marley hadn’t liked him at first sight, she thought him too duplicitous and disingenuous. Sure, he had impeccable manners, was unfailingly polite— even with the staff— and he had managed to charm everyone from Grandma Marge to her little nieces and nephews before they were sat at the dinner table. But she couldn’t trust anyone who had such natural and effortless dining and table etiquette. Especially because it hadn’t even been the simple ‘start on the outside and work your way in’ dining layout, Livvy’s mother, and Marley’s dear aunt, could be quite uppity so there were no less than twenty-three utensils per person.

Somewhere after the fish course and before the entrée, Jack had turned to flirt with Livvy. Marley had brought up the wedding preparation, much to Livvy’s chagrin, hoping he would take the message. Unfortunately, her opinion of him plummeted when he uncaringly went back to flirting. She wasn’t jealous or anything, his flirting was lame anyway. His demeanour was jovial, his mien charming, he had the air of a man unaccustomed to rejection, and it had all rang hollow to Marley. His bearing betrayed a strain, his laugh was evasive and sometimes, under the right light, his soulful eyes looked tired.

And then, then, he had wormed his way into her good graces— it was the stupidest thing, really. She had stopped at the barn to pet some horses on the way to the cabin and had found him making out with Livvy. He had been reposed over the hay with all the flair of an embalmed body waiting to be lowered into its grave, hands held above his abdomen, face turned to give her more access to his neck. She had been grinning ear to ear at the sight even when she had been screaming at Livvy. It wasn't the picture of a passionate affair she had expected, not that she had expected anything in the barn— in front of her favourite horse no less. The rest of the night was reminiscent of a cozy, feel-good Christmas movie, a pompous, insincere CEO is torn away from the bustling city of New York to a slower-paced life and revealed to have a heart after all. Marley thought he was charming, funny, protective, and kind.

So, if he really wanted to play the contemptuous cunt this morning, he should have committed to the bit. She always struggled with staying hydrated, the glass of water on the bedside table waiting for her could've only been him. Despite saying mean, hurtful things to her, he had placed his jacket on the armchair for her before walking out into the crisp Christmas morning.

And what a beautiful morning it was with all the ingredients for a perfect white Christmas— clear, blue skies and glimmering, soft snow enshrouding the land. The storm last night left behind a peaceful and stagnant landscape, not even the trees sway. There was smoke rising in the distance, surely, from the main house. Where Cole and Livvy awaited a confrontation, dear god.

It was the worst Christmas, Jack thought. He was always on a mission every Christmas because megalomaniacs never paused their plans of world domination for some holiday cheer. And he'd seen some pretty gnarly ones, but this was, by far, the worst Christmas. Somebody had been in his room, in his absence, lighting the fire in the fireplace that fruitlessly crackled. No part of him felt warm, his bones were tense, retaining the cold that had soaked into them. The festive shrub of seasonal greens that decorated the window pane was mocking him as he stared past it into the clear grounds below. There was only one set of tracks in the snow, the one he had made on his way back to the mansion. Where was she?

Jack sincerely hoped she wasn't one of those stubborn women with no sense of self-preservation. So that she would choose to actually wear the jacket he had left for her instead of shredding it to bits in a fit of anger. He’ll even let her stomp all over the expensive leather if she just came back.

He huffed with relief when he saw her slogging through the field, snuggly buttoned into his jacket, pausing to kick at his tracks— sending a shower of flakes into the air. Jack felt his lips quirk up at her display of petulant anger until he remembered she was angry at him. Only after she disappeared into the gates of the house, did he break his vigil at the window, hoping that a shower would warm him up and wash away that caustic lump in his chest.

Jack prowled down the stairs in the hunt for some breakfast, hoping he would be able to scour some food without interacting with his hosts. He sighed in defeat, there was no such luck. Raised voices rang from the dining room. He felt irrationally angry at Marley, she just returned, why wouldn’t she at least try to warm up, or have breakfast before buckling into drama? She stood just by the entrance of the room, dressed as he had previously seen her, she hadn’t even unbuttoned her jacket. She still had that stubbornly proud tilt to her chin, as she faced down a room full of people who accusingly glared at her.

“Can’t you just be a good sister to our Livvy, FOR ONCE? After everything we have done for you?” Her aunt demanded. And Jack felt heat rising past his ears until his scalp tingled, he didn’t believe he could get a single word past his clenched teeth. How dare she say that to Marley? He drew himself up to full height, falling in line behind Marley, showing the support he wasn’t quite able to verbalise yet. He needed to reign in his fury, so he couldn’t look down at her just yet. He wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of how those words had affected her.

“Well, Jack?” Gin’s curious voice cut through the tension. He felt his stomach drop, sweat broke out against his back. And Jack made the worst mistake— he looked down. His surroundings blurred until all he could see were her wide, beseeching eyes. He had to go through all of the mental exercises he had been taught at Statesman to not blurt out the truth. But he took too long, and her lips wobbled. And he was back to square one— tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth, stone lodged in his throat— he felt lightheaded. Maybe he should just drop down to avoid the situation; he wouldn’t even need to fake a swoon.

“Jack, son?” He looked up to meet Matthew’s eyes. Gin, a possible traitor, his mentor and father figure. Jack felt, for the first time since he had arrived at this estate, that no matter how today would end, he was going to lose something.

“I was four sheets to the wind… I’m not sure who it was. All I remember was that she was blonde.”

Jack couldn’t raise his head, not even when Marley shouldered past him. She had barely touched him but he felt like a crater had crashed into him. Not even several deep breaths lightened that weight.

He finally turned to the breakfast service bolstering himself for what needed to be done as the family returned to their seats. It was a spread that would put a Michelin-star restaurant to shame, too bad he wouldn’t be able to stomach any of it. He heaped two plates of food with a bit of everything, eggs were made to order by their chef— he requested them made according to Marley’s preferences. Blondie sidled up to him, placing a steaming mug of coffee on his tray. No, thank you.

“It’s how Marley takes her coffee, you will need it if you want to apologise.” Jack didn’t remove the mug.

“Well played, by the way. Very artfully chosen words you imparted there. She never even mentioned you, ya know? Didn’t accuse you of anything.” This time Jack did turn to look at her.

“She only told Cole that I made out with someone. And in typical Cole fashion, he made it everybody’s problem. I’m her sister, but she covered for you. So I told everyone how you were with her last night, you simply must have seen what she saw. Just to see if she kept covering for you or told the whole truth… But you came just in time. Made her into a liar and covered for me!” Blondie finished with a giggle, she was enjoying this far too much. Jack felt the gnawing pit of despair widen in his stomach.

“It’s for the best. She deserves better than a man like you.” Jack was astounded for a moment, Blondie seemed like the very devil echoing his worst insecurities back at him.

“A coward. A man who fingers a girl in a barn, and then sleeps with her cousin after,” He knew he wasn’t crazy, that it wasn’t just their reflection, but someone really had been at the cabin, “by the way, you were real shit at it. My cousin is sweet, but gullible. But I know men like you, narcissistic assholes who prey on nice girls like her. So apologise, and then fuck off from her life.” That— that was the plan, ma’am.

But Jack wasn’t about to let the pot call the kettle black, “Oh, excuse me, didn’t you steal her fiancé? And you didn’t even have the decency to break it to her privately.”

“Mind your own fucing business, bitch.” were Blondie’s parting words. Fair enough.

Jack found her in the sunroom, and his body forgot all its involuntary actions— like breathing or blinking. She looked resplendent sitting on the red plaid rug, the wreath hung on the window behind her framed her like a halo, all the sunlight in the room was pulled to her form setting her aglow. Her face was tipped up towards the windows, eyes closed, as she basked in the warmth. She looked so at peace that he hesitated from breaking the moment. Not that he could say anything when she opened her eyes to look at him. The light danced in her eyes. Her gaze fell on him like an ointment on every jagged, splintering fragment of him. And in just a moment, Jack dreamed of a lifetime’s worth of mornings and evenings looking into those same eyes. A dream so bright and hopeful, that he refused to be pulled from it. What wouldn’t he do to enshrine himself in those eyes? To have her look only at him?

“This room is occupied.”

“I was hoping to occupy it with you.” Jack held up the breakfast tray as a gesture of invitation. He joined her on the rug, taking her silence for acquiescence.

“I wanted to apologise. For what I said in the dining room, and for what I said in the cabin this morning”—he paused to hand her the coffee—“and for last night in the barn, of course. And for my rudeness at ignoring you at the dinner table last evening, too. Everything, really, I’m sorry for all of it.”

“I’m not obliged to forgive you, you know?” He handed her a mini quiche. Of course, he knew that. He didn’t even deserve to be forgiven.

“The stuff you said to me at the cabin wasn’t okay. You were intentionally trying to hurt me, not just saying stuff in blind anger.” Shame coursed through his veins and he found himself unable to meet her eyes. What made him think, even for a moment, that he could have her?

“I’m sorry, Sugar.” The term of endearment felt like a desperate attempt at consolation.

“And you made me look like an idiot at breakfast just now.”

“That too, I am sorry. And I know I don’t deserve it, but thank you for not telling everyone it was me with your cousin last night.” He watched her build a perfect forkful of toast, egg, and spiced veggie sausage. Was watching someone eat supposed to feel this delightful? Jack regretfully reached up to brush off a crumb from her cheek, wishing he could feed her. But that would be crossing a line— one he drew himself.

“No, it's okay. I know you didn’t mean to make me feel like a dumbass.”—She looked up at him like a cat that ate the canary, mischievous and pleased—“So, I’ll let you make it up to me by telling me exactly what brings a spy to our home?”

Even Jack could tell his answering chuckle rang far too fake, “What do you mean?”

“Come on now, no need to tell me all about your super secret society, although if you share, I will be all ears. Just tell me about your mission. Why did you come to the estate? Is Uncle Matthew in on it as well?” The breakfast tray looked immensely interesting, were those mini cheese grits casseroles? He polished one off to simply keep from having to talk, it tasted like dirt in his mouth.

“Whatever makes you think like that? Do you rich folks really have those secret societies I should know about?” Deny and Divert.

“Nope. But I know some about the secret society you’re in… Agent?” Jack wanted to kiss the smug look off her face.

“I ain’t nothing, darling.”

“Oh, so not senior enough to get an alcoholic name then?” Jack raised his eyebrows at her in part exasperation and part chastisement. Just how much did this girl know? And where had she learned about their codenames? Did Matthew tell her?

“What are you even on about?” He added an eye-roll for extra measure.

“Well, you were in the barn with Livvy—”

“That made you think I was a spy?”

“— Not only did you seem uninterested—”

“So a guy changed his mind, men can do that you know?”

“— and then how you acted in the cabin, about protecting me from intruders—”

“I was stoned, baby, it didn’t mean anything.”

Marley gave him an unimpressed look, but they both knew she didn’t have anything substantial on him that would stick. Jack hoped she would cease her questioning, he quite honestly didn’t believe he could lie to her.

“Something spooked you today, when you woke up, I mean. What was it?” Dear Lord, this was going to be her new line of questioning?

“You were an asshole to me about it, I deserve at least an explanation with the apology.”

The words were out of his mouth before he had weighed them, tested them in his head, “I have a complicated relationship with drug use.”

Her head shot up from her plate, eyes wide with concern, “Oh my God, Jack. Are you okay? Did you”—she looked around searching for something—“Were you attempting sobriety? Did last night cause… I don’t know, a relapse? Should we call someone? A therapist or something?”

Jack pulled her down before she could stand to go searching for a phone, he presumed, clasping her shoulders and pulling her closer, “It’s not like that—”

“Oh, sorry.”

“—it was my girlfriend.” She flinched at the mention of a girlfriend.

“Oh, I’m sorry, that must have been very difficult.” She squirmed to relinquish his grip on her, trying to put some distance between them.

Jack tightened his hold, and the words he had never said unless absolutely necessary came pouring out of him, “No, well, yes. She died…”

Jack relaxed his hold on her when Marley brought her own hand over his. He let her turn it over and gently grasp it between her own, she ran her thumb gently over the stupid tattoo he got on the side of his thumb in high school.

“She was my high school sweetheart. One day... she went to get some groceries, and two meth heads decided to rob a fucking convenience store. Got caught in the crossfire.” He choked out the words through gritted teeth. Jack grieved, for so long, he went through every stage of it, countless times. He had accepted that she was gone, along with the little life in her belly— his son. But the anger, the rage, it still persisted. He was unreconciled.

Marley pulled him closer, wordlessly wrapping her hands around him and soothingly stroked along his back, because there were no words that touched deeper than surface for someone who had lost a loved one. He allowed himself to lean on her, folding his shoulders to fit into her arms and slumping onto her shoulder. He allowed her, for just a moment, to carry the weight of his body.

“She’d been pregnant with my little boy.” His voice betrayed the anguish he felt, causing her to hold him tighter. She carried the weight of his body and his still ravaged soul. Her hand came up to cradle his head. Jack felt the moisture of her tears on his neck, but despite the pain, he couldn't cry. He was all out of tears. He had shed them into his pillows, in the shower, in his uniform, and his shirts; he had shed them into anything that would get him drunk, he had shed them into the ground every time he bit the dust, he had shed them all on her grave. But it felt good to feel her cry for him, for his sorrow, when he could not.

Jack pulled her even closer, heaving her weight onto his lap until her legs came around him. As they sat there in each other’s embrace, under the morning light, Jack took the strength of her embrace and let it seep into his bones. Her comfort permeated down to his very marrow, it bolstered him— warmed him down to his toes. Jack felt himself melt when her fingers raked gentle circles at his nape, his own hand reaching up to press her head closer into the crook of his neck relishing the feel of her against him.

“It’s Whiskey, darling. Senior Agent Whiskey.” He murmured into her hair. She giggled into his skin, and his heart fluttered at the same rhythm. Marley brushed her lips against his jaw in another gesture of solace as she pulled away from him looking glassy eyes and entirely conspiratorial.

“My Uncle’s codename is Gin, I presume.” Jack hummed in response while he brushed off the residual wetness clinging to her lashes and cheeks.

“You weren't sure?”

“I’ve overheard people calling him that. So, what’s your mission, Agent Whiskey—”

“Now that's confidential.”

“—Is it because Cole is involved with some mafia people?”

“He’s involved with the mafia?” Jack was surprised, the boy didn't look like he had the gumption.

“Keeps talking about some Golden Circle and how he wants to go into business with them, Livvy’s dad, my uncle, wants that too. Hence, the wedding.”

“Never heard of it.”

Marley peered down at him, “Would you tell me if you had?”

Usually, the answer would've been a resounding no, “I would if it meant a threat to you.” She didn't look like she believed him, but that was okay.

“So what is your mission?”

Jack weighed his options with a tired sigh as he brought a piece of her unfinished toast to her lips. Ginger's Alpha Gel Tech hadn’t worked on that British guy in her glass loony bin. She was convinced the issue was in the materials. So he had taken up the mundane task of reading through the incoming inspection reports. While the quality of the raw materials was up to par, he had noticed far too many irregularities— delayed deliveries and unpredictable expenses.

Gin, and his surveillance agent Tonic, were in charge of sourcing and covertly acquiring their raw materials. He had started by investigating some of the lower-level agents, and even the workers they out-sourced to, before suspecting his mentors. It had been no easy task because Statesman ran on a need-to-know basis. They had all turned out squeaky clean with barely any minor infractions. For all it was worth, Gin ran a tight and clandestine ship which did not explain the aforementioned irregularities. He had investigated Tonic, by inviting himself over for a birthday party, and had come up with nothing.

“Let’s say, it’s an internal audit of sorts.” It was as nicely as he could put it.

“Internal audit? What do you mean to say? That you suspect my uncle is up to something?” Marley reached out her tongue to lick the last of the jam on her lips, looking wholly unserious about this conversation. And so was he, because Jack couldn't really think past the panic of his cock stiffening under her. As soon as she had drunk the last of her coffee, and his, he pulled her up by the hand and deftly made his way to Gin’s office.

There was a hubbub in the house as everyone scampered to complete the last-minute preparations for tonight’s Christmas Charity Gala. Hence, they reached undetected to the, thankfully, empty office. Jack gently pulled Marley’s frames from her face and set them on the desk, before reaching into his jacket, still slung over her shoulders, to remove his own pair of glasses. He placed them on her nose and pushed them up for her with clunky, single-handed movements. His other arm was still holding one of hers.

Holding her last night had felt divine, but he had chalked it up to the influence of drugs. But even now, Jack felt his heart was tied to a string that stretched down his own arm and straight into hers. He had curled his hand away from hers until only their fingers were interlocked to not only lessen the pull she had on him, but also because he worried her skin would catch on the many calluses and abrasions the lasso and whips left behind on his palm. Even then, his heart still soared like a kite that she tugged and released with every touch; the press of her fingertips, the clasp of her palm, the caress of her thumb.

“Here”—Jack activated the frames so they could start their analysis for her—“What does it tell you.” He reluctantly pulled away from her, made quick work of the locked drawer and removed the surplus stationery to reveal the false bottom, underneath which laid a numerical keypad with tiny letters on each key— quite like the old phones with buttons you clicked multiple times to reach the correct letter.

“OMG, these frames are the sickest. It's got all sorts of features, oh my god, it can take X-rays.” Jack guided her attention down to the keypad with a gentle pinch to her chin.

Judging by her soft gasp, she had already read the analysis on the frames, but he explained anyway, “Your cousin’s fingerprints are all over the keypad. I heard her talking to that scumbag ex of yours before dinner last night about taking some money from the safe.”

“She’s trying to steal from Uncle Matthew? Why would she do that?”—She met his gaze, a frown painted across her face and voice laced with disappointment—“Is that why you were in the barn with her? For the password.”

Jack looked away in shame, “Yeah,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “I put a tracking and audio device in her so I can hear what she's up to and maybe hear what the passcode is.”

“Wait… IN her? What do you mean, in her?” Jack only sent her an annoyed glare, don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to.

“Fine, couldn’t you have hacked it? Like in the movies?”

“Excellent question, see this isn't connected to anything, no wifi, Bluetooth or smart connection. It’s a manual lock that opens either with the password or if I take a hammer to it. And I wouldn't want to take a hammer to it.” Marley had already started jabbing at the keys before he had finished his explanation and the lock clicked open.

She gave him a teasing smile, “It was Robin Hood, like the character from the 1973 Disney animated movie. We watched it a lot growing up with Uncle Matthew.”

The lock, deceptively, didn't open to reveal anything but the painting behind the desk slid aside to reveal the safe, Marley punched in the code there as well with a decidedly roguish glint in her eye, 1217. Why did those numbers seem so familiar? It was the date he had circled on his own calendar as Tonic’s birthday that he had crashed to discretely investigate him.

“You should never enter passwords around kids, they'll even stare at the placement of your fingers to figure out what it is. Certainly helps that Uncle Matthew has never changed the password.” No, darling, that might just be you… and your cousin it seems.

Jack shuffled around the cash, the tiny gold biscuits, and property files— uncaring of leaving a mess, it'll be blamed on Blondie anyways— until there was a single red switch staring at them, what were the chances it could blow stuff up? High, very high. But Jack pressed it anyway. A book on the shelf to their right came away with a snick.

“Jack, the X-Ray-Bans are telling me there's a room behind that shelf!” She did an odd, endearing little excited dance while pulling out the book which dislodged a keyboard that was disguised inside the shelf. It was a thin blue-lighted electronic keyboard on a black screen that looked like it came straight from an office at Statesman. Another password? Jack grasped her elbow with a gentle squeeze, halting her movements.

“Darling, you shouldn't ever do this.”—she turned to him with a raised eyebrow that communicated her confusion—“I mean, what if I wasn't Whiskey? What if I was somebody evil, or a rival, or just a bad actor who wanted to cause harm?”

“Are you? A bad actor who wants to cause harm?” Jack was troubled by the sweet, knowing smile she gave him, she didn't understand. Since last night, she has been nothing but open, honest and trusting. And that was dangerous, he could've been anybody.

“You’re the one who said agents get alcohol-based codenames. What if I just made one up on the fly? Then you let me into your uncle’s safe, what if I stole everything and then seriously hurt you? What if I was some guy on a mission to harm your uncle? Hell, I’m here to harm your uncle. My mission here is to find evidence that he’s involved in some plot.”

His mind was already running farther than his words as he conjured up every worst-case scenario. Every single one ended with her hurt, dying, trapped in that room behind the shelf, or all three. He brushed his hand further up her arm until he held her wrist, rubbing his thumb over the inside and feeling the soft skin textured by gently protruding veins. He found her pulse, steady and strong, against delicate, brittle bones. He was a trained and seasoned agent who had stared down certain death numerous times with level-headedness. But the very thought of anything happening to her compromised him. He hadn't even realised his breath was coming out in short, uneven pants, his heart racing with fear until her hand had come up to cup his face, calming and anchoring.

“Had it been literally anybody else, I would've gone straight back from the barn and snitched. I most certainly wouldn't have stayed at the cabin with them,” Marley teasingly brushed the end of his mustache, “But it was you. And you know what I think? You're not here to find proof that Uncle Matthew is part of some evil plot, you're here to find proof that he's not.”

His shoulders slumped, “You can't know that.”

“Yes, I can.”—Jack missed her touch as she slipped away from his grasp to pick up the book once more—“It was something about the look in your eyes when he boasted about your achievements last night and called you his protégé. And then again this morning when he called you son.” She would've made a great spy with those instincts.

On the tail end of the panic, Jack had a moment of piercing clarity. As he stood there breathing relaxed and in tandem with her, soaking in the undeserved trust she granted him, he realised three very important facts.

Marley felt something for him.

He was in love with Marley.

And he was going to break both their hearts.

He watched Marley attempt to thumb through the book only to discover it was a fake. The cover opened to reveal a screen covered in accented letters.

She turned to look at him mouth agape with doubt, “A puzzle?”

She easily relinquished the book to him, but the glasses came off with a dejected pout. Maybe he'll accidentally leave this pair behind for her to find. Marley had lips perfectly sized for kissing; he briefly wondered what they would feel like against his. The thought summoned the memory of last night in the kitchen. He's going to have to kiss her today, properly, there's no way he could let her go unkissed.

He opened the book again to a different set of letters on the screen. Jack bit off a swear, he was about to look like the biggest idiot in front of this pretty girl. This system was hackable but not something he could pull off on his own, he needed Ginger. However, he was flying this mission solo. Champ hadn't exactly signed off on the investigation, so he wasn't technically allowed to do this. Jack looked to Marley, hoping she would know the passcode to this one too, but she just smiled apologetically. His lowest scores in Statesman evaluations had been in cryptography and cryptanalysis, he was so abysmal at it, that they would've thrown him out had he not excelled in other areas.

Gin and Tonic, on the other hand, had a shared passion for cyphers and codes. Jack could lose them for hours once they got into their own little world with some new puzzle to solve. Unease slithered in his gut. He recognised these words, it was Diné Bizaad. Tonic was Native American, his father had served as a Navajo Code Talker during World War 2 and had been recruited by Statesman. Tonic had followed his father’s lead, having discovered his secret career. What were the odds that this cypher was just a simple gift? That Tonic would have gifted Gin a cypher in his own language without knowing how he would use it? Could Tonic have no idea what Gin was hiding? Jack didn't believe in such coincidences.

Jack used the frames to start translating the text, it was a romantic story of two lovers tending to their garden— a vegetable patch to be precise. The story didn't end with a question or a riddle yet a text cursor was blinking back at him demanding an answer. He read through the story again. It was about a person drifting apart from a friend who seeks them out at a social gathering and confesses their love, the two lovers then spend their evening kissing on the freshly sowed land. Was that a metaphor for sex? It all felt rather intimate and nostalgic, has Tonic written these stories personally? A suspicion brewed at the back of his mind.

“Is it very hard?” Jack was pulled from his contemplation by Marley. How long had she been looking at him like that? He couldn’t remember a time when someone had looked at him with such naked want and affection. He felt like he was in a Christmas movie, surrounded by love and quickly coming to the realisation that he wanted it for himself as well. Most importantly, he wanted it from her, the woman who was so different from him. He had spent over two decades using seduction and sex as a means to an end, a tool to accomplish a mission. And she was guileless, unapologetic and unable to cover her feelings. Jack felt humbled at her attention and utterly charmed.

“No, it’s…” Jack met her gaze, and was beckoned to her twinkling eyes like a moth to a flame. He swooped down, heart galloping into his mouth and paused just before his lips touched hers— allowing her a moment to reconsider, to pull away. Electricity crackled where his lips ghosted over hers, Jack spotted a subtle curve of a smile on her lips before they slanted over his in a perfect moment of joy and completion. The kiss was warm, passionate but tentative and testing— a kiss between new lovers who were exploring how the other liked to be kissed. Grazing his teeth over her bottom lip just so caused her breath to hitch, the tip of her tongue running over his upper lip and catching the bristles of his mustache made him softly groan into her mouth.

He relished her touch, which was anything but tentative and testing, it was possessive and confident as her hand slid across the breadth of his shoulder to toy with the hair at his nape. He finally copped a liberal feel of that plump ass that drove him crazy, using her gasp as an opportunity to chase her tongue deeper into her mouth— gentle and insistent. He pressed himself closer into her; sweet, round curves pressed against the hard exterior of his body. He let his hands roam over the swell of her hips, and under her t-shirt, exploring the contours of her belly pushing against his, the indentation of her waist and the weight of one gorgeous tit in his hand— her nipple growing into a hardened little bud against his palm. He rolled that nipple in his fingers and swallowed the high-pitched moan she released. Dear Lord, she was so beautifully responsive.

But the sound had been too loud, he felt her stiffen in his arms as she became more aware of her surroundings. No, no. He clutched her tighter, unwilling to let go just yet. He couldn’t let her go just yet. The wanting hadn’t surprised Jack, she was comely, attractive even, delightfully filled out in places and maddeningly tempting. He would be an idiot to not want her. But the deluge of need that flooded from him shook him, terrified him, and made him feel so alive.

“Marley,” He murmured against her lips, taking a moment to admire her upturned face, eyes closed in bliss and kiss-swollen mouth. He appreciated the taste of her morning coffee in his mouth mixed with the flavour of her own natural essence. When was the last time he had kissed someone because he wanted it? Hell, when was the last time he had done anything because he wanted it? He got enough action on missions to not even have to look for meaningless sex and hook-ups when he was off work. He had earned this, hadn’t he? This lovely moment of shared intimacy, need and love with the most delectable and enticing woman in his arms.

He kissed her once more, with the renewed urgency of a man who hadn’t kissed anybody for decades. Because this kiss, with this woman, was sublime. It wiped out the memory of any other kiss he might have had from his memory. All of his senses recalibrated to look for her every minute reaction to his touch. He sank deeper into her until all that held them both up was her uncle’s desk as he rocked his growing bulge against the most intimate part of her.

Marley pulled him up with a fist in his hair, she looked at him glassy-eyed and open-mouthed. What would she look like when he slowly fed her every inch of his cock until he was buried to the hilt in her warm, wet cunt. The very thought of it threatened to send his eyes rolling back into his skull. She was mouthing words at him that he couldn’t hear. Was she as incapable of speech as he was? Or was he not able to hear her over the rush of blood in his ears?

“The puzzle… The puzzle, Jack.” He huffed a laugh in disbelief. His Marley had a taste of adventure. If she was still thinking about the damn puzzle while they shared the most life-altering kiss then he hadn’t done it right. He would remedy that soon. Not anytime soon, though; his knees felt a little wobbly. Jack affectionately nuzzled her ear and pressed an adoring kiss to it. Then he laid several more kisses on her cheek, her neck, jaw, chin, nose, temple and forehear until she was giggling into the curve of his shoulder. He gave into the temptation and pressed his lips to her luscious, inviting lips just one last time… And once more. Just one more time.

“The answer is July, darling.” He whispered over her lips as he nuzzled her nose, giving it a playful puppyish nudge with his own before he pecked her lips— this really was the last one. He felt the tremble that went down her spine at his whispered endearment.

Marley was still dazed after Jack had let her up and fixed both of their appearances— the sight of her so innocently muddled as he lowered her t-shirt to cover her again had given him a deep, primal satisfaction. Maybe, just maybe, he could make her happy. Perhaps, he wouldn’t break her heart. For a moment, he was seized by the most ridiculously sentimental emotion— hope. She had already discovered that he was a liar, that he lied to everyone, even Gin. She saw the disregard with which he treated her cousin, that one he still didn’t feel much guilt over. And Marley had bore the brunt of his angry words that he had never meant, would never mean. And somehow, still, she liked him. Kissed him. Sometimes, when he looked into her eyes for just a moment longer, he felt like anything was possible.

Of course, there was so much she didn’t know about him. Jack knew he was wholly unworthy of her— Gin would know too. He didn’t even know what she saw in him, decency? Honour? He had long lost those traits. He had been ruthless, heartless, cold-blooded, deceitful, anything but decent and honourable. Sure, it helped that he upheld peace, and protected the weak and innocent. But it didn’t detract from the darkness that festered in him. One can’t be in the spy business this long without having developed a deeper sense of self-awareness and Jack knew he hid a cold, rotten core underneath that shiny veneer of charming cowboy, principled senior agent, dashing spy.

So just until she discovered who he truly was, until she slipped past his defences— because he knew if anyone could, it was Marley— and saw him for who he truly was, he would soak up all her love, tenderness, affection and adoration. And he would return all she gave to him manyfold— he suspected he would even long after she stopped loving him and turned away from him in disgust. He helped her stand and kissed her brow one last time.

“How do you know?” She looked at the screen studiously. Jack handed her the pair of Stateman glasses again.

“Assumin’ the story is written by Tonic, who is Navajo, he works with your uncle, then this must be his annual party. He hosts a community gathering every July, makes the meanest mutton stew and they plant their community garden together. I dropped by once or twice. Then, the crops they’re planting in the story are all supposed to be planted in July. So, it’s an educated guess as any.”

It had been the correct guess, the shelf retreated and swung aside to reveal a small, sleek room. It looked like a designer man cave with dark, inky blue walls and a deep, wine-red glossy ceiling. The walls were covered in Statesman weapons and tech, but it wasn’t inventory so much as it was memorabilia. He spotted his own old Colt Single Action Army Revolver in one of the displays, Jack felt himself choking up at the thought that Gin had kept it. There was a personal drink bar as well as a wall-mounted wine rack that he was sure contained only the choicest of wines. Marley ran her finger over a neat line of DVDs on the opposite wall, each marked with a date and location. Jack fired up the main attraction of the room— a sweet home theatre system.

“So your secret society pairs you up by spirits and their mixers? Gin and Tonic? Who is your partner? Pineapple juice?” She teased.

“Yup, it’s a nifty little thing we like to do with our senior agents. Gin and Tonic, Rum and Coke, Whiskey and Ginger. I’m paired with the resident tech genius.” There was a note of pride in his voice.

A disc was already inserted into the attached DVD player, that started ringing out… wet sloppy noises. They both stared slack-jawed and gobsmacked as the Gin on screen took a dick deep into his throat. Dear Lord. Jack could bet a fortune that the dick belonged to Tonic.

A hand came up to affectionately pat Gin on his cheek, “You gonna let me fuck your mouth, baby?” Definitely Tonic. Marley sounded out a sharp gasp, a hand covering her own mouth to muffle the subsequent cackle. Jack hurriedly switched off the screen before they had to watch more, dousing the room back into its dim lighting.

“THAT was the evil plot? THAT’S WHAT HE WAS HIDING?” She devolved into more laughter.

It certainly was entirely anti-climactic, and Jack was grateful for it. He scoffed a disbelieving chuckle, part angry and part relieved. He could understand why they would want to keep their relationship under wraps. There were queer agents at Stateman; Tequila, for one, during their training days, Jack had to take him back to base from their local honky-tonk countless times while he tried to drown his heartbreak in his drink. The rodeo clown dating the closeted star rider was a tough lesson in heartbreak and he had entertained a steady string of lovers, regardless of gender, ever since. Ginger, was also similar, but much more sedate in choosing lovers. Jack wished they’d both wake up and smell the coffee to finally realise they were made for each other.

But, ultimately, they were all younger. Gin and Tonic wouldn’t have had the same freedom to express themselves, he knew how some of the old biddies in upper management at Statesman weren’t too accepting. He just couldn’t believe they hadn’t told him, not that they were obliged to, but they really let him run across the world like a headless chicken fearing the worst— evil plots, agency compromised, blackmail and extortion. What hadn’t his mind come up with in the past few months, only for the big secret to be a room full of self-directed spank bank? Jesus. Champ obviously knew as well, that’s why he was ordered to stay out of it. Nice of him to protect his friends. Delayed deliveries and unpredictable expenses, my ass. Jack would go back to write a strongly-worded memo to Champ about the misuse of agency assets for personal pleasure and recreation. He needed a raise for all this stress.

There was a sudden loud crash behind him, Jack felt his mind focus on his surroundings, instincts alertly looking for danger. He spotted the broken lamp on the floor, and Marley leaning on the shelf.

“Jack? I don’t feel so good.” She slumped onto the ground.

Jack felt real panic seize him, he didn’t know how he made his way to her; he stumbled near her collapsed form like the land was snatched from under his feet and he was desperately trying to keep up. The air seemed scarce, none of it was making it into his lungs. But she was breathing, Marley was breathing.

“I’m okay, it’s okay. My legs just gave out, they feel a little numb.” He checked her legs for injuries or pain as well as he could while she gripped onto his arms. He didn’t know what he was saying but hopefully, it was soothing, reassuring.

“Jack, Jack, I… can’t feel them. I can’t feel my legs.” There was an edge of fear and hysteria in her voice.

His hands came up to frame her face, forcing her to look into her eyes, “It’s gonna be okay. Hey, listen to me. Breathe… That’s right. Nice, deep breaths. It’s okay, we’ll figure this out,” Marley’s hands fell away from his arms, he wasn’t breathing, nothing was okay, “Baby? Talk to me. What’s happening?”

“My arms feel numb too… What’s happening to me?”

Jack checked her over for open cuts, she must have been drugged or poisoned. She could have inhaled or eaten something dangerous. The breakfast tray. No, he had eaten and drank everything she had. Then in this room? Couldn’t have been an airborne substance since he’s breathing just fine.

“Honey? Did you eat or drink anything in this room?” Marley shook her head. Damn it, Fuck.

Jack was finding it difficult to breathe, the situation dawned on him with the weight of a massive bull; it crushed his chest until his lungs ached and he couldn’t breathe like his face was pressed into the ground. He screamed for Matthew. His own voice sounded like it was coming from the next room, he briefly wondered if Gin would hear him. He could be anywhere in this blasted mansion.

“Jack? Snap out of it. It’s okay, we’re okay.” He wildly looked around there had to be something, anything he could do. He tried to remember his training, but for the first time in his life, Jack pulled a blank. He’s got nothing. No instinct, no training, no clever solution, no calm strategy. He had nothing. Nothing but a yawning pit of fear eating away at all of his rational thoughts.

“JACK!” Marley came back in focus. He should get up, gather the strength in his legs and go looking for Mathew. But nothing could move him, the world could be ending outside in a parade of hellfire and biblical floods and Jack would be unable to take his eyes off Marley. He had already let one woman die scared and alone, he couldn’t do this to Marley too. Jack gathered himself, and glued the pieces of his scattered brain back together in a hapless barricade against the fear and panic. It was like facing machine guns and heavy artillery with a heap of fucking smiley bouncing balls.

“It’s crazy that you became a spy. How does somebody even get into a career like that?” They recruit you. Jack would answer her if his tongue wasn’t sitting in his mouth like a dried-up slug.

“I’m sure they would have to come looking for you since you can’t look for them with all that secrecy, right?” Jack gave her a hasty nod. He moved the piece of hair falling over her forehead that Marley was trying to flick away and tucked it behind her ear.

“Matthew recruited me—”

“Yeah? How did you meet?” There was relief in her teary eyes. He summoned himself to answer her, be present with her. He won’t let her feel alone. Jack clutched at her cold and loose hand, desperately rubbing warmth into her body.

“He found me, at the military base where I was stationed. Offered me a dangerous job that paid well.”

“Mhm, and what did you say?”

“I asked him if it was more dangerous than what I was doing now.” Marley slid to the side, unable to hold herself up, and Jack fought the rising dread within. He gathered her in his arms; holding them both upright took Herculean strength.

“He said if I was any good at it, this war would look like a kid’s play area at a Burger King,” Jack pressed his lips to the crown of her head, “Only condition was nobody would ever know what I did for the world.”

“Why… did you take?” Her words were slurred like she was mumbling in her sleep. Jack rapidly patted her cheek, begging her to wake up, to keep her eyes open, to look at him. And when pleading failed, he turned to threats, if she didn’t wake up he would be very mad, he wouldn’t talk to her, he would punch her uncle, and rip the hair out of her cousin’s skull.

“Don’t sleep, don’t fall asleep. Tell me”— his voice cracked with despair—“tell me something about yourself.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, like, what do you do for work? Your favourite horse at the derby? Go-to cocktail? Favorite Phineas and Ferb character? Mine’s Doof, Perry is a close second.” His words came out rushed despite the effort he made to keep the terror tightly reigned inside.

“Run a company, love Ferb. And um…” Her eyes rolled back and Jack bit his tongue to keep from making that distressing sound that was bubbling up his throat. He tasted blood. The sound escaped anyway— a strangled, gasping sob.

“Jack? Don’t cry… just a little sleepy, m’okay.” Marley turned her face to rub her forehead against his chest to comfort him. He felt hollow inside yet so heavy, all his organs having left their rightful place to coagulate in the pit of his stomach like a cancerous knot that wouldn’t let him breathe. It’ll kill him, he was sure. Because Jack couldn’t imagine a moment after this one, he had no life past the one being sustained by Marley’s shallow breaths.

Suddenly, large hands appeared to take Marley, but he would not be wrested of her. Jack tightened his grip on Marley, contorting his body to wrap around hers, pulling her closer and hiding her from whoever was trying to grab her. Nobody could take her from him. Not death. Not God. He will not part from her. You leave her alone, you hear? You can’t take her. You can’t have her. He felt a soft warm exhale of air on his ear. She was breathing. She was breathing. She was breathing. Jack found his vision clear once more, and he shakily wiped away his tears from her cheek— they’d fallen right on the scratch Blondie left on her, he didn’t want it to sting.

There was a blur of motion around him, and before he could stop it, an injection was abruptly jabbed into Marley’s shoulder. He saw red. Jack looked up fuming, he needed to know what they gave her. Gin’s kind, all-too-knowing eyes looked down on him in a faintly pitying way. Jack felt him rub his back like he was soothing a spooked horse, he hadn’t even realised he was shaking and trembling. His jaw ached from clenching and grinding his teeth.

“Gin… she’s—” His words came out in a croak like they were fighting against the pins and needles stabbing at his throat to be heard.

“She’s fine, son. She’ll wake up in a hot minute. Why don’t we move her to the couch in the office?”

It felt bizarre to sit, Marley was slumbering on the sofa, a blanket tucked around her and Matthew eased a pillow under her head. He was still… disoriented. His eyes were seeing, yet unseeing; his ears were hearing but not quite listening. He had heard Gin’s explanations, washed his hands clean of the drugs, according to his instructions, in the bathroom across the hall and then pulled a chair to sit by the couch. He felt like he was floating three feet above the ground, but also chained down to those heavy tires from training he had to drag behind him. Jack watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, funny how that was how his day had begun— watching her sleep, simmering in his anger, not at her, he was never angry at her, but always at himself. It was all his fault. He dragged her into this mess. She should have been sitting by the Christmas tree by now, opening presents with her family.

“Here, drink some of this, it’s tea.” Tea? He wasn’t gonna drink that. He needed a stiff drink. The cup felt too heavy in his arms. Jack was exhausted but he looked around for a bottle of booze— anything would do.

“Drink up, I don’t know what’s in it but Marley uses it for her anxiety.” He obediently took a sip. It soothed his throat.

His eyes gravitated towards her, he knew she would wake up, Gin had said as much, but there was still a sliver of fear coursing through his veins. It was just a paralytic drug that he had coated onto the DVDs, to keep the intruder in place in case his sexuality was discovered and Gin could talk him out of exposing his secret; or stun them with an amnesia dart.

“Dropped some honey in the tea… for your throat”— Gin took a seat at his desk with a deep sigh—“you were screaming up the whole house, panicked everyone. It’s not like you.”

Was that why his throat felt raw?

“I’ve told everyone that Marley fainted and it scared you.”

“Why didn’t they come check on her?” It was an absurd thing to worry about, considering all the lies and secrets they were trying to cover up.

“She’s had dizzy spells before, anaemia” So? They will just let her faint and not help or check in? The muscles of his jaw gave a twitch of frustration.

“Are you worried about her?” He could barely think about anything else.

“Yes.”

“May I ask what’s between you two?” He didn’t know. Their hearts? A future? Nothing. Everything.

“Jack, what are your intentions with my niece?”

“I have none, sir.” He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. He had lost once and couldn’t survive it again. They were both safer apart. Spies didn’t have families. Today, they were both incredibly lucky. But it wouldn’t always be this simple. Anybody coming for him would find their easiest and fastest path through her. And he couldn’t always stick around to protect her. He had failed once before and he would fail again. He wasn’t strong enough.

“Are you sure about that?” No, he was terrified.

Gin’s hand rested heavy and comforting on his shoulder, “If you let fear overrule your life you won’t end up happy. You’ll be old and alone on Christmas, missing the love of your life, wishing you had been brave. Take my advice, son, have some damn intentions for her.”

Series Index Part 3

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jack daniels #agent whiskey #secret santa #pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #kingsman #kingsman 2 #golden circle

9 notes · View notes