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brandyllyn · 2 years ago

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This Time

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader [no use of y/n. 3POV]

Sequel to Next Time - but I think it works as a stand alone

Words: 2.8k

My Masterlist

Rated: Teen. Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff.

Smoothing a hand down the front of his shirt, Jack frowned at his reflection in the Bronco’s side mirror. The material was a soft grey, short-sleeved with pearl snap buttons. It was one of his favorites, good for a casual day out, having a beer with friends - a utilitarian shirt.

His frown deepened.

Making an effort to look away, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, trying to make the lean against the truck as casual as possible. Wear the same thing as last time, she’d said.

It wasn’t that Jack didn’t like surprises, he enjoyed them as much as the next person. He just liked to be informed, that was all. How could he protect people, do his job, if he didn’t have full information?

“Hey Jack.”

Her soft voice startled him out of his musings and he jerked his head up to see her. His mouth froze on his greetings, the words garbling in his throat.

Lord have mercy, she was wearing jeans. Jeans that looked like they had been painted on her, framing soft thighs and an ass he felt a sudden irresistible urge to bite. She had on a loose blouse with one of those camisoles with the thin straps underneath.

And she was smiling. At him.

The beauty of her knocked him on his ass and he completely missed his opportunity to meet her, to walk with her and open the car door like a gentleman. Instead he scrambled inside and flung himself across the bench seat, grabbing at the passenger door handle and giving her a sheepish smile as she slid inside.

“Lord, you’re pretty as a speckled pup.” She raised an eyebrow and he gave his head a sharp shake. “It’s a compliment.”

“Is it?”

Damn it to hell, how was he messing this up already? Again.

“It is,” he turned the key in the Bronco and set it to drive.

When she had offered to plan their second date, the old school gentleman in Jack had balked. He’d been raised to believe it was a man’s job to do the romancing. To plan the outings, pay for dinner, make the moves.

Then again, their first date had gone so poorly he hadn’t objected when she’d offered to plan their second. Only some of it had been his fault, in his defense. He couldn’t have done anything about the tornado.

“Where to, darlin’?”

“Head into town, then north on New Circle Road”

They chit chatted on the drive into Lexington, a little over an hour with light traffic. Plenty of time for Jack to learn more about her. She wanted a pet, but worried her job at Statesman would interfere. Never been married, although she made passing mention of a proposal that perked his ears. She asked him questions about his hobbies, and then made appropriate follow-up noises of appreciation about the Bronco when he said it was refurbishing older vehicles.

“It’s very shiny,” she smiled and he choked back a laugh. Maybe he should have mentioned his ever so slight obsession with World War II documentaries instead.

She gave no clues to where they were going, nodding slightly when he got off the highway onto Route 4 but aside from that remaining mum. When they turned on to the city streets north of town Jack almost asked but held his tongue. Stadium signs rose to their right as she directed him into a half empty parking lot. Even as they approached the stadium, he didn’t ask the question that bubbled in him. Not until she handed two construction paper tickets to an older lady and led him inside.

“Baseball?”

“The Lexington Legends,” she chirped back, slipping into the sparse crowd and looking back to see if he followed.

He did, his gait slipping into an easy saunter. Earlier, he’d have laid all his money they were going to a museum for the day. Maybe some kind of art gallery.

“Never figured you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not really,” she shrugged, eyeing something over his shoulder as she came to a stop. “But this isn’t baseball. It’s minor league baseball.”

“Other than the obvious, what’s the difference?”

“Baseball is about the sport. It’s about winning and all that.” A soft aha noise left her and she grabbed his hand, slipping her fingers between his and dragging him to a vendor. “But minor league is about having fun. It’s a carnival with baseball as an excuse.”

Glancing up at the sign he smiled, “Funnel cake?”

“To start,” she answered with a decisive nod. “After that they have one of those things set up where you hit baseballs and win prizes.”

“A batting cage?” His interest was piqued.

“Yeah, that,” she said distractedly.

He didn’t have her attention. She was practically salivating as she gave her order, not just the cake but deep fried Coca Cola and a lemonade to go with it.

“Shouldn’t be possible to fry a liquid,” Jack mumbled, licking powdered sugar from his fingertips. “But damn if it ain’t good.”

She beamed back at him, reaching up and using her thumb to wipe at the corner of his mustache. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” He managed not to shiver at her touch - barely. “But I have to admit it’s not what I expected.”

“Well,” she turned her back to him, leading him to a nearly empty set of bleachers. “One of the times you were asking me out you mentioned going to the state fair. If I remember right you tried to lure me with fried Oreos.”

“I did,” he nodded.

“And I know you play on the distillery’s softball team so I figured it wouldn’t be the most boring venue.”

Staring at the first baseman, Jack tapped the heel of his boot on the steel bleacher. “That was pretty astute of you.” Ducking her head she concentrated on their food and Jack eyed the field. “You rootin’ for anyone in particular?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. I don’t even know who the teams are.”

Shutting his eyes for a moment Jack rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Are you telling me, sugar, that you brought me to a baseball game solely for the food?”

“Well, I brought me solely for the food. But I thought you might like the game.”

“You are…” he searched for the word. Finally he settled on a huff of laughter, sliding the funnel cake from her hands and ignoring her protests. He leaned over and pressed his nose to her shoulder, “… somethin’ else.”

“Is that good?” She asked, one hand snaking over to his lap and the fried strings of dough. He picked one up instead, straightening and holding it out to her.

“Is to me.”

The Legends were playing a good game - relying a bit too much on a strong pitcher in Jack’s opinion, half the team couldn’t bat for shit - but he didn’t protest when his companion tugged on his arm in the third inning with a pleading look in her eye.

“Pickles?”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Fried?”

“Of course.”

“Lead the way.”

It was probably coincidence that the vendor was right next to the batting cage. And Jack couldn’t resist those pretty eyes when she bit her lip and glanced over at the stuffed animals hanging from the fence.

“Want me to win you one, sugar?”

“You think you can?” she asked with a tease on her voice.

He hummed an affirmative, rolling his shoulder under his shirt. It ached sometimes after the distillery league games, but it had been fine lately, certainly fine enough to knock out a couple homers and get the purple dog looking thing she was staring at.

“What do I get?”

She tapped her lip thoughtfully at the question. “Third date?”

“Deal,” he said quickly, pulling out a five and handing it to the guy without preamble. Her giggle followed him and he gave the bat a trial swing before setting his stance.

Crack.

The first ball was a foul, sailing almost straight up and into the tarp. Jack jumped back to avoid being brained and grunted. He’d gotten used to the underhand throws of the softball league. He’d need to re-evaluate.

Whiff.

Fuck, he hadn’t even touched the second. He felt the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment and took a swing at the third. It felt solid as it connected, a low hit midway down the far tarp. A solid hit in a real game, but not enough to read as a home run in the cage.

He had another five in his hand before the ball stopped rolling “Again.”

Another foul.

And another.

A low drive to a non-existent third baseman.

“Again.”

“Jack,” her voice sounded too soft and he didn’t look at her.

Two hits and a miss, one that should have been a home run but the damn game clocked it as a triple and Jack gritted his teeth against the argument that rose in his throat.

“Jack, come here.”

Shoulders sagging he turned to the fence, taking a step to it and frowning. “Sugar I-“

“A kiss.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Win me the dragon and you get a kiss.”

He blinked again and darted his eyes to the purple stuffed animal. Is that what it was? A dragon?

Wait.

A teasing smile pulled the corners of her lips up, a touch of powdered sugar still dusting the lower one. She’d be sweet, he knew that. And soft.

“Hell yeah,” he muttered, thumbing another bill at the kid running the cage. The prize wasn’t worth twenty bucks but that wasn’t the point.

Crack.

Three home runs, a light and siren going off each time.

She looked skeptical. “Did you batting cage shark me?”

“Did I what?” he spluttered, pointing at the largest version of the dragon for the worker.

“Batting cage shark, like a pool shark. Pretend to be bad so I’d offer you something?”

“Yes…?” he said slowly, drawling the word out and squinting slightly. It was a better explanation than anything he had. He handed the stuffed animal over, taking the nearly gone pile of fried food from her.

She frowned as she wrapped her arms around the ridiculously large toy. After a moment her face broke into a grin. “Liar.”

“I simply lacked proper motivation.”

Shifting the toy in her embrace she leaned towards him. “Are you going to collect?”

He traced his eyes over her face and settled a hand at the base of her spine. “Later.”

The spluttering sound she made at that warmed his heart.

“I’m assuming we don’t have dinner plans?” Jack asked as he held open the Bronco door for her. He took the dragon from her with one hand, patting her thigh slightly as she buckled in.

“Are you still hungry?” she responded incredulously.

Grinning, he leaned into the back of the truck, setting the plush down and pulling one of the lap belts across it. “Not a bit, I was just checking.” Dragon secured, he slipped into the front seat. “Where next?”

He didn’t expect it to be a bar, a dive bar at that. She was a fancy gal - she’d shown for their first date in a pencil skirt and heels for Christ’s sake. Then again, the last time he’d told her he was going to ‘Show her the town,’ so maybe that was just a miscommunication.

“You dance?” he asked after they got their drinks, leaning in a dark corner a little away from the speakers.

“A little,” she shrugged. “Never had much of a chance to learn.”

“Not interested?”

“Two left feet.” She laughed and he shifted closer. “It’s also a lot to keep track of. Counting, which direction to go…”

“You ever have a good partner?”

Without giving her a chance to answer, Jack swung her into an easy two-step, the live band doing a passable cover of an old George Strait song. She stumbled at first, but he kept a steady hand on her shoulder blade, giving the direction she needed to match his movements.

“Quick, quick, slow slow,” he muttered down to her helpfully and she glared back up at him.

Despite his teasing, she followed him like a dream, letting him guide her in a large circle around the floor. There was no looking behind her, no fighting him. With the gentlest pressure from him she turned slightly, keeping the rhythm and facing forward by his side, their interlinked arms ahead of them.

“You’re a natural,” he smiled, guiding her into a turn so she was facing him again.

“You’re a good teacher,” she smiled back. He kept an eye on their drinks, making sure no one messed with them, but that only took about 5% of his concentration. The rest he could focus on the woman in his arms. She was settled into his embrace like they’d done this a hundred times before, his fingers spread behind one shoulder while he traced his thumb over her other hand. He knew the song was ending soon and he gave a silent prayer for another two-step.

Instead, a car engine revved and a twangy guitar intro followed. One any cowboy worth his salt would recognize, and he smiled. “Ever line danced?”

A shake of her head and his smile turned into a grin. “I’ll show you.”

It should have been easy, this one was a classic for a reason. A simple grapevine, a toe tap or two, some clapping and a booty shake.

She was hopeless at it.

“No that way,” he huffed, turning her waist with one hand.

“One, one-two, one, one-two” he tried to help out as she double tapped and looked lost.

The third time she spun into him he gave up, pulling her close. “You weren’t kidding about those two left feet.”

“I told you-“

He shushed with her a turn, swinging her out of the way of the other dancers and back to their waiting drinks. “I thought that was modesty.”

She snorted, stirring her drink with a straw.

He did eventually manage to get her through the electric slide, but they did much better in the partner dances. Jack didn’t mind, any excuse to get his hands on her was welcome.

It was raining by the time they left, rushing to the Bronco while Jack tried to hold his hat over her head. They were laughing when the doors shut and he did his best to ignore how the water made her blouse stick to her skin.

“Home then?”

A nod and he shifted into gear. He jumped in surprise when her hand slipped into his, drifting up to cradle his forearm when he needed it to change gears. He liked it, even though her fingers were cold, and once they got on the highway he entangled their fingers together and chatted about absolutely nothing.

She was sleepy by the time they got back to the compound, leaning back in her sleep and fighting to keep her eyes open. He shut the truck off, frowning when her hand slipped away after he was forced to let it go.

“I’ll walk you up.”

“You’re not going to claim that kiss?” she asked with a small frown and pout.

“Nah.” With one hand he swept his hat off, turning and settling it in the backseat. “I figure I’ll save it.”

“Save it for what?”

“Third date,” he informed her with a grin. “And my second chance.”

A soft smile came over her face and Jack couldn’t help but press his fingertips to her jaw, rubbing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “But Lord you do make a man think twice about his convictions.”

“Oh do I?” A sly, sultry look replaced the shy one. “Maybe your convictions are in the wrong place.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, his thumb slipping down to trace her lips. “You’re enough to tempt a saint to sin.”

Her laughter warmed him, and his focus was so pinpointed on her smile that he missed that it was moving closer until it was almost a surprise when those smiling lips were pressed to his.

Lord he was right, she was sweet. And soft. Her mouth brushing over his with the barest of pressure. A groan escaped him, one hand clenching in the hair behind her neck. He wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t. But if she wanted to rub that body of hers against his and lick at the seam of his mouth who was he to deny her?

They were both panting when she broke away, and Jack’s jeans were fitting a bit tighter than normal.

“Next Saturday?”

“Tomorrow.” The word choked out of him and he winced. “Don’t make me wait a week to see you again, sugar.”

“Brunch?”

Yeah. Yeah he could do brunch.

“My place?”

In her house? Where her bed was?

Ain’t no way he would survive that.

“How bout we go out somewhere? You got any pretty Sunday dresses?”

The smile she gave him was dazzling, and a little mischievous. “I think I have something.”

Lord have mercy, what had he gotten himself into now?

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Songs from the saloon: George Strait - I Just Wanna Dance With You Brooks and Dunn - Boot Scootin' Boogie

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