Get or Get Got
Jack Daniels x F!Reader x Javier Peña
Summary: Jack Daniels, having benefitted from much therapy, retires early from Statesman and founds Jack’s Ranch and Wellness Center, a therapy ranch open to all but specializing in people like he once was: former military or government agents, struggling with living a normal life again. Javier Peña, working on his father’s ranch after trading in his own harrowing career, has a vision of his future there in Tennessee. Can it be possible that such a place isn’t too good to be true? Javier intends to find out.
Tags: oblique (Narcos canon-typical) references to drug trafficking; otherwise no warnings! I think technically this should count as a rated Teen story, especially since the rating will go up later, but for now anyone can enjoy.
Words: 3390
Note: OMG WOW HII and welcome to the official first installment in the rancher boys fic universe!!! These three and their ranch have taken over my brain (and my blog), and I hope you find as much enjoyment in their story as I have :)
I think I’m gonna try to do a fun thing with chapter names for once, and name them all after cowboy sayings or other relevant idioms. This one is inspired by the saying “Sometimes you get and sometimes you get got.”
Masterlist
Javier Peña is not a nervous man by nature. He doesn’t hem-haw or agonize over which path to take; he reviews all the evidence available to him, and makes a decision. There’s no point in sitting around biting your nails; you either do the thing or you don’t. In his line of work, hesitation got people killed.
In his former line of work, that is. Hunting down drug kingpins who got a little too comfortable on the wrong side of the law, blinded by their bloated sense of self-importance. Dangerous work, his life’s work- until he quit. Too much politics, people in suits manipulating the world to the shape they wanted, regardless of the law or consequences. Irrespective of any set of morals Javier could discern.
So he got out. He had done his due, made an impact. No one could say otherwise. Javier knew this for himself. He had a few regrets- but he knew that if he stayed, he’d have more.
Which is how he ended up here, fingers drumming against the steering wheel of his rental car and boots tapping dust all over the floor.
Hem-hawing.
The visitor’s outpost of Jack’s Ranch and Wellness Center wasn’t far from the main set of barns. Javier could smell the manure from here.
He ran through the debate in his head again. Why check in to the center as a patient instead of outright inquiring about a job?
Just in case.
Oh, this place had glowing reviews. Former military or government agents like him who came home different, traumatized, fearing they’d never be able adjust to civilian life again, humbly and frankly thanking Jack and his team for giving them the tools they needed to recover. Farm and psychology professionals alike praising Jack’s methods and everything the ranch does.
But you never knew what truly happened on the inside. That is why Javier is here, preparing to go undercover one last time- to ensure that this place is really worth it.
A pleasant chime sounds as he opens the door. To one side is a section that looks like a standard tourist shop- some Tennessee-related kitsch, a drinks cooler, a selection of what are probably “local crafts”. To the other is an open space with small clumps of waiting room chairs, likely for discussions with the smiling woman who’s rising from behind the counter.
“Welcome to Jack’s Ranch and Wellness Center, how can I help you?”
--
Javier coughs as a breeze blows the scent of manure to him, stronger now than it was an hour or two ago, before he’d been stuck inside with counselors to appease and forms to fill out. He was pretty sure he’d passed with them, but apparently Jack Daniels approved every admittant personally- Javi’s tour would be the final hurtle.
He surveys the expanse of land as he waits. Much of the setup is familiar to him- he’d grown up on a ranch, after all. His father would approve of the tall fences, the brightly painted signs and buildings. Their family’d had to put most of their work budget toward functionality, not aesthetics. It looked like that wasn’t the case here.
Javier feels another pang of guilt for leaving his pop in the middle of their trip. But one glimpse of Jack Daniels’s setup at that farm expo had been all it took. Once he’d looked past the head rancher’s ridiculously spangled getup, he’d seen the encouraging gestures, the trust and confidence that he clearly inspired among his team. Javi had googled their logo and the idea had wormed into his brain and built a home and a career plan.
“Javier Peña?”
Javi snaps to attention.
Jack Daniels. The man himself is striding towards Javier, long, tightly-pantsed legs eating up the ground. The clinging denim is a darker shade than that of his jacket; the white t-shirt beneath the jacket is tucked in. Who wears white to do ranch work? His belt buckle is big and shiny, but Javier doesn’t have time to study it before Jack reaches him, smile glinting twice as bright.
“Well, it’s nice to meetcha.” He extends his hand.
“Likewise,” Javi says.
Christ, there’s enough twang in Jack’s accent to make a banjo jealous. But his handshake is firm, and while his shirt is pristine, his cowboy boots are well-worn, and rings of dirt under his fingernails leave no doubt that he participates in the dirty work.
Jack is already offering effusive words of welcome, but Javi is only half-listening, absently flexing his hand to the ghostly rasp of Jack’s calluses. His attention is torn between Jack’s spiel and his person- there’s an honest-to-god lasso hanging at his hip, which he casually rests a hand over when he shifts his weight. It’s a movement so thoughtless that Javi immediately clocks it as second nature- Jack is as used to wearing that lasso as Javi is to tucking his gun in the back of his jeans.
“It’s not for show,” Jack says, amused.
Javier realizes he was staring, a second too late to have heard the end of Jack’s speech. “Uh-”
“It gets a lot of questions, especially from bolder folk,” Jack continues, sparing Javi the humiliation of a bumbling excuse. “But I only use it on humanfolk if they’re bein’ real naughty.”
Jack winks, an easy grin turning up one corner of his mustache.
And Javi just keeps staring, because how often is the head of a therapy ranch a stunningly handsome, cowboy hat-wearing personality who winks at his potential wards?
“...Right,” Javi finally mutters. For an utter lack of anything else to say.
Jack straightens up, affecting a businesslike air again. “Well, what are we standin’ around for? There’s work needs doing! Let’s get on with your tour.”
–
Jack greets no fewer than five separate people before they even reach the second barn. All by name, all with genuine, eye-creasing smiles and claps on the shoulder. Javier watches silently, nodding politely when he’s introduced as a “future newbie” with an almost-touch and yet another wink.
“You let me know how that trick works out, y’hear?” Jack calls after the latest ranch hand.
The man (boy, really, wide-eyed and appearing fearful of rebuke simply for not yet being perfect at his new job) is hustling off to follow Jack’s recently imparted advice. The finer details of dairy barn tech went a bit over Javier’s head, but his eyebrows had raised at the expertise apparent in Jack’s answer. For some reason, despite the dust on the brim of his hat, Javi didn’t expect Jack to demonstrate such nitty-gritty knowledge. Javi had gained his own experience through lessons with his father; he wondered where Jack had learned.
“...Right,” Jack is going on, holding open the door to a third building, an “administrative outpost” and employee space. It must have been the original house on this land- Jack leads Javi through wide open rooms whose wood floors soak up the sunlight from windows on every side. Comfy-looking, mismatched furniture abounds, as do what Javi guesses are personal decorations from the employees- inside jokes that he has no hope of understanding. In the fully-equipped kitchen, a coffeepot whirs and spits, filling the room with its invigorating fragrance.
“I don’t like to overwhelm folks too fast, so we’ll take a little break here. There’s snacks in the cabinets, usually some drinks in the fridge, and it appears someone has so kindly put the coffee to brewin’ for us.”
Jack looks about to say more, when a ringtone trills from his chest. Before Javi has finished reflexively patting his pockets, Jack is excusing himself, whisking the phone from a panel inside his jacket.
“Ginger, darlin’, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jack’s voice trails away as he strides out of earshot, boots clocking decisively on the wooden floorboards.
Javi’s thoughts snag on the appearance of the sleek phone in Jack’s hand. Something about it kept the sight running on a loop in his head…what was strange about it?
He’s too weary too figure it out. Javi slumps down at the kitchen table, immensely relieved to have a moment’s silence. His arms will be a fine pillow until the coffee is done brewing…
He reacts to the footsteps a beat too slow. “Oh! Sorry-” a feminine voice begins.
Javi all but jumps to his feet, nearly launching the chair across the tiles behind him. Clearing his throat, he straightens, attempting to look more alert than he feels.
“I heard Jack’s voice, so I thought you’d be him, but you’re not.” Your laugh is light and apologetic. “I don’t think we’ve met before. Are you new?”
You don’t look like any ranch hand Javi has ever seen. Like a deity sprung from the earth, maybe. Mud speckled on your graceful arms and eyes that remind him of an open field. But your boots are clumped with dirt and there’s an ID badge clipped to your belt, so you must belong here.
“Uh, yeah. Soon to be, anyway.”
“Oh, is Jack giving you the tour? No wonder you were about to pass out.” You laugh again, this time genuinely, and Javier finds his mouth automatically turning up in response. “Jack’s great, but he can be…energetic. You get used to it. But I won’t interrupt your nap.”
Eyes dancing with amusement, you return to your original quest. Mugs clink in one cabinet, bags of chips crinkle in another. Once you’ve retrieved creamer from the fridge, you turn to the now-silent coffeepot.
Javi sinks slowly back down in his seat, keeping a surreptitious eye on you. He wonders how many ranch hands here are women- and how many of them are the psych-certified. You don’t wear the green bandana Jack had indicated on the first person they met earlier. Other practical questions strike him all at once- will he be able to sneak booze into this place? Are admittants allowed to hook up?
Maybe he should have hem-hawed for longer.
Your phone dings, but only once you’ve finished doctoring your coffee do you pull it out. The bottle of creamer sweats on the counter while you scroll. At the sight of your clearly habitual motion, Javier realizes what it was about Jack’s phone that bothered him.
It wasn’t real. There wasn’t a brand or model like it on the market- only hypothetical designs that Javi remembers seeing in slideshows from his time as an agent. Tech that only the richest- or shadiest- people have.
What the hell shady activity could Jack Daniels be covering up with a therapy ranch?
“Sweet-talker!” Jack reenters the room, every inch of him lighting up at the sight of you. His eyes crinkle. He seems to forget about Javi entirely, all of his attention wrapping around you like an intimate hug.
“Jack.” You give him a warm smile in return. Something in the quirk of your lips makes Javi wonder what he’s about to witness.
“Haven’t seen you in a few days, Silver. You been hidin’ from me?”
“No, just busy with the new alpaca. Her last owners definitely weren’t very nice to her, but I think I’m making progress.”
So you’re the resident…what, animal whisperer? Javi supposes that explains Sweet-talker. And Silver, for silver-tongued?
Jack’s gaze never leaves you. He hangs on your every word with fond eyes and a permanent half-smile. As if he knew he didn’t need to hear your words to enjoy them- the fact that they were from you was enough for him to be content.
Finally you lift your mug to your lips again, using it to hide your amusement. “Aren’t you going to offer your guest a coffee, Jack?”
A jolt of guilt straightens Jack’s spine- although he keeps his gaze on you for a second longer before turning.
“Well, a’course!” When Jack faces Javi again, he’s beaming that charming, megawatt smile, no trace of annoyance or guile to be found.
You slip Javi a sympathetic, knowing expression as you leave them the room. Javi nods, but his mind is elsewhere- churning over everything he thought he knew about Jack Daniels.
–
Over the next few hours, Javi’s brain steadily liquefies under the relentless stream of information from Jack. Barns for cows, sheep, horses. Feed and equipment storage for each. From somewhere comes the barking of dogs, but Jack tells him not to worry about them, glancing around with theatrical wariness that Javi is too tired to take the cue to ask about. Two large buildings at the end of the road ahead of them, one housing the admittant dorms and the other, recreational spaces and therapists’ offices.
“We get folks with lotsa different stories. Some ain’t never set foot on a ranch before, and never do again- they get the peace of mind of physical labor and whatever other help they need, and then they go back to their real life. And if it works for them, it works for me. Some of the folks who are in this line of work want to stay, and sometimes I let ‘em. But all birds gotta leave the nest. I got a bit of a system set up with the neighbors to hire folks, get their friends to hire ‘em after. Help them get their bearings in the real world again, build up their trust in themselves.”
It’s clear what Jack is doing. By sharing such information about other admittants, he’s assuring Javier that’s he’s normal- that whatever his story or his reasons, he’ll be welcome here.
Jack’s increased silence is obvious, his questions gentle but probing, and Javi knows this is when he tells his story.
“I’ve been working on my dad’s ranch since leaving the service. I like being there for him, and I don’t mind the work- it keeps me busy. It was a relief to be home, for awhile. But..."
But then he saw them. The drug traffickers he’d worked so hard to put away, barely bothering to hide their illicit work. They weren’t the same people, of course. But that only worsened the blow. Only dug the wound that much deeper- the thought that whatever good he did, someone would always be out there undoing it, unless he kept going, always searching, fighting, sacrificing…
“But you’re not the same man,” Jack finishes quietly.
Javi clears his throat. “Something like that.”
He didn’t realize how honest his story was until he’d told it. Javier feels uncomfortably raw, visible. His hands betray his emotions, fidgeting, fingers and thumbs twitching and pressing at themselves in a grounding technique a therapist had once taught him.
The two men have stopped halfway down the packed gravel road. There’s nothing but open fields around them, the bald sky overhead. It doesn’t help his feeling of vulnerability, but Javi forces himself to meet Jack’s gaze from the corner of his eye.
There’s no pity in Jack’s face- only firm understanding. “Well, now. Let’s see if we can’t do something about that.”
Jack sticks out his hand. “Consider this your formal welcome to Jack’s Ranch and Wellness Center.”
His hand hovers, unwavering.
This is it. Slower than earlier, Javi reaches out and takes it.
It’s less a shake than it is a clasp. An accord of wills; a squeeze in recognition of mutual understanding. A gesture as old as humanity.
Javier pushes aside unexpected, unwelcome guilt.
Jack’s smile expands until it’s the same pleased shape it’s been in all day. “Let’s go get you a room!”
The sun follows them like a watchful eye. It’s far from the hottest that summer will get, but sweat has long since trickled through to the spine of Javi’s shirt; he’s praying that his room will be their last stop today.
A figure glimmers into being at the end of the road. It’s you again, coming from the recreational building. Javi recognizes your gait- and the way Jack straightens up, vibrating like a puppy trying with all its might to restrain his excitement.
He waits until you’re in normal hearing range, at least. “Howdy again, Silver,” Jack calls. “Everything all right?”
“Hi again, Jack.” You smile and give Javi a nod as well. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Thursday is my usual appointment now, since switching therapists.”
Jack smacks his palm exaggeratedly against his forehead, skewing the angle of his hat. “That’s right, I remember you tellin’ me. You’ll have to excuse this head of mine, honey, it’s been nuttier than a squirrel’s nest up here since havin’ to deal with-”
The same ringtone from earlier peals from Jack’s chest pocket.
Jack sighs. “Well, speak of the devil. I’ll just be a jiffy.” He flashes you and Javi an apologetic look before wandering away, and again Javi catches a glimpse of the sleek, hypothetical technology before it reaches Jack’s ear.
You’re looking after Jack with an exasperated sort of fondness. Javier thinks quickly. This could backfire on him, make you defensive of Jack and unwilling to talk, but it would only be natural for Javi to continue the conversation where it left off…
“So what’s Jack been having to deal with?”
Your attention returns to Javi. “Oh, some new investors. They want to donate some crazy sum, but with the caveat of making some changes? It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.”
You flap a hand dismissively. More of your energy, Javi can see, is going into assessing him- your gaze flickering over him as you speak, a subtle sort of curiosity prodding at his shirt collar, his decidedly-not-cowboy boots, the hair curling over his forehead.
One corner of Javier’s mouth curves up the slightest bit, holding your gaze when it finds his eyes again. Letting you know he saw you checking him out-
“Does this place have a lot of investors?” Javi allows his own attention to drift down while you answer, drawn again to your hips by the id badge, to your strong arms.
-but that he didn’t mind in the slightest.
“There’s one consistent investor; any others are pretty sporadic. But we do well enough that that’s all we need.”
Your chest puffs slightly, a hint of pride entering your eyes, still locked with his.
Javier nods slowly in respectful acknowledgement, his smile growing a fraction.
“Good to know.”
But Javi’s stupid brain was like a dog with a bone, fixated on the way Jack’s damn phone glittered in the sun. He glances back over at him.
“They buy him that fancy phone as a bribe?” Javi injects some humor into his tone, summoning the half-smile he uses to suggest the idea of flirting.
It doesn’t work as he hoped. You glance at him sharply, any trace of flirtation flattened like the gravel into the packed earth beneath their feet.
“What do you mean?”
Shit. “Nothing, just that I’ve never seen a phone like that before. It’s not exactly the latest iPhone, is it?”
It wasn’t even the latest smart-flip-phone, or whatever the fuck they were calling them. Javi could swear it had changed, shifted its shape somehow, but with Jack’s hand engulfing it the way it had, he couldn’t be sure. Jack stood with his back to them- angled so that his right ear was entirely out of their view. Was it deliberate?
Fresh sweat prickles on Javi’s forehead, unrelated to the heat.
Your friendliness has cooled like a cloud passing in front of the sun. “Jack likes to be up on new tech. For himself and the ranch.”
Before Javi can respond, Jack returns.
“Sorry about that, all. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Silver! Allow me to formally introduce you to Javier Peña, our newest admittant.”
Javi can see the moment Jack’s announcement lands. Your lips part; you blink rapidly several times. Is that..betrayal that you quickly shove down beneath a welcoming smile?
“Oh, that’s great! It’s so great here. You’re going to love it.”
There’s something strange about your expression now. Distance. A wall between you and Javier that you hadn’t put up before.
Ah. When you’d met earlier, in the employee space…you’d thought he was a ranch hand, a staff member like you. But now…
There go any of his ideas about admittants and ranch hands having relations.
Javier remains still as you bid them goodbye, continuing on your way back to the barns. From the corner of his eye, he watches you with something like regret.
Thank you for reading! 💗🧡
