#jack beck

-- then you should definitely go read the fic @trainofcommand and I wrote where they do exactly that 😏 we even have a handy little quick summary in the notes of the "plot" background of the show for context! (or, if you're in the mood for some fun bad hot trashfire TV, go find Echoes on netflix)

Way Better Than Talking (on AO3)

Summary: After his wife and her twin sister fuck everything up and disappear, Jack tries to put his life back together. Alone. …Or at least, alone if his damn brother-in-law weren't still hanging around the farm for no apparent reason.

Explicit. CWs for light/internalized homophobia, alcohol and a very drunk handjob in Chapter 1. No archive warnings, full tags on AO3.

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“That sure is a lot of firewood.” 

Jack blinks at the half-familiar voice, and finally realizes he’s just been standing there staring at nothing. The sun’s almost set, and he remembers chopping wood, finding solace in the burn of his muscles and the sweat stinging his eyes for… Well, must’ve been for a good long while, judging by the size of the pile of wood he’s standing beside. 

“Yeah,” he says, turning around. Charlie’s still standing there waiting for an answer, and why the fuck is Charlie still here? “Why the fuck are you still here?” Jack asks wearily. He’s too goddamn worn out to be polite. He’s too goddamn worn out to really muster any kind of heat or anger, either. 

Charlie just smiles at him. “You want to talk about it?” 

“Nope.” Jack doesn’t even have to ask what ‘it’ his brother-in-law— or maybe ex brother-in-law, now— means. 

“I brought scotch.” 

Jack snorts. Probably something ridiculously expensive, too. “I drink beer,” he says shortly, just to be contrary even though part of him knows how childish that is. “The cheap kind.”