Jackharding(ish) prompt ask: what was going though Jack's head from when he found out from Bucky that he was going to be the next air exec to just after the meeting with Harding.
[This turned into a soulmates AU, but Jack does have several thoughts before he gets whammied.]
"Sir, with all due respect, I'd rather just surrender to the Germans personally," Jack mutters as he stalks from the mess to headquarters to meet the new Colonel and explain he will not be taking on the Air Exec job. Jack doesn't care if Bucky doesn't want it. Jack doesn't care if Bucky's wiggled out of it. This is not happening. He's a pilot. He's a fucking pilot.
"Sir, may I suggest you just promote whichever pig is the largest from the kitchen sty?" Jack mutters. "It'll make just as much noise as Egan but is probably only half as sloppy."
He catches an airman cut him a look and glares him into scuttling backwards a few steps. "Sir, I'd rather be back home in Cleveland going to the Spring Soulmate Debutante Ball than be anywhere near a desk. And I once faked bronchitis to skip it."
He gets to headquarters and works his way through the maze of offices and desks and shelves and supplies. He's been to the Colonel's office before, when things were still sane, and it was still Huglin. He presses his mouth into a hard line and concentrates on a real introduction to make his case.
He gets to the secretary and says, "Major Kidd for Colonel Harding, regarding Air Exec."
"Just a moment," she says and stands up and goes into the office. A moment later, she comes back out and gestures him in.
"Thank you,' Jack manages, manners on automatic. She's not the reason he's ready to burn this whole base to the ground. No reason to be rude.
He steps into the office, stops two feet from the desk, and stands at ease. He meets Harding's gaze.
A shivering jolt of energy knocks through him like he's touched an electrical socket. He takes one large step back and looks at Harding again. Harding's frozen, cigar halfway to his mouth. It smells nice, Jack thinks distantly before what's just happened hits him.
"Oh, absolutly fucking not," Jack spits out. He turns on his heel and hurries out, back straight and shoulders back. As he walks by the secretary, he hears Harding yell.
"Who the fuck was that?!"
She told you my name, Jack thinks, seething. What kind of lazy Colonel can't remember a single name.
Jack exits headquarters and turns himself north, towards the open fields and cow ponds that surround them. He doesn't have one picked out, but he knows if he walks, he'll find water eventually.
He walks. He finds the pond. He stares at the murky water, looks around at the ground, and then sits down hard.
He breathes in. He breathes out. He considers how many pieces he could cut Bucky into when he disposes of his body.
Air Exec on his shoulders without his input, and his fucking soulmate? All those never-ending Debutante Balls because his parents were certain his soulmate must be in their social circle. Must be somone they know. Doesn't matter that't not always the case. For them, for those well-bred and well-mannered Kidds, it must be like that.
His parents are going to collapse in shock. Jack can't really blame them.
He stares at the water and listens to the sounds of the breeze moving the grass. A couple of cows come up to the pond and stare at him from across the water, then drink and wander off. Jack isn't sure how long he sits there, but his quiet, confused thoughts are interrupted when he hears a Jeep.
He stands and brushes himself off. Wondering if Bucky's actually stupid enough to come find him right now.
But it's not Bucky. It's Harding. He stops the Jeep several yards away from Jack, then lifts himself up so he's sitting on the top of the front seat. "We need to speak," he says.
"I don't want the job," Jack says. "I didn't learn to fly to stay on the ground."
Harding shakes his head. "I need an Air Exec," he says. "There's no getting around it."
"Find someone else," Jack replies. "I'm not interested."
Harding looks at him for a long moment. Jack looks back. There's a soft buzz working thorugh Jack's body being this close to his soulmate. He doesn't want to like it.
"A month," Harding says. "28 days. You take the job seriously, and I'll seriously try to find someone better for it.'
Harding shrugs. "Maybe by then, you'll find value in it. Maybe you'll like me enough we can talk about what happened in my office."
Jack bites the inside of his cheek. "You don't want to talk about it now?"
Harding lets out a bark of a laugh, head tilted back. The sun lights up his shape from the side, and Jack suddenly realizes he's desperately handsome. Masculine and comfortable, from age or just a natural surety, Jack can't guess.
"Of course I want to talk about it right now," Harding says. "Fuck, you came in looking ready to skin me alive, and then getting hit like that. I forgot your name."
"I heard," Jack replies. He feels his mouth tick up at the corner. "Insulting," he adds.
"A compliment," Harding replies. "Angry's a good look on you."
Jack looks at him for a moment. Harding looks back. "What if I hate it the whole time?" he asks.
"I need a buffer to get to know the men," Harding says. "That's why I'm asking for 28 days."
"Two days leave after," Jack says. "Whether I keep the job or not."
"Done," Harding agrees. "I'll get it in writing as soon as we're back at headquarters. You seem the type who likes promises in writing."
"I like that. A man who wants the agreement written down is a man who can always prove he's kept his word." He gestures for Jack. "Come on. I'll give you a lift back."
Jack hesitates for just a moment. Harding seems unconcerned by it. "Okay," Jack says, then walks over and gets in the Jeep.
Harding turns the Jeep and takes them back to headquarters. He writes out their agreement, then gives it to his secretary to type and bring back for them to sign with her acting as witness.
"Is Egan useful?" Harding asks after the secretary leaves them alone.
Jack sighs. "Unfortunately," he says. "He's a morale booster."
"Shit," Harding replies. "I was hoping to put a boot in his ass for surprising you like he did."
"I don't need your protection," Jack says.
"I'm aware of that," Hardring replies. "I don't like men who can get away with everything, and he seems the type."
"He's entirely the type," Jack says. "But he's not all bad."
Harding grins. "I get the feeling a lot of people have described him that way."
Jack chuckles, dry and still a little angry, but real. He feels the soft buzz through his body again. "You'll wait 28 days to ask me about the soulmate hit?"
"I'll wait until you bring it up first," Harding says. "However long that takes."
"You don't seem the type to wait."
Harding snorts. "Oh, I'm not. Not usually. But I've been waiting a long time for you. Keep the wait shorter than forty years, and you'll come out ahead."
"Noted," Jack says, and Harding grins at him, warm and wide.
On day 28, Jack walks into Harding's office for the morning meeting and tosses his folders onto the coffee table. He waits for Harding to sit down on the couch, then sits in the chair across. Bethel, Harding's secretary, brings a fresh carafe of coffee and two mugs, then sees herself out, closing the door behind her.
"You haven't found anyone else," Jack says.
"It's my job to lose," Jack replies. He watches Harding pour them both coffee, even though Jack should be doing it as junior officer. But Harding's always done it for them both. "I hate it," he says. "But no one else can do it."
"I fear I agree," Harding says. "I'll make it a 72-hour pass," he adds. "Consider it an apology for not getting you out of it.
The now-familiar warm buzz of their bond rolls through Jack. Over the past 28 days he's started to find comfort in it, and in Harding himself as they've talked and planned and figured out how to get enough forts to fly. "You could come with me," he says. "I'm just going to London. We could have dinner somewhere. Talk."
Harding leans back against the couch, coffee in one hand. "We're stood down for the week. Where are you staying? I'll get a room there, too."
"Haven't decided," Jack replies, stopping short of offering to split a room. Not just yet, he thinks. But maybe the next pass. "Do you recommend anywhere?"
"I know a couple of quiet places," Harding says. "I can make some calls."
"Yes, thank you," Jack replies, and he picks up his own coffee and turns to the folders. When he glances at Harding again, he's being watched with a soft consideration he hasn't seen before. He thinks after they're back, he'll see it more. He wants that.
