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A text from Jack to Buck: hey so theres this intro to car mechanics workshop thing at this local queer center. i figure u and i know more than whats gonna be taught but maybe its something to check out?
Oh? That'd be cool as hell. I'm a terrible butch, because I don't know shit about cars even tho I own a ridiculously nice one.
oh shit well im definitely gonna drag u along then
me teaching you shit? amazing. incredible
Yeah yeah keep your damn shirt on hotshot :p
have u seen me without a shirt? ive been told its a public service :P
I'll take your word for it, but I think my tastes might be divergent lol
[address] if youre up for learning shit ill be there. its late notice i know
oh I know William Way. I just went to a book club the other night. grrrrrmmmm. okay fine. lemme get Buddy in his harness and I'll meet you there.
see you soon
Jack's leaning against the wall outside of the building to wait, poking at his phone and occasionally glancing up at the people wandering past. He's in a tight tank top and shorts in this disgustingly hot weather, his tattoo sleeve on full display.
When Buck shows up, she does so with all the gravitas a hot 38-year-old lesbian aunt with Big Top Energy. Which is to say 'driving a sports car' and 'with someone wearing a harness in the passenger seat.'
Now, sure, that someone is Buddy and that harness says 'Service Dog' in bright letters, but that doesn't stop Buck from looking like a literal mother fucker in her boot-cut jeans, mid-calf Docs, and a tank top featuring a stylized shield and the words "I Could Do This All Day."
"Martingale," Buck grumbles on approach. She quirks an eyebrow -- which rises over the rim of her sunglasses -- and offers a little smirk. "Hope I'm not late."
Oh look, Jack's got Docs on, too - cherry red ones, that match the flowers on his tank. He upnods at Buck with a grin and pushes away from the wall. "Buchanan. Still got a few minutes, 's all good. You ready? I saw the speaker go in a bit ago - least I think that's who it was. They looked like the type to know shit about cars, y'know?"
"What does the instructor at a Queer Center's Intro to Car Mechanics class look like? A stone butch? A bear?" There's a little snort from Buck, and she clicks her teeth. Buddy sits at attention beside her. "Or are you the speaker?"
There's a little tug at the corner of Buck's mouth.
"I haven't touched the inner workings of any sort'a vehicle in years, 's no way they'd let me talk about the shit I know." Jack shrugs. "Butch as fuck, and hot in that way that only really competent-ass people can be. Gender to be determined, they were maybe your age though. Maybe a little younger." Jack holds the door open for Buck and Buddy with a teasing smile.
"That's probably fair," Buck winks. It's an underwhelming gesture when you're wearing sunglasses. She looks as though she might say more, but she's interrupted as her phone buzzes. Buck reaches down to her pocket where it's clipped. "I tell you I've been hanging out with Cassidy again? That's her," she silences it. "We reconnected through a local veteran's organization. Was a pleasant surprise."
Jack glances at the phone, and then at Buck. And then at the phone again, his eyebrows coming together in slight confusion.
"Nah, you didn't. 'S cool though, glad you could meet up again. God, I think...you're about the only person I'd every wanna see from that time in my life. And if someone'd asked me last week if there was anyone I'd wanna reconnect with...I dunno 'f your name would'a been on that list. Sorry." He shrugs and gives her a slight smile. "Glad no one asked me last week."
"Well," Buck snorts as she shakes her head. "Good to see you too, hotshot." There's a beat, and she shrugs. "Yeah. I get it, though. Honestly it was just sorta a weird happenstance I ran into Cass. Probably wouldn't have met up with her if she'd been anyone else." She just sorta stops, pausing awkwardly. "We were complicated, but we were close."
"Yeah, I know how that is." Jack nods with a huff "Got a few'a those too, honestly. You remember Adrian Sokolov?"
"Martingale. With as shit-faced as I was for the entire time I knew you, you're lucky I remember your ass. Fuck me sideways if I can recall even a one of the endless parade of crewcuts you were screwing on leave," Buck turns to her perfect sweet boy and asks as an aside: "Back me up, Buddy."
Buddy does not.
"Enh, we'll work on that later," there's that little tug at the corners of her mouth again. Buck hasn't been this good in a while.
"An' you thought you were subtle as fuck with Cassidy, didn't you..." Jack smirks. "Those 'closed door meetings' an' excuses for being late to training and shit. But yeah, Sokolov an' I hooked up for a while. In between the others. You know. Decent guy, I think. Didn't mind me drunk." Which really doesn't make him a decent guy, but Jack's willing to overlook that fact entirely.
"You spend too much time with me an' Buddy'll be on my side forever, you know..."
"No," Buck tilts her head thoightfully to the side. "If'n I'm being totally honest with you, I don't think I rightly gave a fuck about subtlety at that point." There's a belly laugh. Just a little hah, but it's more than a snicker. "Oh, I think I remember that one, now. Bunch'a motherfuckers called him Moscow, right?"
Buddy stands at attention even when Jack mentions being on his side. Buddy is a good boy. Buddy has a job to do and this conversation is beneath him.
Buddy is so good, and Jack gives him an absolutely adoring look. Which he presumably ignores, because he's a good boy with a job to do.
"Yup. Dude just wanted to go to music school, talked a lot about auditioning for one'a the bands once we got back from the sandbox. Poor guy." Jack shakes his head. "He was killer on the clarinet though."
"Huh," Buck tilts her head to the side again. "I guess I didn't remember that about him. Or maybe he kept it to himself -- and you, apparently." A beat. "I'm not gonna lie, I didn't really pay attention to hardly anyone or anything at that point. I was just looking to get out, and waiting until my time was up."
"He talked about it a lot, when we weren't in the middle of fucking. Think I ended up kinda being his therapist, y'know? Which...is what it is." Jack shrugs. "And to be fair, I was looking to get out, too. Hard to do when you've signed your life away. 'Least it wasn't literally."
"What a dipshit," there's a flippant little puff of air, and she offers a shrug. "Clearly he should've just used Jack Daniel MD like all the well-adjusted burnouts." There's a pause as she squint at Jack for a sec. Thankfully she's wearing dark sunglasses, so. You know the drill. "Yeah. That sometimes happens, but we're still here."
Jack snorts out a laugh at the joke. "Yeah...yeah. Managed to get away with my life, and I guess that's all that matters?" Is it? He doesn't sound sure. "I uh. Alcohol wasn't enough, after a while." He doesn't look at her while he says it.
"Do I really strike you as someone with room to judge?" She quirks a brow.
"Nah, but...it's not the kinda thing I'm used to talking about, y'know?" Jack runs a hand through his hair.
"One thing I do know is..." He pauses and takes a breath. "Whatever shit you had going on the other night looked a hell of a lot like withdrawal." His voice is low, but casual, as he glances around the hallway they're standing in.
"It's..." Buck rolls her jaw, and looks around. "It's more complicated than that." A beat. "I hate to miss a class taught by a hot, competent butch of indiscriminate gender, but this is not a conversation for the William Way center. You wanna talk about, we can... but it'll have to be in the car." She drops her voice. "Where I can be sure we won't be overhead."
Sure. That might sound like some nutso x-files bullshit to a normal person, but. Jack's a Changeling, so...
Jack's eyebrows go way up, but he nods. "There'll be other classes, I'm sure. Buddy won't mind being in the back, or does he get shotgun regardless?" Jack smirks, trying a joke to ease some of the tension that's built up.
"He can sit in the back," She clicks her teeth and heads off towards the parking lot with Buddy in tow. "My car or yours?"
"I've just got a bike." Jack gestures at a black and chrome motorcycle in one of the parking spaces. "So. Your car. 'S nice as fuck."
"Yeah she is," there's a little smirk from Buck. Y'know. To break the tension.
She opens the back seat of the Challenger for Buddy, and he hops in without question. Then she opens the driver-side door, and gestures towards the passenger for Jack.
"She got a name?" Jack drops down into the passenger seat with a groan and shuts the door.
"Nah, not really." That's a lie. Jack doesn't even need a good read to see it. "But. Look," she pulls off her sunglasses and looks him dead in the eye. "I've been sober for four years, and I need you to know I'm clean. I wasn't bullshitting you."
"Sure." Jack holds her gaze, and he nods. He seems to believe her, at least, and he settles back into the seat. "So what is up, then? And don't fuckin say migraines again 'cause I know that's bullshit."
"They're way fuckin' worse than migraines," Buck scowls. She looks into the back seat and offers Buddy a quiet 'at ease' before reaching over to scritch behind his ears. There's a grimace, and she goes quiet for a moment. "Turn your phone off," she grumbles, retracting her hand from the dog so she can do the same. Then she removes the battery and sets the pieces onto the dashboard.
Jack's eyebrows fly up again at the command, but he does as he's told, following her lead and taking the battery out.
"You worried about bluetooth in here, or any smart car shit too?" The question is absolutely serious.
"No, because I can block out the wireless signal and the the Bluetooth - and I already checked the car for bugs. I just want to make double sure." Buck reaches back into the back seat for Buddy. Buddy, who is a good boy and likes headpats when he's off work. "I was part of an experimental medical procedure when I was in the service. It was performed without my consent during a routine physical, and now I've got a lot of fancy hardware inside me. Some of it doesn't work right, and sometimes when it does work right it still hurts."
"Oh Jesus." Jack's eyes widen as he winces in sympathy. "That's...I mean I heard rumors of that sorta shit, but...fuck." He gives her a quick once-over, a mixture of concerned sympathy on his face.
Might be kinda unexpected, that he's taking this at face value.
"Yeah, it's shitty." She waves a hand. "... but it just looks like withdrawals. That night was bad. It was a mixture of two things that're normally bad enough in their own right, but are fucking awful together. I get the cluster headaches when my retinal implant ends up getting overloaded by bright light, and when I don't have access to my transplant drugs..." There's a little twitch and she turns her head to check her 11 and her 5. "Well, that's what it looks like when my body starts to reject the implants."
"Fuuuck," Jack breathes out in sympathy, glancing out the window before returning his attention to her. "Well I don't mind being on call for that shit - and I hope you can build some sorta support network here. Get the shit you need. They did it without your consent, Jesus I wish that was surprising at all..." He grimaces and shakes his head.
"I mean," Buck offers a shrug. "It is what it is, and I'm far from the only one. There're a few others like me here in Philly, but it's a pretty alienating experience. Not many people can just accept and understand it."
She sorta... peers at Jack -- without her sunglasses on, she really does have harsh, piercing eyes -- as she searches his face for whatever derogatory comment about her mental health he must be wanting to make at this moment.
There's no trace of disbelief, no hint that he's biting back the suggestion that she might needs meds for an entirely different problem.
"Sounds pretty damn alienating, yeah...what um...what do the implants do, if that's not too nosy a question?"
"They enhance my senses and physicality, they give me the ability to cloak for short periods of time, and I can interface with electronics as if I were a TV hacker." She offers a shrug and then reaches back to pat Buddy again. "... but it's a double-edged sword. The implants shackle me to my former handlers, and the enhanced senses fuck with my head if they're overloaded. It's..." A beat. "Well. Y'know."
"...That why you didn't have to look at your phone to see who was texting..." Jack nods, understanding. "Some wild shit for sure. Prob'ly no easy way to get 'em out either, huh?"
"Yep - and it's why I wasn't worried about the Wifi or the Bluetooth shit." There's a little tinge of frustration for the first time on her face. "Not like anybody's actually trying to figure that out -- or that most of those of us who'd want it out are qualified to figure it out -- but no. No there is not."
"You guys got any sorta organization? Like...I dunno, a union or something?" Jack chuckles, like he knows it sounds a little ridiculous.
"Kinda, actually." Buck chuckles. "There's a network of us, but. It's just... we're all people who've kinda slipped through the cracks - and those of us who are qualified? Well. Most of our medical efforts are dedicated to figuring out how to replicate the transplant serum, or how to just. Live?"
"...'Cause the government's just thrown you away to die...?" Jack frowns.
"... sorta? Some of us've managed to escape, too." A beat. "Or if you're like me, you were too broken for continued use."
"Fuck..." Jack winces in sympathy. "I uh. Mm. You know this shit sounds crazy to most people, yeah?"
"Yeah, I do."
"So why're you telling me, then?"
"I've been sober for four years. You're newly sober," she offers with a shrug. "You thinking I'm crazy was less important to me that you knowing I'm not using."
"Fair enough. I..." Jack shakes his head. "I believe you. For what it's worth. Don't think you're crazy. Weirder shit's happened, hell, me'n my sibling, when we were little...weren't exactly normal. 'S like that twin-sense on steroids."
"Oh?" Buck quirks a brow. "What do you mean when you say "weren't exactly normal" like that?" A beat. "Are you just normal now all of a sudden?"
"We were in each others minds - telepathic shit. It...our aunt 'n uncle weren't all that into it." It's clearly an understatement. "But uh. I got different shit, now, it's...complicated. Dangerous to talk about, and not just 'cause of technology listening in, you know?"
"Maybe, yeah." Buck turns to check her 6, and then shifts in the seat awkwardly. "I got a vibe maybe you had your own shit when we first spoke, but." She winces. "I get it if you can't talk about it. If whatever happened to you is the reason you aren't questioning me, then I'm..." She sucks air through her teeth. "I'm really fucking sorry."
"Yeah, it uh...'s the reason my my six months in the sandbox weren't the worst six months've my life. Like. 'S up there, sure, but..." Jack shakes his head. "I...there's a lotta shit that's hard to talk about. 'F we keep in touch I might work up the courage to spill eventually, but shit puts you in danger, too."
Buck sorta... nods, and grimaces at that. "I mean. Admittedly, knowing this shit is probably pretty dangerous for you, too." Buck reaches for her sunglasses, and slips them back on. "I probably should've asked you first. Sorry about that."
"Nah, 's all good. I got people looking after me, a...support group, I guess. Sounds a little more organized than yours, but...we all kinda stick together. Safety in numbers, in some ways."
"That's... really good," Buck offers a little smile - though it seems conflicted. "I'm jealous, actually. I think I'm close with maybe one person like me, and even we're still somewhat estranged."
"Yeah. I'm lucky as fuck, honestly, there's a lotta shit that could have gone a lot worse. Kinda...makes it hard to remember that I've got a lot of shit to deal with still, you know?"
"Yeah, I get that." Buck shrugs. "... you think it's probably too late to go into the class? Or should we just fuck off and go get a bite to eat?"
"Mmm...probably too late, at this point. I wouldn't mind food - as long as it's not spicy. I've expanded my tastes a little, but not that much." Jack chuckles.
"Not surprised at all," Buck tilts her head to the side and then leans forward to fetch her phone from the dash. "You'd never have survived in Texas, Martingale. Everything's spicy in Texas." There's a little laugh, and she reorients herself before kicking the ignition on. "Where're we heading, Mr. Expanded Tastes? You know a place that's open at this hour?"
"Been to Texas all of one time. Fuckin' shitty-ass tour of some of Shakespeare's history plays. I think there was hot sauce served with every damn meal..." Jack chuckles. "There's a decent Thai place pretty close, they deliver at fuckin oh dark thirty."
"Try again, Jack. I might be a cyborg supersoldier, but it's too late at night for my nearly-forty-year-old esophagus to handle Thai. Go easy on the old gal, huh? Maybe a fuckin' diner?" There's a little laugh as throws the clutch and starts to pull out of the parking space.
Jack snorts. "Yeah, there's a decent diner few blocks from here. Coffee's kinda shit but the food's okay."
"Good enough, I guess."
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