The Pedro Pascal Files

A Dance Around The Fire // Jack Daniels

(Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

"Are you ready for this dance tonight?" Suzette asked. I shrugged my shoulders, fondly touching the fabric. I would love a new dress, but my family is quite poor right now. I just sighed. "I ain't certain I'll make it." I said, dismissively.

Suzette pulled the fabric out, taking it to the counter. "Enough for a dress please." She said. "None for you, Miss?" Berta asked me. "I uh...I can't really afford a new dress. I'd love one, but I just can't." I said. "She's broker than a broke stallion. Her pa doesn't love her enough to buy her new clothes." Suzette said. I just looked away.

Suzette means well. She's just a little harsh sometimes. "I'll be outside waiting." I said, turning around and heading towards the door. I stepped out of the General's Store, onto the wooden porch and into the blinding sunlight. The dirt billowed up into dust as people came across the street and back again. Horses were tied up out the saloon as it was bustling with people.

I tried to smooth out the material in my dress. The once bright red striping material had faded with age. I used to be plump and the dress was now fitted with darts in each side of the waist. The bust was beginning to rot from me washing it constantly. My hat had rotted, that's why I wasn't wearing it. My parasol was faded from the sun as well.

My once white gloves had grown gray with age. I sighed, popping open the parasol and stepping into the sunlight. I looked across the way and saw him: Jack Daniels. The beautiful ravaging stranger who had blown into town and every eligible bachelorette had dusted off their elegant dresses and hats to try and woo Mr. Daniels.

Of course, I had been captivated by his smiling eyes, his debonair attitude and his...his mustache. He was always dressed so sharply. But not today. No, today he was dressed down. He was quite filthy. The white shirt he had on was streaked with oil, mud and soot. A fine line of sweat dusted his cheeks and forehead. His sleeves were pushed up, his pants were tucked into his boots as his black suspenders held them up. He wasn't wearing his hat.

He reached up, running his fingers through his messed hair as he wiped the sweat out of his eyes. I walked across the street, holding my dress so it wouldn't get so dirty. "Well, well, Mr. Daniels." I said. "Huh? Oh! Missus L/N!" His cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "I umm...you must forgive my mess." He said. "You're working hard I can see." "Oh, I'm just finishing up some blacksmithing." He said. My brows raised. "I didn't know you were a blacksmith." He chuckled, wiping his hands off. "Only half the time, ma'am. I'm basically a hand for hire." He said.

"What about you? A lovely little flower shouldn't be in this kind of heat." He said. "Oh, I was just with my friend at the General Store. She was purchasing fabric for a dress." I said. "That dance is tonight, isn't it?" He asked, leaning against the wagon. "Yeah, it is." "And did you buy a new dress?" He questioned. "Oh no...I don't...I couldn't afford it." He wrinkled his brow. "What do you mean? Every lady needs a new dress for a dance." He said. I chuckled. "Well, not this lady." I said.

"Hello, Mr. Daniels." Suzette said, walking up. She was holding a brown paper sack of fabric that was neatly tied. "Afternoon, Ms. Winters." He said. "Listen, Jack...can I call you Jack? I was wondering if you'd be kind enough to accompany me to the dance tonight." She said. I rolled my eyes, pretending to not get upset. "You know, my daddy—" "Ms. Winters, while I'm flattered, I just don't think it'd be appropriate. 'Sides the little lady I was askin' to the dance, don't seem to be showin' up to it." His sight never broke from mine.

I looked down. "Sorry, Ms. Winters." She just scoffed, stomping her foot in the dirt and turning to walk off. "See you around, Mr. Daniels." I said. "Tonight, Ms. L/N." He said, smiling.

"How could you just throw yourself at him like that?!" Suzette snapped. "Me?" "Yes, you! You were swooning over him like a—like a—like a trollop!" I scoffed. "A trollop? I didn't ask him to the dance, you did! That was a little forward, don't you think?" I asked. "Like you'd know anything about that!" She bayed. I went home that afternoon.