"was thinkin' maybe you and i could go for a ride," jack shrugged his shoulders, rubbing the back of the neck. his eyes lingered on your face just a moment too long, something strange hidden in his gaze.

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders. you two were sat by the fire, the sheep you both were here to keep eyes on lazily feeding in the nearby pasture. "y'know, the herd'll be fine for a good while on their own. found this nice spot further up the mountain. real pretty, big open valley. might be able to score ourselves some rabbit while we're up there."

he was rambling, he knew that. he couldn't help it, not around you. you made him nervous, awakening something both familiar and foreign deep within himself.

the ride, the rabbit, the valley— all of it was a well thought-out excuse to get out and spend some time with you. maybe he could push you to open up, even. couldn't know until he tried, right?

lucky for him, the excuse worked enough. you agreed, and after a cup of shitty coffee and a can of whatever the hell, you two set off on your horses. maybe the silence was comfortable for you. maybe you felt as tense as jack. it was always so hard to read your face, he could never tell what you were thinking.

his palms grew slick against his reigns, his heart thumping against his ribcage and butterflies filling his stomach. god, he felt like a little boy hitting puberty for the first time. not to mention how wrong this was. you were a man. he was a man. if anyone found out—

he couldn't let himself think that far ahead. he'd barely gotten you to speak in the couple weeks you two had spent here, at brokeback mountain.

"so," he drawled, "got anyone waitin' for you back home? special lady? your folks?"