DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. All rights, characters and whatever else belong to Kurt Sutter and FX Studios. Only the story idea is mine, and I make no profit- monetary or otherwise- from this production. Unless you want to count the shits and giggles i get from doing it.
A/N: I swear it's the damn ice cream, it's where all my ideas come from lately. I'm sitting on the couch, watching tv, and this commercial comes on and it's an ice cream commercial and I gotta flip over cause I eat on the couch upside down, but anyway and I'm watching and then I'm like...
"I wonder if they have cactus flavored ice cream?"- brilliant right? I mean seriously it's a good question. So then I'm like "They're too prickly too make into ice cream, lots of things are too prickly."
"Like Tig?"
"Yeah, he's prickly...hmmm...Tig + Chibs = Cactus?...Yes. Yes it does."
And bam! After my little conversation with myself we get this, enjoy :)
Warnings:Suggestive themes, cursing, made up words, not beta'd, pretty PG. Useless reviews will be used as bedding for my imaginary hamster. Thank you.
Prompt:Cactus
Pairing: Chibs/Tig
Tig wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, he'd been hovering over the overheated engine of this '66 Caddy for 2 hours and the damn thing was hot. Burned his fingers no matter what he touched and the smoke and steam was making his eyes water as it coated the inside of his throat. Fuck, he couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with the damn thing!
It was a slow day at the garage, all the boys were out, either home with their girls or out finding some. The garage only needed one man at the moment and Tig was the lucky bastard, stuck doing either the shittiest repairs or the most frustrating ones, like this damn Caddy. He let the wrench and oiled rag fall to the floor, taking a step back from the car, running his hands through his hair and down his face.
He was tired, wondering how he got stuck as the only person on the job, even Chuckie had the day off. It's them fucking playing with me is what it is, leave Tiggy here to do all the work why they run off and get sucked or something. Assholes.
Tig reached for the beer sitting on the tool box, one swig of it though and then the brown liquid was on the ground in a splattered pattern. How can beer taste bad? Leave it out all damn night is how. The bottle returns to it's before position and Tig takes a seat on the nearest thing.
His eyes burn, like they've been open too long 'cause they have- they're ringed red, glassy and probably bloodshot as can be. He's been up all this week, no sleep at all for almost four days. He remembers the first time it was Chibs fault, the bastard was insistent and impatient. The second night Tig's pretty sure he was on a run, but as for last night he's totally clueless and he really wished he knew; or maybe it's best not too. Tig can't believe how much it hurts, it's not the worst thing he's felt it's just surprising. He's so exhausted beer taste like shit, and the booze and the pills aren't helping him at all. He wants them to knock him out, they want to keep him up- they're winning.
Tig just wants to take a nap, curl up under a blanket like a dog and sleep the days away, maybe even a month or two. Why does he take the brunt of it all anyway? He is a fucking dog, coming everytime someone snaps their damn fingers. He wants to tell himself it's cause he's loyal, that he'll sacrafice anything for his family; but the quite possible relaity is he's just afraid of what happens if he's left on his own. Everyone hates being alone, but only a few are dangerous when they are. Tig's not stupid, he's not blind and he ain't ignorant- he knows he'd need someone to look after him otherwise he'd probably end up dead within a week. And that's just the stuff he'd do to himself, there's no telling what'd happen to other people.
He presses his face into his hands again, sighing audibly. It's one of those days again, where he thinks too much and he really wishes he could turn it off. His ice blue eyes peek over his fingers at the still smoking engine of the Caddy, he's not about to get beaten by a damn machine.
Tig shuffles back over to the engine, fanning away the smoke and leaning his head in, fingers pulling at the radiator. Burning water splashes on the back of his hands and face and he jumps back cursing, head hitting the hood on the way up. "Jesus fucking christ!" His hands fly up and wipe his face before he shakes his hands out in hopes of getting rid of the pain.
He whirls around on the Caddy, sapphires cold, hard, and glinting with extreme annoyance. "Stupid ass fucking car!" He lets out a swift kick to the front fender, the steel doing nothing but making his foot throb in a sharp pain that leaves him hopping on one foot holding the other. "Fuck! Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! "
The pain subsides and Tig's left with sharp intakes of breath every time his foot hits the ground, he limps trying to get back to sitting, but having a very hard time staying up. "Jesus," He exhales slowly, lowering himself to the floor, this was definitely one of the worst days. At least when the clubhouse was being shot up he had someone to shoot back.
It's only now his ears prick up at the quiet chuckling echoing off the walls. Tig is surprised, he knows who it is by the deep, throatiness of the laugh but he doesn't understand why Chibs is here. Or why he's standing there at the door with a hand behind his back. "What you laughing at?"
"Just a wee devil getting his ass kicked by a car." Chibs chuckled.
"The fuck you want?" Tig snarls, lip curling up and eyes blazing. He's not mad at Chibs, nor is he unhappy to see him here. But it's been a shitty week and Tig's at the end of his rope, he can't take much more; least of all one of Chibs' games.
Chibs raises an eyebrow, a small challenge in it, but that dumb grin is still plastered on his face and it's starting to piss Tig off. "That's not very nice Tiggy."
"Never said I was nice." Tig growled back, watching intently as Chibs came in and pulled a stool in front of Tig, sitting so he could look down at the curly haired man.
"Lighten up Tig, I came to brighten yer day."
"Screw that." Tig's voice was softer now, no more venom or heat in his voice or eyes and Chibs frowned at how weak the man looked, how gaunt and ragged. "Seriously. What do you want? Ya got a day off, shouldn't you be screwing some girls or drinking or talking to Kerianne or something? Going for a walk or whatever you Scottish bastards do? I wanna go home. So I can't see why you're not already there."
"Cranky much?" Another cocked eyebrow, but this time he propped his sunglasses up on his head, his choclate eyes glittering- piquing Tig's interest. "Here." Chibs tosses Tig the white box he's been holding. "Open it from the bottom."
Tig glances up at him, a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he does as he's told. Opening the white box and letting the contents slide onto his hand. Tig can't help but be slightly confused.
"It's a..."
"Cactus!" Chibs said brightly, pearly whites bleach against his dark beard.
"Cactus?" Chibs nods enthusiastically and Tig is so damn confused all he can do is laugh. "A cactus? You serious?"
"Yeah well I saw it in a window, and thought of you."
"I look like a cactus to you? Chibs, I'm not even green."
"Well no but you're prickly as hell. All pointy and annoying as fuck on the outside, but inside, all soft and watery." Chibs shrugs like somehow that explanation made snese and it's not a big deal but Tig is still hung up on the fact that it's a cactus.
"A cactus..."
"Yes, it's a damn cactus! Like a plant you know?"
"I won't remember to water this thing, it's gonna die."
"It's a cactus Tig, ya don't have to remember to water it. They live in the desert for crying out loud."
"Oh, right." It was a shitty day yeah, but Tig has to admit; this did brighten his day and it made him smile.
"See? Feeling better 'eh?" Chibs held out a hand to Tig and hauled the man up to his feet.
"A bit." Chibs scoffs, like 'a bit' isn't enough for him. Tig looks from the man to his new cactus and shakes his head, Chibs is a complete mystery to him.
Chibs leans in close, his warm breath on Tig's ear stirring the strands of hair that rest there. "Wanna go back home now?" Chibs pulls back, his lips ghosting Tig's, as he looks pointedly at Tig over the rim of the now lowered sunglasses. Tig watches, a small smile gracing his lips as Chibs strutted away, ass-hugging-jeans catcing Tig's eye. Looks like the Scot wasn't gonna let him sleep tonight either, in fact, he'd be lucky to get any kind of rest.
Tig still has his bad days, his worse days. But a constant in his life other than Chibs that keeps him grounded is that damn cactus. He keeps it in the kitchen window above the sink, the area getting the most sunlight. He wakes up every morning and that's the first thing his brain registers in perfect clarity; it leads him down a lane of memories.
The most important of course, being the day he got it- representative of everything Chibs is to him.
That cactus has sat there and seen it all, a small guardian of sorts that watches Tig like Chibs would, even when the man is alone. It still sits there and it always will.
A/N:Reviews are welcome they make me grin like an idiot
Stay Frosty.
